Thomas smiled, as he turned on his heel, and began his way to where his tent would be, "Have you ever competed with a bow before?" Thomas asked, as the two walked. Thomas was sure the young man was more than skillful with the bow, but he wondered if it had ever been used in competition before. Just like in the melee, tournament dueling, and real fighting, were two completely different things, and required the participants to adapt. Eventually, Thomas led them to his tent. Being the champion of the Order of the Thistle, he was allotted a fair amount of room. As Thomas closed the flaps behind them, he gazed about the room. In the center of the room was the armor he was to wear for the duration of the tournament, propped by a decoration stand, heavy plate armor as dark as smoke, and as shiny as a gem. In the middle of the chest was emblazoned a pure white thistle flower. The helmet was the typical armnet, decorated with a white plum coming out of the top. The room also held various sundries, such as fruit, a full sized mirror, breastplate stretchers, another decoration stand for Thomas to lay his normal armor, and a thistle sitting in a small vase at the back of the room, on top a stand. "Seems like I got the special treatment." Thomas said, with a slight smirk, as he unhooked his cape. The tournament was to start soon, and he would have to change into the armor provided to him.

After Thomas left, Jezin began meandering back towards the great hall. He needed to prepare for the tournament, but Sophia was still his top priority. She was probably in little danger during the feast, the knight thought, but even so it was his duty to protect her. He doubted he would need a great deal of preparation time, anyway. He walked through the gates of the hall and began scanning the room. His eyes came to a rest when he saw the familiar streak of brilliant white hair. Sophia seemed to be safe, enjoying the feast as he was sure she would. He kept his distance, leaning against a nearby wall. He saw no need to impose on the princess' interactions. The tournament still sat in the back of his mind. Thomas and Redwyne Cole were likely to be fierce opponents, and there was no way of telling who else would be involved.

Sophia listened, quietly enjoying her fish as the men talked around her. The bearded man introduced himself as Hal Berning, and began talking about the north. Another man mentioned Lachne. Sophia gathered from the conversation that this land was a source of problems for Keilaudrin. She knew very little about Keilaudrin's politics, outside of the basic necessities. Her eyes glanced over to the edge of the room, where she noticed that Jezin had returned. He had probably already signed up for the tournament. Jezin was a skilled warrior, she had witnessed that much firsthand, but she still couldn't help but feel a tinge of worry for her guardian. She took another bite of fish, silently pondering what drove men to want to bash each other half to death for a bit of glory.

Ragnar took a sip of his wine. He turned his head to the red haired man. "The people of Lachne are preying on Kelaudrin's fields. They're preparing an invasion." Ragnar took another sip. "My brother arrived yesterday with the news."

Tursgud looked around the tournament field. He walked over to an assistant. "I want to sign up."

Gareth answered, "No, I have not." This would be his first time wielding a bow in true competition with someone else. Of course, for someone who hunted, little adjustment was required—in real exploits, the target was mobile, but in the tourney, the bullseye was the target and did not move. He wouldn't have a hard time. Harker pulled down his hood and stood by the entrance, gawking at the arrangements sent forth for Thomas. "My... Fancy." He strolled about the room, not knowing what to do in particular in that moment, thus he simply went around and examined the many intricate displays of armor he found there, touching nothing.

As Tursgurd approached the clerk, he stopped taking notes on his piece of parchment. Before responding, the clerk cleared his throat, "Very well. Want events are you going to be taking part in? Jousting? Melee? Archery?" The clerk asked, quill poised to write down Tursgurd information, "I'm also going to need your full name." He added, as he still awaited the warrior's answer.

Thomas laid his snow white cape aside, upon a chair, and begun unhooking his armor straps, taking off his armor piece by piece, and simply setting them aside. Eventually, Thomas was reduced down to his long-sleeved black leather doublet, and his black shoes. Without his armor, Thomas cut a lot stronger figure, looking as if he was actually sculpted from marble, "If there's one thing Keilaudrin is good at, it's unnecessary expenses." Thomas said, with a slight smirk, as he stretched out his arms, and legs, before walking over to the fruit bowl and retrieving an apple. It felt good to be out of armor once in a while, and it definitely was easier to move around. Thomas was taught to fight without armor, and fighting with it on was more of a hindrance than help. Thomas undid his belt, removing himself from his sword that still hung at his side. Thomas pulled the sword from it's sheath, quietly, revealing it's milky blade, and intricate hilt. After a moment of admiration, he laid the blade on the table next to him, and turned back to Gareth, "Do you have a profession, Gareth?" Thomas asked, interested in what kind of life his young friend led.

"My name is Tursgud. I want to participate in melee." answered Tursgud. He's excited.

