Page 305: Tourney at the Twins
Tourney at the Twins
Summary: The tournament at the Twins commences with the joust.
Date: 20/05/2012
Related Logs: None.
Rygar Riordan Valda Roslyn Rosanna Jarod Muirenn Martyn Kamron Kittridge Benedict Anais Hardwicke Kell Saffron Inigo Sofya Alys Saethwyr Tiaryn Anders Danae Alek Belle 
Tournament Grounds — The Twins
Grass and horses! Lots of knights!
May 20, 289 A.L.

The aged Lord Walder, said to be among the oldest men alive in Westeros, has spent no small amount of coin on these festivities: fresh cut boughs woven together with wildflowers adorn the tilting lanes before a great elevated platform, shaded by canopies for the use of nobles. The waters of the Green Fork are visible from the tourney fields, but the rush of waters is buried beneath the clamor of thousands of folk, great and small, assembled for the tournament. The banners and ornate list shields of the five Frey champions are displayed in front of the platform, while ringing all about the tilting lanes are the throngs of smallfolk, gathered to behold the spectacle.

Ser Rygar Nayland is seated among the nobles alongside the Castellan of Stonbridge, Valda nee Frey, with others of the Nayland household near at hand. But overshadowing all other expected guests is at least one unexpected one: wearing an elaborate heraldic cloak, which quarters the peacock on cream of House Serrett, with the white scythe on black of House Harlaw. Among the knightly challengers is Ser Harras Harlaw of the Iron Isles.

Anais seems genuinely pleased to see the Ladies Frey as they pass, exchanging pleasantries and smiles with each of them. She must have stopped in every camp to 'escape the rain' in the midst of her rain-wandering the past few days. Sneaky git. "My lips are sealed," she promises Tiaryn as she takes her seat, flashing a swift smile toward Muirenn. "Almost time," she says, excited.

Jarod mills about, in search of a place to stand and best observe the joust. He's unarmored, so plainly he'll not be taking part in the jousting. As he walks along, he catches sight of Ser Harras Harlaw. A low, sharp whistle escaping his lips. Unexpected indeed, that. He edges along and tries to catch the Iron Island knight's eye, though he doesn't do anything so forward or noticeable as to wave.

The gathering is nothing if not pomp filled, and the devices are easy to spot. The Young Lord Flint has upon his arm his lady wife, and as they process through, Anders is keeping an eye out for- Ah! Heading towards the Terrick retinue, he makes sure Cordelya has her footing, and as he makes his way, he inclines his head in greeting to each received. Finally reaching his seat, the pair do greet Lady Anais, and then Tiaryn, Muirenn before they take their seat. "Ladies.."

The Lady Roslyn Nayland is seated near kin and kith, though currently she is racked by a sneezing fit that has her hunched over with her nose buried in a handkerchief. Still slightly warm from a fever that lingers, she has only seemed to extend her cold by being caught within the rain, but she has dressed up in an emerald green, perhaps listening to a certain lady's advice. It is missing the ribbon that would adorn its neckline.

And Lady Rosanna is seated near Lady Roslyn, as they had planned in the first place. She's opted for her favorite deep purple today, her hair twisted artfully on top but left to tumble down her back in rich, auburn curls. Her companion's sneezing has left her inching away with every fit. "I do hope you feel better soon," she says in a generically sympathetic sort of way before lifting a hand upon catching sight of Anais. "Good day, Lady Anais," she calls over to the familiar face.

Among the knightly challengers, another knight bears arms that seem misplaced, for all of that. Already within arms and armor, Ser Alek Coope's colors reflect the Tordanes, his shield where it is set aside at the moment painted with the Crane and only the Crane, unquarted at all by the Nayland Harpy. He seems nervous, but perhaps because he is for once, not drowning such nerves with wine. Instead, he only sips carefully at a flask provided by his squire.

Perhaps less expected amidst the milling groups of nobles in the non-Frey aligned seats is the Lady Tordane, all sharp contrasts with her pale hair and black mourning gown. Danae is already seated with the Septon Marsden Streem at her elbow, well away from the Nayland party. To any who look her way, she offers a slight smile and gracious nod, making no move to join any of those she knows at the moment. No doubt she is here to see her sworn ride, pale eyes drawn toward the tilting pitch.

"Lord Flint, Lady Cordelya," Anais greets both with a warm smile, rising to catch Cordelya in a hug. "Oh, you look lovely. It's so good to see both of you, and looking so well. Will you be staying in the Riverlands for a time after the joust, or will you be headed back to the North?" Catching Rosanna's call, she twists, flashing a swift smile and wiggling her fingers to the other woman with a 'just one moment' sort of gesture before turning back for Anders' answer.

Those seated nearest to Lord Walder can hear the patriarch grumble to his herald, "Come on then, let's get this farce over with." The Herald translates his overlord's words with delicacy, calling for attention in an impressive voice: "Hear ye, hear ye! Pray attend as His Lordship Walder Frey, Lord of the Crossing, calls to commencement the Challenge of Champions!" A brief pause as the smallfolk raise a cheer.

"Standing as His Lordship's champions this day shall be the Young Lord, Ser Stevron Frey!" The 'young lord' is an aged knight, in his early sixties, the same slight, soft spoken commander some among the Army of the Cape might recognize. He dutifully stands forward and bows to his father's throne as he is named. "Ser Ryman Frey!" the herald names next: a fleshy man whose face is flushed red by too much drink. He also bows. "Ser Hosteen Frey!" Few might remember the knight who suffered so dire an injury at the lance of Jason Mallister in the tourney at Stonebridge. "The Young Lord, Ser Andrey Charlton!" Ser Andrey executes a deep bow, with polished courtly grace, his yellow and green cloak flowing with the flourish in an artful manner. The herald then names the fifth of the arrayed champions: "Ser Riordan Nayland!"

About to seat herself, Muirenn pops back up and happily remembers what her friend has just said and merely greets, "Lady Cordelya! Lord Anders, a pleasure to see you both!" a gesture to the row of seats and she says, "Please join us if you both have no where else to sit!" Her grey eyes dance as she focuses on the Flint noblewoman, "I was just telling the ladies Anais and Tiaryn how much I enjoyed our talks when you were visiting Terrick's Roost. It was enjoyable to speak with another woman who had so much herb knowledge."

The -true- Lady Tordane, bedecked in her House colors, looks out over the crowd with cerulean eyes. If she notes the pretender's presence, Valda makes no note of it. After a moment, she leans in a bit toward Rygar. "I do not see Ser Riordan. Do you know if he took the offer we spoke of before the trip here?"

Kamron is… well, 'resplendent' would be too nice a term, but he's at least honorably battered in his armor. His squire, Percival Ryger, follows with the lead to Kam's horse, carrying the knight's helm thoughtlessly under his left arm, and two pages follow behind, carrying bundles of lances. About the average for a noble knight at a joust. Kam gathers with the other challengers — as much as they are wont to gather — looking over the Freys standing as champions. Percival is looking over the other challengers, however, and nudges Kam sharply, "Ser! Ser!" The words are very nearly shout-whispered, "Ser Harras Harlaw is here!" The Mallister blinks in surprise, looking back over the ranks of the challengers, "Huh. Well, I bear him no ill will…" And then the herald is speaking up, and Kam quiets down, listening and focusing in on the first three notables with a considering frown.

The Terrick Knight, Kell, did not do much venturing and roaming after he had donned his armor again for the joust. He has been staying by his steed and just waiting silently, perhaps trying to focus mentally on the competition that will be commencing very soon. Not only will he be riding for his own honor and pride but also for House Terrick as well, being one of their newer sworn swords. As the announcement of champions are made, Kell turns his gaze to where the shouting herald is situated.

Standing around with some competitors, Ser Inigo Vance observes the other knights, occasionally eying the sky with some suspicion (though it doesn't seem to be misbehaving). He's watching you, sky. No funny business today. He is armored to joust, metal pieces buffed to a gleaming shine and adorned with some engraved scroll-work like curling smoke as well as a dragon and tower. The motif is repeated on on his dark green cloak, proclaiming his house as Vance.

"Thank you, my lady," Roslyn murmurs quietly when she is able, but she does not press the matter. She claps loudly for the fifth named champion, a smile lighting up her otherwise red and splotchy face.

Anders smiles warmly and inclines his head, "With any luck, we'll be remaining close. It is of that very thing that we may be riding back and intrude upon your generosity for a short time. And speak with Lady Liliana a bit more." He looks quickly towards Corrie before he returns his attention to the ladies. He looks to Muirenn, and offers, "My lady.. thank you. Was hoping to stay close to my good cousin."

And the Fifth Champion steps forward. Clad in his freshly polished plate armor is the Lord Regent of Stonebridge, Ser Riordan Nayland. Upon his shoulders is the cloak that he wears only at jousts, shimmering black in color. What appears to be flames of orange and green lick up from the very bottom edge of the cloak forming the tail and then swoop up into wide spread wings and end in the head of a massive flaming harpy. As the Nayland regent executes his bow to the Lord Frey, it might be noticed that there is a favor tied to his right arm. It bears the crest of House Tordane on it… and embroidered below the crest, is a name. Isolde.

Tia smiles at Anders and Corrie as they approach, moving to whisper briefly to them, her hand reaching to touch Corrie's. She steps back after, allowing the others their chance. A glance over to Muirenn and Tia's grin increases briefly. "Oh, it's starting - how exciting," she adds, then adding, "Do join us, please." It'll make Tia's decision much easier, as to where to sit, since she won't feel torn and conflicted. Her gaze goes to the front of the area as the champions are introduced, and her eyes widen slightly. She then lets her gaze travel back over the lists. Wow, look at all the pretty colours.

Hardwicke's attention has settled very quickly and squarely upon the unexpected sight of Ser Harras. His jaw is hard as he glowers at the Ironborn. He's dressed to joust as the others, though his armor is far simpler than that sported by the many nobles in attendance.

Lady Saffron Banefort has arrived a bit late, but that is to be expected some would say. It took more than physical presentation preparation to ready her for the tournament, but here she is in a gown that had to go through many stages of tailoring and alteration until it fit perfectly and her strawberry hair all twisted up in graceful braids and whorls of hair. She arrives to where Muirenn has set up with Mistress Morla in tow. There was no viable excuse she could give for the old crone to stay back and let Timmen and Punbah sit with her. Besides, the pair were far too excited to actually mix and mingle with actual menfolk — not that they bear Saffron's company any ill will. She quietly sits down beside Murienn, looking out at the champions as they are presented.

Rygar directs Valda's eye toward the fifth of Walder Frey's champions, with a pointed turn of his own regard. "It would appear that he has, my Lady. Ser Riordan is your grandfather's fifth champion."

Jarod smirks a touch as the champions are named. The Freys, at least. Ser Ryman might even earn a snort from the de-frocked knight. "Perhaps he'll have an easier time this joust. None of the competitors are girls," he quips to a random tradesman he passes.

Benedict Lawson has managed a helmet from somewhere to go over the mostly-maile armor he wears. He guides his black courser towards the gathering cluster of challengers who will compete against the day's champions, offering a bow to those would-be jousters collected there. "Sers," he offers and then, to cover all bases, "My lords." He glances over towards the group of champions, thoughtfully studying each man in turn.

In place with the other competitiors now, Martyn looks around carefully. Pausing as he watches the Champions, studying them for a few moments now. He otherwise keeps quiet, expression neutral as he looks around, although he blinks for a few moments at the sight of Ser Harras. His expression is back to neutral after a few very brief moments though.

Rosanna leans forward eagerly as the champions begin to be announced, and she claps for all of them. Perhaps a bit more for Riordan.

Ser Harras sits straight backed in the saddle, still as a statue beneath the sour looks he is given by more than just Ser Hardwicke. The Ironborn were never welcome guests in the Riverlands, and the recent war has done nothing for the warmth of his welcome.

Alek watches as Riordan steps up to be named champion, steel eyes reflecting anger in the draw of his gaze over the younger man like a blade. He does not step forward, though, finally handing back his wine and then moving to check his equipment again.

"Wonderful," Anais smiles warmly to Anders. "I must stop through the Mire on my way home, but I hope we'll have an opportunity to speak when I get back to the Roost. I wished to hear your opinion on a few things." And then champions are being named, and she looks to the lists to watch them ride out, thoughtful.

Kamron looks amongst the other Terrick and Mallister knights, grinning a little crookedly, "Well, it looks like we may actually get to ride the course today, Sers. Who wants the Charlton, who wants the Nayland, and who wants the Freys?" Benedict's greeting draws a nod from the Mallister man, and an introduction, "Ser Kamron Mallister." Looking over to Kell, he adds, "Get someone to look over your armor today, Ser Kell?"

Slipping in and through the cluster of competitors on foot, Sofya reaches the Lord Vance's seat with a flask in hand. The retainer taps briefly on Inigo's leg, waving off his temporary squire with a hand as she passes the drink up to him. "M'Lord?" The dark haired retainer's attention is drawn towards the champions as they are named, brows rising as she glances from their group to Inigo.

"Ah, yes, I see him now." Valda nods, seeming pleased without actually smiling once she spies her daughter's favor upon Riordan's arm. "It seems both queries have been answered, then. Although I shall still speak with my Lord Grandfather ere returning to Stonebridge."

With a gesture, Muirenn's handmaiden goes about inquiring if any in the grouping would care for some wine. Seating herself, sweeping her skirts genteely beneath her Muirenn cannot help but gasp at the presence of the Ironborn. She says naught but her brow furrows tightly. "Yes Miniella, I wish some wine please." perhaps a bit of alcohol will make such a distasteful sight less…distasteful….both Freys and Ironborn in the same gathering is something difficult for any Mallister to bear. Taking a breath, she beams "Oh Lady Saffron, you look so lovely. Perhaps your Septa would like to sit beside mine?" she gestures to the seats immediately behind but not beside where it seems Septa Waldesteinia resides.

As a question is shot in his direction, Kell looks over to Kamron and grins, "Yes, someone was able to look over the straps and make sure everything is fastened tightly, Ser. Now it's just a waiting game to see when your turn is up and to ride hard and fast. No regrets." And it certainly looks like there will be no rain clouds to mess things up today.

