Misty and foggy, but reasonably warm for autumn, only the lightest of breezes gives some life to the listless banners at the tournament grounds. Lords and ladies sit on cushions; great merchants and notable artisans at the edges of the field, and the great unwashed masses stand on the far side, jostling each other to get a view of the events about to transpire.
The field is hard-packed and clear of splinters and debris left over from the Joust of Love. A wooden rail bisects it to keep the riders on track, and to the north lie the pavilions of the knights who are to compete.
Standing in the midst of the open field, clad in fine heraldry and flanked on either side by men at arms bearing the surcoats of Hightower and Connington, the herald stands. He is a squat man, stocky and fat. His features are unremarkable and he would not merit a second glance on a cobbled street. Yet he was selected for one reason, and that is his voice. A trumpet peals and the herald makes himself heard above the din, a great booming bass silencing nobles and commoners who listen intently.
“My Queen of Love and Beauty. My lords and ladies and other notables. This is the Joust of Devotion!”
Thunderous appluase from the mob.
“This joust will follow the rules most common in the Reach, the heart of chivalry in Westeros. They have been amended slightly to allow followers of the Old Gods and squires to take part so long as their knights allow.
“Knights shall be ranked and paired in a random drawing. Tilts shall be to three broken lances, lest’ a knight be unhorsed. Twice will a man have to be beaten to be eliminated. When a knight is eliminated, his arms and equipment are forfeit to the victor, and may be ransomed for a sum.”
The herald pauses; he has the crowd in the palm of his hand. “Pairings shall be as follows. Ser Rance Hayford will tilt against Ser Elmer Crakehall. Ser Alek Reyne will tilt against Ryckon Westerling. Barion Smallwood will tilt against our most gracious benefactor, Ser Myles Hightower. And Ser Argos Waxley will tilt against Ser Mathin Lannister.
“Now. Let Ser Rance Hayford and Ser Elmer Crakehall come forth!”
And so the tournament begins.
Elmer rides in, dressed in the same splendid armor he used at the Joust of Love. His lance is held straight and he smiles and he bows his head towards Rance. “I have never jousted against you, Ser Rance…it shall be a pleasure.” He rides to the end of the lists, waiting for his opponent to take his place. Then he lowers his visor, and his big grey gelding impatient, spurs him on, charging and gaining speed, as he lowers his lance.
This son of the Rock weaves a tale of gold and crimson, with hair stolen from the brightest summer suns; tall, armored in silver, but clothed in the chosen liveries of his predecessors, he walks every step as if it is a gift to the earth below. A cape flutters at his back, catching the wind just so.
But a cape is not all that follows in the wake of the Little Lion.
The seven children that come are wide-eyed, most feeble, but with an excitement that belies their condition. Upon each is a fine doublet with the Seven-Pointed star of the Seven gods of Westeros. In each hand is a red rose, fresh and recently plucked.
The Little Lion points, and it is to Andorea Smallwood amidst the crowd. The children approach and so does the Lannister. Nearing the stands, he speaks to her, “You have asked for one rose. Here are seven. You asked for me to visit them. I have brought the children to visit you.” Mathin pauses. “What do you say, have I your favor now, Lady Andorea?”
Ser Rance Hayford’s stocky frame looks even more blocklike encased in his tournament armor and topped by his tabard and cloak of green and gold. His shield is also colorful: green fetty over gold, a green pale wavy.
He sits aside his charger, that also resplendent in the Hayford colors. He salutes the Queen of Love and Beauty and moves onto the lists after nodding in response to Elmer’s greetings. Then his visor is down and both horse and rider are flying across the way at his opponent.
In the ladies’ stands, Alyce sits amongst friends and acquaintances. Her flaming red hair has been pulled into a rather elaborate braid, flowers of blue and white woven into every intersection so that only the sides of her bright tresses actually show through. With the relatively warm weather, she has a young maid holding her cloak as well as a basket of snacks and wine nearby.
She watches the Lannister extravagance with an amused smirk, doing her best not to laugh. How could any lady resist such charm?
Suprised? The word does not even bein to do justice to her surprise and the emotion that wells up in her eyes as the “Little Lion” approaches with the seven children and the roses. She stands to assist the children to sitting, the whole time her gaze flicking to the Lannister with a warm grin of acceptance. When the last child is settled in and safely seated, she approaches the edge of the stand and despite trying her best to keep her emotions in check, it is clear she is unable as she extends the ribbon of her House colors; yellow and brown, “You /Little Lion/ have earned this favor without question…”
Sat atop his calm, black destrier is Ser Alek Reyne. He’s clad in his plain, unadorned armour, the Reyne sigil exempt, of course. The armour seems new, or, at least, less-dented than this morning’s tournament. He watches Mathin’s antics with an amused smile on his face.
“He’ll hate to admit it, but he’s just like his father right now.” The Reyne knight comments to his squire, before accepting his shield and helm. Tied to the man’s arm is the favour of crimson, silver and lighter red. The intwined colours of Reyne and Serry.
Jannia is perched on the stands for the second time this day, the Tully house guest Andorea on one side, her sister Melene on the other. She is still wearing her blue and red gown, with the Tully sigil emblazoned on the bodice, her hair is pulled up at one side and the res cascades down her back in big fat ringlets. She smiles at the Lannister Knight, and elbows Andorea to respond with a big grin.
Ser Argos Waxley grinned ruefully as he heard who his opponent would be. It would be a pleasant challenge to be able to ride against a Lannister. Though the massive knight may well have wanted to speak to the ‘Little Lion’, it seems the boy was off posturing for his lady. Ordering for a wineskin, Ser Argos takes a swig of the wine, waiting almost impatiently for his turn to come.
Rance delivers a mediocre blow of the lance, failing to find any purchase with which to unseat his opponent.
Elmer strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Rance is knocked from horseback, armor rattling as he falls.
Melene Darry sits in the stands with her Tully sisters, she is dressed as a Tully too: red and blue chased with silver. She watches the goings-on with interest… both on the field of honor and in the stands. She watches Mathin carefully, but she wears her usual serene smile.
“Ser Rance Hayford is unhorsed!” cries the herald amidst the din of cheering from those who had money on Ser Elmer and catcalls from those who had money on th’other. He raises his hands for silence.
“Ser Alek Reyne and Ryckon Westerling, come forth!”
Long distance to Katla: Justyn snugs.
Plate shining even in the dull sunlight, bearing the sigil of a red tower on his shield, Ser Myles Hightower sits on a stool near his mount, waiting his turn. He applauds for Ser Elmer and then watches as Spotted Dick begins strapping his shield to his arm.
Alyce leans forward to speak to the Tully women. “What say you, ladies? Shall the young Ryckon again hold his own against greater knights as he did this morning?”
The Hayford knight is pushed from his horse, grumbling about his saddle, and he glares at the stirrups as if they also were the cause of his defeat, but he moves from the list with his horse to clear the field for the next pair.
Mathin Lannister, his favor received, is naught but business. A destrier is brought to his side and he glimpses Ser Argos with those glittering blue eyes. “Ser, shall we?” he calls jumping upon his steed and fastening his helm.
Elmer rides to the end of the lists, smiling, as those were fools who bet against him in this contest. He does salute his fallen foe, and rides to the Lannister tents, picking up a wineskin and drinking deeply.
Barion Smallwood emerges from within his pavilion his new armor shining. The young man wears plate etched with Acorns and branches and the helm tucked under his arm etched in a similar fashion. Adjusting his surcoat of yellow and brown, he comes to stand next to his chestnut charger attended by a man-at-arms in Smallwood livery who hands the youth some wine. He drinks it down eagerly, then smiles, though the expression does not quite hide his trepidation at this his first joust.
Hearing his call, Alek smiles lightly as he trots his steed forth to his end of the lists and begins the customary salutes; One to the ‘queen’ crowned earlier this day, one to the stands in the direction of his wife, and once to his opponent. Before he puts on his helm, Alek calls out. “Let us hope your prowess with the lance matches that of your mace, young Westerling!” He calls before pulling his helm on and slamming the visor down.
Lance couched, the Reyne digs his spurs into his stallion and goes thundering down the lists.
You paged Katla with ‘Sorry. I had scene’d it as though Katla and Talbard were in discussion with the Grand Maester.’
Jannia looks back to Alyce Clapping at the result of the first match, “I will have to see more my lady, it is still early and fates change.” she smiles at Alyce, “We shall see, I might be coaxed into a wager later.” she giggles a bit
Ryckon once again is on the field in his plate, atop his chestnut mare, bearing his father’s shield, with the favor of his master’s wife wrapped around his arm. He tries to ride with dignity to his position, but this makes him seem detached instead. The Westerling squire gives a courteous nod to his opponent before returning the charge.
