Blood of Dragons

The pale morning sun peeps through veils of gentle mist, and the dew sparkles on the flowery stands of the Tournament of Love. Thousands of feet and hundreds of hooves have churned this lush field into a muddy slop, but that seems to have done nothing to dampen the mood of the crowd on this second day of combat. Two jousts have already been run; two champions acclaimed, and one Queen of Love and Beauty, the young Princess Rhaena Targaryen.

It is she who, with her royal sister Queen Daena, presides over these events today, and around her are the ladies of her household and of the court, along with noble guests, lovers, spouses, and hangers-on privileged enough to get an actual seat with a cushion.

As for the rest, the smallfolk and merchants and vendors and commoners stand, milling about and buzzing with excitement for today’s event. And quite an event it promises to be, a traditional, hard-fought joust with the victory going to the last knight standing. And those very knights, having already run a number of tilts to this point, are now gathering to await the herald’s call.

Ser Willard Ryger paces restlessly near his tent. He was one of the final four knights in yesterday’s first joust, a great feat considering his age and previous accomplishments, yet he feels he could do better. Not against the Kingsguard’s own Ser Jaesin Lannister maybe, but still.

He is still in that same plain, unadorned armor, and his cloak bears the same willow tree sigil, green on white trimmed with green, though it at least was replaced and now flaps in the wind with pristine colours. Willard’s squire, Kennard Melcolm, stands nearby with a lance and shield at the ready. His grey destrier stands steady close by the tent a retainer holding it firmly. The young Ryger looks at the field, the stands and waves his right hand, a deep-blue-and-red ribbon tied to his arm.

At the far end of the lists, there among the banners and pennons and colours of an hundred Houses great and small, one knight stands in stark contrast to all the rest. White, and white, and unrelieved white save for embossments and embellishments in gold.

Alone among the Kingsguard, Ser Jaesin Lannister rides for King Baelor’s glory this day. But if their numbers are diminished, the honor of the White Swords is not; already Ser Jaesin has emerged the victor once this week—on the field, if not in the fickle hearts of weak-willed women.

Now he sits idle, ready to ride again, and gentles and commons alike shall see if he can triumph once more for the King—or be unhorsed in some feat of great acclaim by another!

Ser Humfrey Westerling, recovered from wounds taken from the speardancer in Dorne, rides out in his sandy golden armor and seashell cloak on a new white destrier. The Westerling Knight tips his lance to the Queen of love and beauty, Princess Rhaena and her sister, the queen.

The first day of the tourney had gone spectacularly bad for Ser Josmyn Reyne - but the upside of that is that today things can only get better. So he’s back, already mounted on his destrier, the red-blue ribbon of a Tully lady still around his arm. His squire holds the horse by the reins and pats his neck to calm him while they wait for the start.

Ser Urston Coldwater stood outside his meagre tent in his battered armour, his sigil the lone item on any note that seperates him as more than the average Hedge Knights attire, as Urston may be a poor man, but he is still a scion of a noble house. He attends the tourney today only after his vigil by Ser Justyn Serry’s bedside had been forcibly stopped by Lady Katla Greyjoy, and now Urston was hoping the tourney would do a better job of taking his mind off things than ale or wine had done

Elmer stands by the Lannister tents, the big knight wearing his gold engraved armor, the favor of his lady wife around his left arm, his shield newly panited after the blows it took the day before. The Crakehall is wearing a crimson cloak though, proclaiming his loyalty to the Lannisters, and it is fitting that it was two Lannisters who he losts the tournaments of the previous day.

Clad in the same armour he wore yesterday, ser Albyn Crane arrives for the final part of today’s joust. A dent here and there of the previous tilts but whole outfit is polished up like a mirror. Hoping to have the Warrior’s luck at his side again, the Crane had decided to join this third jousting event. Still wearing the same half-cloak - the favour he got from his wife- he enters the field on horseback, leading his destrier to the box where she and his daughter Ella had taken a seat. A gentle nod is send to both before he rides off again in search for some small talk to kill the time in-between the different tilts. Today, a young teenager -about the age of 14- seems to accompany the heir to Red Lake, clad in Costayne colours and with the shield of House Costayne of Three Towers largely presented on his chest.

Clad in a formidable suit of white and black armour, Lord Allos Swann stands before his monochrome pavilion with his squire, Artys, in close attendence. Hard to tell that this is his first tourney since his injury on the return from Highgarden, he seems as he did before, wiry and hard-eyed; his gaze upon the stands. Tied upon his arm is a silk ribbon of black and gold, the favour of his Baratheon wife. The lord waits in silence for the herald’s call, distracted only for a moment as his nimble gray mare is brought up close to where he is stood.

Melissa has takes her usual place amongst the ladies, looking rather resplendent in a new pink gown, with a high collar done with lace around the neck, her hair once more up on her head, held with silver chain and small white pearls. She has her signature accessories for attending tourneys: a cup filled with wine, her maid Wylla nearby with a bottle of the day’s vintage and a smile on her face. Though today she is looking a touch sleepy as she watches the knights preparing for the day, having sat through a long affair, plus feasting the day before.

Barion Smallwood emerges from a his pavillion of yellow and brown looking more confident today having had a pair of successful tilts on the day before. Seating his armored form in a camp chair, he takes a cup of water from his attendant, and waits with youthful impatience for the days events to begin.

In a strange twist, an even stranger knight appears. Clad in bright green plate and full greathelm, this champion’s armor, surcoat, and the trappings of his charger bear a bizarre motif of writing, twisting thorns, jade on emerald. Every surface of his plate his covered with enamelled thorns and vines, and the crest of his helm is spiked with verdant barbs. Before him are three squires, likewise clad in livery of green thorns, and they wear strange green masks, much like mummers would.

The thorny champion reins in, raising his green lance to the stands. “I am the Knight of Thorns!” he booms to the crowd, who look on in amazement, fear, and bemusement. “The path to a maiden’s love is difficult, and beset with peril! To prove their valor, all knights must pass through my thorns!”

Wearing a paneled gown in the colors of the house Tully, with the house sigil delicately embroidered on the front, is Jannia Tully her bright and ever present smile is firmly planted on her face. On her wrist the noble red lion of the house Reyne that can be seen popping out of her sleeve every time she brushes hair out of her face, or takes a sip of her wine. She is positioned in the stands next to her sister, and near Melissa Lannister.

Andrya Tully is seated along with her fellow ladies, she may be a little weary from yesterday but still her face full of excitement and anticipation as she looks forward to witnessing the second day of jousting. Today she is dressed in a silk dress in the shade of a deep Tully blue, her skirt slashed with red panels and her hand plays with the thin, silver chain at her neck as she talks to the ladies seated nearby.

Princess Naerys has come out today, well-cloaked in white over her black mourning. All her ladies wear black, as do all the court ladies who serve the princesses and the queen. Reyna Saltcliffe is no exception, her own mourning weeds unrelieved by so much as a touch of color. Her cousin, sitting with her near the railing, is likewise in mourning, and both of them wear veils of costly black lace over their honey hair.

The appearance of the so-called Knight of Thorns brings a wry smirk to Ser Jaesin’s lips. Glancing down to one of his squires, the Kingsguard knight observes with his typical droll sensibility, “How fearsome. Next he’ll cut his own head off, challenge us to track him to his sorcerous lair, and disappear into thin air.”

Josmyn smirks when he hears the Knight of Thorns’ words and his eyes scan the ladies’ box for someone. They settle on Jannia then and he offers his Tully lady a little wave and a smile, making sure she sees he is still wearing her favour.

Bowing sidewards in his saddle, Albyn whispers to his squire and the young Costayne quickly runs off to the Lannister pavillion with a request for ser Elmer to join the Crane for a cup of water downed wine.

Easing past the packed courtly crowd near the Queen’s seats, Ser Almer Connington laughs and jokes with various well-wishers. A hand on the shoulder here, a slap on the back there, and it is clear that those near him are pleased to see the champion of the Queen of Love and Beauty.

He wears the bright livery of his house this day, rich red and white velvet, bleached buff, and his plain sword. The knight makes his way to his seat near the Ladies Reyna Saltcliffe and Miranda Fossoway, bowing to the Queen and the Princesses before settling in to watch.

“Mummery,” Allos’ gaze is, as ever, cold and he shares a look with his squire as the Knight of Thorns emerges. “I hope he at least tilts well. Otherwise the entertainment will be short lived,” he says, managing to sound not very entertained at all.

Elmer laughs merrily as he overhears Josmyn and salutes his brother-in-love with a raised gauntlet. He looks at the Costayne lad and nods, joining the Crane tents. “Good day, Ser Albyn.” he grins, his long unrult hair falling on his shoulders.

Humfrey is silent, and immobile. The only sign of movement a fluttering of the dirty soot and fire stained favor round his arm as he stares down the Knight of Thorns.
Desmera Hightower is seated among the ladies as well. She’s dressed in a fetching gown of deep sapphire blue and her dark curly hair is held back with a simple white ribbon. At the moment she’s quietly watching the festivities; green eyes thoughtfully taking in all that’s happening around her.

” Ser Elmer.” A gentle nod to the cousin of his wife. ” How’s your flower doing?” A jest, rare from the Crane but then Elmer’s show of yesterday formed an amusing surprise for most.

The only sign of any mourning on Melissa’s gown are the two black ribbons that hang from the sleeves of her gown, in memory of fallen ladies. She looks to Reyna, almost surprised to see her her, considering word of recent events, and notes that the remainder of the ladies in black reminds her of the gowns she probably could have given away in her own wardrobe. She sighs a moment, and says as there are two closest to her, “Lady Jannia, Lady Andrya, how fare you today? A long day, yesterday, yes?”

Elmer grins towards Albyn. “It’s intact, as I have sworn..though I cannot guarantee for its safety today.” Indeed the wildflower has been attached to his helm, making the oddest sort of war crest.

Josmyn returns Elmer’s greeting with a little wave of his own, but he remains silent. A hand goes to his side to take a small flask from his sword belt and take a gulp from its contents. He looks at the flask for a moment, then reattaches it to his belt and… keeps waiting.

Like an ugly duckling amidst the high pageantry of the fair ladies and doughty knights of the Seven Kingdoms, Captain Romny Saltcliffe has found his way into a seat just behind his good-sister and her own mourning cousin. Black eyes roam hither and yon, and a bemused smile appears affixed to his lips.

Urston watches the ‘knight of thorns’ closely. If the man cares so much about earning a ladies trust, why compete in a regular tourney and not the tournament of chivalry the day before? It was passing strange

Jannia watching the field her eye is caught by a waving arm, she notices the Knight, it is Ser Josmyn, she smiles and waves back, her sleeve dropping showing she is wearing her gift as well. She blushes as she turns to Melissa “Yes Lady Melissa, it was a long day yesterday, but it definitely didn’t lack for excitement. I fare very well thank you, I am just as excited as yesterday to watch the events.” her blush gone she offers the lady a bright smile to prove her words true.

As Almer finally sits, he gives both his cousin and the Lady Miranda a warm smile. “Ladies. Today should be good sport. If I were the wagering sort, I’d put my money on my coz Jaesin… or on that thorny fellow. He has a vicious look about him.” Almer points a gloved hand toward the strange Knight of Thorns, and the black velvet mourning ribbon on his arm seems to drink the pale sunlight.

When it appears that most of the competitors have made their entrance, the dragon-herald for the day’s festivities trots out onto the churned field. He is a tall, lanky, harried-looking fellow, his shock of yellow hair barely held in check under the black cap of his office. He lifts a hand to quiet the crowd, the red dragon on his black tabard gleaming in the wan light.

“Your Graces! Ladies, lords, knights, and good people of King’s Landing! We come now to the Joust of Valor!” The crowd cheers thunderously.

“The matches have been set! The first challengers are commanded to enter the lists! Ser Humfrey Westerling shall ride against Ser Urston Coldwater!”

“Indeed it was..” Andrya agrees before arching an eyebrow at her sister’s blushing “But it was great fun. I fare well enough perhaps a bit weary but I am sure it shall all go away once the jousting and great feats start. And you lady Melissa?” Noticing the Hightower lady she offers her a polite smile and a greeting “Lady Desmera, I have not had the pleasure before. How fare you today? Looking forward to all the excitment I am sure.”

The Knight of the crag rides to the lists and lifts his lance thrice to salute the queen, the queen of love and beauty, and his gallant foe.