Anders leans forward to hear Tia's whisper, and he barks a quiet laugh, his own words quiet. Turning his head, then, he pays heed to Anais, and sits back down, straighter, and he nods. "If I can be of any aid, simply ask, my lady," is given in response. "I've enjoyed my time in the Roost, and have felt quite welcome, so if there is anything I can do, please ask it of me." Turning to face the event, now, the Young Lord Flint goes silent but for the whispers and pointings to his Lady wife..

"Ser Benedict Lawson," he so named returns to Kamron. "Interesting group of champions, there." He keeps the words neutral enough that it's unclear if 'interesting' is meant to be a compliment or a jab. Spying the Mistress Dale darting in near her Lord, Benedict smiles and offers her a small bow all her own.

Tia beams at Anders for a moment, obviously amused at his reply, before returning to take her seat so that everyone can see. She looks back at the lists, and then she has to chuckle. "Now who should we cheer for today?" she asks, curious to hear the answers she might get.

"There is very little Mistress Morla likes to do," Saffron says to Muirenn, which earns her a disapproving look from the woman as she sets herself down beside Muirenn's septa. If the two minders are suppose to talk, Morla certainly seems to have missed that hint, as she just continues to look stern and baneful. The redhead smiles thinly over to Muirenn. "You look lovely too, Muirenn," she says in a soft voice.

Lord Walder, gains his herald's attention with a crass word, and bids him, "Remind these folk why they're here, before we start," he grouses. The herald answers with a bow and declares, "These five champions defend the Lady Annara Frey, Lady of the Crossing, as the lady of Love and Beauty. Let all those challengers who would test their arms and claims stand forward!"

First in the order of precedence is a hulking Westerlands knight in heavy plate, bearing a brown shield, blazoned by a white boar, charging. Painted beneath are the words 'None so fierce'. With a great laughing building in his throat, the 'Strongboar' guides his massive destrier forward and surveys the assembled champions, before calling, "Ser Stevron! You're the only man here who's lead an army. Let's have a pass and show these others how it's done, eh?" Ser Stevron inclines his head solemnly, and bids his squire bring his horse.

Inigo waves in greeting at the knights he's been hanging around with, Terrick and Mallister alike, and nods his head in particular at Ser Herdwicke, who his house is sponsoring in the tournament. He turns to look as his leg is tapped and smiles at his retainer, taking the drink with a thanks. "Yes?" He wonders of Sofya and then pauses, glancing in Ser Benedict's direction with a mild expression.

Jarod occupies himself looking for people to bet on the upcoming tilts. He locates a man who looks to be a retainer for the Freys and starts talking him up, but the man seems reluctant to put copper on Ser Stevron against the Strongboar.

Equipment once again looked over, the Blacksword seems ready to mount his own waiting black horse, though first he gestures to his squire. Perhaps he is copying, but the squire moves to tie a handkerchief in Tordane colors and an embroidered crest to his arm as well, to match where Riordan wears his at his instruction.

"Very good, my lady," Rygar answers Valda's comment with a short nod, sniffing once as his narrowed blue regard takes in the Strongboar, and his choice of opponents. "Curious. Ser Lyle most oft seeks out the strongest of opponents in the lists."

"Oh, look, the Strongboar made it!" Anais smiles swiftly when the Westerlands knight claims his champion. "He's very fun, you know. If you ladies will excuse me a moment?" There's a smile for Muirenn, Tiaryn, and Saffron, and Anais is off to make the rounds, slipping past serving girls and snapping up a glass of wine on her way to visit with Rosanna and Roslyn. "My ladies," she greets them both, finding a spot where she can slip in for a moment. "You both look lovely today."

Hardwicke has mind enough to dip his head in particular to Inigo. Look, even he is polite enough to recognize sponsorship! Most of his attention has turned to the jousting, however.

Riordan stands with his fellow champions, and watches the proceedings. Most of his focus goes to the Strongboar as he steps forward, and he smirks to himself. However, as Ser Stevron mounts, his eyes wander towards the other man who now wears a Tordane favor. His amusement evident, clearly in good spirits today, the Lord Regent of Stonebridge chuckles to himself. Murmuring a comment to his fellow champion and good friend, Ser Andrey Charlton, Riordan follows whatever joke he just told with a laugh.

"Lady Anais," Roslyn greets quietly, throat still hoarse though she offers a polite smile to the lady for her lie. She knows better. "You as well, my lady. What a surprise, hm, to have my brother be named champion?"

Kamron nods to Kell, "Good. Wouldn't do to be brought low by a failure in equipment." He nods to Benedict as well, "A pleasure, I'm sure, ser. I wish you good luck… so long as I don't face you in the lists." A chuckle rises to his lips, "Then I'll take all the luck for myself, gods willing." He nods to Inigo as well, then looks to watch the first challenge and the first tilt, whistling softly, "Now -that- is a big man. He must be nearly the size of Good King Robert." Maybe even bigger, but you'll never hear Kamron Mallister giving anyone precedence over King Bob.

Valda purses her lips. "It seems he wishes to make quick work of one of the champions before moving on to what he considers to be a greater challenge." The words are said quietly, so as not to cause offense. Noting the other man donning her House colors, she dryly comments, "How kind of him to ride for us. Why did you not let me know, ser?"

"As do you, Lady Anais," Rosanna chimes in turn, extending her hands to clasp the Terrick lady's. "Isn't it so exciting?"

Martyn still keeps his expression neutral, and watching the happenings at the moment. Offering nods to the various people nearby, before he looks towards the happenings again. Unable to hold back a bit of a grin as he hears Kamron, though. "The bigger they are, the harder they fall, cousin…" Offered quietly.

Catching the Ser Benedict's small bow, Sofya offers the Hedge knight a warm grin and a rather cheekier wink as she winds her way to her Lord. Hello there. Once she has reached her lord, Inigo has her full attenetion as she returns his smile and perches on her toes to retrieve the flask. While up on those tip toes, she murmurs just for his ears, "Seems the three Freys are easier of the champions. Don't flinch." His leg is given another tap as she settles back to the earth. Good luck. That said, the dark haired lass dips back and out of the clustering knights to return to her position at the sidelines.

Rygar notes with a sharp sniff to Valda: "Some stains wash out, it seems," is his only comment, as his eye goes to the approaching tilt.

"Hardly," Anais chuckles softly to Roslyn. "I'm sure Lord Walder recognized his prowess and chose him for such. And what an honor for your house, as well." She laughs to Rosanna's words, taking the other woman's hand with a squeeze. "Very exciting. As ever. The Strongboar rode at my wedding, actually. He's very good." Her smile shifts, wicked. "Did you find a knight to carry your favor, Lady Rosanna?"

Ser Stevron rides to one end of the lists, and lowers his visor, accepting a lance whose long haft is painted white and wound with a long blue ribbon. The Crakehall knight rides to the other end of the lists and both raise their lances in salute to Lord Walder and Lady Annara. The former is paying no attention, and is speaking lowly to a servant, but the latter rises from her seat, with her eyes kept demurely downcast, and lifts her hand to raise a kerchief. It drifts down from her fingers, and the knights charge. Ser Lyle's booming "HYAH!" is audible even above the cheers of the crowd as the first two knights dash at each other.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Stevron=8 Vs Strongboar=11
< Stevron: Amazing Success Strongboar: Great Success
< Net Result: Stevron wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Strongboar=11 Vs Stevron=8
< Strongboar: Good Success Stevron: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW

"Lord Riordan," and Anders keeps his voice down, pointing towards the man to answer Tia's question. "I'd put money on him. If only to say that I did."

"Well my lady it is good to know that at least one finds me so." Muirenn's eyes twinkle as she gives a pat to Saffron's arm. Taking a sip of her wine, she looks over the lists "Strongboar seems quite likely he is a very large man and I have heard my father talk of him. However, I cheer for my brother and cousin. Perhaps I will see another Knight who has proven worthy of my cheers and I will offer my colors but that is yet to be determined and there aer so many!" Her hand grips her fan and it is a flutter of motion as she watches the first two men collide.

"That is oft how it works, is in it, Ser Mallister?" Benedict asks with a laugh. "Allies until we must be foes, instead. But, may we both meet again as champions, rather than in competition. And should we meet in competition, may it be in honorable and brotherly spirit." For Sofya's wink, Benedict's grin flashes again. He glances over at the mistress's Lord and offers Inigo a half-bow for the man's neutral inspection of him before glancing towards the challenger and the champion as they take the field.

"And the harder they hit too, Ser." Kell adds to what Martyn says as his eyes studies the Strongboar, a man of well renown for his skill at the lance and horse. "The first pair will certainly be eventful, though I think the Strongboar is suppose to be the favorite." He then grows quiet as his eyes watches as the two knights ride to their ends of the list. Then it begins.

"Of course, though he has enough family to wish to give the honor to," Roslyn agrees and dissents all in once, all quiet and polite and stuffy. But she only smiles, falling silent as the knights draw to their places.

Wesly makes his way through the crowd, finding a place he can watch from. He's clearly a squire, based on equipment and clothing. He watches the knights, both around him and in the tourney, hoping to get indication of any that might be needing a squire.

Tia inclines her head to Anais, letting the other woman go do her rounds without any fear. For her part, she stays with Muirenn, Anders and Cordelya in the stands, the various retainers behind them. They're in the best seats to be found for non-Frey aligned nobility, which is pretty darn good. Strongboar, aha. Well, at least that gets Tia one name, though she's more than willing to cheer for most anyone at this point. She grins at Anders, and inclines her head. "I suppose we could do that," she says. "Though in matches that he's not in, perhaps we can cheer for others." She might even cheer for some of the underdogs, just because they /are/ underdogs.

Rosanna laughs at the wicked turn of Anais's smile. "Ser Rutger asked very gallantly for it, so I obliged." She turns back to the topic of jousters. "I hope we see a worthy showing from him, then," she says of the Strongboar, looking to the lists as the knights take their places.

"We must never assume what is most likely," Saffron states just as the two collide, and she frowns a bit. She keeps her hands tight in her lap, palm clasped to palm. "Because the Seven always give us an unexpected twist…" Her gaze slips beyond Muirenn toward Tiaryn and Anders.

Lord Walder's low expectations for his eldest son in the pass are plain enough that the Lord of the Crossing cannot even be bothered to watch as Ser Stevron, the 'old Young Lord' charges forward against the hulking Westerman. As the two knights crash together, the Strongboar's lance shatters, sending Stevron reeling in the saddle- hard enough that his horse is jolted out of stride, and the aged knight nearly loses his seat- but in return the Strongboar's staggering momentum proved his own undoing: whether by skill or chance, Ser Stevron Frey's lance remained intact and drove into a crease upon Lyle Crakehall's grand guard, upsetting the bigger man's balance just enough that he could not recover. Ser Lyle "Strongboar" Crakehall is unseated in the first pass, falling with a great clatter of steel, and rising with a booming laugh and bellowed, "Well fuck me!"

"While others are ground in until the entire garment must be disposed of." Valda clucks her tongue. "A shame." As the first tilt leads to a surprising victory of experience over youth, she applauds politely, her expression neutral.

"Then we shall have to watch his bout most closely," Anais grins to Rosanna. Whatever she was going to say next falls short when the Strongboar hits the grounds, brows rising in a sudden laugh. "Well!" she exclaims. The traditional Westerlands 'fuck me' is left off in the stands.

Making his way towards the stands, arriving somewhat late as the joust is already getting underway, is Saethwyr. He takes a moment to look over the spectators briefly, and then he starts to make his way towards a vantage point from which to watch the matches. Perhaps by coincidents, he happens to be approaching the group where both Tiaryn and Cordelya are. He's polite about making his way, and his attention turns more than once towards the field, to look towards the action there.

Kamron nods at Benedict's words, "Well said, Ser Benedict, well said." He laughs at Kell's addition to Martyn's words, nodding his head, even as he watches the first pass. "He certainly has — " Kamron's statement of whatever it is that Ser Lyle has is stilled by the collision of lances on shields, and a disbelieving laugh is pulled from his lips, "Seven hells… we challengers may have our hands full."

"Enjoy it for what it is," is Anders' advice. "No sides need be taken for something like this. It could be taken wrongly in conversation later." He leans forward and watches the match, his gaze set now. The fall of the great knight, however.. takes Anders by surprise, and he sits back and winces.

Inigo leans in to listen to Sofya's words, expression casual and unchanging as she gives him a little information on the other knights. He nods, then smiles at her and promises, "I won't." Flinch, that is. He inclines his head slightly in a nod, acknowledging the half-bow in a polite if distant way, before his attention goes to the jousting.

"HAH!" Riordan lets out a loud laugh that is likely only audiable to those nearby, as the sound of the large knight hitting the ground resounds over the area. "Which one of us bet on Ser Stevron?" Riordan asks of Andrey, grinning at the Charlton Champion, before just shaking his head in happy disbelief. And, in a sign of good cheer and congratulations, he curls a gauntleted fist, and bangs it a few times against his leg guard.

Tia then grins at Muirenn and Saffron. "I think you both look lovely," she says with a nod of her head. "Don't they?" That an appeal to Anders, with a mischievous grin on Tia's face. Yes, she's going to get her good cousin in trouble with his wife, it seems. And that playful smile vanishes though at the crash of the first tilt, her gaze straight up on the match. "Oh my, I don't think that bout went so well for him," she murmurs.

"/Oh/!" Rosanna's laugh rises bright and fascinated. "Oh /my/. I did not think Ser Stevron was—" Good at jousting?

Martyn looks over at Kell at the man's words, offering a few moments of a grin. "Well, that's the side effect…" He chuckles a bit as he sees the happenings, raising an eyebrow a bit more now. "See, fell quite hard, didn't he?" Nodding a bit at Kamron's words, "That's why we're the challengers, cousin. Sooner or later, they'll fall."