Alek delivers a mediocre blow of the lance, failing to find any purchase with which to unseat his opponent.
Ryckon strikes a poor blow after the lance dips unsteadily in the final moment before impact.
Ryckon struggles to keep to the saddle for a few instants, before finally succumbing and sliding to the ground.
“It’ll be a rousing good time,” Ser Argos replies to the Little Lion with a grin. He holds his helmet under his arm, his squire holding onto the reins of his horse. Looking toward the lists, he notes, “Seems it won’t be long either.”
The action before her has the young woman of Smallwood’s attention, tho her eyes to drift to Ser Mathin and his pre-joust actions. Yet, the emergence of her brother Barion causes her eyes to go wide, as it is clear that Andorea was unaware of his entry, and the biting of her lower lip shows obvious concern.
Cheers and catcalls erupt, much as before. “Ryckon Westerling is unhorsed! Ser Alek Reyne advances! Ser Myles Hightower and Barion Smallwood, come forth and test your mettle!”
Despite both blows not being particularly apt, Alek’s strike causes Ryckon to lose balance and fall off his saddle. Pushing himself up, he walks back to the sidelines, shrugging to no one in particular.
Scowling at his poor blow, the clang of the squire falling to the causes him to turn in his seat. Blinking, apparently in shock, the Reyne calls out. “A good tilt, lad!” Before trotting off the field.
Jannia holds Andorea’s hand, to reassure her. “He will be alright.” She looks to her guest and offers her the reassurance double fold with a sympathetic smile.
“Who said anything about wagers?” Alyce blinks innocently, but then it is over. She claps all the same and awaits the next tilt. Still, her gaze slides over toward the knights awaiting their turns until it finds Myles. Her grin widens just a touch more.
Slipping a foot into the stirrup and swinging himseulf up into the saddle, Ser Myles calls for a lance. A sudden gust of wind briefly blows the tails of the blue and white silk ribbon tied ‘round his arm into his face, and he shakes his head as he hefts blunted lance. His mount stamps impatiently as he salutes the stands and his opponent, and then lowers the visor of his helm with his shield arm.
“Hyah!” he exclaims as he couches the lance and puts the spurs to his courser, racing at his foe.
Melene watches the Ser Alek ride. “Hmm. Poor form.” she advises, to noone in particular. “Good thing he was not riding against a more-skilled opponent, or the Reyne might be in the dust.”
Melissa finally seems to perk up a bit after such an joust, with her maid returning with one of her own bottles from her private stores. As the maid pours for Melissa, she looks out over the field again and studies who is still up and who is left…somehow she feels like she might have paid closer attention, but the need for good wine outweighed her perception for a moment.
Barion mounts his steed and settles his helm in place before he moves to the lists. He dips his lance to the stands and then to his opponent before he brushes his horse’s flanks with his spurs and goes charging down the lists towards Ser Myles.
Barion makes a solid impact against his opponent in the joust, though the lance remains unbroken.
Myles’s steady lance and solid seat on his steed leads to a powerful blow. The list resounds with the crack of his lance as it shatters.
Barion is roughly jolted in the saddle, struggling for a few moments to keep to his seat.
The wince on Andorea’s face as her Brother is rocked so hard and the lance shatters, is clearly visible and she cannot help but look away as she grips Jannia’s hand tighter and lets out a soft cry, somewhat unladylike, “What the…” Luckily for her and the children seated around her, no other words escape her lips, but her reddening face does notgo unnoticed.”
Barion is only able to keep his seat by letting go of his lance and grasping his saddle with all his might. His horse slows to a stop at the far end of the lists and he rights himself fully before making his way back to the far end to get a lance from his attendant. A lance and another drink of wine, before he slams shut his visor and hurries to the lists to charge at Ser Myles once more.
Elmer stands by the Lannister tent, drinking steadily and he smiles as Myles unhorses his opponent. He raises his gauntleted fist in slaute towards the Hightower knight, waiting for Mathin to joust, Elmer regards the young man almost as a protege, and the son of his liege lord.
Alyce leans over to tap Melissa gently on the arm, nodding toward the Hightower knight. Or, more likely, the fact that her favor is on his arm. She even claps for the knight she once had no kind words to describe, once she realizes he nearly unhorsed his opponent in one pass. “I do hope he slept last night. The poor man seemed about to drop yesterday. He has been quite busy coordinating all of this.”
Jannia pats her hand, “Lady look, he is still ahorse.” She says with a smile.
A cheer goes up from the crowd as Ser Myles shatters his lance upon his foe’s breastplate. He rides to the end of the lane, casting down the broken stump of his lance and calling for another. He wheels his mount and couches his lance and charges at his foe.
Barion strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Myles lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.
Barion is knocked from horseback, armor rattling as he falls.
Alek watches the joust between Barion and Myles with some interest. “I hope the lad does his master justice.” The Commander comments. Unlike, as it seems, most other knights, Alek is stone cold sober.
As Barion falls, Alek sighs. “Never mind.” He seems to be talking to himself
Seld assurance from Jannia is short lived, as her brother in unhorsed and sent to the ground. Rising from her seet her eyes scan the field, looking for her brother to move.
Still shaken by the power of the first blow he weathered, Myle’s second blow knocks Barion clean from his saddle and deposits him on the ground with a clatter. For a moment the young man does not move, the grey sky above him spinning, but after a moment, he grips the railing and pulls himself to his feet. “Well fought, ser,” he calls as he lifts his dirt splattered visor and raises a hand to Myles in salute.
You paged Katla with ‘That Justyn is awesome and handsome and sexy?’
Ser Myles, back now where he started, casts down the shattered lance and salutes his fallen foe. “You rode well!” he calls, dismounting and vanishing into his pavilion to await his next round.
“Barion Smallwood is unhorsed! Our gracious Ser Myles Hightower advances!” the herald declares, most obsequiously. “Ser Argos Waxley and Ser Mathin Lannister, come forth!”
Jannia stands and comforts the Smallwood girl, she rests her hands on the girls arms, “Lady give it a moment, I am sure he will rise.” She watches the field for signs of movement. When he stirs she speaks in a calming tone, “See he is alright, you can breath now.” She rubs at the girls back to calm her.
Melene looks over to Melissa. “Good evening, lady. I hope you and your brother are well.” Her attention is back to the field as it is announced that the SMallwood squire has been unseated. “Oh… well, he has another chance.” she says, likely meant for Andorea’s comfort.
Andorea nods slowly and is comforted as she sees her brother rise and exit the field, and just as she is about to return to her seat, the call for Ser Mathin rings out and her eyes once more scan for the Knight, “Is this always this stressful?” A softly spoken word to the woman behind her.
The Lannister is already ahorse, his golds tempered by the silvery helm atop his head. Couching his lance in the hook of his arm, the Little Lion has no further words. Only a charge, heavy aside the lists to Ser Argos himself.
“Showtime,” Ser Argos quips with a grin to the Little Lion. He settles the helm upon his head and swings up onto his equally massive destrier, a large black beast. Taking the lance from his squire, Ser Argos rides off to the far end of the lists. Shield firm in hand, Ser Argos raises his lance in a salute to his opponent. “Here’s a -tip- for you, ser!” he remarks as he lowers his lance, pointing the aforementioned tip toward Mathin as he then charges forth.
Argos’s steady lance and solid seat on his steed leads to a powerful blow. The list resounds with the crack of his lance as it shatters.
Mathin’s steady lance and solid seat on his steed leads to a powerful blow. The list resounds with the crack of his lance as it shatters.
Both riders weather the powerful blows and remain on horseback.
Melissa looks up at Melene from her cup and says, “Ahh, good evening, Lady Melene. How fare you? I believe my brother is well…as well as can be expected.” She herself is out of her mourning colors finally, save two black ribbons worn for the fallen ladies, dangling down her sleeves. “Has there been much in the way of excitement? I must say, this morning’s joust had more than its fair share.”
Melene smiles again to Melissa. “No, I am afraid there has not been. Perhaps the lords are tired or feeling the effects of the first tourney? Doubtless things will pick up.”
Andorea winces once more and exhales deeply as the two men shatter their lances on one another, but remain upon their horses, “Oooh he stayed on…”
Taking the blow in stride, Argos lets out a deep laugh when he reaches the other end of the list. Tossed another lance, the bear of a man wheels his horse around. He calls out to his foe, “Did you get my -point- there?” With another laugh, Ser Argos then wheels his horse around again, couching the lance as he charges the Little Lion.