Gareth caught himself watching Thomas strip down, and he privately admired Thomas's form, which resembled something of a famous statue cut fine from plastered material. When the sword came unsheathed, Harker found interest in it as well, not because it was a weapon, but because it was a well-tempered blade forged fine in the standard required for knighthood. However it didn't resemble the swords he saw the other members of the Order carrying, so perhaps he obtained it elsewhere. Thomas spoke, breaking him out of his quiet thought, and he perked up again bringing his eyes to Thomas's face. A profession was in question, and Gareth still had yet to choose one. There was something to appreciate in them all, some sort of finesse and technique, some form and wonder, and he was dumbfounded at the idea that he could only pick a single mastery to take on as a job for the rest of his life. "I don't have one yet..." Gareth brought his gaze to his boots. "I've been doing errands for neighbors for money. There are so many fine crafts, and so many righteous works, like knighthood. I am vexed by the choice."

Thomas smiled at Gareth's answer, as he leaned casually against the table that his blade sat on, "I think I could help you find one, especially if you're interested in your own knighthood." Thomas replied, with a small smile. While Thomas had only served with the Order for 9 years, he still carried quite a bit of weight in the court. Having been a prince from a faraway land made his word worth hearing, "I mean if you're interested in such a thing." Thomas added, chuckling at the thought. If you had told him 10 years ago he'd be serving some foreign king, swearing his life to his, he would of been in absolute disbelief, but this is where he found himself in life. Thomas sighed after a moment, and stared down at the ground, before staring back up, "Well, guess it's time to start getting ready." Thomas said, with a slight huff, as he removed his black leather doublet. When he removed his jacket, he revealed his exposed torso, covered in a history of scars, bruises, and cuts. Some looked old, while some looked newer. Thomas started removing the armor from the decoration stand, starting with the padded leather tunic that would go on under his plate mail. Before putting the leather tunic on, he stared at the padded leather that remained in his hand, before turning to look at Gareth, "I've been competing in tournaments since I was 16, and I never stop getting excited about it." He said, as he allowed himself a small smile.

Clerk jotted down Tursgud information, before looking back up and giving Tursgurd a swift nod, "Very well, Sir Tursgud, the melee will be taking place shortly after the joust. You'll learn who your first opponent is then." The clerk explained as he turned his attention back to making notes about the tournament.

Tursgud stayed to watch the joust.

"Ah, but alas, I lack the sword skills required of me..." Gareth chuckled. Even if he did join the Order, he would only have the chivalry required, but not the fighting ability. The job was more suited for trained warriors than for hobbyist commoners. "I suppose I'll keep my nose out of it, unless something calls me there." He only wondered what sort of things Thomas had to do to earn the scars on his body, which he shyly examined underhandedly. "Well it appears as though you have been doing it for a long while." Harker returned a gentle smirk. He, on the other hand, had no injuries to advertise, his entire body unscathed since birth.

Karl listened to Ragnar's report, confusion showing slightly on his face even though he found himself far more possessed by curiosity. His hunch had been right, the troubled Lachne was the topic of the day, but the idea that the ruined country was in the condition to be planning an invasion of one of the most powerful nations on Estovet seemed preposterous. But, if it was true, it entailed that something truly abnormal was occurring in the country. Very few official dispatches had left the nation since the beginning of its civil war a few years prior, and all signs indicated that both sides had eventually succumbed to war fatigue and collapsed, leaving the nation in what might as well have been called anarchy. "Bunch of troublemakers, same as always. Any specifics on this invasion yet, or just the rumblings of some angry warlords?" Karl took the opportunity to pose a question, as his red headed compatriot sat back and apparently thought hard on what he had heard. Ordinarily the woman was the quiet one between his two followers, he wondered what the significance could have been to the retainer.

Thomas laughed at Gareth's response, as he slipped the padded leather tunic on, "It's less about sword skill, and more about you're quality of character." Thomas replied, as he pulled the padded tunic tight over his chest, "Thomas smiled at Gareth's comment, as he took off the chainmail shirt that sat on the decoration stand, now, slipping it on, "It's not exactly a good way to treat your body." Thomas replied, as he thought back on all the injuries he had had. He had broken arms, torn muscles, and even a broken back one time. Not fun injuries, but he made sure to always get back into tournaments once he had healed up. As Thomas began to take the armor pieces off the stand, and set them on the table as to put them on, he looked over at Gareth, "If you ever want to become skill with a sword, I'd be more than happy to teach you." Thomas said, with a smile, as he started to don his armor.

"Oh, I will think about it. You will certainly make a wonderful teacher." Gareth knew that anyone worthy of victory in a melee tournament and glory in knighthood would make a terrific sword-fighting instructor. That kind of training was rare, not to mention one of the best kinds of training. Alas, Harker's expertise lied in archery at the time, so it would be a while before he took up swords. He smiled at Thomas. The knight would probably injure himself many times over in tournaments, for he seemed passionate about them, perhaps being one of his pastimes. It looked like Thomas finished preparing for combat, and Gareth, eating an apple from the table, politely inquired, "Are you done readying yourself for the tournament ahead of you?" The appointed time for the competition was upon them, and only a short time was left until the tourney began. He presumed the bracket would be prepared by this hour.