Lord Walder Frey's eye is directed back to the field and his son's unlikely victory by his excited young wife. The Lord of the Crossing can be heard by those nearest to mutter, "Even a broken clock is apt twice a day." The herald relays a more diplomatic, "Lady Annara salutes the prowess of her champion!" Drawing a fresh breath he bellows, "Next to challenge is Ser Kittridge Groves!" As Ser Stevron salutes his fallen foe en route back to his position. Strongboar can still be heard laughing as he shakes his head and guides his destrier off toward his prepared pavilion.

Andrey answers Riordan with amusement. "Not I. It must have been you, out of pride for Alderbrook, Ser."

"Oh MY!" Muirenn looks rather surprised at result of the first contestants, "That was entirely unexpected. You called it entirely lady Saffron." Glancing over at Cordelya and Anders, the teenager flashes a grin "I think you both will enjoy one of my new projects at the keep. I have confiscated a portion of the courtyard for an herb garden. It is still a work in progress but will be quite lovely in a year or so."

"Seven hells…!" Jarod can't suppress an exclamation of surprise when the Strongboard is unhorsed by the old young lord. He looks suddenly grateful to have avoided putting coin on that round.

Roslyn claps politely for the victor, her gaze sliding after Ser Stevron for a moment. "Any can have a good tilt," she murmurs towards the younger lady, offering a smile for her. She glances towards Anais, and then back to the lists.

The end result of the exchange between the two knights leaves Kell more or less speechless as the Strongboar is the one to fall. There is an arch of brow, eyes widening slightly in amazement before he looks at the other knights near him, as if to check to see if they saw what he just saw. When the Terrick Knight finally finds his tongue again, he inclines his head to Martyn, "It seems like you were right, Ser."

"Do you know," Anais shakes her head to Rosanna, "I was /just/ saying the other day how jousts are as much about luck as skill. I suppose I should feel vindicated." She flickers a smile to Roslyn at her look, then looks between Roslyn and Rosanna. "Now, who do you ladies think would win if Lord Rutger were to ride against Lord Riordan?"

Rosanna claps with renewed enthusiasm as her brother is called to challenge next. "Oh, I can't wait," she says gleefully. She would be wriggling in her seat if she were any less of a lady. "Oh, I think Lord Riordan would likely win," she says. "He's supposed to be very good, isn't he?"

"Well, then I'll buy the first round tonight, Ser," Riordan returns to Andrey with a pleased chuckle, before turning to offer a nod to the first champion as he retakes his place. "Well tilted, my lord," he offers to Stevron. Then, he turns, smirking once more to himself as Kittridge Groves is called forward. "This one might be mine, I'm thinking," he tells Andrey. And then the Regent settles in to wait, to see if his prophecy comes true.

"He is. Very good, my brother, at the tilts. It is very likely that he'd win," Roslyn replies in agreement, her fingers reaching to pat against Rosanna's hand—in reassurance for having to answer for Riordan? Who knows. But her own attention is caught where Lord Kittridge is called as well, a small smile touching at the corners of her lips as she watches the lists.

"The second round says otherwise, Ser," Andrey Charlton challenges Riordan's claim with a ready smile.

"They do." Anders is trying very hard not to fall into Tia's trap, and thankfully, it's a little easier with Corrie at his side. "My ladies, your beauty shines on this cloudy day." There. Duty dispatched! Muirenn's wods bring his brows up, "An herb garden? My lady would be more the one to offer any advice, if that is what you seek. However, it is my hope that we'll be around in that year's time so we can see it again. I look forward to seeing it now, and what it will become."

"And did any lucky men receive the grace of your favors, ladies?" Rosanna replies teasingly, looking between Anais and Roslyn.

Kamron nods to Martyn, "Fell so hard he's laughing. Remind me to buy him a drink later on, coz. He seems like someone I would rather enjoy knowing." Now that things have kicked off, Kamron beckons to Percy, accepting his helmet, pulling it on, and raising the visor so that he can still see more than a mere slit of the world. As Kittridge's name is called, Kam slaps his right hand onto his breastplate in a sort of armored clap, "Old Roots!" He calls out the first words of the House Groves motto, showing his support as a scion of the liege house should.

"Rosanna," Anais chides, laughing. "You're /supposed/ to say the Seven would favor the man with your favor. Even Ser Stevron just bear the Strongboar. We should find out whose favor /he/ carried." There's a giggle, and she shakes her head to the question. "I'm afraid I've no champion of my own. Though if Rowenna'd been riding, I'd have offered it to her. She'd deserve it, for the turn she did me at the wedding tournament."

Smiling a little as Ser Kittridge is called forth and then as Ser Kamron calls out the house's motto, the hedge-knight, Ser Benedict, lifts a gauntleted hand to clang it a couple times against his shield. "Hear, hear!" he calls in laughing agreement. Comradery between challengers, and all.

Jarod has more luck securing a wager from the Frey retainer on the next match, putting his own copper on the Groves man. It's a small bet, even so. The servant still seemingly leery of putting too much coin on his employers.

"You're on," Riordan tells Andrey, chuckling to him before he settles in to wait to see who will win THIS bet.

"It's a lovely garden, Lady Muirenn, and I am looking forward to seeing how it grows," Tia replies, as she grins at Anders' adroit wording, keeping himself out of danger's way.

"Maybe the Queen's," Rosanna guesses to Anais with a wicked little laugh, considering whose favor could have done Stevron such a service.

Laughing, Muirenn says "Your words are very kind Lord Flint." With a shake of her head she smiles, "I welcome your advice Lady Cordelya", inclining her head she adds, "But it is a place of beauty as well that hopefully everyone will enjoy my lord." Turning her attention to the lists, she applauds lightly as Kitteridge's name is called. "I am most interested in this one. I have not seen Lord Grove's battle prowess before, though I heard good things from my cousin and brother." Lifting the goblet, she takes a sip of wine and watches curiously.

Reaching the group, Saethwyr offers a bow to the ladies present. "Good day," he offers, a smile coming to his features. A nod is given to the other man present, the greeting meant for the group and not just the women. He overhears Anders compliment to the ladies, and finds himself giving a nod of agreement. "Indeed it does shine brightly, as the stars against the night's dark sky, my Lord," he agrees. Though of the ladies present in the group, it seems Tiaryn earns his dark gaze upon her.

It takes Roslyn a long moment to reply accountably to Rosanna's question, somewhat embarassed where she murmurs, "Your brother rides with my favor, my lady. We shall see if it brings him as much luck as Ser Stevron."

Ser Kittridge, clad in dark green brigadine, with a helm edged in a similar color and an emerald green ribbon from it, edges his dark charger out into the lists. He lingers near Ser Riordan, but then chooses Ser Ryman instead.

"See, always have the positive outlook, Ser Kell," Martyn offers a bit lightly. Offering a bit of a grin to Kamron as well, before he looks over to see who Kittridge decides to pick now. Watching rather carefully for the moment.

Tia's attention is caught as Saethwyr arrives, and she ducks her head to hide her expression for a moment, before she raises her head. "Lord Charlton," she says with a smile. "It is nice to see you again, and at least the weather has turned to allow us our entertainment." She glances, and then says, "Everyone, may I present Lord Saethwyr Charlton, for those of you who haven't met him? Lord Charlton, this is Young Lord Anders, the Lady Cordelya's husband." She gestures as she makes that introduction. "And over here, we have Lady Muirenn Mallister and Lady Saffron Banefort."

"Second round it is, then," Riordan says with easy grace to Ser Andrey, as Kittridge chooses another. "Next two rounds say Ser Kittridge takes this one though," he offers, with a glance to the green ribbon that the Groves knight sports. "I think the Seven will smile on his lance, at least for this pass."

"Ser Kittridge Groves has challenged Ser Ryman Frey!" the herald declares to the cheers of the crowd. Now the Frey loyalists in the crowd might hazard a coin on the upcoming pass of arms. Ser Ryman gives a short dip of his head to Kittridge, and sucks in a deep breath as he claps his visor into place, and motions for the lance. Those who have seen Ser Ryman ride at Stonebridge and the Roost might note that he appears more stout in build on this field, than in months past as he rides to the opposite side of the tilting lanes, facing down the son of Kingsgrove.

Saffron Banefort has been lost in her own thoughts, watching the lists with a kind of, well, listlessness. Then something catches her ear, and she tilts her head over toward Saethwyr at his compliment and then Tiaryn's introduction. She smiles toward the Charlton, bobbing her head gently. "Well met, Lord Saethwyr." Then her gaze shifts over to Muirenn. "I meant to tell you, Muirenn… I've been taking to looking after a gaggle of children from the Roost while their parents are admist repairs. If you need some little hands to help look after your garden, we could make some time there."

Leaning over, the Mallister maiden murmers into Saffron's ear, her feathery fan disguising her words. Sitting back Muirenn gives questioning smile watches her friend curiously. As she is introduced, she turns and flashes a bright smile to the Charlton noble and gives him an appraising look before giving an incline of her head, "Well met Lord Charlton."

"Lord Charlton," Anders greets. "Well met." His attention, however, is pulled by the announcement, and his expression takes something of a neutral set.. and he exhales in a soft chuff. "I hope Ser Ryman takes the day," and it pains him to say such, even in a sotto voice meant for his lady wife.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Kittridge=body+spears Vs Ryman=8
< Kittridge: Great Success Ryman: Good Success
< Net Result: Kittridge wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Ryman=8 Vs Kittridge=body+animal Handling
< Ryman: Good Success Kittridge: Good Success
< Net Result: Kittridge wins - Marginal Victory

"Oh." That surprises Rosanna, and for a moment there is a hint of a frown as she studies Roslyn. And then she smiles, all sweetness and light again. "I hope it brings him good fortune," she says warmly before looking for her brother's first pass.

Saffron's ears perk a bit as she is whispered to, and she tilts her head into the secret as if to keep it truly between the pair. She tilts her head a moment as she considers whatever it is that Muirenn has whispered to her, and then she turns her head a bit to whisper in return. Once done, she gives her Mallister friend a small smile and gentle nudge of her shoulder with her own.

Anais' brows rise at Roslyn's answer, surprise crossing her features. "I'm sure Lord Kittridge was honored by the gift," she adds to Rosanna's platitudes, replacing her surprise with a smile. "Ah, and here he is!"

Kamron shakes his head slightly at Kittridge chooses a Frey target as well, "If everyone keeps challenging the Freys, either there won't be any left for us, or their horses will be so tired that they won't make a fitting challenge." Despite what might be considered a complaint, laughter trickles around the corners of his words, and he shakes his head again as he watches the jousters line up for their first pass.

Again the signal is given, again Lord Walder looks on with disinterest which his lady wife is transfixed by the pageantry playing out before them as Frey dashes against Groves. This pass goes poorly for the former Captain of the Van, and- through no mistake of his own, the knight breaks a lance upon Kittridge's shield, scoring the paint deeply, but in a masterful counter-stroke, the man of Kingsgrove strikes Ryman in the shoulder, and before his horse has galloped two more paces, the Frey knight is unhorsed. Again, the tilt is resolved in a single pass.

"It is no secret that I do wish our families to be closer," Roslyn replies quickly, though as she watches Kittridge score the pass and the tilt itself, pleasure lights up her features for all that she only claps politely. "If the Lady Rosanna does wed my brother, that would make Ser Kittridge as close as my own brother." Ish.

Kittridge rides through, wheeling about once the pass is completed to check on and then, finding him unhurt, salute his opponent. That done, he goes to find his place amongst the champions. His shield, the device of House Groves with the addition of a black star and a red crescent, is well-scraped, and he hands it down to his squire to check for dents as he waits.

Seeming reassured, Muirenn's face relaxes into a smile. She passes her goblet to her handmaiden and applauds, "Well done for Lord Groves!" she comments and then adds to Saffron, "That is good to know. As for the other, as you said yourself nothing is ever sure and the unexpected tends to happen. And no matter what, you will ever have a friend in me." She takes back her goblet and takes another sip.

Well, then! That's one for the challengers and one for the champions. As Lord Ryman topples, Ser Benedict gives a firm nod of his head, another clang of gauntlet to shield and a sharp, piercing whistle in celebration of his fellow champion's victory.

"Oh, I'm certain you could go up against our Nayland 'friend', cousin," Martyn mutters a bit quietly as he sees this happening. Nodding a bit as he watches the Groves lord bring down his opponent. "Well done."

Rosanna claps a bit more enthusiastically than is strictly polite when her brother fells Ser Ryman in the first pass. "Oh, look at him!" she exclaims to her companions. "Isn't he terribly gallant sometimes?"

Riordan raises an eyebrow to himself as this prophecy of his does indeed come to pass. And for some reason, he actually looks rather amused. As Ser Kittridge arrives to take his place with the Champions, Riordan inclines his head to the Groves knight. "Well tilted, Ser Kittridge," he says, and gives the man a nod of respect.

"Very impressive," Anais agrees with Rosanna, smile easy as she watches the lists. "A few more passes like that, Lady Roslyn, and you'll find yourself Queen of Love and Beauty," she adds with a smile for the Nayland woman.

"It is nice to see you again as well, Lady Flint. It's good to see that the weather took a turn for the better," Saethwyr agrees, giving a nod to her. As introductions are made around for him by Tiaryn, Saethwyr's gaze turns to each in turn. "Ah, well met, indeed, Lord and Ladies," he affirms, a smile returning to his features. As the match is spoken of, his attention turns to it, watching the results.

Ser Ryman is bruised only in ego as he recovers his feet, and stalks from the field. His squire hurries up to take charge of the steed, as the herald declares, "Next to challenge is Ser Inigo Vance!"

Roslyn makes a quiet noise of agreement to Rosanna's question, her gaze lifting over to Anais at the added compliment with a polite smile. She shakes her head, a simple gesture, as she says, "Surely that honor would go elsewhere. His Lady Sister would be a more fitting Queen, indeed."

Kamron claps his right hand to his breastplate again as Kittridge rides through successfully, "Groves! On Groves!" He chuckles softly at Martyn's words, "Oh, I wouldn't mind a shot at any of the champions, quite honestly, although I have my heart set on overturning a Frey at -some- point this tourney." Still, the words are said in jest, and when Inigo's name is called, Kamron nods to the man, "Luck, Ser Inigo."