Naerys looks at her Mistress of Keys in consternation and murmurs something to her. Reyna follows the princess’s discreetly pointed finger. “Ah, your grace,” she murmurs back, shaking her head. “They did not know the ladies. And they are young, overexcited. Let’s not chide them.” Her own expression is unwontedly sombre, even when she smiles at Almer.

Miranda looks more pleased to see the Champion of the Joust of Love. “Hallo, Ser Almer,” she says, all blushes.

Alyce finally notices her Tully friends and moves toward them, rather than being surrounded only by women she barely knows. “Good day, ladies.” She curtsies to them all with a warm smile, including those she has not yet met.

Elmer looks towards the stands and grins. “Let us hope the chances bring me good foes. I would not want to meet Ser Jaesin too soon, he was the terror of the lists yesterday. Poor Ser Willard had to face him twice.”

Hearing the herald call out his name, Urston smiled wryly. Both days Urston has opened against a Westerling. Was there some unknown tourney fued between him and the house? Urston japed to himself, and started to smile. Mounting his horse and riding to the far end of the yard, Urston took the lance he was offered, before waiting for his opponent to signal he was ready

Humfrey’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.
Urston delivers a mediocre blow of the lance, failing to find any purchase with which to unseat his opponent.

Urston is driven off the saddle by his opponent’s skillful charge.

Tumbling to the floor in an instant, Urston laughed. “I really aught to learn a lesson from this, Coldwaters should not challenge Westerlings!” Urston called out loudly to the victor, grinning properly for the first time since events had soured for him yesterday, before walking aside to clear the way for the next tilt
” Ah yes, the kingsguard. He possesses a good hit for sure. Two hits of him and my armor was collection dust and mud again. A weary look to the lannister standing a bit further while the Knight of Thorns earns Albyn’s attention as well. Gesturing in the man’s direction he fishes for Elmer’s thoughts of this mystery knight.

“Well done, Westerling,” calls Ser Jaesin, hands cupped about his mouth to carry the volume of his cheer. Even a knight of the Kingsguard may still hold a place in his heart for those men who serve his lord father, it seems.

Ser Humfrey rides round the tourney grounds and lifts his shattered lance in a salute to Ser Urston, he slows his horse, to a canter and raises his broken lance once more just before lady Alyce Bar Emmon’s seat with the other maids and wives of Westeros’s noble houses.

“Lady Miranda,” Almer replies to the pretty Fossoway maiden. “You are as lovely as ever this morn.” He smiles at her, then gives Reyna a quick wink, before turning to back to the tilts.

Hearing the White Sword’s shout of encouragment, Humfrey lifts his lance in a final salute before returning to his pavillion.

Melissa peers at Jannia, and says, “It appears I shall needs have you to dinner and hear some of your exploits, my lady,” she says with a chuckle, “Lady Melene has been hinting at such for a while. Perhaps there is more to share.” She looks at Andrya and smiles, “I myself am weary, but never fail to appear for a tournament here. The distraction is most welcome.” Glancing up, she catches Alyce’s eye, “Greetings, Lady Alyce. Please, do join us.”

Elmer grins. “Ahh, mystery knights….they’re always fun to watch. Sometimes they’re even good.” he laughs merrily. “The ladies do love them.” he winces a bit at Humfrey’s victory. “Ser Humfrey seems in good shape today. We have a very powerful field.”

Josmyn claps politely for the stranger who’s unseated Urston on the first go, then takes another sip from his flask, paying only half attention to Elmer’s and Albyn’s conversation nearby.

Reyna and Miranda are among the ladies, but apparently an island there, with only Ser Almer to speak to. “Mind yourself with him, Miranda,” Reyna says to her cousin with a faint smile. “He’s a terrible rake.” She looks speculative as she turns her gaze back to the lists, and somehow rather alone.

The herald jogs out to the field. “Your Grace! Our next matches! Ser Josmyn Reyne shall ride against Ser Elmer Crakehall! Ser Albyn Crane shall ride against Lord Allos Swann!”

Josmyn chuckles a little and nods to Elmer. “Good luck, brother.”, he offers his brother in law graciously, “I’ll try to not dent your little flower…” Then he canters off to the far end of the track and claps his visor shut, before accepting a lance. Unlike yesterday he seems t be completely at ease today.

“That would be lovely my lady,” She smiles to Melissa, “My sister has a way of, uhh… making plans.” she leaves it at that, “Ah, it seems my champion is up.” she laughs and stands to get a better look of the field, she twists the makeshift bracelet around her wrist for luck.

Alyce applauds for the tilt, blushing a bit as the winner acknowledges her. She settles in near the others, listening quietly and perhaps waiting for an introduction. Although, busy as it is, none can be blamed should that aspect get missed.

Again, Ser Jaesin lifts his voice in a shout of encouragement for one of the Lannister banners. “Huzzah, Crakehall! Forward the Boar,” he cries for Ser Elmer!

Elmer claps Albyn on the shoulder. “Good luck, ser.” he runs a hand through his hair, he wouldn’t have wanted to joust Josmyn, who’s his brother in law and has come off grievous wounds, but such is the luck of the draw. he mounts up, and lowers his visor, he’s not going to taunt Josmyn. Spurring his grey gelding on he lowers his lance, aiming at Josmyn’s shield, driven on by Jaesin’s encouragement.

Humfrey smiles as the names of the next two knights are read by the Herald, both knights from houses known for their jousting prowess.

Elmer delivers a mediocre blow of the lance, failing to find any purchase with which to unseat his opponent.
Josmyn’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.

A grin to Elmer as he hears both names being called. Each for their own tilt against an experienced rider. ” Seems we’re up, cousin.” Then he rises from his seat and mounts. Once up the horse he straps his great helmet with the crane shape tightly and then reaches down for his shield and lance. ” First lesson of today Haston. If I fall and don’t move…call for a maester.” The young squire runs pale a little bit and with an evil grin behind his helmet, Albyn rides to his end of the lists.

Ser Jaesin claps his hands together at the Castamere man’s victory. “Well done, Reyne,” he says, almost to himself. “A sure seat and a steady hand are worth much and more on a given day.”

Allos grunts, “So it goes,” and heaves himself into his saddle. Settling his weight into the stirrups, he then secures his helm, lance and shield before taking the gray mare in hand and riding her into the field. His armour glints in the early morning sun as he trots to the stands and makes his salute, dipping his lance to the Queen and the nobles seated and then wheeling to his place in the lists, where he salutes his opponent too. Then, on the signal, he spurs hard and charges, hooves thundering and black cloak flapping, lowering his lance for the Crane’s chest…

The sound of her name pulls Desmera gaze from the tourney field. She looks at Andrya and smiles back before nodding. “I’m well thank you and yourself?” The question of excitement prompts her to glance at the jousting again briefly before her attention turns back to Andrya. “very much so, yes. It already looks to be off to an interesting start.”

Seeing that Josmyn had won against Elmer, Urston cheered loudly for his friend at the upset, considering how well those two had done so far, it was quite a turnaround!

Allos strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Albyn makes a solid impact against its opponent in the joust, though the lance remains unbroken.

Albyn is pushed from the saddle by its opponent’s lance.

Maybe it’s the new relaxed attitude or the booze or the Warrior knows what, but Josmyn rides steadily this time, his lance finding purchase on Elmer’s chest, sending his brother in law sliding into the mud. “I hope Fiona forgives me!”, he grins when he realizes and offers Elmer a hand before heading into his corner of the field.

Indeed one’s luck cannot run that long, and as he feels his lance slip, he curses, only to he brutally hammered by Josmyn’s hit, and he slides down from the saddle. Elmer raises his visor to salute his brother in law, and he laughs. “Ah, good chance, goodbrother!” he moves to the Lannister pavilion,a nd taking a cup of wine drinks deeply. “Hope you guys idn’t have money on me.”

Jannia claps cheerfully, and says to no one in particular, “That should put him in a better mood, very good joust Sers.” She signals for her wine cup to be filled as she takes her seat. She sighs, now to her sister, “How do you feel your champion will do today sister?” trying to make idle chatter.

“Pray don’t mind her, Lady Miranda,” Almer replies to Reyna with roll of his eyes. “She thinks all knights are rakes. Comes from living too long in Highgarden,” he adds, touching his temples with his fingers.

The knight glances down the row, seeing a number of ladies that are known to him; he smiles and nods greetings to them.

Pushed from the saddle by Allos, Albyn hits the ground, rolling to reduce the force of the blow. Rising on one knee, then on both feet, he claps his visor open and salutes to the Swann. ” I could have known you bear the lance as well as your spear, Lord Swann.”

The herald returns to his place on the field. “Your Grace! Our next matches! Ser Humfrey Westerling shall ride against Ser Jaesin Lannister of the Kingsguard! Ser Willard Ryger shall ride against the squire, Barion Smallwood!”

Alyce claps politely for all these winners as the tilts continue in quick succession. With a chuckle, she asks, “Lady Melissa, are you starting trouble in the stands again?”

Allos swings his horse about at the end of the list and sees with some surprise the Crane heir on the dirt, he makes a small salute to his opponent and then the stands with his unbroken lance as he trots back down the list, he raises his visor and nods to the bested knight, “I was fortunate, ser. I hope your luck shines more favourably in the next tilt.”

At the sound of his name Barion swings into the saddle of his destrier and armed with lance and shield, advances to the edge of th lists. Once settled he dips his lance to the Queen and her sister the Queen of Love and Beauty his foe however gets only the most perfunctory nod from the squire before he lowers his lance and charges.

Melissa looks to Desmera as she greets herself casually, “Greetings, Lady Desmera. I don’t believe you’ve joined us before, have you? There are so many ladies in the court and more every day.” She smiles and says, “I’m Melissa Lannister, and it’s a pleasure. Do you know Lady Jannia, Lady Alyce?” She eyes Almer and says, “Congratulations to you on your victory, yesterday, Ser Almer. Nobly won.” She grins and says, “Lady Reyna, I am most delighted to see you here. It is quite good to see you. How are you faring?”

Ser Humfrey sits up in his chair and calls to his squire for helm and gorget. He mounts his horse, calls for a lance and renders the three salutes to Ser Jaesin, the Queen, the Queen of love and beauty then brings spurs to the flanks of his horse.

Miranda laughs at Reyna and Almer. “You are very bad, Ser Almer,” she chides, shaking her head in mock reproof. “You must not vex my lady so.”

The merriment seems to do Reyna good, for there is a touch of color in her cheeks and her smile is brighter. “Hallo, Lady Melissa,” she calls. “I fare well enough. You, I hear, fare very well indeed! I hope you will let me wish you joy of your coming marriage.”

Having lowered his visor and cantered to the end of the lists, Ser Jaesin Lannister accepts a lance from his squire and couches the haft in the crook of his elbow. A touch of spurs and the horse leaps forward, gathering speed as Lannister lowers the lance, aiming dead for the center Westerling’s shield.

Humfrey lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.
Jaesin’s lance is broken into so many splinters as he delivers a tremendous blow to his opponent.

Humfrey struggles to keep to the saddle for a few instants, before finally succumbing and sliding to the ground.

The Ryger knight is silent and keeps to himself for now, which is uncommon for the man. He claps for lord Allos and ser Josmyn as they both ride superbly, but otherwise seems occupied only in his pacing here and there. Once every while his eyes dart up to the stands clearly looking for or maybe watching someone.

But when his name is called he responds quicklyand skillfully. In a matter of seconds his shield and lance are in his hands, and his helmet, it’s visor already closed, guards his head. He rides on the grey destrier to the lists focused, only for a moment does he looks at the stands again, where lady Andrya Tully is sitting and lifts his right arm, the deep-blue-and-red ribbon tied around it fluttering on the wind. And then he’s charging.

Barion lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.
Willard’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 knocked from horseback, armor rattling as he falls.

“Indeed, some are faring much better then they did yesterday.” Andrya says back to Desmera and her sister as Josmyn wins his bout against Ser Elmer. Smiling to Alyce as she also comes over “Ah Lady Alyce, it seems you have another..” she comments playfully, refering to the Westerling knight. To her sister’s question she looks thoughtful “Hmm as well as yesterday I hope.” she smiles brightly as she catches Willard’s wave to her. Upon seeing the nod from Almer, she smiles back to him, Lady Reyna and her Fossoway cousin. “Indeed Ser Almer, a true display of chivalry.” she greets and nods to all “Lady Miranda. It is good to see you as well Lady Reyna, we missed you yesterday.” Her eyes linger on the ironborn but she keeps silent.