Alyce delights in both lances breaking into bits, although she groans audibly at the horrific puns Argos insists upon spewing. “Oh, that… that was awful.”
Melissa peers at the tap to her shoulder and looks at Alyce, then at the knight, and she smiles a bit more brightly, before looking back to Alyce with a smile. “You’ll tell me details later, my dear lady,” she says softly to Alyce, before looking back to Melene, “This morning was draining, and this…then melees tomorrow? All I can say is we had best pray no one comes to invade us at week’s end. All our knights will be drained.” She chuckles and sips some wine.
The Little Lion weathers the blow and is offered another lance soon after. He is still without speech, though his blue eyes glitter through the helm.
He charges down the lists to meet Argos.
Argos delivers a mediocre blow of the lance, failing to find any purchase with which to unseat his opponent.
Mathin lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.
Argos is roughly jolted in the saddle, struggling for a few moments to keep to his seat.
From the sidelines, Alek groans at the words uttered by Ser Argos. “Perhaps if he paid more attention on his tilt than his puns.” The Reyne comments to his squire.
Meanwhile, at the sidelines, a few goldcloaks are making bets. Audiably. The term “Grey Lion” is mentioned a few times, and it is not hard to understand who they are talking about
Alyce pages: Having a man’s lance break near the tip sounds excrutiating.
Andorea remains standing, and when Ser Mathin connects yet again, she claps before her face a few times, visibly disappointed that Argos remained upon the horse. Also within the stands, the children in which Mathin brought to watch cheer loudly for /their/ knight, completely enthused with smiles.
Perhaps finding the remarks to be more distracting to himself than to his opponent, Argos simply laughs as he finally manages to regain his balance upon the saddle. “Not bad! Not bad at all!” he calls out to Mathin, suitably impressed by the youth. Seeing as the lance did not so much as crack, he keeps it as is, and soon is thundering down the lists once again.
Alyce laughs, then asks Melissa quietly, “My lady, is it common for Lannisters to give their ladies a brood before marriage?” She motions toward Andorea’s seven children, the twinkle in her eyes showing it is all in light jest.
At last the devout Lannister is brought to speech, “Thank you, Ser. Now, let us pay what debts we owe to one another.” His lance intact, he charges at Ser Argos, his crimsons and golds glittering in the sparseness of the fog.
Argos lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.
Mathin strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Mathin is roughly jolted in the saddle, struggling for a few moments to keep to his seat.
Andorea winces again, shaking her head from side to side, “I amnot sure how much more of this I can take.” But then the Lady, who is usually reserved and quiet. Never one to speak out, and never one to stand out calls out to the field, “Knock him off Ser Mathin!.” Is she getting into it?
The Lannister roars as the lance breaks upon his body. He throws his head back, speechless, and charges at Ser Argos again after the slightest pause.
Melissa looks at Alyce and laughs! “Only if the lady permits. You know sometimes gifts like those go unappreciated.” She chuckles and says, “Now who brought the flock of children to the field today…wait, are they cheering…” She laughs again, “Oh dear…well, I suppose someone wishes to be celebrated today.” She eyes the woman, “Who are they with?
“Still some roar in you yet, ser!” Ser Argos calls out over his shoulder. Taking up another lance from his squire, he reins his horse in. “I think you still owe me, ser. I hope you won’t mind if I come to collect!” With that, he spurs his horse once again, levelling the lance as he hopes to unhorse the surprisingly fearsome lad.
Argos strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Mathin’s steady lance and solid seat on his steed leads to a powerful blow. The list resounds with the crack of his lance as it shatters.
Argos is pushed from the saddle by his opponent’s lance.
Alyce motions toward the knights in the tilt. “Ser Mathin brought these little darlings from the orphanage for Lady Andorea, whom he champions.” With a devilish grin, she adds softly, “Although I daresay they may have missed the best part of it all this way.”
Elmer applauds as Mathin breaks another lance, and finally he wins, the Crakehall knight pumping his gauntleted fist in the air. “Lannister!” he cries, and takes another long drink from hiss wine. Having yielded the Joust of Love to Jaesin, will he only com to face Mathin today?
Jannia nods to Andorea still standing by her side, She giggles as the girl calls out, ‘Yes Lady Andorea, it is how it alway is, very invigorating I must say.” She claps for Ser Mathin. She looks down to the kids that are sitting on the floor of the stands, she smiles, and waves at them, “These be children from the house you sent the young Lannister Knight?” she asks hoping
Upon seeing Mathin unhorse Argos, Andorea can be seen visibly bouncing up and down a bit, a smiling and clapping, “Yes.” She turns to the children and smiles, “Did you see that…did you see that?” The children are smiling and clapping as well and some stand upon their seats in enthusiasm. Andorea turns to Jannia and smiles, “Aye. Rather then visit the sick children at the Hospice for his quest…he brought the children to the Tourney. Can you ask for anything more noble?”
Ser Argos lands upon the ground with a resounding thud. It takes him but a few moments before he helps himself back up to his feet, laughing, “Well done, ser!” He gives a firm nod of his head and then departs from the lists, his squire taking charge of the horse.
“A capital contest!” the herald exclaims as the roar of the crowd dies down. He strides to the center of the field.
“From the results of the first round, we shall now advance to the second. Here the contestants split into two pools: Victors and Vanquished. The Victors continue on against one another, while the Vanquished face off for one last chance to redeem themselves.”
Quiet falls over the field. “Among the victors, Ser Mathin Lannister will face off against Elmer Crakehall. Ser Myles Hightower will ride against Ser Alek Reyne.”
Cheers, and some boos. “From the vanquished: Ser Argos Waxley will ride against Barion Smallwood, and Ser Rance Hayford will ride against Ryckon Westerling. A vanquished has one strike against him. If he is beaten again, his horse and armor are forfeit and must be ransomed! Ser Mathin and Ser Elmer, come forth!”
The Little Lion has no lance to raise, broken as it is upon Ser Argos. Yet here is a summer Knight and young too, so he cries out his victory loudly.
Jannia laughs at Andorea’s excitement, “I Should think not my lady.” She returns to her seat and turns to Melissa, “Lady Melissa, it seems I have finally found someone as happy and excitable as I.” She gestures to Andorea. “I think she may even put me to shame.” She laughs merrily and signals to a servant to bring her a cup of wine.
Melissa calls out to Jannia, “My Lady, what? Shall we have no wagers this evening? I thought perchance we should test our luck again.” She grins, “I shall wager a stag on the Grey Lion hinself, as well as the sponsor of these children.” She looks to Andorea, and says, “The lady makes a bold claim, I should like to see you outcheer this woman.” She laughs lightly and says to Alyce. “Shall you join my side once more?”
Elmer shakes his head as he’s drawn against the son of his liege lord, and a young man he likes, but better than having to unhorse Fiona’s uncle again. he rides, lance high, his wife’s favor tied against his left arm, and a small wildflower affixed to his helm. Those who have seen the Joust of Love will understand its meaning. He laughs towards the Lannister squires. “Hedge your bets boys…” he then rides to the end of the lists, waiting for Mathin to come too, fresh from his victory, then lowers his visor and charges, aiming his lance at his opponent’s shield, he doesn’t want to injure a Lannister.
Alyce cheers well for the excellent match between Mathin and Argos. As the next set begins, she finally starts paying attention to the chatter of the guards nearby. “Grey Lion?” The Bar Emmon’s brow furrows for a moment before she realizes who it is and giggles. “Oh, the -old- knight. “Do you hear, ladies? Our men-at-arms apparently believe Ser Alek Reyne shall win the tourney? What think you of this?” A grin to Melissa. “I must needs put a dragon on my own champion, Lady Melissa. It seems we are on opposite sides for the first time this day!”
There is but the briefest respite for Loren’s son and he is ahorse and charging down the lists again. His lance aims for Elmer, his eyes glitter for all the gathered ladies. Here again, the Little Lion squares himself.
Mathin lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.
Elmer strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Elmer is roughly jolted in the saddle, struggling for a few moments to keep to his seat.
Jannia smiles brightly to the Lannister Lady, “In the interest of the game, I will take your bet.” she laughs, and sips the wine, “But I do not know where my luck lies, we shall see.” She sends a playful smirk to the Melissa. “Strong claim indeed, we shall see how she stands up to me. How merry are you my Lady Andorea?” she pats the girl on the shoulder playfully.