A sharp, cheery whistle sounds from the sidelines as Ser Inigo is called to select his opponent. Perched against one of the posts, Sofya draws her fingers from her lips and trades wofl-whistles for applause as her Lord takes his turn at the tilt.

Kittridge turns and leans to see Riordan in the line of champions, removing his helm and nodding to the Nayland. "Thank you, ser," he replies, grinning crookedly, "I take that as a high compliment coming from you."

"Good luck, Ser Inigo," Martyn offers a bit quietly to the man as he hears the name mentioned. Otherwise keeping silent for the moment.

Saffron smiles over toward Muirenn, though still her hands remain locked in her lap. "Thank you, Muirenn." Her gaze turns out over to the champions once more, and she tilts her head a bit. "How well do you think Ser Kamron and Ser Martyn will do?" She pauses before following up with another inquisitive note. "Did your brother receive any favors?"

Hearing his name called, Ser Inigo Vance rides to make a choice of who to challenge, nodding and waving thanks at the wishes of luck and whistles as he does so. He considers the champions for a moment, before selecting Ser Hosteen Frey.

Tia glances to watch the tilt, and then glances up again, her gaze on Saethwyr perhaps a moment longer than truly necessary. Though the sharp whistles have her trying to determine who is making them, with little success. Then she grins at Saffron's comment about favours, curious to hear the answer. "Did he ask anyone for one?" she adds, since that's an entertaining topic. And the knights are supposed to ask for one, rather than make the ladies be so forward as to offer them.

Arriving a bit late Alys Charlton hurriedly makes way into the stands. Dressed in a bright red befitting of her house with her house sigil embroidered at her right breast. Her fiery red curls sit loose cascading down her back.

Noting Saethwyr, Alys sends him a bright smile in passing kind greeting. "Good day, cos." She sends a wave to Danae moving towards her, and taking the space beside her nearest to the rail. Alys is blissfully unawares of any turmoil surrounding the lady and smiles to her as she takes a seat. "Hallo good-cousin." She says while wrapping her prettied favor around her hand again and again, "Please, regale me with what I have missed, how fare my brother?" Alys' eyes slide from Danae to the lists where she watches the last tilt end.

Ser Hosteen does a short bow in the saddle to the Vance knight, before drawing on his gauntlets, and lowering his visor. His charger is spurred on toward the end of the lanes, where another of the white-and-blue lances is placed into his hand. Ser Hosteen salutes his grandfather once, the Lady Annara once, and- in a move that draws a loud cheer- he brandishes his lance to the commons, before turning about to face Ser Inigo. Twin towers against twin wyrms-and-towers.

Hardwicke continues to watch, silent as ever, his gaze dark and impassive.

"I don't think that my lord brother received any favors. I thought to offer mine, but I do not think a man wishes to carry his little sister's token into a tournament. A token of prayers and luck to be carried into battle is one thing, a favor given for such as this is different." Muirenn grins, "I think that both shall do well. My cousin is a good jouster I am told and I think he also wishes to participate in the melee." Her eyes brighten, "It seems he carries a favor. I am not sure from who though." Her smile is soft and her words fondly spoken, "I hope truly that he has found happiness somewhere. That would give me joy."

"Ah, and this is Ser Inigo," Anais nods toward the knight taking his chance now. "He's a Terrick cousin," she notes for Rosanna and Roslyn.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Inigo=spears Vs Hosteen=8
< Inigo: Great Success Hosteen: Success
< Net Result: Inigo wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Hosteen=8 Vs Inigo=Animal Handling
< Hosteen: Good Success Inigo: Success
< Net Result: Hosteen wins - Marginal Victory

"Lady Alys," Danae greets with a warm smile, shifing over in her seat so that the young Charlton Lady can settle comfortably. Her black gown is rearranged as she does. "Your brother has yet to be called to challenge," she notes quietly, gesturing towards here Ser Andrey sits in the Champion's aisle with Ser Kittridge Groves, Riordan Nayland, and Stevron Frey. "So far, it hsa been quite exciting with each of the two rounds leading to an unsetting on the first tilt."

Ser Inigo Vance's lance work is excellent as the two knights dash against each other, but no less adept is his opponent, and while both knights break lances upon the other's shield, neither is overthrown, and each recieves a second lance for a second pass. Ser Hosteen again brandishes bis lance in salute to his opponent awaiting the next charge.

"Really?" Rosanna looks upon Inigo with the mild interest of the unintroduced. She exclaims a little sound as the two riders' lances crack simultaneously but leaves them both still ahorse.

Kamron raises another clatter at the first pass, "Well struck both!" At least he can compliment a Frey when he's done well — at least when he's also complimenting a Terrick-sworn. Looking back to the challengers still about, he adds, "Finally, a tilt of more than a single pass. I have to admit, I rather enjoy seeing lances broken, rather than just tilters overtopped."

Jarod offers a cheer for Inigo as the Vance knight goes up to tilt. His coppers are probably placed there.

This time the exchange between the two knights last longer than one pass and Kell continues to watch on silently, perhaps studying one that he may have to challenge soon or just to see who will win the round.

"They seem fairly well matched," Roslyn comments, her gaze flicking towards Rosanna for a moment before she claps. Politely. She will do that a lot, probably.

Martyn keeps quiet at the moment as he watches the happenings now, expression a bit thoughtful, as it seems to be quite a bit lately.

"Oh, excellent!" Anais exclaims, smile flashing as the knights stay horse. "I'm afraid I only just met him myself," she adds to the ladies with her. "But yes, they do seem well-matched."

Rosanna's gaze trails off of the jousters as they circle around and receive fresh lances, long enough to follow the arriving Lady Alys as she makes her way to sit with Danae. "Do you know who that is?" she wonders in a quieter voice to Roslyn and Anais.

Unflinching as he promised to be, Ser Inigo's blow of lance strikes true, but he too finds himself taking a blow but remains horsed. After taking his second lance Ser Inigo returns the salute in kind to his challenger down the way and then readies himself for another pass.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Inigo=spears Vs Hosteen=8
< Inigo: Failure Hosteen: Good Success
< Net Result: Hosteen wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Hosteen=8 Vs Inigo=Animal Handling
< Hosteen: Good Success Inigo: Good Success
< Net Result: Hosteen wins - Marginal Victory

The greeting from a familiar voice earns his dark gaze, and he offers a smile in turn to Alys. "Good day to you as well, cos — and good luck," he offers, noting the favour she carries. Yet with her passing on to meet up with another, Saethwyr brings his attention back to the group which he's a part of, listening as the ladies speak of favours. Perhaps he finds the topic entertaining as well, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Saffron shifts her gaze from Muirenn to where she might spy Kamron and Martyn. She considers them both with a slight tilt of her head before Muirenn mentions the secret favor, and the Banefort glances her way as casually as she can muster. "The origin of the favor is quite mysterious. He wouldn't give me the lady's name no matter how much I pressed him. He sounded as if he was talking about a ghost, so that's what I've decided to call her until she shows her face. The Lady Ghost." There is a threat of a smile, of some actual good naturedness returning. It is challenged only be consideration, which softens her expression. "Though Muirenn, I must point out that your cousin is quite happy. I have hardly seen him with a long face."

In the second pass, both chargers dash forward at a full gallop lances reaching across the flower and greenery-bedecked tilting rails toward the opponent. Ser Hosteen Frey manages a deft trick, timing a swat of his shield to knock aside Ser Inigo's lance, sparing the worst of the impact while striking a telling blow of his own that breaks his lance into three pieces.

Glancing towards the Lady Alys with a hint of a curve to her brow, Lady Roslyn replies quietly, "I cannot say I recognize the young lady. Does the Lady Danae have sisters within the Riverlands?"

Anais shifts at Rosanna's question, taking a sip of her wine as she searches the crowd. "I can't say that I do, no," she muses. "Though she'd fit in well with Saffron's side of the family." There's a brief wrinkle of her nose, and she lowers her voice. "I can't say I'm impressed with her choice of company, though."

As if to put lie to Saffron's statement, Kamron groans at the results of the second pass between Frey and Vance, shaking his head and looking over to the little group that has gathered amidst the challengers, "These Freys must be getting some special strength from being on their own land." He chortles once again, however, perhaps proving the Banefort's point, "Or maybe they're just better jousters than we've given them credit for."

"I am sad to have missed it. My maidservant and I had a bit of a disagreement. She thought I should wear a cloak, I had thought she mad." Alys sends her youngest maid a look of mirth as if she won a small victory, giving Saethwyr a smile, and a slight wave to her brother she turns to Danae, "I have not been to many a tourney, just when father held them at Hollyholt." Alys sits up to correct her posture. "I have yet to meet anyone, I am afraid. The servants at the inn told me most of the Nayland host had left already when I arrived." She says politely ignores the ladies staring at her and waits for her brother's name to be called.

"I know, but I would think that finding someone to care for can only increase ones happiness is that not so?" Muirenn asks with a smile. The second pass of the jousters has the girl giving a gasp, "Oh that shall leave a bruise padding beneath the maile or not." Her goblet is lifted and she takes a sip of wine. Eventually she adds, "Well, hopefully the ghostly lady is treating him well." Looking over at Tiaryn, she inquires "Will you be returning to Four Eagles or shall you be traveling elsewhere following the tournament?"

"Not that I know of," Rosanna replies to Roslyn. "But that was the Charlton sigil on her dress, wasn't it?" She laughs, light and airy. "Certainly her family has told her." But further mean girl gossip is interrupted when the knights go another pass. "Oh, too bad for your goodcousin, Lady Anais."

"You shall have to prevail on your kin for introductions later," Danae suggests gently, lifting her chin in Saethwyr's direction as she flashes the young Charlton a mild smile. "It seems he is making an excellent impression, better than the one you might gain from me — as can be seen." Yes, they see those mean-girls. The last is added in a low voice, smile slipping conspiratorial as she glances towards Alys from beneath the shade of her lashes.

Tia looks over to Muirenn and she shrugs a bit. "And have either of you given your favour to some dashing knight?" she asks, cause someone has to. They're all about whether the men have gotten them, someone has to ask the obvious. She inclines her head, with a glance over towards Anders who is just staying quiet. "I believe we will, yes," she says. "As Lord Anders is intending some discussion with my niece Liliana." A glance at Saethwyr, and then back to the tilt, her own wince visible at the results.

"They can only succed so long, cousin," Martyn mutters under his breath in Kamron's direction. Still watching the happenings carefully now. "Sooner or later, everyone falls." Sounds gloomy, doesn't it? Glancing from the happenings, to the people watching this little circus, a bit thoughtfully.

Being unflinching in the joust only gets you so far. Ser Inigo Vance manages no such deft tricks, instead taking the full force of Ser Hosteen's lance. It is a considerable strike as the lance breaks into pieces and tips Inigo enough to unbalance him and tip him of his horse, armor flashing and clattering as he hits the ground. He moves to rise a couple moments later, not harmed in any significant way. Probably the worst is a bruised ego.

Ser Hosteen turns a look back over his shoulder as his horse slows to the end of the rails. If the roar of the partisan Frey crowd were not an indication, his own eyes confirm Ser Inigo's unhorsing, and the Frey knight hands off the broken remains of his lance after giving the fallen Vance a final salute. "Well ridden, Ser!" he commends, en route to retaking his place among the champions, with a nod to his uncle, and Sers Andrey and Riordan.

"Next to challenge is Ser Martyn Mallister!"

"I suppose that depends on /what/ her family has told her, doesn't it?" Anais muses to Rosanna, speculative. The issue of the joust meets only a vague hum of sympathy this time. Gossip of the juicy variety is ever so much more fun.

"Was it? I had not caught it. Perhaps those rumors of Charlton support are true, though I would still not wish to leave young ladies from my family with the Lady Danae," Roslyn muses with a look lingering on Alys even as the younger girl ignores such. But then, her gaze is drawn back to the lists at Rosanna's comment, even if she misses what she was speaking of. "Who else do you have riding for the Terricks, Lady Anais? Perhaps someone else shall win for you."

Kamron shakes his head at Martyn's dreary statement. And then the herald speaks up, and Kam reaches over to clap his cousin on the shoulder, "Well, see to it that you're not the next one to fall, eh coz? Good luck." He nods his head sharply, then steps back to speak briefly with his squire, checking over horse, shield, and lances, and having his squire check over his helmet's fittings.

Riordan returns Hosteen's nods with a smile, giving a light bank on his armored leg with his fist in sign of solidarity for the scion of his House's overlords. He seems to content himself with remaining silent now, as he simply takes in the next challanger as he is called.

"You should be more worried about your brother's happiness," Saffron points out idly. "I worry one day he will just wake up as black as the clouds around his head." Then the Banefort looks over to Tiaryn, and she shakes her head with a small laugh threatening at her lips. "No, no… to be honest, it didn't cross my mind until I saw Ser Kamron's favor."

"Even if the rumors are true, you'd think they'd be more careful about such public displays of friendship," Rosanna replies to Roslyn, eyes bright with the glint of gossip.

Anais blinks, taking a sip of her wine and refocusing on Roslyn's question. "Not many, I'm afraid," she says with a small smile. "Ser Hardwicke rides for us, and Ser Kell. With the bandit issue not entirely resolved, though, there weren't as many men who were willing to come here." It was totally bandits and had nothing to do with this being in Frey lands, too. Totally.

"No one has asked and I have not seen one to impress me greatly enough that I should offer it." Muirenn replies with a giggle, though as her brother's name is called she passes her goblet back to her handmaiden. She waves her fan and calls softly, "Ride solid and wield strong brother!" she glances at Saffron and smiles, "Oh, his happiness and well being are ever on my mind…but he has always been of a thoughtful bent."

"Good luck to your riders, then," Roslyn offers to Anais politely, inclining her chin towards the woman before she turns back to gossip. She adds, "One would think, but I have heard more of the Charlton's riches than their intelligence."

Hmm? That's his name, isn't it? Martyn takes a few moments to shake himself out of his thoughts before he moves Miramis forward towards the Champions, studying the men a bit carefully for the moment. Taking a few moments longer, before selecting Stevron, offering the man a bit of a nod in the process. "Okay…" he mutters to himself.