Humfrey literally flies from his saddle, his shield shattering into shards of oaken kindling. The Knight of the Crag hits hard and groans, lays still a moment then comes, dizzily, to his feet. He waves to the Commons and then lifts his broken lance, still gripped in his hand, to his opponent. “Thank you for the tilt, Ser.”

His lance scattered in so many broken shards across the lane, Lannister completes the ride to the lists’ end. Turning back, he sees Westerling on the ground; gallantly, the Kingsguard canters back in the fallen man’s direction, and pauses to share a few words of encouragement before returning to the ready area at lists’ end.

“You ...” Jaesin says with a hint of pride. “Now ... and ... ... must cut ... ... through ... ... ... ... ...”

Barion wakes with the sky spinning above him and the shards of Willard’s lance all around him. Hauled to his feet by his attendant, the squire tugs off his helm, and raises his hand to the stands before nodding grudgingly to his foe. “Well fought Ryger,” he says and trudges off to his pavillion.

Enjoying a cup of wine, Albyn sits on his field chair in front of his tent while his squire- helped by a servant- quickly wipe of most of the dirt from his armour.
Melissa grins almost looking a touch relieved, to see Reyna’s smile. “You may, and I am most grateful, thank you for your kindness. I am happy to see you here, as well. We must needs meet for an evening, it has been far far too long.” She glances to Alyce a moment and winks, “You know I am no one to make the slightest bit of trouble, Lady Alyce. I only make coin at wagering.” She laughs and says, “Speaking of, ladies, whose coin shall I take this day?” she says in challenge as she sips her wine.

A wry laugh from the Saltcliffe captain. “Am I the only one who finds it odd that they thank the other man for beating him? You people and your mad gods.” So says the man who drowns himself on a regular basis.

“Lady Melissa. It is generous and kind of you to say so,” Almer replies to the Lannister lady. “I can only attribute it to luck, and the favour of Lady Miranda.” He smiles at Reyna’s jest, pleased to see even a ghost of humor on her face after recent days’ travails. “And my lady,” he adds to Melissa, “may I congratulate you on your betrothal? I know Ser Anton to be a good knight, and trust he shall make a good husband for you as well.”

Alyce only grins at first, then makes a separate, special curtsey to Reyna, despite having greeted the entire group a few moments earlier. “My lady of Saltcliffe, how do you fare this day? It has been quite some time since we have had occasion to speak.” She leaves the gambling to the others at the moment.

Humfrey lifts hsi visor and smiles, a wild grin, the excitment of the joust and the clash of arms is infectious. “Yes My Lord Lannister, I’ll try you again before the sun set, well fought Ser”

Josmyn waves to Jannia, looking indeed more cheerful now, before he dismounts and has his squire hand him a fresh wineskin, from which he sips while he watches the following jousts, perching on a fence again as he did the day before.

Melissa smiles to Almer and nods, “Indeed you may as well. I know that he is a good man, and in earning my favor, I believe I find myself fortunate to know my newly bethrothed as well as I do. Some ladies do not get the opportunity, so this is already a hefty fortune won.” She chuckles, and says, “And please do not think I will excuse you, my lord, if you wish to hand over your coins to my wagering.”

Miranda is blushing again at Almer’s attribution, shaking her head. “You will make me vain, Ser Almer, with such praise as you give. The Seven do not like a vain maiden.”

Reyna nods a little vaguely at Melissa. “Soon, yes. We will. Once things settle a bit, perhaps?” Then she is bending her head to Alyce, and to the other ladies. “Hallo, my ladies. You all seem to be enjoying the joust very much.”

A hit well aimed and the heir to Willow Wood sees his opponent fly to the ground. He reins his horse and rides slowly back, where he dismounts and seeing his opponent move away already just gives his back a courteous bow of the head. “You ride well and I guess you owe it to your knight’s training. Keep to it, lad.” and with a smile he turns around and leads his horse back to his tent, to await the next tilt.

Alyce winces a bit as Humfrey goes flying, but what can be expected when going up against Ser Jaesin? She inclines her head to him all the same. “Good run, ser.” Noticing Josmyn pass by, her smile wanes and she gives him a long, less than friendly look before diverting her attention to the other women. “Now, what have I missed by not finding all of you ladies earlier?”

The herald, surprised at the speed of these matches, jogs back out to the field once again.

“Your Grace! The next bouts await! Ser Josmyn Reyne shall ride against Lord Allos Swann! Ser Willard Ryger shall ride against the mystery knight styling himself the Knight of Thorns!”

Seemingly in her own world she shakes her head to snap herself out of it, she smiles and waves back to Josmyn, noting that he is much more cheerful than yesterday, she smiles to herself. She turns turns to see all behind her, she spots Reyna, “Lady Reyna..” she offers her a smile and a nod, “It is so good to see you here today, and in seemingly good spirits.” As the names for the next bout are announced she stands again taking advantage of the hight to see down to the field better.

Josmyn catches the look Alyce gives him and looks rather confuddled, but he shrugs it off, gulps some more wine and coughs when he hears his name called again so quickly. “Lance!”, he orders his squire, who quickly obeys and hands him a fresh one. Josmyn lowers his visor and canters to the far end of the groud, waiting for Allos to get ready for the charge.

“Indeed we are Lady Reyna.” Andrya smiles to the Saltcliffe lady. Upon hearing the announcement though her eyes widen “The mystery knight against my champion..well this shall indeed be interesting.” her eyes are upon the field now watching intently, she dies grin to Lady Melissa “Oh no, you are after my coin again! I will pass on this round but perhaps the next one..” she offers.

Melissa bows her head to Reyna in return, “I am at your disposal, my Lady.” She offers her own confident and reassuring smile in return, before looking back to the riders. “Lady Alyce, you are my favorite partner in these crimes. What say you a stag on Ser Josmyn, for me, and…The Knight of Thorns? I do so enjoy any mystery knights on the field.”

Willard is only halfway back to his tent when he hears his own name spoken again. He halts and calls his squire to bring him a new lance. Turning he eyes his opponent, the mystery knight styling himself the Knight of Thorns. Shrugging the young Ryger jumps onto his horse and snaps his visor shut. Arriving at the lists he again lifts his right arm with the Tully favour in a salute towards the stands and charges at his opponent, focused and hopeful.

“Three for three, my lord?” Artys grins up at his mentor as the announcement is made, Allos snorts, “Optimism, lad. It’s admirable.” With that he slams down his visor and rides slowly back onto the field. The black lance-point dips as appropriate and the cry goes up and once more the black and white figure of the King’s Counter tears down the lists with his lance grasped firmly in talon-like gauntlets.

Humfrey removes helm and gorget with the assistance of his squire then turns toward the stands and the ladies in their silks and damasks he lifts one steel lobstered hand in a wave then turns fixing chestnut eye son the mystery knight.

Jannia quickly tosses coin to Mellisa, “Ser Josmyn my lady, it is.” she grins to her.

“Ah. A little vanity is a lady’s prerogative,” Almer answers Melissa with a laugh. “And is it vanity to take pleasure in a sincere compliment, given sincerely?” He glances at Miranda Fossoway then, smiling at some inside jest, perhaps, before turning back to the jousting.

The odd fellow called the Knight of Thorns gathers his reins and turns his green-liveried steed to the lists. Every surface of his plate is covered in barbs, and the design is repeated on his lance and shield. He trots out, salutes Queen and crowd, and lowering his lance, charges at the herald’s signal.

Allos’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.
Josmyn’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 Knight of Thorns’s lance is broken into so many splinters as he delivers a tremendous blow to his opponent.
Willard lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.

Willard is ripped from the saddle by a mighty blow and falls to the earth with a bone-shaking rattle.

Allos takes the blow upon his shield with a grunt and tosses aside the shattered stump of his lance. Taking up a fresh replacement, he wheels his mare about and once more kicks into the lists for the next tilt.

The Kingsguard, Ser Jaesin Lannister, observes the ongoing tilts with an expert’s interest. Taking a drink from a wineskin supplied by a squire, soon enough he hands the skin back down in exchange for his helmet. Willard’s fall is noted with a slight frown, and the green knight is given a grudging look from afar.

Through all of this, the White Sword holds himself apart from the others—his other Sworn Brothers are not here, nor the brethren of his blood, after all—and this remains true as he guides his horse at a walk to await the next pairing at lists’ end.

Josmyn charges against Lord Swann and lands a good blow to the man, but simultaneously he also catches a blow. As the splinters fly around them, he manages to hang on to his saddle and remain seated. Muttering a curse of relief under his visor, he goes for another tilt…

Allos lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.
Josmyn lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.

“The path of love is wrought with peril!” cries the outlandish Knight of Thorns, throwing aside his broken lance and saluting his fallen opponent. The crowd does not seem to know quite what to make of this character, and the green knight canters off to rejoin his masked squires in silence.

“Oh!” cry Reyna and Miranda as one when Willard is unhorsed. “Oh, Lady Alyce,” Reyna says to her. “Poor Ser Willard.” Miranda, quite unaware, clutches Almer’s arm with one hand in her reaction. “Do you think he’s been hurt?” she asks no one in particular.

“Greetings to you as well Lady Melissa and the pleasure is mine” Desmera replies in a friendly tone. “You’re correct, this is my first time here in quite awhile. It’s all quite exciting.” She smooths her skirts and observes the friendly banter going on in the stands inbetween watching the tilts. There’s a small gasp when she sees the knight fall so violently to the ground.

And here we go again. Josmyn breaks another lance but Allos remains stubbornly seated on his horse. Taking a third lance from his squire, he waits for the third charge against the man.

Jannia smiles to Melissa, “This is proving to be a good match my lady, I am glad I bet, the entertainment alone was worth the coin, that of course, and to see my Champion ride well. “She grins, and turns back to the joust.

Deep within the gold-winged helm of the Swann there is a grimace as his second blow does not land with the precision of the first. The rushed ritual of replacing the ornate tourney lance occurs once more, then once more they thunder into the lists; the weight of knight and beast behind a trembling point aimed for the Reyne’s chest.

Alyce winces a bit as Willard is unhorsed so strongly, then casts a sympathetic glance to Andrya. The other tilt, however, has her brow lifting. “They ride well, do they not?” The question seems to be directed to Reyna. However, she grows quickly distracted by the appearance of an unknown face. Politely, she leans over a bit toward the others and says, “Good day, my lady.” A glance to the Tullys and Lannister request an introduction.

Allos strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Josmyn lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.

Allos just barely manages to keep himself in the saddle after his opponent’s blow knocks him askew.

Allos’s lance is broken into so many splinters as he delivers a tremendous blow to his opponent.
Josmyn lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.

Josmyn just barely manages to keep himself in the saddle after his opponent’s blow knocks him askew.

Allos strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Josmyn lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.

Allos is roughly jolted in the saddle, struggling for a few moments to keep to his seat.

In the wake of the Green Knight’s proclamation, Ser Jaesin lifts his voice from the lists’ end. “The path of love is fraught with kisses and soft whispers,” he calls, laughing! “Fifty golden dragons to the man who’ll kiss our green friend, and see just how willing a champion of love the man really is!”

A sharp gasp is heard from Andrya and her face pales as Willard is brought down forcefully “He will be alright will he not?” she asks half rising but then sitting herself down after a few moments, quiet and a worried frown upon her face as she watches.

Allos strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Josmyn lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.

Allos just barely manages to keep himself in the saddle after his opponent’s blow knocks him askew.

Allos lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.
Josmyn strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.

Josmyn is roughly jolted in the saddle, struggling for a few moments to keep to his seat.

Allos strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Josmyn lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.

Allos is roughly jolted in the saddle, struggling for a few moments to keep to his seat.

Allos strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Josmyn’s lance is broken into so many splinters as he delivers a tremendous blow to his opponent.

Allos is pushed from the saddle by his opponent’s lance.

“A fierce strike,” Almer says shrewdly, shading his eyes and watching the Ryger knight. “I think he shall live, Lady Miranda, though I wonder who this Knight of Thorns could be?” And then he settles back to watch the epic bout between Reyne and Swann with obvious pleasure.

A grunt of pain, a flash of light and Willard is on his hands and knees, coughing violently. He clears his throat, spits a gob of bloody phlegm and touches his armor all around the front to check for injuries. Luckily there are none, though his armor is dented on the left side, where his opponent’s lance deftly sneaked next to his shield.