Elmer rides into the blow, screaming his frustration as his lance doesn’t break, but he throws the cracked one aside and picking up a new one. He turns around at the end of the lists and charges again, his big gleding picking up speed, the Crakehall knight leaning agaisnt his lance, lending it its weight as he again aims at the shield.
Long distance to Katla: Justyn mourns them.
Andorea turns her head from the field after watching Mathin strike his opponent once more and not be unhorsed himself, looking to Jannia, “I am most merry indeed. Mathin still sits atop his horse and my brother is not dead yet. What else can I ask for really?” Her smile is wide and she turns back to the field.
Another lance is given, the Lannister rocked just a bit in his seat, and here comes Mathin again down the lists. He bears down upon Elmer.
Mathin strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Elmer lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.
Mathin just manages to keep to the saddle after weathering a good blow from his opponent.
Jannia stifles a snort in laughter, “I guess that is the gist of the game, and I think you and I will make a great team Lady Andorea. Though I wouldn’t be to worried if your men fall from horse. I could venture to guess they have not seen battle recently, their risk, as I could only assume, would be much less than others.” She hopes that gives the girl reassurance, even if at the time she seems to not need it.
The Lannister roars anew as Elmer’s lance breaks upon his shield. The Little Lion seems a bit weathered now, but charges out again nonetheless.
Elmer laughs as his lance breaks, the situation reversed, and a new one is needed. He stops by the tent, taking a long drink and he smiles at the taste of brandy instead of wine. Everyone know he jousts better when drunk, and his eyes are getting bloodshot. He salutes Mathin, then yells his warcy. “None so fierce!” before lowering his visor, and charging, bringing his horse to a gallop before the crash.
Andorea winces again as she watches Ser mathin try and stay atop, “Don’t fall off! Don’t fall off!”
Elmer strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Mathin’s steady lance and solid seat on his steed leads to a powerful blow. The list resounds with the crack of his lance as it shatters.
Elmer just barely manages to keep himself in the saddle after his opponent’s blow knocks him askew.
“Now -this- is sport,” Alyce declares as both riders stubbornly cling to their saddles. “Shall we do what I suggested this morning, Lady Jannia? Double our wagers with each pass until one wins?”
Melissa grins to Alyce and says, “This will be a most entertaining battle then.” She gestures and says, “Wine? I have some of the best from the last tournament I attended. It has followed me here and this morning put me in quite the mood to taste something familiar and delicious.” Looking to Andorea, she laughs, and tells Jannia, “You may be right.” Giving a nod of greeting she watches and says, “Ser Elmer was so very close this morning, he is looking to press for victory again tonight.”
Elmer rides again, the big man surprisingly nimble in the sadde, but that wasa masterful blow by Mathin. His shoulder his sore and her reajusts his shield. And again, with a new lance he charges, perhaps forgetting who he’s facing as he aims at the helmet now.
“Ser, well run,” states Mathin as he rounds the lists, his words to Elmer. A new lance is given him and he then he is charging anew, bearing Crakehall.
Mathin strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Elmer delivers a mediocre blow of the lance, failing to find any purchase with which to unseat his opponent.
Elmer is roughly jolted in the saddle, struggling for a few moments to keep to his seat.
Jannia nods in agreement to Melissa, “Aye, I think I would have to agree, he did well indeed, lets see if he can keep a horse this time. Shall we?”
Andorea almost jumps the seating railing in excitement it would seem as she Elmer is almost unsaddled, “Oh..oh…” She settles back down and looks back at the women who sit with her, “This is too stressful…where did you get that wine?”
Elmer shakes his head and as he rides to the end of the lists raises his helmet. “My apologies, ser!” he shouts. Then he charges again, aiming at Mathin’s shield.
Mathin can only smirk at the strike, only a glancing blow.
He charges anew.
Elmer strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Mathin’s lance is broken into so many splinters as he delivers a tremendous blow to his opponent.
Elmer just barely manages to keep himself in the saddle after his opponent’s blow knocks him askew.
It is clear that Andorea is unsure of the rules, as she watches the last blows given and looks ot the Herald with the verdict, “Say Ser Mathin. Say Ser Mathin. ” Her foot taps nervously, unpatiently.
“With three broken lances to one, Ser Mathin Lannister advances another round. Ser Elmer has fougth well and is certainly a favorite to come back for vengeance!” cries the herald. “Quit the field, sers, and let Ser Myles Hightower and Ser Alek Reyne come forth!”
Alek grins slightly as his name is called, trotting forward. Again, he salutes as customary, his helm equiped. “Good luck, nephew!” The Commander calls, his visor lowered and his lance couched. His horse is then spurred onwards, lance aimed for Myles’ shield.
Andorea cheers again, claaping and smiling along with the children. She then turns to Jannia and states, “He promised me he would win..”
So summoned, Ser Myles Hightower emerges from his pavilion, hefting his red-towered shield and mounting his courser. He trots to the field of honor, hefting a lance and posing for the crowd. He is beloved mainly because it has been well known that the cakes the smallfolk eat are paid for with Oldtown coin. He salutes the crowd and his opponent, lowering his visor. Then he couches his lance and charges his uncle.
Alek lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.
Myles delivers a mediocre blow of the lance, failing to find any purchase with which to unseat his opponent.
Myles finds himself forced from the saddle by his opponent’s charge.
Alyce claps strongly for the excellent pairing. “Well fought and better ridden, both of them.” Hearing the exciting pcoming match, she actually rises and makes her way to the railing beside Andorea and her borrowed brood. Her smile is almost shy as she watches the pair line up, but there is excitement in her eyes.
The Little Lion breathes heavily as he departs the field.
Andorea turns to Alyce aside her and offers a smile, “Have you interest in this round?”
Alek’s blow strikes true. He wheels his horse around and lifts his visor, looking worriedly at his nephew to see if he will rise.
Melissa applauds her cousin and says, “Excellently done!” calling out to him. “The man is supposed to have the Seven on his side. Perhaps tonight he genuinely does.” She laughs and sips her wine.
Jannia laughs at her misfortune, and takes the coin out of her purse, and hands it to Melissa, “I believe that is.. What?.. 4 dragons of mine that you have gotten to keep today my lady.” She grins at Melissa. “That was good fun do you not agree?”
Myles’ lance dips at the last second. Perhaps it was a hitch in the horse’s stride or sheer incompetence. Either way, Myles falls from his horse and clatters to the ground, giving the victory to Ser Alek.
The herald comes forth. “Ser Myles Hightower is unhorsed. Ser Alek advances!”
After a moment, Myles stirs, sitting up. He is helped to his feet by his squire and salutes the crowd before retiring to await his next summons.
The herald, for his part, merely moves on. “Ser Argos Waxley and Barion Smallwood, come forth!”
Andorea rips the railing a bit tighter, her smile fading as her brother is called to joust once more, a softly murmured, “Please don’t die…”
Melissa laughs and says, “I cannot help it if so many of my kin, our bannermen, and all my relations just happen to be excellent at tilting.” She laughs a little, and looks to Andorea. “And since no one has bothered to make introduction, good evening. I’m Melissa Lannister. Are you caring for these…children?”
“Indeed, my lady.” Alyce motions toward Myles… just as he falls. She winces, waiting a moment for him to rise. Relieved, she explains, “He champions me this tourney.” And she has gold riding on him. Taking out a dragon, she moves toward Jannia. “Please pass this to Lady Melissa.”
Sure of his nephew’s health, Alek raises a hand to salute the crowd before trotting off to the sides, taking a waterskin to douse his face.
Meanwhile, on the sidelines, the Watchmen are cheering for Alek’s win. It’s clear that they’re River Gate men.
Barion re-mounts his chestnut destrier and lance in hand advances towards the starting place in the lists. He dips his lance once to the viewing box, then to his foe, before he sets himself ready to charge when the command is given.
Ser Argos gives a resounding laugh as he is called, seeming quite anxious to ride. Mounting up upon his large horse, Ser Argos looks across to see just whom he is to fight. Another boy. With a chortle, he calls out, “Small lance for a Smallwood, ser! I hope you can wield it well!” With a salute to both the box and then his opponent, he then spurs his charger down the lists.
Wandering toward the lists from the pavilions of the wealthy and powerful, the white-clad form of the tall Kingsguard, Ser Jaesin Lannister, cuts a striking figure. The victor of the day’s initial tourney, the Joust of Love, he is greeted by a rousing cheer when he begins his climb toward the royal box.
Andorea nods to Alyce and winces slighty as she connects the fact that the person Alyce cheered for had been unsaddled. Her attention then turns to Melissa as she nods slowly, “Aye. Well I suppose I do. They are in my care until they return to the Hospice as it were.”