As Martyn is called up next, Kell turns his gaze to the Mallister knight and inclines his head to the other man, "Good luck Ser, and may the Warrior guide your lance." That is the best that the Terrick Knight is able to offer as the rest is up to Martyn.

Alys swats her hand dismissing it all. Speaking softly Alys retorts, "If I listened to everything a lady says I would have no one to talk to." She smiles, "I trust to hear from you the events tongues have been wagging about, hmm?" She leans back from Danae with a smile. "I believe in giving a person their own voice, and since I have yet to have a chance to speak to you myself, my opinion on such matters will remain silent." She looks to her cousin in the stands, "Aye, it would seem so." she grins then turns back to the lists.

Ser Stevron Frey is challenged for the second time this day, the aged knight accepting the figurative Mallister gauntlet with all due gravity. As the 'old Young Lord' again arms and rides to the end of the jousting lanes, some might hear Walder mutter, "If he falls to a Mallister, the first ride means nothing."

"Oh, Ser Stevron again," Rosanna says, turning her attention again to the lists. "I wonder if his luck will hold. He is awfully old."

His attention shifts towards the field, falling upon his cousin along the way, a smile and an incline of the head being offered to the pair. The question asked of Tiaryn draws the Charlton Knight's attention to her, listening for the answer that she'll offer. Perhaps it is the answer that causes his gaze to hold to her, and he lifts his left hand to lightly brush a few stray locks of hair from his face. "Did any of the Knights earn your favour, Lady Flint?" Saethwyr asks, a note of curiosity come to claim his voice. His attention holds to her in the wake of the question, yet as the next champions are chosen, he looks towards the field to view the match.

"They are not going to make this easy on me, aren't they?" Saffron says in a breathless, more or less to herself. She looks out as Martyn prepares to ride against Stevron, and she twists up her fingers even more tightly in her lap.

Taking a few moments as he gets ready, Martyn very quickly uses his left fist to punch himself lightly on first the right shoulder, then the left, before taking his lance and shield. "Let's do this, old friend…" he mutters to his horse.

"Aye, well," Anais sighs in regards to the Charltons. "Let's not be too hard on them, shall we? After all, if their riches and desires at the key to friendship between our families, then surely we should bless them in the long run," she declares with a warm smile for Roslyn.

Straightening in her seat, Muirenn's hands clasp tightly as her brother chooses Ser Stevron. Lifting her chin proudly she makes not a murmer, focused intently upon the match to take place.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Martyn=Spears Vs Stevron=8
< Martyn: Good Success Stevron: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Stevron=8 Vs Martyn=Animal Handling
< Stevron: Great Success Martyn: Success
< Net Result: Stevron wins - Solid Victory

"Then surely I will, Lady Anais." Her own smile comes easily, friendly and warm as well as Roslyn tips her chin in a gesture of humbling towards the other lady. But then she glances towards the lists to watch the joust.

Tia nods to her two friends, as they both admit that neither one has given a favour. "That is too bad. With as many knights as are here, they should all be wearing someone's favour." She tsks softly, as she looks over towards Martyn, before Saethwyr's words actually bring a slight blush to her cheeks. "Alas, I must admit I am in the same situation as Ladies Saffron and Muirenn. None of the knights have asked me for a favour."

As the two knights charge each other, the aged Ser Stevron takes a second staggering blow to the sheild, that strikes with sufficient force to break the iron-banded oak apart. Again, the old Young Lord reels in the saddle, looking on the edge of a fall before he recovers. And once again, the blow he manages to land in absorbing so violent a blow is excellently placed, taking his opponent square in the breastplate.

Again, Rosanna is left to exclaim her surprise. "Another!" she says, watching Ser Stevron unhorse Martyn.

Valda has been watching the tilts in silence, her expression betraying nothing. Yet her gaze is more often upon the chatting groups in the stands than the field of action, for this is where the battles are truly fought. Eyes focus upon Roslyn and her group for a moment, then move along. They pause upon some of her aunts and cousins, a polite smile crving her lips as her head dips toward the Frey ladies. That light gaze moves right past Danae, although it settles briefly upon Lady Alys, who also earns a respectful inclination of her head.

"If I got dressed up for nothing, I shall be thoroughly put out," Riordan quips to Andrey, as they are the last two champions yet to be called forward. His attention is largely on the two knights that begin to ride forward, a smile of excitement on his face as he takes note of Stevron's form. "Well I'll be…" he says, shaking his head as seems rather impressed with the Frey knight, as, yet again, strikes a truly telling blow.

"Maybe it's the combined luck that he never had," Anais muses as Ser Stevron manages another victory, tipping her head to one side. "All just hitting him now."

"The Queen's. I am convinced," Roslyn comments to such surprise, a small, humored smile playing at her lips where she glances to the women accompanying her.

Rygar notes dryly to Valda, as he watches old Ser Stevron prevail in a second pass, "When Lord Rickart hears of this, there will be no stopping him from riding himself." A rueful sniff follows the comment.

Kamron chuckles as Martyn chooses Ser Stevron to tilt against, shaking his head in amusement. As the two thunder down on one another, he clenches his fist tight, "Come on Martyn…" And then there is a crash of lances, and his cousin is headed toward the ground, "Fucking Hells." The words are muttered, and he shakes his head in amazement, "Really? And no one mentioned that Ser Stevron was a noted jouster."

Conflict starts plagung in her brow as Saffron watches as Martyn and the Frey collides; who does she cheer for, does she feel bad about Martyn getting unhorsed? Does she feel bad if a Frey gets unhorsed? She suddenly wishes she had taken up a nervous habit like chewing her nails or twirling her hair around a finger until the strands frayed and split. Instead, all she can do is continue to nervously wring her hands together. "It was poor luck," Saffron says to Muirenn even as she continues to keep her eyes on the field.

With a shake of her head, all Muirenn can say is "I can tell that the quintain will be out in full force in the green every moment they can manage between the bandits and rebuilding efforts." Sighing, she makes sure that a brilliant smile is upon her face as she gives her brother a nod on his way back. The girl reaches back for her goblet of wine and she takes a long sip.

There's a moment after that hit from Ser Stevron's lance that may be only seconds to those watching, but to Martyn it feels like long minutes, as he tries leaning forward a bit in an attempt to stay on his horse. But one can only fight the forces for so long, and Martyn is sent out of his saddle, landing on the ground a bit hard. Taking a few moments down there, before he starts moving to get to his feet. "Ten fingers, ten toes…" he mutters to himself, punching the ground once, then getting to his feet fully. "Well done…" he offers towards his opponent, before he moves out of the way, a bit slowly.

Hardwicke laughs at both Anais and Roslyn's comments musing over Stevron's unexpected luck. "I'm sure there is some crimson and gold somewhere on his person."

Rosanna laughs at both Anais and Roslyn's comments musing over Stevron's unexpected luck. "I'm sure there is some crimson and gold somewhere on his person."

Ser Stevron does his best to hide it, but the aged knight is moving rather stiffly as he guides his horse back to the line of five champions, doing his opponent the courtesy of offering a raised gauntlet to the overthrown Martyn's congratulations as his squire leads the horse back to the line.

"Next to challenge is Ser Kamron Mallister!"

"If you spy it, be sure to let me know," Roslyn informs Rosanna, even as she leans forward as if to search for such a favor about the Ser Stevron.

"Ser Stevron, well done!" Riordan calls out, once more hitting his gauntleted fist against his leg, a bit harder now as he smiles in good cheer.

Kamron hauls himself into his saddle when his name is called, spurring forward to approach the line of challengers. There's no real delay in his approach, heading directly toward Hosteen Frey. "Feeling rested enough after your last tilt, Ser Hosteen?" Whatever the answer, it seems that the younger Frey is his choice. That made, he rides back to his side of the field, taking up shield and lance from his squire.

Jarod winces as Martyn falls, after Inigo no less. He stops betting so freely now, though he does manager to find a Frey servant to put some money on Kamron with.

Saethwyr tilts his head slightly to one side as he brings his attention back over to Tiaryn. "I am sorry to hear that none of them asked for your favour," he says gently. Then there's a silent moment which passes, words being considered, and a choice being made. "Were I in the competition, I would have made sure that was otherwise," he says with a thoughtful demeanour, inclining his head to her.

"If he becomes eager for it, tell him he may do so at his daughter's wedding tourney," Valda replies just as dryly, parelleling two events that it seems will never occur. Still, she applauds politely once more for the lucky old Stevron.

Kittridge applauds politely for the latest bout, as he has for all the others. He peers at the stands for a moment, picking out his sister and her companions and giving a brief wave before turning his attention to Ser Kamron and the champion he challenges.

"At this rate, Ser Riordan isn't even going to tilt," Anais says ruefully to her companions. Her wine finished, she passes the glass to a servant, shifting to the edge of her seat to get a better view of things.

Ser Hosteen inclines his helmeted head at Kamron's challenge, expression guarded as he lowers his visor and moves to take his place.

As he rides off, Andrey comments lightly aside to Riordan, "Alas the power of reputation, Ser. I have considered disguising myself at tournmanets for this very reason."

Kamron raises his lance up in salute to his opponent, again to the Lord of the Crossing, and then, with a shift of his be-favored right arm, to the assembled nobles watching. He slaps down his visor, cutting off his view of the world but for a narrow slit. And then he awaits the signal from the Lady of the Crossing to put heels to his horse.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Kamron=Spears Vs Hosteen=8
< Kamron: Good Success Hosteen: Failure
< Net Result: Kamron wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Hosteen=8 Vs Kamron=Animal Handling
< Hosteen: Amazing Success Kamron: Great Success
< Net Result: Hosteen wins - Marginal Victory

Biting her lip, Muirenn flashes a beaming smile to her cousin and a soft call, "Warrior be with you!"

"You would think someone would be brave enough to face him," Rosanna adds to Anais's lament with a sniff. "It seems very weak to only challenge those you feel you have the best chance of winning against. Perhaps that is why the gods are favoring Ser Stevron today."

"Mystery knights it is, for the both of us I think, next time," Riordan nods in agreement to Andrey's words with a light chuckle, before he falls silent to watch as the next pairing of Mallister and Frey collide.

The knights charge at each other, and Hosteen seeks to repeat his shield-sway maneuver. This time it does not serve him well, and the Frey knight is bent back by the impact, nearly lying down on his steed's haunch before the shock whips his torso back upright, precariously balanced, but not overthrown. His own lance-work was truly remarkable, the weapons of both men shattered to splinters.

Tia's eyes go wide as Martyn is felled, and she shakes her head. "Ser Stevron seems to have quite the luck today. Poor Ser Martyn. I hope he is not injured too badly." And then her head snaps up to look at Saethwyr with surprise. Did Anders hear that? Tia can hope not. She glances over at her goodcousin who is hopefully too caught up in the jousts and his wife's company to notice any such comment. But she does give Saethwyr a sweet smile and a nod. "You are most gallant to say so," she replies, not looking at Muirenn or Saffron either, at this turn of the conversation. And then, Ser Kamron is riding and she tears her attention away back to the field for the joust.

Kamron goes pounding down the lists as the signal is given. His lance explodes on Hosteen's shield, and he takes a hammerblow in return, swaying in his saddle but managing to maintain his seat through what seems to be sheer effort of will. He takes a moment to shake his head and clear it as he reaches the other end of the lists, then turns about to see the results of the pass. Saluting his opponent with the shattered remains of his lance, he goes to fetch another and prepare for another pass.

Alys catches Valda's greeting and inclines her head in return. A smile forms on her face as she looks to Danae, "Shall I go make introductions my lady?" she asks. "It would seem they stare enough. Perchance they would like to meet the mysterious lady wearing the Charlton sigil." Alys quips before rising from her seat gaining a cup of wine from her maid. She moves toward Saethwyr, with a curtsy she introduces herself. "Ladies, I am Alys Charlton, daughter of Lord Charlton and sister to Ser Andry." She continues to stand glancing now and again at the lists as she waits for the other women to introduce themselves.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Kamron=Spears Vs Hosteen=8
< Kamron: Failure Hosteen: Success
< Net Result: Hosteen wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Hosteen=8 Vs Kamron=Animal Handling
< Hosteen: Good Success Kamron: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW

"Perhaps someone shall, before the joust is through," Roslyn offers, though she does not seem too convinced of this outcome. "My brother is well-known. I do not blame any who would fear to face him."

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Kamron=Spears Vs Hosteen=8
< Kamron: Success Hosteen: Good Success
< Net Result: Hosteen wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Hosteen=8 Vs Kamron=Animal Handling
< Hosteen: Good Success Kamron: Failure
< Net Result: Hosteen wins - Solid Victory

It would not seem that Martyn is too hurt, aside from his pride, of course. He's stopped a bit off to the side where he can watch Kamron as the other Mallister is in action here, a bit quietly.

In the second pass, the two knights remain very evenly matched, Mallister against Frey, with the Frey scoring a point by breaking his lance upon the purple and silver shield of Ser Kamron. In the third pass, Ser Kamron again breaks his lance upon the towered bridge sigil of Ser Hosteen, but in turn takes a dangerous blow…

On the second pass, Kamron cannot shatter his own lance, and it appears that he is discouraged, as on the third pass, he is overtopped entirely, bouncing twice before coming to a rest in the mud. There's a moment where he doesn't move at all, and then he raises one arm, as if just to show that he still can. A long moment later, he pushes himself up to his knees, and then his feet. As Ser Hosteen moves back to the rest of the challengers, he gives a bit of a wave, "Well struck, Ser." There's pain in the admission, but mostly from the landing, not the words. Percy chases down Kam's horse, as the Mallister himself limps slowly off the lists.

While Muirenn hasn't been staring or whispering about Alys, for really there are more improtant things such as her family apparently losing to Frey's all 'round, she does turn as she is approached and greeted by Alys. A smile curves her lips as she inclines her head "Well met Lady Alys, I am Lady Muirenn Mallister.", she gestures, "And this is Lady Saffron Banefort and Lady Tiaryn Flint." As Kamron goes for his third pass, she lifts a hand and murmers, "Hold one moment please?" With gasp she winces as her cousin falls to Ser Hosteen. A bit disgruntled she sighs heavily, "Well that was anticlimatic. Who knew that the Freys had such excellent jousters." Her attention focuses again upon Alys.