He stands waving his squire away as Kegs trots to help his knight and claps for the mysterious knight “Well ridden, ser. Very well indeed” and he walks off, hobbling a little towards his tent calling for waters.

As the duel between Allos and Josmyn grows into epic proportions, Albyn rises from his seat to have a better view. ” By the Seven…” he mumbles.

A whole forest gets destroyed as Josmyn breaks lance after lance in an epic tilt against Lord Allos Swann. When he finally sees the other man unhorsed, he reins in his exhausted horse and takes off his helmet, needing several moments before he has regained his breath. Then he quickly dismounts and walks over to Allos, offering him a hand. “Lord Swann, this was… epic. You were the worthiest opponent I ever had the honor to ride against…”

The smallfolk cheer at the rousing joust between Lord Swann and Ser Josmyn, enthralled by the shattering of lances and thundering hooves as they charge time and again. By the time it is finally brought to a close, the crowd is shouting their names loudly in support, appreciative for the entertainment provided.

The herald calls forth the next contenders. “Ser Humfrey Westerling shall ride against the squire Barion Smallwood! Ser Willard Ryger shall ride against Ser Urston Coldwater!”

“Oh, my goodness!” Miranda exclaims, quite taken by the lengthy bout. “They are both very skillful.” She joins in cheering, clapping her hands enthusiastically. Reyna, for her part, looks as if her head aches a little, though she claps as well. “Lady Melissa, have you met my cousin?”

After it taking near or more than 11 passes, when Ser Allos is unhorsed, Jannia sighs with relief, she sits down, looking to Melissa, “That was, well that was, amazing.” her eyes twinkle to Melissa as her excitement mounts. “Good fun, for certain.” She turns to the new lady whom everyone has been introduced to but her, but she knows her name by now, “Lady Desmera, it is a pleasure to meet you, I am Lady Jannia Tully.” She offers the lady a polite smile, and turns back to the games.

A sigh of relief now as Willard emerges relatively unscathed and Andrya is clapping for the Swann lord and Reyne knight. “That was impressive indeed!” she comments though her voice is still a bit shaky. Looking from Alyce to Desmera, she makes the introductions “Lady Alyce this is Lady Desmera Hightower.” she smiles.

Finally, eleven tilts and Lord Swann finally succombs to a superior tilt from the Reyne, landing heavily in the dust. He rises steadily, though wearily and removes his helm, revealing his sweat-drenched hair. He sees the approaching lane and takes his hand gladly, “A fine display, ser.” He grins broadly and then raises the Reyne’s hand to the stands before stepping away in deference to the victor and offering his own small bow to the stands. Then as the herald calls the next knights he begins to walk his horse from the lists, raising a hand to the crowds as he leaves.

Ser Humfrey watches as the two gallant knights break half the boughs in the Kingswood, he stands dead still then claps loudly, smashing with the commons, never had the tourney knight seen such an epic tilt.

Ser Farin Prester arrives in the stands rather belatedly. His expression and posture are decidedly neural; something of a fatigued look for the lordling. He arrives flanked by his remaining two men at arms, and, hearing the shouts for the next two tilts, manages to crack a smirk, as he cranes his neck to catch a better view of the whole stands.

Taking his place at the lists’ terminal point once more, Ser Jaesin Lannister accepts a new lance of ash. He cheers along with the rest for the marvelous display of skill put on by Swann and Reyne, still awaiting his own name’s calling.

Melissa laughs to Almer, “In most cases, that is true, ser, but vanity sometimes extends to a man’s robe, armor and horse…” gesturing to the Knight of Thorns. “Most victorious and a fine example.” She applaudes the mystery knight and smiles, but sincerely admires the tilt between Josmyn and Allos. “This is remarkable! A wonderful battle!” She laughs a little as she looks back to Lady Desmera, “Well as you have recently joined us, it is only customary that you lose a coin to me in wager. Have you encountered Lady Alyce Bar Emmon before?” She gestures to the lady awaiting introduction, “She is a good friend…and I take her coin regularly.” She grins brightly at that.

Hearing Reyna she looks over and says, “No, I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure.” She smiles, and says, “Though I know you from the day’s events yesterday. How fare you this day, Lady Miranda?”

Alyce becomes riveted by the joust, as do most others. With wide eyes, she watches as the knights go pass after pass. Once it is finally finished, she leaps to her feed, applauding and cheering loudly as the excitement captures her. It takes a few moments for her to realize she is being rude. With a soft blush, she faces Desmera. “It is a great pleasure to meet you, my lady of Hightower. I am Alyce Bar Emmon.” With a purse of her lips, she asks, “May I ask how you are related to Ser Myles Hightower? He championed me in the second joust yesterday.”

Barion has to be tapped on the shoulder to notice his name was called, so intent was he on cheering the match before. Hurriedly the young man mounts his horse and takes his lance from his attendant and rides to the lists. He dips his lance in the usual salutes then awaits his cousin Ser Humfrey to join him for their bout.

After bowing to the royals and the other ladies, Josmyn staggers off to his corner to try and recover from that epic bout by sloshing some more wine down his throat, keeping an eye on proceedings on the ground.

“Wonderful to meet you both” Desmera says to the ladies Jannia and Alyce. She joins in with the applause, though her actions are more subdued than Alyce’s. “Ser Myles is my cousin. I hope he proved to be a worthy champion for you.” There’s a smile.

“Miranda, this is Lady Melissa Lannister, recently betrothed to Ser Anton Piper,” Reyna says in introduction while Miranda bends her head to Melissa in lieu of a curtsy. “I fare very well, my lady,” says she to Melissa. “I wish you joy!”

Ser Humfrey dons helm and calls for another lance, crousching his destrier he brings gilded spurs to his horses flanks

And again, Willard barely reaches his tent and takes a drink of water when his name is called once more. “They want to kill me, that is what they want, Kegs!” he smirks and starts laughing as his squire adds “By numbers, not by quality, ser”. Quickly he is once again astride his horse and a fresh lance is in his hand. He trots up to the lists and waits for his opponent, ready to charge. Once again he raises his right arm to the stands in salute and looks at the place where lady Andrya Tully sits from behind his visor. And as Ser Urston arrives, he charges.

Barion lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.
Humfrey strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.

Humfrey is roughly jolted in the saddle, struggling for a few moments to keep to his seat.

Cheering madly for Josmyn’s grand victory, Urston whoops at hearing his own name called, his battle lust risen by that grand display. He was to joust against Ser Willard Ryger, the man who had made a big show of his humble attire the day before when Urston had been wearing the best he could afford and still looked less idilic. Willard Ryger, the man who had come fourth. Willard Ryger, the man who had beaten Josmyn. Damn. Urston mounted his horse and rode, picking up a lance when he reached his end of the field. He noticed Farin in the stands and gulped. Urston had lost to a squire the day before, he had to make Farin know he was worth his pay. Urston charged.

Willard’s lance is broken into so many splinters as he delivers a tremendous blow to his opponent.
Urston makes a solid impact against his opponent in the joust, though the lance remains unbroken.

Urston finds himself forced from the saddle by his opponent’s charge.

Barion tosses aside his broken lance surprised to find that it is Humfrey and not him who is struggling to keep his seat. He wheels and comes back to the start of the lists with a fresh lance. He dips it at his foe once more and when Ser Humfrey is ready, charges.

Melissa smiles and says, “Thank you Lady Miranda. And with all my wishes to you and your kin, know my heart is with you all through your period of mourning,” she says sincerely. “If you should need anything, please do not hesitate to ask. I am still a Lannister a little while longer.” She glances back at Jannia and laughs, “You are far too merry again, and without enough wine in you. Where is your counterpoint today, Lady Andorea?”

Ser Humfrey stuggles to keep his seat then falls from his destrier, although this time he manages to avoid the bone crunching tumble he took from the white lion; yet still lands heavily on the grounds. he comes to his feet shakily and salutes the commons then Barion with his shattered lance. “Thank you for the tilt Ser”.

Ser Humfrey stuggles to keep his seat narrowly avoiding another rough fall he yells to Barion from the other side of the lists, “brilliant tilt Ser.” then crouches his horse and brings spurs to her flanks

“Thank you,” says Miranda, her expression darkening a little. She smiles at Melissa, but the light of melancholy is back in her eyes. Reyna gives her cousin’s hand a squeeze. “Griff,” she says to Almer, “why are you not riding again today? You did not take injury, I hope.”

Falling with a disapointing PLONK from his saddle, Urston Coldwater rose to his feet and walked to the side. He sat down alone and started at his wineskin. “Back to wine and ale, I suppose. Jousting with a hangover was a terrible plan” Urston admitted out loud with a sigh and a grunt as the swill he could afford slid down his throat.

Andrya waves back and smiles to the Ryger knight as he goes to face the Coldwater knight and claps at the result of the bout. Then looking from Alyce to Desmera, she also awaits the answer to Hightower lady’s question with some curiosity. To Melissa, she looks thoughfully “Who are next jousters Lady Melissa, perhaps I will take part in this next round, I feel I am ready to lose..” she laughs.

Barion makes a solid impact against his opponent in the joust, though the lance remains unbroken.
Humfrey’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 pushed from the saddle by his opponent’s lance.

As Urston takes his seat, ready with his wineskin, Farin finds himself a nice seat in the stands, and sends one of his men-at-arms to ask Urston if he is finished jousting for the day, and if he is, to please join Ser Farin.

This time, Barion’s luck is not so good and he finds himself tumbling to the dirt once more. The squire blinks behind the visor of his helm and stands, pulling of his helmet and smiling. “Well ridden, ser,” he calls to Ser Humfrey, reaching out his hand to the knight. “Strength to your arm.”

And one pass is all it takes in Willard’s tilts today. Urston on his back, just as when they tried a couple practice passes. The Ryger rides back, but the Coldwater knight is already leaving. He shrugs and trots back to his tent brushing off splinters from his armor on the way.

Ser Humfrey rides round the lists, once more lifting his shattered lance in another salute to Barion. “You rode well, you will make a fine knight” The Knight of the Crag dismounts to help Barion to his feet.

When a man at arms arrives with an offer to leave his drunken isolation, Urston jumps at the oppertunity and follows the man back up to Ser Farin. “Good evening, Ser. How do you fare?” He asked Farin Prester, politely but sincerely. Urston has a certain respect for the man.

Melissa nods to Miranda and smiles though, as if in understanding. She then gestures to Wylla and says as pronouncement, “Ladies, good sers, I have brought today one of the Arbor’s finest vintages today, not only for my own consumption but one best shared with friends most fond and most new. I would beg of your all to share in a drink with me this morning, and pass the day with a moment of delight.” She grins to Andrya, “I missed the class, while in conversation…The next round, I will most certainly take your coin.” She laughs lightly as Wylla goes to procure the bottles brought.

Watching the exchange between Miranda and Melissa in silence, Almer turns to Reyna as she speaks to him. “No, coz, no injury. I am well-pleased, having fulfilled my vow to my lady.” He gives Miranda a little smile. “And my lord father seems satisfied as well. So I spectate today. Though it is a strange feeling, I admit, to be watching and not riding.”

Almer laughs. “Tourneys are most impressive, up here in the stands.” He gestures toward the field. “Down there it is all sweat and noise and chaos, and hard to see much through the visor.”

Ser Humfrey rides round the lists, once more lifting his shattered lance in another salute to Barion. “You rode well, you will make a fine knight” The Knight of the Crag dismounts nd claps the squire on the shoulder.

Jannia giggles at Melissa, “I think you may be right, but you earned your coin like I knew you would, I would have given you two coin if I would have know it would be so worth it.” she finishes her wine and lifts a glass to try Melissa’s wine, “Lady Melissa many thanks, after this is done, we should go dine somewhere, I nearly fainted from not eating yesterday, in my excitement I did not notice my needs.” she giggles a little at this folly.

The herald, growing slightly hoarse, swigs watered wine and then calls forth the next contenders.

“Your Grace! Ser Willard Ryger shall ride against Ser Albyn Crane! Ser Jaesin Lannister of the Kingsguard shall ride against the Knight of Thorns!”

And so the Kingsguard’s name is called, and again he readies for the contest. One of the King’s seven champions against the green blowhard. Perhaps the man will cease bellowing if struck down; perhaps Ser Jaesin will have the worse of it. Fate will tell.

Once again, like clockwork, Ser Jaesin touches his white charger’s flanks only lightly; again, the horse springs forward, picking up speed. The blazing light of the late-morning sun sets that white-and-gold armor ablaze; the lion crest upon his helm roaring its figurative defiance as his lance is bent toward the mystery knight’s shield.