Another audiable groan comes from Alek as Ser Argos opens his mouth once more.
Jannia nods to Alyce, and hands the coin to Melissa, “Here you are my lady,” When she mentions not knowing Andorea she blushes, “Beg your pardons, This is Lady Andorea Smallwood my lady,” she tries to recover some semblance of propriety.
The introduction serves for Alyce as well. “Well met, Lady Andorea. I am Lady Alyce Bar Emmon. Have you any other family in King’s Landing, aside from the lovely Tully ladies?”
Andorea smiles to the women as she offers her reply, “Well met as well, and I do. Ser Luthor is my cousin, and I reside with him. I am only visiting the Tully’s until he returns, of them I am no relation.”
Melissa ahhs and nods, “Very pleasant to meet you, my lady.” She laughs, “I see my cousin’s noble heart had set you to task for him,” grinning as she pockets coins. “And ladies, this is why we wager stags. We could feed these children for an age with the wagering here. Must you make me feel guilty for winning all evening?” she says with a smirk in a obvious taunt, goading on more betting. “And Ser Alek, as well! This IS a good evening.”
Melene looks to the Bar Emmon lady. “Oh, though our lady of Smallwood is a delight, she is not our kin.” she says, echoing what Andorea says. “But her cousin, the Warden of the Kingswood is away and she has noone else to visit with while he is away. Certainly not with that Mertyns fellow there as well.”
As he attains the royal box, Ser Jaesin is met with a playful look from the Princess Elaena, who asks him pointedly, “Ser Jaesin. Have you no desire to test your skills against your brother? His prowess has been most delightful to observe.”
Taking his position beside the Queen and her sisters, assuming his role as their guardian, the White Sword laughs aloud at the question. “Let us say, rather, that I prefer to collect a few golden dragons from those foolish enough to bet against a Lannister,” he replies.
“Yes, yes,” answers the Princess, coyly. “I hope that for your sake, such men pay their debts so well as you Lions so famously do.”
Argos’s steady lance and solid seat on his steed leads to a powerful blow. The list resounds with the crack of his lance as it shatters.
Barion’s steady lance and solid seat on his steed leads to a powerful blow. The list resounds with the crack of his lance as it shatters.
Both riders weather the powerful blows and remain on horseback.
The Bar Emmon blinks at Melissa as though she has grown a second head. “You -do- donate the coin you win from wagers, do you not? Or purchase goods to donate?” She asks it as though there could not possibly be any other use for such money. “Ah, I did not realize,” Alyce replies to Melene. Her smile brights at Andorea’s words. “Ser Luthor? Why, I adore him! He worked for my father for years, before he was a knight. Ever chivalrous and kind, he was my favorite guardsman.”
Melissa tilts her head at Melene and says, “Ser Luthor, yes?” She nods and grins back to Alyce and says, “Must we continue to share a mind this evening?” She agrees though to Andorea, “A good man, and a good knight. I know him and his lady wife well.” She grins though and says to Alyce, “And yes, I find myself having enough to support my charitable affairs, do you think me so very cruel?”
“Not bad, Smallwood!” Ser Argos cries out. Deciding that another quip is in store, he remarks, “The acorn doesn’t fall too far from the tree, hmm?! I’m glad you’re a bit of a challenge!” With another lance now in hand, Ser Argos couches his lance and thunders down the list once more.
Barion laughs aloud he rides through the shards of two broken lances. Reaching the end of the lists he tosses the broken shard away and hurries back to claim a fresh lance. “No ser, it does not!” he calls back to Argos before they have passed too far for words. Gripping the fresh lance in his hand he dips it to his sister in the stands and then charges forth aiming it’s tip at Argos’ chest.
Argos makes a solid impact against his opponent in the joust, though the lance remains unbroken.
Barion’s steady lance and solid seat on his steed leads to a powerful blow. The list resounds with the crack of his lance as it shatters.
Argos is pushed from the saddle by his opponent’s lance.
A great cheer goes up as Ser Argos is driven from his mount. The herald strides forward. “Ser Argos is eliminated; his mount and armor forfeit. Barion Smallwood survives another round!”
He bellows out, “Ser Rance Hayford and Ryckon Westerling, come forth!”
This time there is only the splinters of one lance to ride through, and it is his own. Barion rounds the end of the lists and seeing Ser Argos is down rides to his side. “Are you hurt ser?” he asks, swinging down from his horse to offer him a hand.
Andorea turns quickly upon hearing the collision, realizing once again that her brother is jousting. She claps and bounces once more as her brother unhorses the other Knight, “Yeah Barion!” She turns back to the ladies and smiles, “That’s my brother…” She looks back and waves her hand to him, hoping he sees her, but thinking he would not, and then looks back ot the women, “Aye, I am truly blessed to have Luthor watching over me here at court. I am not sure my father would have allowed me to stay if it were not for Luthor’s protection and watchful eye.”
Ser Argos gives a laugh, accepting the hand proffered to him. “Quite well! Haven’t felt so alive in some time! Well done, ser!” He seems fairly gracious in his defeat, removing his helm to show that broad grin of his. “I guess my armor and horse are yours, then? Pity they shan’t suit you. Perhaps I might buy them back?”
Jannia stands, and claps for Andorea’s kin, “He did very well Lady Andorea, you should be very proud of him.” She offers a smile and then takes her seat, she finishes her cup of wine and waves for another. She quietly watches as the tourney carries on.
“If I thought you cruel, Lady Melissa, I would not have been surprised by the remark. I apologize, it seems I am a bit distracted this day.” Alyce dips her head in apology, then watches the matches with Andorea. “Ah, it is the same for me. My father sent me here, but only because my dear cousin, Ser Farin Prester is here and newly married.” Not even the -hint- of impropriety, that way. “He is Ser Luthor’s Deputy.”
Melissa ahhs, “Shall I see if Ryckon can win me another coin today? Takers?” She looks around a moment and nods to Andorea, “I think you are most fortunate to have such a brave knight to watch over you here.” She grins a little and then looks to Alyce and says, “Fear not, I shall still learn your little story before the night is out.”
Elmer rubs his chin thoughtfully as he watches the jousts, waiting patiently to have his name called out again, and drinking steadily in the meantime. he veen makes a bet or two, and he’s seen handing out a couple of stags to the pages.
Barion nods for Argos to walk with him and clear the field for the next event. “I’m no ser, at least, not yet.” And he nods. “I’ve no want for your horse and armor. I’ll take a dragon and call our debt well settled.”
Rance seems in a bit of a better mood as he mounts his horse and allows his squire to arm him with lance and shield. He directs his steed to his end of the row without as much as a word to Ryckon. He closes the visor on his helm, and he is ready to go. When the other rider seems ready, he spurs his charger into motion, bringing his lance down into position.
Hearing the word bet and Melissa’s voice, Jannia flips Melissa a coin, “If he wins you keep it,” she grabs her cup and sits back to enjoy her wine. She smiles to the Lannister lady.
Andorea smiles to Jannia, looking over her shoulder, “I am proud of him.” She casts a glance to Melissa and continues the grin, “Most fortunate indeed, I am not your typical young woman, and dare I say perhaps need a lot more guidance than most.” Eyes slowly drift back to the field as she tucks a strand of hair behind he ear, “It would appear we have a lot in common Lady Alyce.”
Argos chortles at that, “Then you have the fine makings of a knight, boy. You do your master proud.” He motions to his squire, gesturing with two fingers. He looks back to Barion, then, replying, “And for it, I shall give you twice what you ask.”
Ryckon, still trying and failing to act dignified, mounts his own horse and gives a nod to Rance as a servant fetches his own equipment. Despite his charade, he can’t help himself from whooping when he charges.
Melene produces a stag. “I will take your wager, lady Melissa. The Haywood knight seems to want to win. His horse, too. It looks spirited.”
Alek grins to his squire. “I take back what I said about Barion. It looks as though Ser Luthor has trained the boy well.”
“You know how loyal I am to sweet little Ryckon.” Alyce describes him much as one would a small child. “My bet is for him, as earlier.” Nonchalantly, she adds, “Lady Melissa, would it satisfy you were I to say your book taught me what I needed to know to encourage my champion to earn his favor?”
Rance lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.
Ryckon strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Ryckon just barely manages to keep himself in the saddle after his opponent’s blow knocks him askew.