"I didn't know the Freys had it in them," Riordan says in a quiet voice to Andrey, with a rueful grin before he begins banging on his leg plate again as once more, a Frey Champion defeats a Mallister Challanger.

When Kamron goes down and does not immediately rise, Ser Hosteen- whose own leg was broken not long ago in a pass against a Mallister- rises in his stirrups to crane a look back at the downed man, calling to his squire and only settling back down in the saddle when it is apparent that the downed Kamron is rising. A hand is raised to fresh cheers from the crowd, and he attempts to call something to Kamron in passing, but his voice does not carry.

"Next to challenge is Ser Hardwicke Blayne!"

"It seems the Mallisters have not shown well today," Roslyn says carefully, though it is clear she only takes such care given the Lady Anais's presence, as she slides a studying look over the woman. Just to see if she is upset by it, or whether she will jump to their defense, perhaps.

"My word," Rosanna says with another laugh. "The Freys certainly are making a showing for themselves, aren't they?"

Valda notes the Charlton woman nearing the gaggles of gals in the Young Ladies of Nayland section — not quite where the castellan is in the Stuffy Middle-Aged Nayland section. Yet she hears a name that has her asking Rygar, "Did she just say she is Lady Alys? Is that not the daughter of Lord Charlton? I have never seen her before."

Tia inclines her head to the newly arriving Alys. "Lady Charlton, a pleasure," she says, her attention coming away from the lists whre she's been very seriously watching and not looking around at her companions. "I have never had the chance to meet your brother, but I have met Lord Aleister Charlton and his lady wife." That at least she has little difficulty admitting to.

"Luck, my lady," Anais chuckles to Roslyn's observation, not seeming to take any offense. It's not a lie that the Mallisters aren't showing well, after all. "Besides, this is a tournament held by Lord Walder in his own home. It's only meet that his knights should show well, no?"

Belle, who had been watching the proceedings so far with only cursory interest, stands and cheers lustily, applauding the challenger. "Huzzah, Ser Hardwicke! Huzzah!"

Hardwicke is a quiet presence as he mounts his horse and takes to the field. He approaches the champions with an expression of habitual dourness. His gaze scans the group, then he draws his horse up to Stevron, whom he selects with a jerked dip of his chin. Someone eventually has to beat him, right?

Jarod does more wincing at the outcome of the next Frey-Mallister match. He checks his coin purse, doing some counting. "Fuck it," he mutters, offering all he has left on the next tilt of Hardwicke versus one of many Freys. The Frey retainer takes this bet eagerly, apparently heartened by all the Twins success. And perhaps not overly intimidated by some random commoner knight.

"Extremely good luck. If I did not know better, I would say the Freys have some sort of advantage other than the goodwill of their smallfolk, hm?" Roslyn suggests, her gaze sweeping over the champions assembled and catching on Kittridge for a longer moment. Until she sneezes, burying her nose back into her handkerchief for the fit.

Alys goes to speak to the ladies as Murienn makes her take pause, she watches the remainder of the tilt. With that done she nods, "I should think with so many sons they would know a thing or two about jousting. Well met Lady Murienn, Lady Tiaryn, Lady Saffron." A pleasant smile raises the corners of her lips. Alys points to her brother who is or was at least talking to Ser Riordan. "There he is my lady Tiaryn." Alys says with a sense of pride, "I have heard he has yet to joust, I would have been quite upset with myself had I missed that."

Martyn winces as he sees Kamron go down as well, sighing a bit to himself. Not saying anything as he watches a bit quietly for the moment.

Saethwyr inclines his head to Tiaryn, his dark eyes showing a sparkle and a smile to his features. "A Lady as lovely as yourself deserves to have a Knight carrying her favour — it is an honour to do such," he says softly, his gaze holding to her for a lingering moment. Yet he follows her attention to the field, watching the match. Yet his gaze shifts to Alys when she approaches, a smile coming to his features as he inclines his head to her. He'll let the women make their own introductions, as he's only just met two of them himself. Though he is quiet at the moment, he looks to see if Alys still has her favour or if she'd gifted it to one of the Knights already.

Again Stevron steps up to meet his challenger, saluting Ser Hardwicke Blayne with a short lift of his spear and a jerk of his head. He rides up to take his place.

"Definately Mystery Knights next time," Riordan repeats to Andrey, with a rueful chuckle, as once more neither him nor his squire-mate are picked. Still, he seems to remain in perfectly good cheer, as he watches Stevron and Hardwicke take their appointed places.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Hardwicke=Spears Vs Stevron=8
< Hardwicke: Good Success Stevron: Success
< Net Result: Hardwicke wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Stevron=8 Vs Hardwicke=Animal Handling
< Stevron: Success Hardwicke: Good Success
< Net Result: Hardwicke wins - Solid Victory

Peering, Muirenn nods as she sees Lord Andry "Indeed." Glancing around, she rises, "If everyone will excuse me, I should see how my cousin is. He looked to have fallen hard and his injuries from the war were not all that horribly long ago." Pausing as the Captain of the Terricks Guard is announced, she sits back down to watch this match.

The pair of knights seem well matched as old Yound Lord Stevron Frey bears down on the Terrick sworn, his lance steady as he lands a solid hit to Hardwicke's shield. Yet, the Ser Blayne's arm is the steadier one and solidly unseats the elder Frey with their first pass to send him sprawling to the ground, unseated by this first pass after his many victories.

Jarod lets out an ear-piercing whistle at Hardwicke's victory. Which the frowny Captain of the Guard will probably not appreciate, but Jarod whistles anyhow.

Hardwicke handles his horse with the familiarity of a veteran, and his seat remains firm when the Frey heir's lance crashes against his shield. He offers little in the way of celebration — perhaps a lightening of his frown? — but dips his head in a respectful nod to Stevron before taking his place among the champions.

"One of yours, correct, Lady Anais?" Roslyn questions when she recovers, stuffy but still polite enough to clap loudly for the Terrick vassal.

Following Ser Hardiwicke's victory, Muirrenn flashes a grin and gives an approving nod and a cheer of "Well done!". "Now, if you will all excuse me, I must see to my cousin." Looking at her maid, she murmers "Don't forget my satchel of medicinals Minnie."

"Ah, here comes Ser Hardwicke," Anais leans forward to watch the match, grin flashing broad when the Terrick sworn unseats his foe. "Oh, yes!" she exclaims, one fist pumping up to her shoulder before she catches herself, trying to pass it off as fixing her hair. "Ser Hardwicke Blayne, yes," she answers Roslyn, cheeks slightly flushed.

A slight chuckle as Saethwyr compliments Tiaryn, "Oh cousin, do you wish to start scandal?" she jests with Saethwyr as she twists her favor about in her hand idly. "I jest truly, you can start as much scandal as you will cousin I will not interject." Alys chuckles once again before curtsying to the ladies, "Ladies, I must be on. I should introduce myself to others I should think. I am sure we will meet again." one last time she smiles before making way toward the older woman, Valda. Curtsying a bit lower for a woman her elder. "My lady, I am Alys Charlton, daughter of Lord Charlton." Her smile is bright and warm.

Among the eager spectators, Hardwicke's young wife utters a shriek of joy, bouncing about and hugging everyone around her — she is among the common folk, after all. No danger of embracing above her station. "That's my husband!" she informs perfect strangers with pride and glee.

"Next to challenge, Ser Kell Drakemoor of Terrick!"

As Kell watches the elder Frey Knight finally fall, he let's out a cheer at the outcome as it was Ser Hardwicke who was the one to unseat his opponent. No words are shouted though as they would be drowned out by the rest of the cheers as well.

Now Kell knows that his turn should be coming up soon and indeed he is the next one to be called to challenge one of the five champions. Question is who will he choose, another one of the Freys or someone else. Giving his steed a gentle pat and whispering a few words, he climbs on and approaches the champions. Eventually he comes to a stop in front of Ser Riordan, of House Nayland, perhaps keeping true to the rivalry between the two Houses or showing that he is bold enough to challenge the knight no one has selected just yet. "Ser." He greets Ser Riordan with a respectful nod.

Unable to hold back a bit of a smile as he sees Hardwicke manage to bring down his opponent, Martyn turns after a few moments, taking a few further steps back. Expression a bit thoughtful now.

Tia looks down at Ser Andrey,nodding her head and giving a smile to Alys. "No, he's not yet been challenged," she affirms. And then inclines her head to Muirenn and to Alys as they both depart. Tia's not so worried about a potential scandal - wearing a lady's favour is of course part of the honour and fun of such events, supposedly. She does glance back at Saethwyr at Alys' words to see his reaction. Her own hands clasp together on her lap, and then she can't help but cheer as Ser Stevron is finally unhorsed, both for the winner and loser in that match, sure they've both acquitted themselves very well. And next up is Ser Kell, which Tia will also watch with curiosity.

Riordan actually beams up at Kell as he approached, the smile truly warm. "Finally!" he says, with a bright laugh, before doing Kell the courtesy of a light bow. "I accept, of course!" Giving Andrey a bright grin, and clapping him on the shoulder, Riordan calls to the boy acting as his squire, so that his horse, helm, shield, and lance are all brought to the appropriate place. For those have seen him ride in jousts before, they will note that his shield does not bear his own personal quartered-harpy crest, or the plain sigil of House Nayland - instead, he bears the crest of House Nayland of Stonebridge on his device, the Nayland Harpy quartered with the Tordane Crane. Once in place atop his horse, with helm shield and lance all equiped, Riordan offers four salutes - one to Lord Frey, one to his fellow champions, one to his kinsmen seated in the stands, and lastly one for his opponent. And then, the Regent of Stonebridge is ready to tilt.

Valda watches the exchange between Kell and Riordan, her chin lifting slightly. Yet, even now, her face remains smooth and neutral, despite the man bearing her daughter's favor riding at last in the tourney.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Kell=Spears Vs Riordan=Animal Handling
< Kell: Good Success Riordan: Success
< Net Result: Kell wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Riordan=Spears Vs Kell=Animal Handling
< Riordan: Good Success Kell: Failure
< Net Result: Riordan wins - Solid Victory

This certainly gets Roslyn's attention, someone challenging her brother. She leans forward, her gaze interested and excited. She even whispers a quiet word for good luck.

Then the Castellan of Stonebridge is addressed by a woman bearing a Charlton crest. Valda inclines her head to the girl and motions to the empty space on the side of her Rygar Nayland does not occupy. "Well met, Lady Alys. I am Lady Tordane." Apparently, Valda sees no need to specify her first name, sticking to the belief she is the only Tordane lady and certainly the inarguable head of the House. "Please, won't you join me?" She studies the girl's features for a moment. "I know your name, but have never had the pleasure of meeting you face to face. Although I have had recent contact with your lady mother. How does she fare?"

Jarod makes some of his money back on Hardwicke's tilt. He whistles again when Kell and Riordan take to the lists. A conservative bet is placed on the hedge knight-turned Terrick sworn. "Warrior be with you…" he murmurs, presuming this one requires assistance from prayer.

Kamron eventually hauls himself from the tent he limped into, his squire evidently having come to help him remove his armor, for he now appears in a simple arming jacket and trousers, although his mysterious favor has been retied around his upper arm. He's still limping and holding his left arm a little awkwardly, the right side of his face is already raising a bruise, and there is a cut up by his right brow, just below his temple. The cut isn't bleeding anymore, so apparently someone has already seen to it, but just as apparently, the Mallister knight couldn't be kept from watching the rest of the tourney. He moves slowly around the lists toward the stands, watching the first pass between Kell and Riordan as he walks.

Riordan urges his white charger forward with his legs, holding the Stonebridge shield up, and his lance pointed directly at the Knight from the Roost. As the two collide, and blows are exchanged and his own lance breaks, Riordan rocks back from the blow he recieved as splinters resound from that strike at all. He does not look in danger of losing his seat, however, and simply gives Kell a salute with the shattered lance before moving back to his side of the lists, and exchanging it for a new one.

"Oh, good," Anais smiles to Roslyn when Kell selects Riordan from the list. "About time." Her smile only grows when the pass leaves both men mounted still. "And a good pass!"
Martyn has disconnected.

"I am honored to be your opponent, Ser." Kell says with a smile in return, perhaps due to Riordan's good nature. With the official challenge over, the Terrick Knight maneuvers his steed towards his side of the tilt and with due honors, salutes the Lord Frey, followed by a salute to the Terricks that are watching in the stands. He then lowers the visor of his full helm so that he is now looking out through the narrow slits, for his own protection. Accepting the first tourney lance, Kell thanks the man who is tasked with assisting him for this joust and moves to the readying position.

Then the signal is given and Kell urges his steed into motion, storming down his side of the tilt while keeping his lance up until the right moment. It is the lowered, aimed across the middle divider, striking hard and true. The lance shatter in his hand but at the same time he is rocked in his saddle, only by luck or Favor of the Warrior that he remains mounted. After recovering on the other side of the tilt, he reutrns Riordan's salute with his own.

As Kamron re-emerges from his tent, armorless and bruised, a familiar face wearing the Banefort colors bounds up behind him like a faithful hound. It is Punbah Buttonton, and the guard is smiling despite the knight's state. "Right nice show, sah," he says to the Mallister knight. "Three passes is quite an achievement."

Back up in the crowd, Saffron has turned her attention to Tiaryn Flint and her company. Without her Mallister company and her cousin still making the rounds, she decides not to get lost in her own thoughts for now. "The Freys are doing quite well," she engages simply. "Maybe the rain did them some good."

Glad to be in most pleasant company— at least the company she is used to— "A pleasure to meet you Lady Tordane." Alys' attention drifts momentarily to the lists as Riordan and Kell result in a draw. Turning back to the lady who now pats at an empty space she nods. "My thanks, my lady, I would love to." Alys sits and straightens her bright mistletoe red damask skirts. "My lady-mother? She fares well enough I suppose. Sad to let me go from Hollyholt, but glad to have me out in society. How has your family been faring, I had heard you have a new babe?"