Hearing he is to face ser Willard next, Albyn narrows his eyes. ” A fine jouster that one…” he states to his squire before he puts the great helmet on his head. ” Off we go then.” A tap of his spurs and his destrier reacts, trotting towards the lists. Raising his lance in a salute to his opponent, Albyn’s visor then turns to the ladies bow and the knight bows slightly in his saddle before he gets back to business.

Alyce grins at Desmera. “His chivalry is what did me honor, Lady Desmera.” She applauds again as Ser umfrey once more defeats his opponent, then asks the Hightower, “Are you new in King’s Landing, my lady?”

Melissa ahhs as the next are announced quickly. “Oh how unfortunate…I cannot wager against my kinsman…Ser Jaesin has my bet, as does Ser Albyn.” She looks to the ladies, awaiting takers.

“My coin is of course on my champion, Ser Willard, and Ser Jaesin, I do not think this thorny knight will be able to best him, what all of you?” Andrya replies before looking back to the field, she does not want to lose today!

Hearing his ‘name’ called, the mysterious Knight of Thorns canters out to the lists as well, his mount’s green caparison swirling like grass in the wind. “Let all lovers beware!” he intones ominously, lowering his lance. “The thorns of lust will choke the virtue of the unwary!” He spurs into a charge toward Ser Jaesin, his green lance likewise aimed at the white target of the Kingsguard’s shield.

“I spoke to Ser Jaesin last night,” Miranda observes as the Kingsguard spurs his horse. “He was very amiable. He named some of the knights for me. Oh, no think you,” she says to Melissa. “Wine makes me giddy.”

Reyna accepts a cup, however. “There is nothing like the Arbor for a good red,” she says after inhaling. “Thank you, very much.”

The Knight of Thorns’s lance is broken into so many splinters as he delivers a tremendous blow to his opponent.
Jaesin’s lance is broken into so many splinters as he delivers a tremendous blow to his opponent.

Both riders weather the powerful blows and remain on horseback.

Barion claps Humfrey on the back in return. “Thank you ser, I wish you luck with the rest of your tilts,” Barion says as the young man and the Westerling knight depart the field for the next joust.

Josmyn has recovered from his epic bout by now and stands up to see the Kingsguard fight the mystery man. It’s a fascinating bout and he finds himself cheering his fellow Westerlander, Ser Jaesin.
At the mention of the Knight of Thorns, Jannia sits up peering over the rail, “Ladies, did you hear that? A Mystery Knight… do watch.. I will bet for the Mystery Knight my lady.” Tosses another coin to Melissa as the joust begins.

Farin does cheer slightly louder for Humfrey, though it is somewhat muted for the loss of Barion. As Urston joins him, Farin cracks another small smirk. “I fare…well. And good eve as well, ser. How fared your tilts?”

Alyce chuckles at the entrant. “I shall put my coin with Ser Jaesin. How can I support a knight who declares against love in -this-, of all tournies?”

Shaken in his saddle but not stirred in his seat, Ser Jaesin maintains his place upon the white charger with some mild difficulty. He tosses the shards of his shattered lance aside, takes up a second, and turns back to the fray.

The white horse leaps forward, the white knight on its back. The sun burns down on the tourney field. White-lacquered steel shines like a beacon as iron-shod hooves bring thunder in brightest daylight.

This time he is offered a longer rest and jumps to his feet eagerly as he hears his opponent. The man who once called him a spy for sitting and waiting for lady Andrya when the two of them talked… Willard smiles and dons his helm, his squire has already prepared a new lance and he is riding for the lists when he hears the tremendous crash and the force of the only two knight to unseat him in this tourney - Ser Jaesin and the Knight of Thorns. He nods approvingly for a mere moment, repeats his saluting to the stands ritual, and then is focus on his Crane foe of the moment, as he lowers his lance and aims it just beneath his shield…

The blast of splintered wood phases not the Knight of Thorns; he throws away his broken haft, motioning for another one from a green-masked squire. “Beware! Beware! Prickly are the paths of good intentions, and treacherous are the thickets of devotion!”

The weird mystery knight spurs again, charging the vaunted Kingsguard as his bizarre green armor glints in the light.

The Knight of Thorns strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Jaesin’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.

The Knight of Thorns struggles to keep to the saddle for a few instants, before finally succumbing and sliding to the ground.

Willard strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Albyn delivers a mediocre blow of the lance, failing to find any purchase with which to unseat its opponent.

Albyn is roughly jolted in the saddle, struggling for a few moments to keep to its seat.

Ser Humfrey watches the tilt with wrapt interest his eyes widen a bit at the explosion of lances shattering. “Lannister! Casterly Rock!” and “White Lion” are the refrain on the lips of Westerling and his squire.

Melissa laughs to Miranda and says, “Hense the reason for the wine, my lady. A touch giddy makes a day pass with much more mirth.” She glances and watches the tremendous pass and says, “Ohhhh my…this will be delightful!”

Smiling back at Farin, Urston chuckled before laughing “Well, I lost to Ryckon in my first tilt yesterday, half-killed my next opponent and gained the scorn of the whole court before they found someone else to amuse them, then lost quickly in both my tilts today, probably due to the empty wineskin on my hip and the ache in my head. So, by my standards, nothing special” Urston smiled as he watched the other knights joust “Thankfully I am far swifter with sword than lance, and my footwork is leagues better than my riding” Urston said truthfully, but without a hint of modesty

Unhorsing the loud and boastful Knight of Thorns, Ser Jaesin finishes his course before wheeling about. He rides down the lists again, toward his fallen foe—where he typically will offer words of uplift and encouragement to an opponent who rode bravely. But for the mystery knight, the Lannister has only this droll advice:

“Pray, enjoy your stay in those thickets of devotion, ser. They get a bit treacherous, or so I’ve been told.”

Then Ser Jaesin leaves the man to find his feet.

“I’m pleased he honored you, then again, I’d expect nothing less from Ser Myles.” When asked the question Desmera nods and mmm hmms. “Yes, I am. I’m very happy to have arrived in time to witness such a glorious tournament. Is there a rider who carries your token today my lady?”
Elmer watches the joustign with a critical eye, asessing each knight’s strengths and weaknesses, and drinking steadily. Will this make him joust better, or is it just one of those days for him. That depends on who the draw reserves for him, but he does applaud for Humfrey’s victory, they have met in joust before, with both winning bouts. He raises a hand at Jaesin’s quip and victory.

Jannia flinches only slightly as the Knight of thorns goes down. “Coin well earned my lady, it seems fortune is upon you today.” she offers Melissa a grin. “I must say my lady, you are as gracious of a winner as you are a loser, so commendable, and another reason I call you friend.” She beams a smile to her.

The green-armored mystery knight tumbles under the skilled onslaught of Ser Jaesin. As he goes down, the Knight of Thorns can be heard crying out, “Alas!”

His squires trot out to help him recover. When Jaesin delivers his quip, the Knight of Thorns salutes the Kingsguard. “Chastity is a thorny path, White Sword! Watch out for pricks!”

“Well, I clearly do not pay you for your tourney skills,” Farin comments, half dryly, half jest. “How did you half-kill your opponent? You dared not aim for his head, did you?” Farin asks, ignoring the man’s apparent empty wineskin, though he reaches for his own for a sip.

Willard hisses as he sees the Crane stagger, but not losing his seat. He throws away the cracked lance and takes another, while reining in his grey destrier “Shall we dance once more, Ser Albyn?” he asks and takes the spurs to his horse as he charges yet again, his whole body one with the lance.

“Ah support a Lannister and you cannot go far wrong.” Andrya flashes a grin to Melissa before also collecting her winnings on this one “There is still one more to go to see whether I have turned my luck around from yesterday though.”

“Uhr, no. It wasn’t intentional. The man had wounds from crackclaw, I aimed to remove him from the tourney swiftly rather than let him accumulate more wounds through attrition. Then he rode expertly onto the tip of my spear. I tried to stand vigil over him last night, but his bethrowed kicked me out. Hopefully he will be okay.” Urston said, recounting the events as he had experienced them

Melissa laughs to Jannia and says, “I’m ever more gracious winning though, I am certain.” She grins brightly and says, “Yes, at the feast afterwards we must enjoy a meal together. I fear I find myself relatively short of company in recent days, with my father keeping me near for negotiations. Now that is completed…” She waves it away and sips the wine. She grins though back to Andrya and chuckles, “There is nothing wrong with additional support. Last night though they had no need. It was a Westerland tournament by the end.”

A roar of pain… or anger, comes from behind the helmet as the lance of the Ryger sneaks underneath his own shield. A random hit? The Crane certaintly doesn’t think so as he tugs the bridles, his horse whinnying surprised. Grabbing a new lance, he leans forwards in his seat, angered and determined for revenge.

Willard makes a solid impact against his opponent in the joust, though the lance remains unbroken.
Albyn makes a solid impact against its opponent in the joust, though the lance remains unbroken.

“His betrothed? Fool woman. If the man were so injured from his campaign, he ought not have ridden /at all/. It is simple common sense. Fear not the opinion of the court, ser, they remember poorly the things they truly care little for,” says Farin.

Jannia smiles, “Everyone is more gracious winning than losing Lady Melissa, but you do it the most gracious of all,” she chuckles a little as her words sort of sound like a riddle. “I am honoured to sup with you, it shall be, a jolly occasion.” she smiles again.

This time both of the hits are mediocre at best and Willard curses “Bugger” under his nose. Frustrated he throws the cracked lance away with disgust, more at himself than at anything else, and takes a hold of another one. One good hit, that’s all he needs. “Come on, yah!” he yells at his horse and speeds at his opponent once more.

“Thanks for your condolances, Ser. They are appreciated.” Urston says amiably as he holds out his wineskin to one of Farin’s servants, hoping for a refill. “Ryckon rides surprisingly well, He broke three lances against me before I went down, it was quite a shock for both me and.. well, everyone present”

Again both riders meet and again both remain in the saddle. Although his lance remains unbroken, Albyn does bark for a new one, not letting the possibility of a weakened lance decide over this match. Haston, his squire, has some difficulty avoiding the dancing destrier before he manages to hand his knight a new one. Again, the Crane readies himself for another tilt, now aiming for the left corner of his opponents shield.

Willard makes a solid impact against his opponent in the joust, though the lance remains unbroken.
Albyn makes a solid impact against its opponent in the joust, though the lance remains unbroken.

Willard lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.
Albyn makes a solid impact against its opponent in the joust, though the lance remains unbroken.

Albyn is knocked from horseback, armor rattling as it falls.

Alyce nods to Desmera, offering, “Might I have you over for tea some time? I would love to get to know you, my lady. Perhaps us as well as the Tully ladies and Lady Melissa?” Those who have been present for all the jousts might note that Alyce has not touched a sip of wine for any of it, despite the Lannister woman’s temptations. Looking around, she notices her cousin and lifts her hand in a gentle wave. The motion has some of the myriad of blue and white flowers shifting or falling out of her lower-back-length braid. In fact, her fiery hair can only be seen on the sides, so packed with flora is it.

And -there- it is! The coveted one good hit. Though the level of this bout is sure to not have the stands trembling with excitement. One way or the other, Willard trots over to the laying Crane and offers a nod “Well ridden, ser. Except for Ser Jaesin and the mystery knight, noone has offered me such a fight.” and another tactful nod as he rides towards his tent.

This time, Albyn’s anger is not enough to fuel his riding and with a hard knock he hits the ground. It is enough though to have him rise quick enough, his gaze burned on the Ryger. Without granting the Ryger a word himself, he just turns and leaves, his helmet concealing the coldness of his eyes.

The herald runs out to call the next bouts. “Ser Elmer Crakehall, to ride against Ser Humfrey Westerling! Ser Josmyn Reyne, to ride against Ser Jaesin Lannister of the Kingsguard!”

“Ah luck is on my side today it seems.” Andrya beams at the outcome of this one, coins clinking and all “but I will not tempt it..” she laughs. Nodding between Lady Alyce and Lady Desmera “That sounds wonderful, it would a pleasure to get to know you better Lady Desmera.”

“I must call on my uncle Connington, Griff,” Reyna says after a span of watching quietly and sipping Melissa’s wine. “I have been hiding, I fear and am remiss in seeking him out. I hope he is not vexed with me.” Miranda, for her part, has gotten a cup of water from a servant and is tasting the wine in it now. She sips so carefully one must think she has never had it before.