“My thanks, ser, your generosity will not be forgotten,” Barion says taking the coins and bowing his head to Ser Argos. “May we meet in the lists again, ser,” he says before taking his leave and once his horse has been seen to he moves to the stands. “Sweet sister,” he calls to Andorea, flicking the second of the gold coins over the railing towards her waiting lap. “For the brood your champion brought. A dragon split seven ways ought to bring them much joy.” Then with a smile for the children, he turns and returns to watch the next match.
The Haywood knight tosses his cracked lance aside as he brings his horse to a stop. He turns and resets as he collects a second lance, then charges again. “Go! Go!”
Ryckon is nearly knocked off the saddle but somehow maintains his seat and grabs up another lance. His aim and posture, and his demeanor in not making any sound or gesture as he lowers his lance and charges again, suggest that he is still jarred from the earlier blow,
And smile the children do, seein the Knight coming so close to where they sit, brings them all to the railing. Andorea catches the coin with a smile herself and an incline of her head, “You are far to generous Brother… I wish you continued success.” The coin is tucked in a small pouch and she tosses a glance to to the children before lookin back to the field.
On the other side of the railing that closes in the royal box, Miranda Fossoway is sitting in her black mourning, watching the joust. But when she spies Jaesin Lannister chatting, she sits up a little straighter. “Ser Jaesin,” she calls, beckoning to him. “I wanted to say that you rode very well today,” says the lady in whose name Almer Connington rode earlier.
Rance’s steady lance and solid seat on his steed leads to a powerful blow. The list resounds with the crack of his lance as it shatters.
Ryckon makes a solid impact against his opponent in the joust, though the lance remains unbroken.
Ryckon is knocked from horseback, armor rattling as he falls.
Elmer smiles as he sees Ryckon fall, but it was a valiant try and he applauds the squire. He leaves off the wineskin for now and just waits, an amosued grin toward the chattering ladies.
Glancing toward the various Targaryens he is sworn to protect, assuring himself of their momentary safety, the Kingsguard is allowed to slide a step closer to the rail—and the Fossoway girl. “My lady,” he says politely. “You are too kind. A pity that the gods intervened,” he remarks. “Ser Almer’s seventh lance broke, and kept me from meeting him in the lists. I’d have loved to ride against him.”
She clasps her hands together as the Knight she bid on stayed ahorse. Jannia smiles to Melissa while gesturing for another glass of wine, “It seems that Ryckon, has not had a good run this joust. It is to bad, but there is always tomorrow.” She does not call him little as he is only 2 years younger than she.
Rance lifts the remains of his shattered lance in the air in victory. “Ha!” He lifts his visor as he makes way. “GOod ride!” he shouts, in good humor.
Melissa laughs and says, “Oh the poor squire…well, nothing gained, nothing ventured,” she says as she pays up. But as she is grinning to Jannia, she turns and looks at Alyce, staring a moment wide-eyed. “I see. Well. I’m afraid you leave me no choice but to drag you from here once this joust is complete. I will know what you learned…and what you taught.”
“Ryckon Westerling is cast down! His horse and armor are forfeit!” cries the herald from his place beneath the nobles’ gallery. “Ser Rance Hayford advances!”
He turns to addressed the notables. “My lords and ladies, the second round is complete. To the third round we now advance. There are only two Victors left, while four Vanquished yet remain! In the third round, Ser Mathin Lannister will tilt against Ser Alek Reyne. In the pool of the Vanquished, Ser Elmer Crakehall will tilt against Ser Myles Hightower, and Ser Rance Hayford against Barion Smallwood! Now, let Ser Alek and Ser Mathin come forth!”
“I should have liked to see such a match,” Miranda says, though she looks a little awed to be speaking to one of the Kingsguard. “I know you are Ser Jaesin Lannister. I am Miranda Fossoway. I serve Lady Reyna, who I know you know. We have heard such stories of you and some of the others in the war.”
Elmer smiles. Finally, his turn has arrived, and he salutes Myles with a deep bow before going to the end of the lists. he pats the head of his big gelding. “Carry me true, boy..” he says, then lowers the visor of his helmet, which carries a small wildflower on to surprisingly. Then he couches his lance, and charges towards MYles, picking up speed.
Andorea focuses her attention on the Herlad once more, listrning for Ser Mathin and her brother’s names to be called and makin note. When it is called out for Ser Mathin to take the field, she once again grips the rail and takes a long breath, murmuring softly to ALyce beside her, “Can Mathin win this round?”
Alek sighs lightly, still smiling. “I knew my luck would run out.” The Reyne knight says to his squire as he takes his helm and shield.
Trotting out onto the field, Alek salutes and equips his helm. “Good luck, Ser Mathin! Though I scarcely think you shall need it.” And the visor is lowered and the horse spurred on.
Alyce only laughs at Melissa, turning back to the tourney field to give nothing away. Well, except her coin, for her favorite squire is unhorsed.
The Little Lion emerges forth from his tent, his lips yet untainted by wine. His helm is held under his arm for a moment, before being settled atop his head. Then he is upon his steed, a lance couched at his elbow.
He may smile as he answers, “Good luck,” before charging down the lists.
Alek makes a solid impact against his opponent in the joust, though the lance remains unbroken.
Mathin lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.
Alek just barely manages to keep himself in the saddle after his opponent’s blow knocks him askew.
Andorea folds her hands before her face in a small peak, staring at the joust from behind it. She seems a bit calmer now, eyes focused on Ser Mathin and his opponent.
Growling to himself, Alek whirls his horse around. His lance remains unbroken, so there is no need to replace. Instead, he jabs his heels into his destrier’s flanks, urging it faster, lance aimed for Mathin’s chest.
Ser Jaesin nods gravely to the lady—and pauses in the act of it, as his brother nearly unseats their father’s bannerman. A quick smile flashes upon his face, though the protocol of his duties as a Kingsguard prevents him from lifting his voice in a cheer. Then his eyes flickering back to the Fossoway girl, he says, “Men tell tales, to be sure. Your lady I count as a friend, though.”
There is a heartbeat’s break, then, before he asks, “Are you well?” Ser Jaesin was with Ser Almer at Crackclaw Point; he need not ask more, nor add painful detail.
A new lance accepted by Mathin, he seems otherwise unperturbed. He charges down the lists at Alek, his mail catching a glitter amidst the fog.
Alek lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.
Mathin’s lance is broken into so many splinters as he delivers a tremendous blow to his opponent.
Alek is pushed from the saddle by his opponent’s lance.
“Oh, yes, well enough,” Miranda replies in immediate understanding. “It helps to—oh, look! Is that not your brother, Ser Jaesin? He’s unhorsed someone,” she says, pointing.
And Alek falls for the first time. There is some howling from the goldcloaks in the stands as the Commander sits himself up, removing his helm. “Ugh…Well played, ser!” He calls out, before getting to his feet to move off to the side.
From calm to giddy filled glee, Anodrea claps once more and nudges Alyce beside her without much thought to the action, “He won again. Ser Mathin won again.” And once again, the children cheer with enthusiasm, clearly invested in the success of /their/ knight.
“Ser Alek is unhorsed! Ser Mathin advances to face the winner of the pool of the Vanquished!” cries the herald. Then, pausing only long enough for the knights to quit the field, he roars out, “Let Ser Elmer Crakehall and Ser Myles Hightower come forth!”
“Ser Alek Reyne,” supplies Ser Jaesin for Miranda’s benefit. “The Reynes bear a white lion for their arms—a pale reflection of our own golden familiar,” he explains. He cannot keep the note of pride from his voice, nor its spark from his eyes as he says, “And that is Ser Mathin, yes. My brother. He may yet become the best of us.”
Elmer smiles. Finally, his turn has arrived, and he salutes Myles with a deep bow before going to the end of the lists. he pats the head of his big gelding. “Carry me true, boy..” he says, then lowers the visor of his helmet, which carries a small wildflower on to surprisingly. Then he couches his lance, and charges towards Myles, picking up speed.
Truly a Knight of the Summer, Mathin pulls his helm from atop his head. He reveals gold, a glittering white smile and blue eyes with the sea’s depth.
Coming at a trot fromt he pavilions, Ser Myles is yet again upon his mount. He eyes Ser Elmer across the field warily, taking up his lance and shuttering his visor. He gives a shout as he gives the spurs to his courser, couching his lance and charging.
Unable to help it, Alyce succumbs to Andorea’s excitement a bit and applauds loudly. “Your knight is very good, my lady!” And then her own is up. Feeding off of the other woman’s energy, she lifts on her tiptoes, leaning upon the railing. “-Two- dragons on my champion!” She calls it out to the women, but surely the men can hear her as well, happy as she is.