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Kell=Spears Vs Riordan=Animal Handling
< Kell: Good Success Riordan: Great Success
< Net Result: Riordan wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Riordan=Spears Vs Kell=Animal Handling
< Riordan: Good Success Kell: Great Success
< Net Result: Kell wins - Solid Victory

"I am sure he would have complained awfully if no one had chosen him," Roslyn teases lightly, her head shaking as she watches the match with keen interest. Her brows furrow slightly at the pass that unhorses neither man, but she continues watching.

Tia glances over at Saffron and has to chuckle. "Indeed, it seems so," she replies easily. "Perhaps they are wishing to show well here at their own home," she suggests. There is a hint of mischief in her voice, though she does have a bit of difficulty here. Anders wants to cheer for Riordan but well - it's Ser Kell. Hah. She isn't quite sure how she feels about it, other than to watch with interest.

This time with neither opponent scoring a point, it is with lance unbroken that Riordan salutes Ser Kell, as he rides back to his position at the lists, and waits for the signal to move once more. He appears utterly focused and sure in the way he moves his horse and prepares himself.

"And I'm sure that their Queen of Love and Beauty is appreciating the effort," Saffron says offhandedly with a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "I still stand by the idea that is dangerous to put a face to such things… how low must the rest of us feel not to embody such things." The strawberry-haired Lady cannot help the smile now, and there are those lovely dimples again.

The second tourney lance is handed to Kell and he grips it tightly, ready for the second clash that will be upcoming, knowing that Ser Riordan is a very formidal opponent from what he has heard before the jousting actually begin. There is only one thing that the Terrick knight knows how to do, charge fast and fearlessly. The Warrior seems to steel his body this time as he stays strong on this pass, able to use his shield to deflect the incoming lance, sending it glancing off. His own lance is aimed true but it seems like Riordan was able to skillfully deflect his blow as well, so this round ends in yet another draw. Turning his steed around, Kell returns the salute with the same once more, returning to the starting position for the third pass, in full readiness.

Kamron groans softly at Punbah's greeting, "Thank you, Master Punbah. Just about now I think I'd skip that achievement if it'd spare me the pain and bruises." His words come out a little slow due to the bruising on his face." He keeps up his slow movement toward the stands, "Just couldn't resist taking on a Frey. Perhaps I should have spread the attention around after all." And there's another pass — without splintered lances, "What'd I miss while Percy was prying me out of my armor?"

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Kell=Spears Vs Riordan=Animal Handling
< Kell: Good Success Riordan: Great Success
< Net Result: Riordan wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Riordan=Spears Vs Kell=Animal Handling
< Riordan: Good Success Kell: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW

> <FS3> Opposed Roll — Kell=Spears Vs Riordan=Animal Handling
> < Kell: Great Success Riordan: Success
> < Net Result: Kell wins - Solid Victory
> <FS3> Opposed Roll — Riordan=Spears Vs Kell=Animal Handling
> < Riordan: Good Success Kell: Success
> < Net Result: Riordan wins - Solid Victory

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Kell=Spears Vs Riordan=Animal Handling
< Kell: Good Success Riordan: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW
<OOC> Hardwicke says, "FIFTH PASS"
<Terrick> Justin says, "Sponsoring?"
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Riordan=Spears Vs Kell=Animal Handling
< Riordan: Success Kell: Good Success
< Net Result: Kell wins - Solid Victory

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Kell=Spears Vs Riordan=Animal Handling
< Kell: Good Success Riordan: Great Success
< Net Result: Riordan wins - Solid Victory
<OOC> Belle says, "Holy shit :D"
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Riordan=Spears Vs Kell=Animal Handling
< Riordan: Success Kell: Good Success
< Net Result: Kell wins - Marginal Victory

<Terrick> Justin says, "Ah. That's extremely generous of them."
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Kell=Spears Vs Riordan=Animal Handling
< Kell: Failure Riordan: Good Success
< Net Result: Riordan wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Riordan=Spears Vs Kell=Animal Handling
< Riordan: Good Success Kell: Success
< Net Result: Riordan wins - Marginal Victory

Master Punbah beams all companionably at the knight. "Well, consider this, sah… you broke one laces to his three… in that respect, you will have less to replace." The Westerlander pauses, before adding in a slightly grinning tone. "You know, save for the ribs." The guard looks off toward the current tilt, pass for pass.

"By the Seven. That is a good sign for Ser Riordan. Very good indeed." Alys smiles to Lady Tordane, "Seven passes my lady it would seem the Warrior is pleased." Alys has gotten a bit excited as the tilt went on for quite some time. "What say you my lady?" She turns her gaze from the lists to Lady Tordane.

Tilt after tilt, the combatants run for seven rounds. The newly sworn Terrick man matching the Lord Riordan Nayland blow for blow, the crowd aroudn them growing quieter as neither falls. In the seventh, the Nayland Lord finally unseats the Ser Drakmoor after his spear misses to make contact. The roar of both names from the crowd would make it difficult to pick out a winner from that alone, so impressed by the skills of both men.

Okay, look. It is not common, but sometimes the loser of a joust deserves just as much acclaim as the winner. Like, say, when they go tot-to-toe with a reigning champion for eight rounds. Ser Benedict Lawson whistles low for the feat before beginning a low chant of "Drakmoor… Drakmoor… Drakmoor…"

"It is difficult for a mother to let go of her daughter, but we know it is best for them and the House as a whole." Valda smiles kindly to the young Charlton lady. "The babe has not yet been born, Lady Alys, but my daughter nears her time. We eagerly await the babe, the new Lord or Lady of Stonebridge." Now that is odd and must be a specification in a contract, for even a girl to inherit. "Of course, my daughter will have to remarry once she has finished mourning her husband's passing. A child needs a strong father." Watching the jousting as she speaks, she asks gently, "Have you news of a match for yourself yet? You seem to be of an age for it."

It seems Roslyn isn't so pleased by so many passes, concern knitting her brow for her brother. She is perhaps overexhuberant in her yell of, "Lord Riordan!" She claps, loudly.

Jarod is one of those yelling for Kell, whatever House's colors he now wears. Though his voice is lost in the general din. "Seven hells, that was a good show!" He tops his yelling off with another of those enthusiastic whistles he so favors. Out a bit of coin, but he's not complaining.

"I am certain she is," Tia says, with a bit of a chuckle. "And it might be nice to be so honoured. If ever the opportunity arises." Though then the tilt between Riordan and Kell does take her attention. She claps politely as it comes to an end, quite pleased with the event. "Now that was an exciting match. Ser Kell has done admirably well and Ser Riordan won." Even Anders can't be grumpy over that, right?

"My goodness," Anais says as the passes are complete, grinning broadly. "Now /that/ was a well-ridden round!" She adds her applause to the cheers of the crowd. "Ser Kell has stood us well. And your brother…Very skilled," she adds to Roslyn.

Kamron stops and stares as tilt after tilt the two knights shatter lances or pass by one another without either landing a telling blow. When Riordan finally overcomes Kell, Kam drops his right arm, slapping palm to thigh repeatedly in a one-handed version of clapping. Apparently, he's a little leery of using his left arm at the moment. Still, he's going to be showing his approval for the joust even if his thigh hurts almost as much. He nods idly to Punbah, totally caught up in pass after pass.

Hardwicke breaks his habitual scowling silence to actually tell Kell, "Well-ridden, ser." WHAT A COMPLIMENT.

"My, what a match," Rosanna says, breathless with the tension of it. "Your brother is an excellent rider, Lady Roslyn. And your sworn, Lady Anais."

Kittridge applauds heartily for the match just completed. "Well-done, sers," he cheers both Ser Kell and Ser Riordan, "Good show!"

Riordan maintained silence and dignity for the entirety of the seven rounds, saluting Kell each time, whether their lances were broken or not. And, as he is finally declared the winner, Riordan gives a final series of salute - again, to the Freys, the Champions, the Naylands, and Ser Kell. Then, as his squire moves to take his broken lance, Riordan lifts his visor and raises a hand to the crowd, gesturing to Ser Kell. "This man is honored by the Warrior this day, and is a most worthy opponent. You do me great honor, Ser Kell Drakmoor." His voice continues to be pitched for the crowd as he adds, with a most visible grin, "I expect you to drink alongside me into the wee hours, Ser." And, with a wink, he moves to ride back, dismount, and find his place once more among the champions.

Saffron looks over toward Tiaryn and she bobs her head gently. "I suppose, if I had to be honest… I wouldn't turn down such a title." She joins in a quiet, ladylike clapping that makes hardly a sound. "Lady Anais will be quite pleased by that," she says in a conversational tone.

Once the roar of the crowd quiets to more of a steady hum of excitement, the Frey Herald steps forward again. "Next to challenge, Ser Alek Coope."

And on the seventh pass, a holy number, Kell can be seen to be tiring though he continues to try to stay in the competition, raising his visor for a moment to wipe some perspiration out of his eyes before closing it. Riding down the tilts one final time, his lance falters and he lowers it a half a second too late though in the jousting world, half a second is an eternity. He misses completely and is in turn slammed by Riordan's lance, losing his grip which causes the Terrick Knight to crash to the ground. When he finally rises, slowly, from the ground, Kell removes his helm and is surprised to hear all the cheering for him, the reality of what happened finally sinking in. With a proud grin, he also salutes the Freys, the Champions, the Terricks, and finally Ser Riordan in turn. Listening to the other knight's words, the Terrick Knight bows his head respectfully, "You honor me with the invitation, Ser, one I will gladly accept. You certainly are as good as they say you are, better even." With that, the now aching and soon to be bruised knight goes to find his horse so he can head to the Terrick's camp.

"I had thought I heard something of a babe." Alys smiles to Valda, "I shall send a prayer to the Mother for the child's healthy delivery, and the health of his or her mother." With a nod Alys agrees, "Yes, as I had told my lady-mother before I left. She did not shed a tear, at least in my presence, but still. I can understand her reservations." The fact that the child may be a girl -and- lady of stonebridge is not lost on Alys, but she politely does not comment. Instead she raises a brown and fiddles with the favor in her hand. "No my lady, no matches as of yet. I suspect another reason for thrusting me out into society." Alys raises a hand to her mouth to calm a chuckle as Riordan talks, "I should think they will be in no shape to do much of anything on the morrow if they partake in drink like that."

"A good decision, taking on Ser Kell," Anais says with a warm smile. "If you ladies will excuse me, though, I should get back to my cousin." She rises, using the break between bouts to slip back to Tiaryn and Saffron. "Ah, now this should also be a good one," she says as she approaches, dropping into a seat next to Saffron. "Ser Coope here was one of the winners of the melee at my wedding. He's also rather a nice dancer." Which is very important.

Even as he is beginning to remove his helmet as Riordan rejoins the champions, the Regent pauses in his movements as Ser Alek is named. Wordlessly, though with a large smirk, Riordan begins to suit up once more, as if he expects to be called forward again. Still, holding to tradition, he maintains his place among the five for now.

Where Ser Alek Coope rides out into the list to issue his challenge, he only bears his shield, painted with the Tordane colors and the Crane emblazoned on it. Without helm, his crooked smile is well visible, where he rides across the length of the lists to stop infront of the stands where Lady Danae Tordane sits. He inclines his head in a humble nod towards the lady before wheeling his horse to shout towards the challengers. He does not disappoint where he calls, "Lord Riordan Nayland." He rides back to ready himself for the first pass with the scrambling of his squire to equip helm and lance.

Valda nods once when Alys pledges her prayers, then again when she notes no marriage matches are yet forthcoming. Applause is offered the pair who tilted so skillfully, still polite rather than excited. "Stonebridge's Lord Regent is made of stronger mettle than that, Lady Alys," she assures the Charlton with an assuring smile. "Ah, it seems he shall not rest this day." She motions toward Alek, who bears a favor with the same colors and crest as Riordan, although his does not have the name of the Lady of Stonebridge embroidered upon it.

"I accept," Riordan calls, eagerly, pausing only long enough to give a lopsided grin of his own, before shutting his visor and moving to mount up once more. Taking hold of shield and lance, Riordan once more begins with salutes to Frey and the Champions. But, before he would salute to his family, he rides the horse in front of the nobles gathered, clearly displaying the favor worn on his arm, which bears the Tordane Crest, and Isolde's name. Then, he offers not only a salute to the Naylands, but a visible nod to Valda. Only then does he take up a place at the lists, give a salute to Ser Alek, and ready himself.

In turn to the gracious gesture of her sworn, the Lady Danae Tordane smiles and inclines her head in turn. Silent in the stands, she watches Ser Alek ride towards the the champions to issue his challenge, applauding quietly. Her gaze lingers only briefly on the Lord Regent.

The Banefort Lady looks up to Anais at the sound of her voice, and she cannot help a small laugh that comes to her lips. "Ah, yes… I remember that now." Though she finds whatever else she may comment to become hushed as the knight rides out and issues his challenge. She exchanges a quick glance with Anais before she looks out toward where the Naylands sit. "Now I suppose we see who has the bigger lance," Saffron breathes as quietly as she can to Anais, though its hard to miss the curious wrinkling in her brow.

Out nearer the lists, Master Punbah has taken to standing just beside Kamron Mallister — it appears the knight has earned himself a fan boy in Banefort colors.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Alek=Spears Vs Riordan=Animal Handling
< Alek: Good Success Riordan: Great Success
< Net Result: Riordan wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Riordan=Spears Vs Alek=Animal Handling
< Riordan: Great Success Alek: Success
< Net Result: Riordan wins - Solid Victory

Anais giggles at Saffron, taking another glass of wine as a servant passes. "Aye, well. He's a likable sort, and likely to tell you all about his lance, but I can't say I think much of where he's chosen to swear his sword. He was with Oldstones before. I suppose she managed to convince him she was true to Ser Gedeon, and he thinks he's doing right by his companion's memory."

Alys nods looking to where the lady gestures. "You are most welcome, my lady." She raises a brow to the rest of the lady's words. "I am sorry, I do not recognize the man beneath the armor, my lady. Though I recognize the sigil." She blushes lightly and flicks her gaze towards Valda, "But as far as Ser Riordan, I can see him as being the strong sort. One must be to be named regent, no?" turning her eyes back to the lists.