One of the men at arms gives Farin a dubious look as Urston holds out his wineskin for a refill, but Farin gives him the nod anyway, and the man relinquishes his own to the noble retainer. “Ryckon has ever been a talented boy. His father, Ryck Westerling, is famous in the West. I forget who trained Ryckon before I did…he is dead…but with a talented mentor and good blood, the boy is somewhat of a marvel for his age. However,” the Prester knight sighs, his tone dipping in pitch, “He still makes beginner’s mistakes. I dare not knight him until he earns it, regardless of his current prowess.”

Elmer laughs as he sees Willard win, and he cheers, but sends his squire to care for Ser Albyn. he rubs his chin thoughtfully, his own draw should be called soon. He stretches his massive shoulders while waiting, and takes another gulp of wine. His eyes are rather bloodshot by now, one should hope he’ll joust better. And then his name is called. Humfrey! Indeed..a good match. He climbs on his large grey gelding and he makes his way to the top of the lists. He salutes his opponent respectfully, two Westermen facing each other, then lowers his visor and charges, his lance couched, aimed at Westerling’s shield.
Farin also sees Alyce’s wave, and lifts a hand of his own in greeting.

Josmyn had followed the tilt between Ser Jaesin and the mystery knight with bemusement but now he winces a bit when his name is called up against the Kingsguard. He mounts his horse again and takes another sip from that little flask he carries on his sword belt. The thing seems to be some sort of lucky charm apparently. Then he lowers his helmet over his head, canters to the far end of the grounds and accepts a fresh lance, ready for a tilt against the White Lion.

And so the White Lion will ride against one of his crimson cousins. The Knight of Thorns left in the dust, Ser Jaesin accepts the next pairing with aplomb. From the end of the lists, he tilts his visor in salute to the Castamere man before lowering the steel once more. Couching his lance, Lannister sets forth, haft held steady….

Jaesin’s lance is broken into so many splinters as he delivers a tremendous blow to his opponent.
Josmyn’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.

Josmyn is driven off the saddle by his opponent’s skillful charge.

Drinking eagerly from the new wineskin, Urston sighed “Ypu are probably right in that, Ser. He needs to stay a squire until he works up some confidence, at the very least.” Seeing Alyce wave, Urston almost waved back before he realized it was for Farin “Speaking of Ryckon, the lady Alyce and I had been making plans, that might help him be less…flustered”

“Of course, I’d be delighted to join to you and the other ladies for tea.” The invitation appears to have added to Desmera’s already high spirits. Her green eyes are sparkling as she catches a few of the white blossoms that fall out of Alyce’s braid in her upturned hand.

Ser Humfrey rides round the commons and renders salutes to the Queen, the Queen of love and beauty, the Lady Alyce, and his gallant foe ser Elmer. he brings gilded spurs to the flanks of his seashell white charger and crouches his lance, moves the tip at the last second in an effort to disorient his foe.

Elmer strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Humfrey’s lance is broken into so many splinters as he delivers a tremendous blow to his opponent.

Elmer finds himself forced from the saddle by his opponent’s charge.

Ser Jaesin weathers the crack and shattering of the Reyne’s lance, keeping his seat. When he reaches the end of course, he turns to find the other was not so fortunate; riding back, the Kingsguard pauses by Ser Josmyn. “Well struck, friend. You nearly had me,” he says kindly and truthfully. Then he is off, and back toward the pavilions for a brief respite.

The crimson lion is no match for the white one apparently and the first well-placed blow by Ser Jaesin sends Josmyn flying into the mud. Getting to his feet again with a groan, he removes his helmet and offers his opponent a weak smile. “It’s been a honor, Ser Jaesin.” He bows to him and to the stands, before clearing the grounds quickly for the next pair.

Elmer is seemingly not in the best of moods, as his lance fails to break and then he’s hit hard, thrown off the saddle. He rests on the sand for a minute, before he dusts himself up and raises slowly. Taking off his helmet, he laughs, not at all distraught. “Good joust, Ser Humphrey.” he limps slowly towards the Lannister tents.

Jannia looks to the field when she hears crack of lance, she sees her champion on the ground and watches intently as he lays on the ground, when he stirs she lets go of the breath she was holding and smiles, “Of course Lady Alyce, I would be delighted to join you for tea. Just send a messenger the manse when you would like to have it.” she smiles to Desmera and Alyce kindly. She turns to Reyna, “Do not think I have forgotten about my proposal for a meal either Lady Reyna, when you feel up to it I would love to have you and your beautiful daughter over to dine.” She smiles to the lady hoping she notices that her offer is genuine.

The Knight of the Crag winces as Ser Elmer’s blow dents and scars his fresh shield. After the tilt he makes his usual circuit of the commons, saluting Lady Alyce with his shattered lance. Then seeing his gallant foe limping he dismounts and rushes toward Ser Elmer. “An excellant tilt Ser, are you well?”

Back at his pavillion, the Crane drops in his seat, letting his squire remove the brest plate first to gain abetter breathing, then lifting the padding beneath it. A red, yellow and blue bruise has already appeared on his belly where only his armor stood between Will’s lance and his flesh. ” Damn, Ryger.” he mumbles irritated, slapping the padding back down to cover the bruise. ” Wine, Haston.” He asks his squire, waving away Elmer’s with a ‘thank you’ before he takes a gulp from the wine.

Alyce offers a gentle inclination of her head to Humfrey as he moves to line up. She applauds for the other tilt, but turns her attention to the one at hand. It is only polite, since he keeps acknowledging her during his rides.

Elmer tips his helmet towards Humphrey. “good enough, Ser..just hurt pride….but thank you for the question!” he smiles. “And good luck further on!” He then grins towards the squires. “Now boys, which of you will take a dragon on Ser Jaesin’s next bout?”

Another man-at-arms is dispatched to bring a wineskin to Elmer, should he require a drink, and an invitation to join Farin in the stands, should he require company. Farin himself showed no emotion for the tilt, though as he watches Ser Humfrey Salute Alyce, he smirks. “I do believe I started something, when I introduced my old friend to my cousin. It seems Ryckon and Humfrey are both born of the same skill. What have you and the Lady come up with to hone that?”

“Your champion, who is not actully your champion, is doing very well Lady Alyce..” Andrya comments with a sly smile to Alyce as she watches the Westerling knight once again salute the Bar Emmon lady.

Gulping, Urston blinked and answered “It is less to HONE his skills, and more to remove his fear so he can use them more ably. He seems afraid of ladies, sometimes wincing from eye contact. We decided he needed a whore. Perhaps two or three, to be safe.” Urston said with honesty. As a sworn man, it was his job to tell the truth to Ser Farin

As the chatter dies down somewhat in the stands, Almer watches the final tilts intently. He waves away a passing servant who offers refreshment, and then, thinking better of it, makes a sign to the footman to give the ladies Reyna and Miranda a cool drink.

“The Knight of Thorns is a strange beast,” he says with a laugh. “I shouldn’t wonder if it is Ardon in disguise, Reyna. He’s always up to some prank. Do you remember the Weeping Knight?”

His helm beneath an arm and his white shield left in the care of a squire, Ser Jaesin dismounts for the nonce and makes the rounds of his father’s Westermen. He seems genuinely pleased by the progress of them all, stopping to share a kind word and a clap on the shoulder for Josmyn Reyne, Humfrey Westerling, and others.

Soon enough he reaches Elmer Crakehall, and Lannister grins at the big Boar. “I had to find you, ser,” Jaesin tells the man. “You’ve ridden well these past few days. I’m honored to have tested my strength against you. From now on, what’s past is past. Well done, Elmer.”

Jannia echos her sister “Indeed he is Lady Alyce.” she smiles to her, “By chance how do you know him.” she asks, not having heard Farin’s words. ^r

The news does not seem to phase Farin in the slightest. Ever the pragmatist, he simply nods. “I have thought as much as well. I know a few madams who would give him the works,” he offers, though he ends with a frown. “Now, as to how the Lady Alyce is off suggesting such things herself…”

The herald calls up the next jousters. “Lord Allos Swann, to ride against Ser Willard Ryger! Ser Humfrey Westerling, to ride against the Knight of Thorns!”

“I should like that, Lady Jannia,” Reyna says with a bend of her head. “When things are more settled. Miranda,” she says to her cousin, “here is Lady Jannia Tully and her sister, Lady Andrya. Ladies, my cousin on my mother’s side, Lady Miranda Fossoway.”

She is laughing in the next moment, smiling at Almer. “I do. It was such a shock, and such a joy.” Miranda puts aside her watered wine in exchange for the cool lemon water from the servant. “It’s terribly romantic for there to be a mystery knight,” she says to Almer.

Ser Humfrey smiles to Ser Elmer. “It was an honor Ser”. When he remarks to his squires about a wager Humfrey smiles. “The White Lion has a hungry look today Ser”. Then Humfrey turns to ser Jaesin. “Ah, hello Ser ... ah it seems it is time”.

“Well Ser, it wasn’t Alyce’s fault, the conversation was full of japes between myself, Alyce, and Andrya Tully. Little was serious, but the prospect of finding Ryckon a whore sat well with me, and I proposed it to you” Urston said with a smile, pleased with himself

“Romantic indeed, my lady,” Almer answers Miranda glibly. “Though if you ask me, this Knight of Thorns is more than a bit touched in the head.” He touches his own temple for emphasis. “Sounds like your lord brother, though, Reyna.”

Jannia smiles at Reyna’s acceptance, “As you will my lady.” She says with returning tip of her head, “It is a pleasure to meet you as well Lady Miranda, will you come with the lady? It would be more than welcome, and I will be delighted to have you.” She beams at the lady in mourning.

The Knight of the Crag looks to the herald, dons his great helm and then looks at the knight of the Thorns as though trying to peel away mail, and steel, thorn and green enamel. He takes a fresh lance and makes the three salutes then crouches lance and charges; again at th elast second he changes the position of his lance

“Indeed, Ser Humfrey,” says Ser Jaesin, sending the man off to face the mystery knight with a clap on the back. “Ride well, Westerling! For the Crag and the Rock—put an end to this blowhard’s prattling nonsense for us!”

Alyce announces, “My money is on Ser Humfrey. As before, I cannot wgaer on the anti-love knight.” She looks amongst the ladies for takers.

“I think, perhaps, for his sixteenth name day, I shall have one waiting for him in his chamber when he returns home. And I shall lock and bar the door from the other side until we can hear her moans,” Farin chuckles. “Make a proper man out of him, and all that. As for Alyce…I have never known a meeting between her and that Tully girl to end well. Do something about that, Urston.”

As the Knight of Thorns is called to battle again, he takes up his lance and canters into position. No clue as to the stranger’s identity can be readily gleaned, though he must come from some wealth, judging by the richness of his harness and weaponry.

“Come, ser knight!” he cries, lowering his lance. “Come and feel the bitter pain of unrequited love on my thorn!” And he charges Ser Humfrey!

Reyna laughs aloud for the first time, shaking her head. “Almer, really! We are not all mad at Highgarden. Anyway, watch the man ride. Ardon has not that tilt to the left that this Knight of Thorns has, unless something has changed.” But she does watch the mystery knight more closely.

Miranda watches, then nods at Jannia. “I should like that very much, my lady. Thank you.” She bends her head, and one of her curls slips free of her veil to lie on her cheek.

The Knight of Thorns’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.
Humfrey strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.

Humfrey is pushed from the saddle by his opponent’s lance.

“I shall, Ser.” Urston said with a smile, unable to stop smiling at the prospect of poor little Ryckon struggling to escape the whore he was trapped with. “I shall take immediate care of Alyce’s and Andrya’s curiosities.” Urston said with a glimmer in his eye. He would tell them everything about Ryckons ordeal, that would sort out their curiousities!

After the gruelling confrontation earlier, Lord Swann seems a little less quick to return to his saddle; his posture less upright and slumped. Pulling his visor down in a lazy motion, he accepts his shield and lance wearily before riding his horse back to the lists. There, once again, he dips his lance to the Targaryens, the court and his opponent, Ser Willard. Then, as the signal is given, he flies into the lists, charging the knight of House Ryger with a firm grip on his lance…

“Lady Miranda, a pleasure.” Andrya smiles warmly to the Fossoway lady before looking to Reyna and nodding in agreement with her sister’s words “That would be wonderful Lady Reyna.” To Alyce she sighs “Ah too late…I see, seems your extra champion as has been bested by the mystery knight, a curious one is he not…”

Willard smiles as he hears the next name to be his opponent’s. He rides back to the lists, on the way smiling and saluting with his right arm to the lady Andrya Tully. As he settles at his end he salutes the Lord of Southshield and calls out “Lord Allos, I wish you luck. But, by the Seven, I wish more for myself!” he smiles and kisses his signet with the die that make a “VII”. And then he’s charging.