Myles strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Elmer’s steady lance and solid seat on his steed leads to a powerful blow. The list resounds with the crack of his lance as it shatters.
Myles is driven off the saddle by his opponent’s skillful charge.
“Ah, Ser Alek Reyne, thank you,” says the young Fossoway. “I have not been about much. I oughtn’t to be out now, I suppose, since…” she trails off and brushes a bit of fluff from her black skirts. “It’s why I didn’t let Ser Almer crown me earlier when I thought he might wish to. It isn’t right when one is in mourning.”
Before Andorea can even manage a smile to share in the matches outcome, Myles is unseated and she winces, looking over to Alyce with an apologetic look, a gentle expressed tone, “Well at least he did not break his lance…right?”
Melissa takes Alyce up on the wager and just in time. She laughs, “Ser Elmer has long been a champion and a knight of good standing with my family, how could I not wager for him?” She looks to Alyce and says nothing more, just grinning a bit.
The golden-haired Kingsguard nods sagely in agreement. “Nor would it truly be fair for a man sworn to take no wife, nor father no children,” he essays carefully, “be made to crown a Queen of Love and Beauty. A poor joke, that would be,” he admits, lips twisting in a wry, self-deprecating grin. “I think your denial was a gesture as noble as my cousin’s own. It cannot help but please Her Grace.”
Elmer rides through the splinters and comes to the end of the lists, watching to see if Myles is allright. he hears Melissa’a comment, especially the one about ‘good standing’. In his youth he’s been dubbed the ‘black sheep’ of Crakehall by Lord Loren for all his mischief.
Struck full on with the lance, Ser Myles clatters to the ground, bested. He does not take long to stir but stands slowly. He rips off his helmet and throws it on the ground, looking for all the world as though he wishes to make an issue of it. This lasts a mere moment, however; the respectful applause of so many smallfolk who have feasted on his largesse today stifles him, and he offers a cordial if awkward salute. “Come to claim your prize later, Ser Elmer, and we shall discuss ransom.”
He bows to Ser Elmer, salutes the noble gallery, and quits the field.
The herald, for his part, merely calls out. “Let Barion Smallwood and Ser Rance Hayford come forth!”
“Was she pleased? I thought the Princess looked very happy,” Miranda says, glancing past Jaesin where the Queen and her sisters are. “Tell me,” she says then, looking back up at the Kingsguard, “do you know any of the ladies? I don’t know any yet, and Reyna wasn’t well enough to come. I think it is not done to just introduce oneself here in King’s Landing.”
Andorea hears her brother’s name called once more and places her focus intently on the field once more, “Come on Barion…”
“My lady, I am a sworn brother of the Kingsguard,” Ser Jaesin says with a certain mock-innocence. “The society of women is as foreign a country to me as Qohor hard by its forest across the Narrow Sea,” he insists. His eyes give that the lie, though.
“In truth,” the eldest of the Lannister brothers admits, “I know many and more of the ladies of court—at least, of the royal House, and the Great Houses who are my peers. Their ways -do- mystify me somewhat, but I will aid you if I can.”
Alyce waves off Andorea’s piteous look, watching Myles carefully. “Why does he rise so slowly? Is he hurt?” But then his helmet is off and he -seems- fine, if a bit enraged. Releasing the breath she had not known she had been holding, the blue-and-white bedecked lady grins and happily passes off her pair of dragons to Melissa through Jannia again.
Ser Rance rides out again, he was ready as soon as the crowd began to cheer for the last victor. He collects his weaponry and preares himself. “Hayford!” he bellows, spurring his horse on. It picks up speed as he aims his lance for the squire’s shield.
Barion mounts up once more and makes his way to the lists lance at the ready. As he goes through the ritual salutes, he murmurs a prayer to the Warrior and charges forth.
Miranda winces. “I have seen Ser Myles before.I hope he is well. Is he married to that girl there?” she adds, lowering her voice and pointing discreetly toward Alyce. “She seems so concerned. He is fortunate, I think, to be so adored.”
Rance strikes a poor blow after the lance dips unsteadily in the final moment before impact.
Luthor lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.
Rance is struck down as if by a hammerblow, tumbling from his saddle to the hard earth below.
Jannia looks to Alyce and Andorea, she smiles as they are enraptured by the games, “I am glad to see such excitements for their champions, tell me sister, is this what the Tourney of Love is all about?” she smiles to Melene, and takes a sip of her wine, awaiting a reply.
Andorea clutches her hand together, interlocking the fingers as her brother wins again, and then it hits her, “Oh no. What if my brother must comptete against Ser Mathin?” She seems extremely perplexed, almost distraught now.
“Ser Rance is struck down! Balion Smallwood advances to the next round!” cries the herald. “Due to his valor and skill at arms, Ser Mathin will receive a bye to the next round as the Vanquished sort things out amongst themselves. As a reward for making it so far, Ser Alek will also receive a bye this round. Balion Smallwood will face Ser Elmer. Ser Alek will face the winner of that, and then will Ser Mathin ride again!”
Rance fairly drags his horse from the field, and thrusts the reins into the hands of his squire. “Find a new horse. I don’t want to see that one again.” he tells the squire angrily as he disappears into his pavillion.
Melissa hmms and looks to Andorea, “Seems you don’t have to worry about that. Now you must worry about Ser Elmer.” She nods and says, to the ladies, “I’ll put coin on Ser Elmer for this one, for his relations to my family,” she assured Andorea with a grin, “Someone care to wager against me?” she says looking to the other ladies around.
Barion’s lance snaps and he watches as Ser Rance tumbles. He rides round to see how he fares only to see the man take off.
There is no time to pursue him or the matter of the ransom just now he has boar to face. He turns about his horse and comes to the verge of the lists to recover a fresh lance and wait Ser Elmer’s arrival.
Andorea turns to Melissa, holding up the coin Barion had tossed to her, and getting into the spirit, “Okay then. One coin…my brother wins.”
Jannia shrugs, “I will put coin for the brother of my houseguest, he is a Riverlander after all.” She smiles to Melissa
Following Miranda’s line of sight, Ser Jaesin purses his lips in thought for the briefest of moments. “Hightower? Married?” He chuckles. “No, not him. That woman following him is in the care of Ser Farin Prester, but I’ll be damned if I remember her name. She’s not of the Westerlands, though—perhaps she is his mother’s kin?”
Elmer salutes Barion Smallwood, the man has ridden valiantly. But what will the experience knight do? His flower still adorns his helmet and he rides slowly to the end of the lists, picking up a long lance , his shield on his left arm with the brindled boar of Crakehall. He couches his lance and charges, aiming it at Smallwood’s shield.
“Oh. She behaves as if… well, I can’t judge, can I?” Miranda laughs self-deprecatingly. “Listen to me. I am late, Ser Jaesin, and must be getting home. Thank you for letting me run on at you. You are very kind.”
Melissa grins to them both, “Ahh, there you go, very good then. Against both of you? Very well.” She laughs and says, “Well, Lady Jannia,” she blinks at her realization, “I suppose that shall include me as well, no? Shall I be forced to cheer on Riverlanders against my family soon?” she says with a laugh.
“The pleasure was all mine, my lady,” Ser Jaesin tells the Fossoway girl for whom his cousin of Connington rode so valiantly. “Fare you well.”
Barion manages only the poorest of blows, lance skittering ineffectually off the corner of a shield.
Elmer delivers a mediocre blow of the lance, failing to find any purchase with which to unseat his opponent.
Barion is shaken in the saddle by the lance he’s received against him, but recovers well.
Elmer rides to the end of the lists enraged at his poor blow and he picks a new lance just out of spite, then turns around and rides again, aiming at the shield again, his eyes bright behind his visor.
Jannia Chuckles, “Only if you feel inclined to do so, Lady Melissa call me an overatly supportive person. I just have a thing for rooting for the Riverlands, that is when my champion is not about.” She grins to Melissa
It’s a shakey start to the match, neither he nor Elmer striking with any real force. Frowning beneith his steel, Barion tosses aside his lance and grabs a fresh one, ready for what he hopes will be a better tilt, regardless of the result.
“They are riding very well, are they not? All of them.” Alyce comments to no lady in particular. Glancing back, she asks, “Wait, who is the favorite for this match? I shall take the other.”
Barion makes a solid impact against his opponent in the joust, though the lance remains unbroken.
Elmer makes a solid impact against his opponent in the joust, though the lance remains unbroken.
Barion seems more pleased by this tilt than the one before it but still his lance is unbroken. He tosses it aside and takes a fresh one, before charging back down the lists at Elmer, lance pointed squarely at the knight’s chest.