Ser Alek Coope the Blacksword is not known for his performance in the joust, and it becomes rather obvious at the turn he takes. His spear is not placed right to catch Riordan on their pass, even as the lord knight's spear takes him. It breaks against him, sending Alek from his saddle easily. He is on his feet moments later, ignoring the pain blooming from the hit. His fingers fall for his sword, but he only looks over to the lord to say, "I hope to see you in the melee." He bows towards the stands instead of Riordan, before walking from the lists.

Justin has been around, watching closely. He's not among those who have been challenging, not wearing his armour. He's been quiet, subdued, and keeping somewhat to himself. He clapped for both men after Riordan's and Kell's most impressive rounds but now he steps up to take a seat near to Lady Tiaryn and Saffron since there's space there. Ah, and there is Lady Anais a bit further down as well. He inclines his head to the ladies but doesn't say anything to distract them from watching.

It is hard to hold back the pink that comes up to her cheeks, and Saffron shakes her head a bit. "I needn't know anything about Ser Alek's lance, Annie. Though, if I ever do get curious, I know where to go." And then she looks back out at the lists as she twists up a bit of dress fabric between her fingers. "I suppose we all must do what we feel is right," Saffron then replies in regards to where loyalties may lie. She glances her head around slightly, her gaze passing over Justin before returning once more. She nods her head to him with a faint smile on her lips.

Kamron shakes his head as Alek challenges Riordan, "This could be unpleasant." Still, he shrugs his shoulders, winces, then returns to climbing his way up into the stands, moving over to join Anais — and also Tiaryn, Saffron, and Justin. No need to stay out in the lists, and Punbah should really be by his mistress, which Kam well knows. He nods his head as he approaches the group, looking up to see lances exploding and Alek being thrown to the ground before he returns his attention to the women, "Ladies. I hope you're enjoying yourselves." Again, his words are a bit slow, twisted a little by the bruises now covering the right side of his face.

It might be said that Hardwicke smirks to see Alek so promptly unseated. Maybe.

"I am not known for such, and I have learned long ago my place in the order of things, Ser," Riordan calls out genially as he raises his visor, apparently not taking the knight's words so much as a challenge as an invitation. An eyebrow is also raised as Alek's hand goes to his sword, but he does does seem concerned, has his hands continue to hold shield and shattered lance. "But perhaps the Seven will deem it so. If not, I am sure one or more from my house will seek you out. For now, I thank you for challenging me to joust, Ser Alek." And, with that, he once more goes through his series of salutes, before turning his horse neatly around, and riding back to dismount, and take up his post once more.

Glancing down to see Saffron's hands twisting in her skirts, Anais reaches over to take one of those hands, quietly reassuring. "There you are, Justin," she smiles to the Terrick Lord. "Did you see Ser Blayne and Ser Drakmoor? They've shown well for the Terricks today. Ser Hardwicke in winning and Ser Drakmoor in spirit and will. Ser Kamron," she greets the Mallister with a swift smile. "Well-ridden."

Tia chuckles softly at the commentary she can hear from Anais and Saffron but does not add her own thoughts to it. She has managed to recover somewhat from Saethwyr's flirtation, unexpected as it was. She takes a breath, and then she says, "Lady Anais, Lord Saethwyr Charlton. Lord Charlton, Lady Anais Terrick," she says, still with the introductions. As she turns to do so, she catches sight of Justin and nods to him as well, with a friendly smile. "Alas, ser Coope appears to be not quite so talented in the joust," she adds, after watching the match. And then as Anais speaks, Tia goes quiet once more.

The herald clears his throat, "And the final challenger of the day, Ser Benedict Lawson." Ser Harras is left standing unannounced and unvoiced. He will not ride this tournament.

Saffron looks up toward Kamron at the sound of his voice. The favor still tied around his arm causes a soft smile to perk up the corners of her lips, and she inclines her head a bit. "Ser Kamron. You look to be a wonderful wreck… please, sit." She glances beyond him to Punbah, who had trotted after him in his dutiful ways. The grip given to her hand is returned, and her fingers are surprisingly steady. She nods in agreement to Kamron's tilt being well-ridden, and she also takes careful stock of Lord Saethwyr at his introduction.

A nod is returned to Riordan. "One could say so," Valda replies enigmatically. "We shall see what time brings." She does not give thye name of the other armored man who so quickly is defeated. Her lips thin a bit as the Blacksword does not give the honor of acknowledging the victor directly. Looking back to Alys, she asks, "With whom do you currently reside, my lady? You said you are not at home, correct?"

Ser Benedict Lawson collects his lance from his squire, riding forward towards the champions as his name is called. The shield he carries holds his own device: a black crescent moon curled around a black star, both outlined in red. The hedge knight trots his horse down the row of champions, bringing her to a halt before Andrey Charlton. "My lord," he begins with a deep, respectful nod of his head, "it would be an honor."

Justin gives the bruised knight a nod, "Ser Kamron," then turns his head to listen to Anais. He frowns, "Alas, I did not though I'm much pleased to hear Ser Hardwicke did well. My horse and I took a nasty spill this morning. I've been busy seeing to him. Cut his leg up and I expect I'll be walking back to the Roost. I did see Ser Kell ride well against the Lord Regent."

Kamron laughs softly at Anais' compliment, although he grasps at his ribs with the left arm he keeps close to them anyhow, "Thank you for the kind words, Lady Terrick, but I'm afraid it was only mediocrely ridden. The Freys have shown themselves quite well thus far, despite two defeats." That admission seems as painful as the words themselves are coming from his bruised lips. "Thank you, Lady Saffron." He takes her invitation to sit without hesitation, groaning softly as he does so. Justin get's a simple, "Glad to see you're alright though." And then Ser Benedict is announced as the final challenger, and Kamron frowns over to Ser Harras left all alone, not even noticing who the hedge knight chooses.

Finally removing his helmet as he rejoins the other champions, Riordan smiles in pleased manner as Andrey is finally challenged. "Ride well, brother," he tells his former squire-mate, clapping the Charlton heir on the shoulder.

Ser Andrey flashes Riordan a sliver of a smile as he returns to the champion's stand. "Well riden." When Ser Benedict Lawson approaches, he lifts his brows and nods in his acceptance. "Ser." A brief look is cast towards Riordan, "Seems I will have no need for mystery this day. I will." He dons his helmet, then moves to meet Ser Lawson and ready for the tilt.

For his part, Hardwicke looks rather grimly satisfied that Harras is left so publicly snubbed from the tourney.

"Aye, am all right. Nothing of mine bruised half so much as yours, Ser Kamron." Justin smiles a little lopsidedly before he adds, "But I'd rather have ridden your seat than mine, today."

"Ser Kamron, well tilted," Tia says, giving a friendly smile to the Mallister knight. She's been a little distracted throughout the whole joust by … something or other. She does give Justin a sympathetic look for the news of the horse.

Kittridge watches as Ser Benedict is called, and chooses his opponent. He seems mildly surprised that Ser Andrey is chosen.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Benedict=Spears Vs Andrey=11
< Benedict: Success Andrey: Good Success
< Net Result: Andrey wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Andrey=11 Vs Benedict=Animal Handling
< Andrey: Great Success Benedict: Good Success
< Net Result: Andrey wins - Solid Victory

"Lord Charlton," Anais dips her chin to Saethwyr with a polite smile. "A pleasure to meet you. I assume you already met my cousin, Lady Saffron. This is my goodbrother, Lord Justin Terrick, and Ser Kamron Mallister." She passes the introductions on down the line before Justin's words sink in and she pauses, looking him over more carefully. "You're both all right, though? Muirenn said you were looking for me before we left. Let me know if you still need me?"

"I reside with my cousins at the Inn in Stonebridge, my lady." Alys answers the most important question first before continuing on. "Yes, time tells all, or so I am told." Alys gropes at her favor running her fingers along its yellow surface and minding the delicate embroidery at the ends, three mistletoes encased in a green shield. She smiles warmly at Valda, admiring the older woman's calm demeanor.

"Oh?" Valda cants her head with some interests. "With which cousins do you stay, my lady? Having been born a Frey, I may well share relations with you." Because what noble in the Riverlands isn't related to or descended from a Frey?

"Indeed, it seems you will not," Riordan agrees good naturedly in return to the Charlton knight. As Andrey and Benedict and take theoir positions, Riordan takes this oppurtunity to scan the stands. He primarily scans the place his family members reside - though, and only briefly, does his eyes rest on the area that Danae sits. Soon enough, however, the Regent's eyes are drawn back to the lists as the sound of hoofbeats begins. Riordan just smiles, broadly, as he watches the Charlton heir charge at his hedge-knight opponent.

Saffron looks over to Justin with a touch of worry at her brow, and she nods in agreement with Kamron's words. "It is a blessing that you are alright, Lord Justin." Again, the Mallister knight is given an apologetic look and she shakes her head. "You will need to be well looked after before the melee, Ser Kamron," she states with a mostly obvious tone. Her gaze turns out toward the most current tilt, though its interest is shortlived.

There is a looking over of this Saethwyr, Justin's pale grey eyes to study the man before he gives him a polite nod for greeting, "Lord Charlton." To Anais, Justin twists his mouth wryly before he gives reply, "I'm fine, my horse … he'll probably be all right. And I do need speak with you, though it can wait until things are quieter, Goodsister."

Justin smiles a little to Saffron, "Thank you, Lady. I've come of no real harm for it."

The final salutes of the day are made: to their hosts, to their houses, and to each other. Then, the men ride with the hooves of their horses hammering down on the well packed earth as they set their lances to the mark. The Charlton Lord's hand and horse are steady as he charges down towards the hedge knight, scoring a fierce, clean with his lance hit that unhorses Benedict. Drawing his horse back around, Andrey briefly salutes the only man who was brave enough to challenge him this day.

"My father had recently visited Stonebridge, my lady. He left me with my cousin Ser Aleister and his wife Lady Cherise at the Inn." Alys smiles, "Well at least that is who resides there now. I am sure I am meant to stay with family." Her smile widens, "Been born a Frey I am sure you know they do not marry into their favored house Charlton. Something about us not being pretty enough, or already holding our loyalty. Though still my lord-father Lord Charlton might hold relation to you some how." Alys smiles when she talks of her family, especially her doting father Keegan.

Kamron looks up from his frown at Ser Harras, blinking as he hears his name. "Ahh… Lord Charlton. A pleasure, I'm sure." And then there's another crash of lances, and he looks back to the lists in time to see Benedict being overthrown by Andrey. He nods once, "At least all the champions were challenged. I almost felt bad leaving those two sitting to challenge Ser Hosteen, but I couldn't resist." He nods to Tiaryn, then to Anais and Saffron in turn, "Lady Muirenn will have her hands full with myself and her brother, but I'm mostly bruised," If you consider a wrenched shoulder and ribs that creak when you breathe 'bruised,' "and Ser Martyn's even better off. I'm sure we'll both be fine in time for the melee."

Ser Benedict gets to his feet after he's unseated, showing he's uninjured, if bested. Pushing his helm back from his face, he returns Ser Andrey's salute and offers the Charlton a smile before moving off to wait for the winning knight to join him so they might discuss the ransom of Ser Lawson's armor and horse. In passing by the remaining champions, Benedict offers, oddly enough, Kittridge Groves a quick and passing smile.

Again the herald waits for the crowd to calm after Ser Charlton's smashing victory before announcing, "Congratulations to our Champions! They will now speak to confer."

Saffron Banefort gives Kamron a stern, horribly maternal look. "No half-assery, Ser Kamron," she states in the most ladylike tone as if to overshadow the fact she just said 'assery'. Again, she seems to have found a sense of good naturedness again as she keeps her mind on more frivolous conversation. At the words of the herald, she turns her attention outward once more.

Hardwicke turns away from the crowd to the other champions, a lone commoner among nobles. He offers no comment or argument to the issue at hand, but watches the other knights for any opinions outside of what's expected.

"Indeed he did. Alas, it seems he did not have the time to meet with me." Valda's smile does not fade, nor does her tone alter. There is, however, a subtle tightening of her lips. With a polite chuckle, she notes, "I was certainly never offered to House Charlton, nor were my cousins at the time, this much is true. I was instead given to Lord Tordane, for which I am only grateful." Her gaze studies the girl for a long moment. "There is much to be said for a girl of a tender age becoming Lady of her own House, would you not agree?"

Tia says, "I'm glad to hear both are okay, Lord Terrick," to Justin easily enough. Her gaze goes to the rest of the folks around, and then she turns to watch the final bit of the joust, politely.

Anais coughs into her wine glass at Saffron's words to Kamron, doing her best to cover a laugh. Once she has her breath back, she nods to Justin, smile easy. "Of course. Whenever you like, I should be free."

Riordan obligingly moves to confer with his fellow champions, nodding to those gathered, original champions and new alike. Once done, he will retake his place until it is time for their decision to be announced.

Justin eyes the bruises on Kamron's face, "Did you let him pick your teeth with the lance?" Despite his attempt at joking, he nonetheless winces in sympathy, "Who did you challenge, Ser? I would have liked to have seen you ride, and Ser Hardwicke, also." He gives Anais a faint nod.

Kittridge confers, etc. It doesn't take very long, the champions appearing to be in agreement.

Kamron arches his eyebrows at Saffron's use of 'language,' but he chuckles softly, "I don't do anything half-assedly, to use your delicate turn of phrase, Lady Saffron." Not even teasing, apparently. Justin's question draw a slight grimace, that leads to a slight wince, "No, it was the interior of my own helmet. I bounced. Twice. I think. The whole thing is a little blurry. I challenged Ser Hosteen. Gave him a good enough challenge, even if he overbore me in the end."

The champions confer but briefly. Then shortly signal to a Frey servant to bring out the winter crown of lush blue rose for the Queen of the tournament. Ser Hosteen Frey, lifts the crown towards the crowd and announces, "The champions have named Lady Annara Frey the Queen of Love and Beauty!" He flashes his lady cousin a wide smile, taking the honor of personally carrying the crown to place it on her head. And with that, the Jousting portion of the Frey tournament comes to a close.