Allos lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.
Willard lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.

“Well-ridden, ser knight!” cries the Knight of Thorns to Ser Humfrey. “Love is pain, as you must needs have learned today!” He salutes the fallen Westerling, takes up a lance, and returns to his silent vigil near his thorny pavilion.

Ser Humfrey falls form his saddle and lands with a loud, dissonant cacophany of mail grating on steel plate. He comes to his feet, albeit with a bit more alacrity than when the White Lion struck him down. He tossed aside his broken lance and salutes the knight of the Thorns. When the Knight speaks to him of love and pain, the knight of the Crag turns his helm to the soot and fire stained rag round his arm and merely stares with chestnut eyes bereft of their habitual warmth.

Allos breathes heavily in the deep silence of his armour as he rides to the end of the list and accepts a fresh lance. Both blows were solidly struck but he would need to perform better to stay in the tourney. He spurs his mare once more into a gallop, picking up speed as the lance point dips towards Willard’s chest.

“Ah, it seems the great green oaf is squealing his platitudes again,” remarks Ser Jaesin to Ser Elmer as Westerling is hurled from the saddle by the mystery knight. “A pity. But do you see how he stands there, silent and alone?”

The Lannister lifts a hand, pointing toward the Thorn-Knight’s pavilion and the odd man’s vigil. “Have you once seen him drink, or remove his helm, Crakehall? The sun will wear him down before any of us do.”

“That is true enough, coz,” Almer muses to Reyna. “And Ardon is of slighter build; Ser Bramble there has some bulk to him.” He glances at Miranda now and again, curiously solicitous of the young lady, as if she were some fragile thing in need of constant vigilance. The courteous exchange between the Fossoway and the Tully maidens seems to please him.

Almost as an after thought Humfrey speaks. “You rode well Ser.”

Alyce laughs as she offers up her coin to any who won that wager, not seeming the least bit surprised. “I must say, ladies, this tourney seems to be moving at greater speed than the last two. I can hardly keep up!”

And as expected their tilt is very close, their skill apparently quite similar. The young Ryger throws away the broken lance and takes another. He focuses on his target and tries to aim his weapon right beside the shield as he urges his grey destrier forward.

Allos strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Willard’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.

Allos struggles to keep to the saddle for a few instants, before finally succumbing and sliding to the ground.

She nods to the Lady Miranda, “Very well then it is settled, when Lady Reyna is settled back in, we shall sup together.” she turns to Reyna, “Lady do send a messenger when you are ready to do so. My cook would be pleased to have guests.” she smiles brightly, happy about the exchange.

“Lady Alyce,” says Reyna, raising her voice just enough to get that lady’s attention. “I would like you to meet my cousin, Lady Miranda Fossoway. Miranda, Lady Alyce Bar Emmon.”

Miranda bends her head to Alyce, pushing the errant curl back when she raises her head. “It is lovely to meet you, Lady Alyce.” She, too, glances now and again at Almer, something Reyna misses not at all. “Yes, Lady Jannia, thank you,” she says again to the Tully while Reyna responds in kind.

Andrya recieved Willard’s salute with a smile and a wave. She claps as he beats the Swann lord. “He is doing as well as he did yesterday.” she comments softly. She nods in agreement with the Bar Emmon lady as well “Much faster, I am so very curious to see how this one shall end and who this very mysterious knight is!”

The herald calls up the final four jousters. “Ser Jaesin Lannister of the Kingsguard, to ride against Ser Willard Ryger! Ser Josmyn Reyne to ride against the Knight of Thorns!”

Ser Humfrey removes his battered greathelm, gauntlets, and gorget and takes a tankard of Arbor gold and from his squire. Walking up the stairs to the gallary he approaches Ser Urston. “Ser, you rode well, my thanks for the tilt.”

Alyce turns her attention to Reyna and the woman beside her, perking up even more. “Of course, Lady Reyna. I am honored to meet any relative of yours.” She inclines her head to Miranda with a warm, welcoming smile. “I apologize if I seem a bit out of sorts today. Perhaps attending -every- tourney has not been a good idea for me. But it is my first since coming to King’s Landing. What about you, Lady Miranda?”

The Swann is hit hard but there is a brief moment where it looks as though he might stay in his saddle but the force of the blow and the weight of the armour too great and he falls to the dirt, his heavy landing kicking up plumes of dust about him. The gray whinies and trots to the side where it is collected by a squire and the lord struggles to pull himself upright. Once standing, he pulls free his helm and raises a hand in salute to the victor and then the stands before staggering from the field and into his pavilion to retire.

Jannia smiles happy with the exchanges of the day, she turns to the field to watch once more. She smiles to her sister as she sees her excitment, it doesn’t take long, as the herald announces her Champions match she claps delightedly. “This should be exciting, do you not agree sister. Good luck to your champion.”

Ser Jaesin says his farewells to Ser Elmer and the Westermen, and finds his mount. Up into the saddle, then, and the end of the lists where he is given a lance. Then spurs, and the white charger sets out again, looking still fresh and eager by its pace. Ser Jaesin levels his lance and takes aim for the Ryger knight, his opponent.

“Ah, Ser Humfrey! It’s good to see you, you rode well against men who are far better jousters than I could hope to face! Ser Farin and I were just discussing young Ryckon’s birthday present!” Urston said with a knowing grin at the other knight

Josmyn looks oddly pleased when he realizes that he is up against the mysterious Knight of Thorns next. “His final minutes of mystery have come.”, he grins at his squire before he mounts his horse again, takes the helmet and lowers it over his head. A fresh lance couched in his arm, he is ready to ride against Mysteryman.
Farin, sitting next to Urston, spots Humfrey as he approaches. Unwilling to wait for the pleasantries to finish between his friend and retainer, he offers his own. “Humfrey! You old sod. Excellent riding today, ser. It is a pity that you did not win it all.”

Seemingly uncaring of the buzz surrounding him, the Knight of Thorns trots his big courser to the lists. He salutes the Reyne knight with a dip of the lance. “Beauty is fleeting, Red Lion!” he cries to Ser Josmyn. “And my thorns pierce the handsome and the homely alike!” He charges!

The Knight of Thorns lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.
Josmyn’s lance is broken into so many splinters as he delivers a tremendous blow to his opponent.

The Knight of Thorns finds himself forced from the saddle by his opponent’s charge.

“Ah, Ryckon, fine lad that Ryckon, what manner of gift, Ser? A blade, a suit of plate, perchance a mount or a cask of sweet wine?” Humfrey chuckles, turning to Farin. “My thanks Ser, but the knight of the Thorns, I suspect he was trained by some Master at Arms of Great prowess in High Garden or the Storm Lands, I pray the white lion unmasks him”

“Lord Allos, you rode well. Luck was on my side this time.” he salutes the jousting lord and smiles at his salute. Then he stays at the lists as he hears whom he will ride against again. “Ser Jaesin, so we meet again. I hope to do better against you today than last time. May the luck be on my side” he kisses his signet and salutes with the right hand to the lady Andrya and then he lowers his lance and aims it at his foe… Luck, that’s his saviour now.

Jaesin’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.
Willard lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.

Willard struggles to keep to the saddle for a few instants, before finally succumbing and sliding to the ground.

“It is my first, yes,” Miranda says to Alyce. “I ought not to have come, in truth, but Reyna insisted.” She smiles at her cousin then smoothes the black silk of her mourning. In the next moment, she is giving a little cry of dismay behind cupped hands. “Oh, he’s fallen again. That is twice, is it not, Ser Almer?” she asks, looking to the knight beside her as the curl slips loose again.

Josmyn doesn’t respond to the Mystery Man’s words - he responds in kind during the tilt, as he lands a well-placed blow to the stranger’s chest and unhorses him. Reigning in his horse, he turns around to dismount next to the man. “Well well, I hope you find the bed of thorns I tossed you into comfortable, good man.”, he grins, “Handsome or Homely though? I would consider unmasking you, but we don’t want to frighten the ladies’ into fainting at the sight of your face, do we?”

Jannia almost jumps from her seat as Josmyn’s lance rings true, but she remembers who she is with and settles for a light clap and a large grin. “Well done, that was very well done, now hopefully we get to see who this mystery knight is.” Nothing could bring down her smile as she watches to see the identity of this knight. ” She turns to her sister, “Your champion had a good run no?” she smiles to her as well.

The griffin smiles a bit at Miranda’s innocent alarm. “It is; two falls, and he’s right out of it.” Almer watches as the Knight of Thorns attempts to recover himself from Ser Josmyn’s excellent blow. “Watch to see what happens.”

“Ahh, your champion needs no luck I see, Jannia, that was very well done” Andrya exclaims to her sister with a bright smile, she is indeed caught up in the excitement of the tourney now. “Yes Ser Willard really did, I hope he does not feel too down about losing to Ser Jaesin.” she says hopefully as she claps for all four of the jousters.

Alyce muses aloud, “I wonder if the Knight of Thorns is…” She stops and applaud Josmyn’s victory over the man, then pulls out a coin. “I wager the mystery knight is Ser Myles. He has been absent from the lists this morning. Who shall bet another?” She looks to Miranda, Reyna, the Tullys…. anyone nearby.

Having driven the bold Ser Willard from his seat, Ser Jaesin turns about and rides back down the lists—as is his custom. He pauses by Ryger, and tells the other man, “You keep your seat well, ser. There is no dishonor in falling to the King’s own White Swords—hold your head high.”

Then he looks to where the Knight of Thorns has fallen, and allows himself a wry smirk at the boastful man’s misfortune. Saying nothing more, Lannister only lifts his hand in salute to the royal box, then canters back toward the lists’ end.

“A whore. To make a man out of him,” Farin chuckles. “Perhaps. It is only an idea, and he may yet find his own woman before then. Who is to say?” Farin shrugs.
Humfrey has reconnected.

Nods and takes bet, ” I think it may be… Ser Ammon… That is my guess, any more takers.” Jannia smiles

Miranda watches, her hands clasped in her lap. Beside her, Reyna shakes her head at Alyce. “It is not Myles,” she says. “He does not ride that way. Nor Ser Ammon Blackhand, for he has gone to Stonedance with his sister. I cannot wager, my lady,” she adds, bending her head.

Alyce chuckles, then looks at Melissa suspiciously. “Your words almost make me think he is your betrothed or Mathin Lannister.” With a smirk, the Bar Emmon returns her gaze to the field for the dramatic unmasking.

Sitting up gingerly, the Knight of Thorns shakes his helmed head to clear away the cobwebs. His green squires jog out to help the mystery knight to his feet. “You have proven your worth today, ser knight!” he calls to Josmyn. “And I have fulfilled my vows this day! But I beg of you an indulgence… let me keep the secret of my name and my face this day, and I shall be in your debt!”

“Ohh an interesting idea there Jannia..” Andrya shakes her head ruefully though “No I am with Lady Miranda on this one..I have absloutely no clue as to who this is, but if any one of you is right, I will pay up.” she adds with a grin to all.

Josmyn bows to the Knight of Thorns. “You fought honorably, Ser, so I will honor your request gladly.” He offers the man a hand to shake and a smile.

Melissa moans, “Bad form!” she calls out. She looks at the others, “Leading up on this long, he should at least dignify us with his identity!” She sighs and smiles as she sips more wine, waking up at bit at this.

“Casterly Rock has gold aplenty to persuade Ser Josmyn otherwise,” Ser Jaesin quips as he rejoins the small stable of Westerlands men in the waiting area. Still ahorse, his squires bring him a wineskin and a fresh lance. First the one, then the other.

The crowd erupts at Ser Josmyn’s chivalrous display, and the masked Knight of Thorns salutes him. “You are a bold and gallant knight, ser! Some day we shall meet again, and I shall repay your gesture!”

And as some of the crowd begin hurling boos on him, the mystery knight merely laughs, remounts, and with squires in tow, departs from the lists without a backward glance further.