Elmer sighs again and he is making a fool of himself. Turning again, he rides like a madman, urging his gelding forward, but again, not aiming anything but the shield.
Barion delivers a mediocre blow of the lance, failing to find any purchase with which to unseat his opponent.
Elmer’s steady lance and solid seat on his steed leads to a powerful blow. The list resounds with the crack of his lance as it shatters.
Barion is struck down as if by a hammerblow, tumbling from his saddle to the hard earth below.
“Ser Elmer the victor! Barion Smallwood’s horse and armor are forfeit! Ser Alek Lannister, come forth!” cries out the herald.”
Andorea winces as she sees her Brother fall from the horse and the herlad mention his horse and armor are forfeit. As soon as she sees that he is okay, she turns to Melissa and offers her coin, not lookin to the children, “Here you are Lady Melissa. It was a well fought bout indeed.”
Elmer laughs as he rides through the shards of the splintered lance. He hopes the kid is allright though, but as he turns he sees his good uncle. “We meet again?” he asks, with a merry laugh, then picking up a new lance he charges towards the Reyne knight.
Sighing once more, Alek takes his helm and moves into place. He salutes, but there are no words for Crakehall as there have been for the others. Alek sets himself and charges.
Alek strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Elmer strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Barion wakes on his back, his shield broken and shards of of Elmer’s lance all about him. His attendant is with him and he takes the man’s hand and gets to his feet. He takes off his helm and spits out a bit of blood and phlem, before raising a hand and calling to his foe. “Well fought, ser,” before withdrawing from the field.
Jannia tosses the coin to Melissa, “It seems lady you have bested me again,” she looks to Andorea with a look of concern, “You sure you are ok?”
Andorea nods slowly to Jannia’s inquiry, “Aye. He seems okay. He knew the consequences for losing, it is a risk each Kniht takes, right?”
Melissa nods and says, “I am impressed! Your brother sat a fine horse, and tilted bravely, Lady Andorea.” She does take the coin and says, “I have been most fortunate of one thing here, I’ve seen many of these knights ride before. It is actually no surprise when I see Ser Elmer ride as well as he does.” She looks again to the field and says, “This shall be another fine contest.” She sips her most delicious Highgarden wine, savoring the evening going so well. And no Ser Anton to worry about on horse. Perfect.
Elmer seems to have trouble with the first encounters today, and he shakes his head. “Well ridden , uncle!” he laughs and picking up a fresh lance spurs his destrier on, aiming at the lion on his uncle’s shield.
Wheeling his steed back to the end of the list, Alek tosses away his cracked lance before charging, tip aimed for Elmer’s chest.
Elmer lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.
Alek makes a solid impact against his opponent in the joust, though the lance remains unbroken.
Alek is driven off the saddle by his opponent’s skillful charge.
The crack of Elmer’s lance draws the Little Lion from his tent.
There is a general buzz of acclamation from those who wear the livery of the Westerlands Houses—Reyne, Crakehall, and especially the lions of Lannister, in particular—as Ser Elmer and Ser Alek have at it. The Crakehall wins, but the Reyne rode well to get this far, and now the Boar will ride against Ser Mathin, the Rock’s new favorite son?
Truly the knights of the West are the finest in all the realm!
Elmer breaks his lance and rides off, knowing that the hit wasn’t strong enough to hurt the Reyne knight. he smiles as he come to the end of the lists and takes a long gulp of brandy. He salutes Ser MAthin, and smiles to the pages. “Bet Lannister boys, he’s already bested me today.”
So this is it. Her Knight has made it to the final and the woman of Smallwood seems nervous as she stands on the rail. Excited? Perhaps, but it is hidden as she remans silent, narrow eyed and tight gripped.”
And, for a second time, Alek has crashed to his back on the earth. But this time he does not rise so quickly. His squire is dispatched to help the older man to his feet, his steps unsteady as he’s guided back to his pavillion.
“Ser Alek is cast down!” cries the herald. “And now, noble ladies and noble lords, will Ser Elmer ride against Ser Mathin. Per the rules, Ser Mathin must be bested twice to be beaten. Such is the advantage that comes with victory! And now, Ser Mathin Lannister, come forth and ride!”
Mathin straps a helm atop head and rises atop his stead. The lance is couched as is appropriate and here is the Little Lion, ready again.
“Good luck, Ser Elmer,” he says.
“Well, I think I am going to enjoy the rest of this tourney sitting more closely to you Lady Melissa,” Jannia takes her cup full of wine and moves herself more closely to the Lannister Lady. “I fear I have no more betting in me, my sister might be a bit cross if I betted any more.” She smiles again, and chuckles a bit at this.
“A dragon on Ser Mathin, ladies. Kinsman and the advantage? I cannot bet against him.” Melissa sips her wine once more, looking to Jannia, Alyce and Andorea. “Or…I’ll wager a bottle of my finest wine…Lady Jannia may take me up on this.”
Alyce applauds for both knights, even as Alek falls. “Well done!” A knowing glance is cast toward Andorea. As a laugh bubbles out, she comments, “Do not forget to breath, my lady.”
A look back to Melissa has her shaking her head. “Goodness, my lady, you shall fund your wedding on this day’s winnings alone!”
Elmer raises an eyebrow. That was a mortal injury, he was mistaken for Connington. He laughs though and shakes his head. he lowers his fisor, not before touching the flower on it reverently and charges.
Elmer makes a solid impact against his opponent in the joust, though the lance remains unbroken.
Mathin’s steady lance and solid seat on his steed leads to a powerful blow. The list resounds with the crack of his lance as it shatters.
Elmer struggles to keep to the saddle for a few instants, before finally succumbing and sliding to the ground.
Breathe? Andorea forgets to do so, that is until Mathin unseats his opponent and she exhales deeply and pounds the railin with her fist, “Yes!...Ouch!” She grips her hand as she smiles to the field, “That was dumb…” Yet she cheers for the /Little Lion/, looking to the children who have all stood up and are celebrating amongst each other.”
Elmer slides down, and laughs softly. “Ah, well, Ser Mathin….I see today i lose to Lannisters.” Indeed, earlier on he yielded in front of Ser Jaesin.” He bows his head as he lifts his helm. “There are worse ways to go!” he says, raising his hand and saluting Mathin.
Jannia was about to accept the bet when she heard lances cracking, “It seems the Knights did not know enough to wait until you have earned your wager.” She giggles, “Ah well I will be here tomorrow anyway.” She smiles, “What about you my lady?” to Melissa.
There is some slight commotion about the Reyne pavillion, and a maester is seen entering the tent, along with a cluster of City Watchmen and Reyne retainers. There is mumblings of something amiss with Alek.
In the royal box, Ser Jaesin stands stoically amongst the Targaryen ladies whom he is set to guarding—Her Grace in particular. Yet at the sight of his brother’s success, that broad smile flashes on his handsome face, and a pride in Ser Mathin’s accomplishments silently shines forth bright as the sun.
Raucous shouts erupt from the smallfolk to cheer Ser Mathin’s victory, the herald coming forward to acclaim him the victor. Two stable boys come leading a great black destrier from the pavilions, saddled with a black leather saddle with gilded stirrups and gold filigree worked into the seams.
The herald calls for silence, raising two arms.
“Presented to the most noble Ser Mathin of house Lannister: a destrier and fine saddle, bred in the Reach and capable of carrying a rider in even the heaviest plate into battle. On this steed a Knight of the Seven may protect the weak, the frail, and women, and never doubt its power. Presented by Ser Myles on behalf of House Hightower, and in the name of the lady whose favor he wears, Lady Alyce Bar Emmon. Three cheers for Ser Mathin! Hip! Hip! Hooray!”
Melissa grins to Jannia and says, “Of course. I believe there is nowhere else in King’s Landing anyone needs to be.” She grins and applauds for her cousin a moment, before toasting him with her glass that she promptly drains.
Alyce cheers, then moves to pull Andorea into a brief hug… assuming she can manage it without stepping on the sickly children. “Congratulations, my lady!” As the prize is announced with her name mentioned, a flush of crimson covers her cheeks and she looks toward the Hightower’s pavilion with a soft grin.
Andorea allows herself to be embraced, smiling as she does so, “Thank you Lady Alyce. I…I…he promised me he would win. He did.”
Jannia stands and toasts the winner, she turns to Andorea, “Congratulations my lady, what an honor, your champion has won.” she beams a smile at the girl. Turning to Melissa, “your cousin, handles himself well on a horse, he earned the new one, and handsome thing it is.” She smiles her Jannia Tully smile to all present.