And here they go again, the white lion and the crimson lion. Josmyn is buzzing on adrenaline after all that has happened and mounts his horse one more time to face the Lannister again. He takes a gulp of wine first, then lowers his helmet and takes a fresh lance, galloping to the far end of the grounds to await Ser Jaesin’s charge.

“Now I know it is not Ser Anton,” says Melissa. “He never laughs in public.”

Ser Daric’s son looks to Farin with a mirthless stare. Ser, the man will be a man soon enough; and if he hasn’t found some maid to court and woo, he will, soon enough. It happens to all boys, invariably.”

For her part, Miranda seems to be delighted with the mystery knight’s demurral. “Oh, well done,” she calls to Josmyn, eyes bright. “What do you think, Ser Almer?” she asks, her hand on his arm. “We shall remain in suspense!”

Reyna laughs still again. “He has cheek,” she says to Melissa. “Definitely not Ser Myles, either.”

Jannia is a touch disappointed that she didn’t get to see the Knight of Thorns identity, but smiles nonetheless, “How very chivalrous of him, I do not know if I would have been able to let the man keep his identity.” she giggles, “That is why I am not a knight I assume.” Said to no one in particular.

“All boys inevitably, yes, but certain others and I - Urston left Alyce’s name out this time, not wishing to spoil Humfrey’s interpretation of her - felt he could do with a kick in the right direction, as a nice surprise for the lad!” Urston smiled to Ser Humfrey, glad he and Alyce’s plan was working so well

Willard unfortunately succumbs yet again to Ser Jaesin Lannister, he pounds his fist into the ground and stands - not in anger, but in the dissapointed feel of competition “Ser Jaesin, I have yet to lear a many things, before I can hope to really make you work for even one tilt. But someday, I will be there.” he bows gallantly to the White Cloak and walks to the stands, taking off his helmet, relinquishing his shield and horse to his squire Kennard.

As he approaches the stands he bows to the ladies gathered and saves a nod to sers Farin, Almer and Urston. “Ser, Ladies. I do hope the tourney proves enjoyable?”

“Good people! Peace!” The dragon-herald, alarmed at the odd turn of events, and the surliness of some of the smallfolk in the crowd, jogs out to quiet them. Four hours of heavy drinking can have strange effects on mobs, it seems. “We have one final match! Your Grace! To determine the champion of this joust, and the winner of the costly prize so generously provided by Lord Hightower and Lord Connington, Ser Jaesin Lannister of the Kingsguard shall ride against Ser Josmyn Reyne!”

Melissa grins to Reyna and nods, “Certainly not…I should be delighted should someone uncover his identity. Perhaps if I win some more today, I shall put a bounty in his name.” She laughs and hears the last call, “Ahh, well one last time ladies. A dragon on Ser Jaesin to win the day.”

The Queen, who seems pleased enough with how things have fallen out, gestures so that the last challenge may be ridden.

Josmyn bows deeply towards the Queen, then his eyes trail towards the ladies’ box, before he lowers the visor of his helmet and tightens his grip on the lance… ready for the last tilt of the day.

With the heralds next announcement Jannia does stand to watch, taking advantage of the place she stands, she watches quietly, waiting for the joust to start.

Tossing the wineskin down to his squires, Ser Jaesin accepts the offered lance and smiles that bright, flashing of his. “I am glad to face Ser Josmyn, and not that bellicose oaf,” he tells the lads and Ser Elmer Crakehall alike. “Better a true knight with the courage to bear his father’s arms, than a mystery man.”

He lifts his lance in salute toward Reyne, at the lists’ far end. “Castamere,” the Kingsguard cries! “Honor to you and your family!” Then he too bows his head in the direction of the royal box, before slamming his visor home.

“Well, that was unexpected,” Almer says to Miranda as the Knight of Thorns is given a repreive. “A chivalrous gesture by Ser Josmyn. But I wouldn’t wager against Ser Jaesin. He’s a steady hand with a lance.”

“Ah well, I have spoken already, so I shall stick to my wager that the mystery knight is the Hightower.” She then falls silent, grinning excitedly at this final match.

Andrya laughs at the Lannister lady’s words but her curiosity is still burning and she looks to the others with a slightly disappointed expression “Mayhaps we shall forever have to keep guessing, all right one lion against the other, my coin will go on Ser Jaesin once again” she says. She smiles brightly as the Ryger knight approaches “You did very will once again Ser Willard, you brought honour on for my house and indeed the Riverlands.” she thanks him quietly.

Cheering wildly for his friend Ser Josmyn to win, Ser Urston Coldwater has quite forgotten the gambit with Ryckon and the whore, instead focusing intently upon the lances of the Lions

“Enjoyable, yes,” Farin replies to the approaching Ryger knight. “You will forgive me for cheering for your vanquisher, I hope, Ser Willard? My House is vassal to Ser Jaesin’s, and the Reynes and I are on strange terms.”

“Surprise the lad with a good sword of castle wrought steel Ser, or a good destrier. If you surprise him with a tart, what if his seed clings to the furrow and he begets a bastard with her? A mean spiteful creature, or perchance a brave and gallant, condemned to scorn because he’s a Rivers?”

Jannia chirps up for a bet, “I bet for Ser Josmyn to win.” she tosses Andrya a coin and turns back to the joust.

Now golden spurs are put to the flanks of the great white charger, on whose back Ser Jaesin has lost nary a tilt these last two days. His white mantle catches the wind, and the sun—at its peak, now—makes of the Kingsguard a blazing white angel of the lists, preceded by the thunder of the charger’s hoofbeats.

The lance, held high, comes down to level slowly, held in the Lannister’s sure-handed grip.

Lannister and Reyne, lions golden and crimson, near one another with inexorable surety.

A thousand mouths hang open in suspense….

Josmyn strikes a good blow that cracks, but does not break, his lance.
Jaesin lance strikes square upon his opponent and breaks near the tip.

Josmyn struggles to keep to the saddle for a few instants, before finally succumbing and sliding to the ground.

“He would be a Hill, ser, not a Rivers. And a whore would have a hard time proving to anyone that her son belongs to one client and not another,” Farin remarks to his old friend.

“Oh, he is gallant!” cries Miranda before she blushes hot with embarrassment and resumes her seat, having leapt to her feet. “Gods, you would think I had never been to a tourney before in my life,” she says to Reyna, who only smiles and presses her head, murmuring something into the girl’s ear that makes her smile too.

Jannia nods as Josmyn is unhorsed, “This was a fantastic tourney, wouldn’t you say ladies?” she smiles as she takes her seat and picks up her glass of wine, finishes it and calls for it to be filled, for the second time.

And the stands erupt in acclamation.

Though his lance does not shatter on impact this once, Ser Jaesin tosses it aside and turns his steed about. Reining in near Ser Josmyn, he dismounts carefully—plate is heavy, after all—and goes to the man he has felled.

“Hill, yes Ser, if you must needs get the boy a whore at least find him some washermaid attached to a keep or a hedge knight’s daughter so that if he gets a chidl with her he might know and have a choice”

The long day and the epic tilt against Lord Swann have all taken their toll on Josmyn. Although he makes a valiant effort, he does not succeed in getting a good blow in on the Kingsguard. And even though the Lannister’s blow hadn’t been -too- hard, it’s enough for him to lose his grip on the reins and tumble off his horse.

Getting to his feet again, he takes off his helmet and offers Jaesin a smile and his hand. “Well fought, Ser. It was a honor. Congratulations!”

Alyce applauds loudly as the final tilt is finished. Her cheeks are flushed with excitement, blue eyes vivid and alive. Looking all around her, she says, “My, my, ladies, that -was- exciting. DDo you think the mystery knight shall finally unmask himself?”

White mantle catching the wind behind him, all snowy and pure and glinting in golden embellishments, Ser Jaesin of the Kingsguard doffs his lion-helm and catches Ser Josmyn Reyne in a fierce bearhug. “Well done, Reyne, well done,” he exults!

Then the golden-haired champion seizes the hand of the Castamere man, and lifts it up in the air beside his own as they face the Queen and the crowd! “Castamere and the Rock,” he says grandly. “Let our Houses ever be friends!”

Melissa cheers for her cousin once more and laughs, “I think that if this tournament is most delightful, Lady Jannia, and yet there is still the melee to come on the morrow? I fear we have not seen the last of this sport.” She chuckles and says, “And never bet against my cousin, what is that saying I’ve heard in the foreign books? ‘This is known’?” She laughs a little unknowingly misquoting a phrase from foreign lands.

The crowd cheers the victor! The Targaryen herald, looking rather pleased with himself, steps before the Queen and the Princesses, and makes a sign to a pair of men-at-arms in dragon livery. “Your Grace! I present to you the champion of this Joust of Valor, Ser Jaesin Lannister of the Kingsguard!”

The men-at-arms bring forth a magnificent prize, or rather, prizes… a matched pair of splendid white hunting hounds, each with golden leashes and collars set with red garnets and smoky tourmalines.

Jannia giggles heartily at Melissa, “Aye, but as you feel compelled to bet on your kin, I felt compelled to bet on my Champion.” she laughs at the “it is known,” quote.

Josmyn smiles happily when Jaesin lifts his hand up as well and speaks such noble words. “Let the lions be friends ever!”, he agrees, before he steps back to let the champion receive his prize… two mutts.

Willard bows to his Tully lady “Lady Andrya, I thank you for your kind words. I am sorry for not winning the tourney for you, and especially for falling to that ridiculous Knight of Thorns.” he then turns to clap for both the lion knights as they ride out their final joust.

Stepping forward then and away from Ser Josmyn, the Kingsguard knight strips off his gauntlets. Bending briefly at the waist, he lets the fine hounds sniff his hand before motioning to the men-at-arms to take those glorious beasts to the royal kennels. There, they shall surely be treated as befits their status—each is a prince among dogs.

For his part, Ser Jaesin proceeds toward the royal box. There he pauses beneath the Queen and her ladies, and bows—as best he can, in that white plate.

“Oooh,” sighs Miranda as the hounds are brought out. “What a fine pair of dogs! Do you see, Ser Almer, such noses they have. They will be excellent hunters. I should be so lucky one day, to have just one so fine.” She sighs again, then falls silent as the Queen rises.

Daena, with her silvery hair under a black veil of mourning, moves to the railing. “Twice you have bested all challengers, Ser Jaesin of the Kingsguard!” she says in her high voice, which manages to carry in spite of its timbre. “We name you champion of this day’s tourney, and proclaim that you will have this star, which we have worn about our own neck.” She unclasps the necklace she is wearing, pendant from which is a splendid crystal star set in gold. She extends this so that he might catch it with the point of his lance.

“I think that can be arranged, Lady Miranda,” Almer says with a mischeivous grin. He, too, goes quiet as the Queen speaks. “Her Grace always knows just the right touch,” he adds in an admiring undertone.

Jannia looks to the group, “What a lovely gift, and such kindly words from Her Grace.” she sighs in admiration.

Bowing his head in perfect humility, Ser Jaesin smiles before the Queen—perhaps the softest, humblest smile that any here have ever seen from his proud visage—and allows her to circle the tip of his lance with her crystal pendant.

“Your Grace is too kind,” the Kingsguard says quietly. “I shall treasure this gem, and this memory, all my days.” He drops to a knee, doing the young and beauteous Targaryen Queen the proper homage.

Melissa smiles as Queen Daena graces Jaesin with such a personal token, nodding as she watches, sipping her wine. She looks to the ladies and says, “This has been a most fun day. I should hate to see our enjoyment end after this. Shall we all ajourn to feast together afterwards?”

To Willard Andrya shakes her head gently “He was a fierce one Ser I do not think anyone can reproach you for not having bested him.” Turning to her sister and agreeing with Melissa, she echoes the words she said before “As I said Jannia, back a Lannister and you shall not go far wrong.” she smiles and claps for both the Lions as well, chuckling as she sees the hounds brought out before listening to the Queen speak and nodding in agreement with her sister’s words. “That sounds like a very good idea lady Melissa.” she adds in response to the Lannister lady.

The Queen bends her head to Ser Jaesin, her smile sincere. Then she looks up. “These proceedings are concluded! May you all be merry and happy, and blessed in the hands of the Seven!” As a cheer goes up for her, she turns to rejoin her aunt and sisters, preperatory to taking her leave.

Josmyn claps for the champion when he receives his gifts, two wonderful dogs and the queen’s own necklace, then turns towards the ladies’ box to bow deeply to Jannia Tully. “I hope I’ve done you prouder today, Mylady.”, he smiles.