As Thomas opened his mouth to respond, the blaring of trumpets could be heard, signifying the start of the joust. Thomas had learned early that he would be facing Sir Roderick in the first round of the joust. Thomas didn't know much about Sir Roderick, but if he was participating in the King's Coronation Tourney, he was likely a skilled knight. Thomas looked over at Gareth, and gave the young man a soft smile, "See you after the match." Thomas said, sliding his full helmet, with a white plume, on over his head. Thomas was never fully decked out in the armor he was given to wear. As one last preparation, he took his white Order cape, and clasped it to his back. Thomas exited the tent, and headed towards the dirt runway of the jousting section. His three squires which were provided to him, along with his horse, were already present on one end of the dirt runway. As Thomas approached the horse, he noticed that his competitor had yet to show up.

Gareth smiled. "I look forward to it." He waved and bowed his temporary parting to Thomas, and he exited the tent, from where he headed to the stands alongside the joust fields. A crowd gathered along the edge, and he pushed through without disturbing anyone to stand at the front, eyes watching Thomas from the crowd. They were the first match, and perhaps when the tournament ended, he and Thomas could meet and head to the archery fields for his own challenge.

He'd been eagerly awaiting whatever Ragnar had to say further on the matter, but his expectations were interrupted by the infernal wailing of tournament trumpets. A frown dashed his face as he realized what came next. Before he made any further utterances about the tournament, his friend in the blue tie was up on his feet and gesturing for Leid to follow him. "A matter of hospitality," he assured a grumbling Karl on their way away from the table. "Good day to you all," Karl said, making a hurried goodbye to the people who had been at the table with him. The pair then disappeared without a into the crowds, their destination uncertain when they were joined by the second blue-tie, the woman from the other day.

---

Roderick Boyle had been running late all week. First his caravan had been stopped by a lot claiming to be Keilaud gendarmes on the way here, a strange bunch of rangers that asked a lot of questions but explained very little. Second he'd been unable to find lodging, perhaps due to his status, on the day he'd arrived. Now, he was just barely making it onto the field in time when his squire had fallen ill and he'd taken forever getting fitted out for competition. At least his armor was still in working order. He rode out onto the field, taking his position on the runway immediately for his lateness. He was simply clad, ordinary steel jousting plate and an unplumed armet to cover his face. The only livery about him was the crest on his breastplate, a green caricature of a fox. Lance and shield at the ready, he waited for his opponent to mount his horse and ready himself, when the trumpets would blare and they'd compete in front of the king.

Sophia was startled by the sudden blast of the trumpets. It seemed the tournament would be starting soon. She had finished her fish. The princess rose from the table, giving a slight bow to all those remaining before heading towards the door. She was met halfway by her bodyguard. "Well, did you register?" Jezin nodded as he and the princess walked out the doors of the great hall. "Yes, I put my name in for the melee." Sophia grimaced slightly. She was still a bit worried about her bodyguard. Jezin noticed the expression, but chose not to mention it. Sophia had always been uncomfortable around combat, but he supposed that was only fair. "I need to get my shield and spear, if you'd like to accompany me." Sophia nodded and the pair turned away from the fairgrounds and back towards their rooms.

Thomas watched as his opponent took the field, a typical looking knight if Thomas had ever seen one. Thomas quickly mounted his horse. Thomas would be jousting without a shield, for he preferred simply wearing heavier armor, than having to use a shield, which he was grossly untrained with. One of Thomas' squires rushed up to him, to hand him his lance, but before Thomas took the lance in hand, he turned to face where King Bard II was sitting, and did the traditional Order of the Thistle salute. A closed right fist, over his heart. After a moment, Thomas took the lance in his hand, and grasped it tightly. Butterflies were in Thomas' stomach once more as he readied himself for the joust. He stared down the runway at his opponent, his normal happy and approachable attitude was now slowly being replaced by a more passionate and competitive one. The man down the runway from him was no longer a man, or a knight. He was an obstacle that Thomas had to cross. Thomas cradled the lance in his hand, as he awaited the signal for the beginning of the match.

Hadryn had signed up to the tournament just in time for it to be accepted. He had neglected to sign up for the jousting, it wasn't his type of sport. He preferred the fluidity and skill of fighting on the ground with a sword rather than on a horse and with a lance. He made his way onto the seating area to watch the joust, he'd have to wait for the melee to start before he could actually shed some blood. He'd at least get to see some of the competition a bit earlier on and see what he'd have to deal with. He had considered participating in the archery, but he expected that the archers participating could spit better than he could fire an arrow.

Sir Roderick lowered his visor as the two of them came into ready, and waited for the signal. The king sat in repose atop the stands, surrounded by his guards and a few choice guests. From where he sat, he couldn't make out the man's face, but he saw him motion to one of the men around him. The trumpeters sounded, a loud shrill blast that signaled the beginning of their tilt. At the sound, he spurred his horse onward, lowering his lance into ready and cradling his shield what little he could in his stiff plate. He had been in few jousts before, and the man before him looked like a force to be reckoned with, but he planned on showing his best for the crowd. Doubt remained in the back of his mind however, his week hadn't been the best and there had been no indication of that luck changing any time soon. He continued to charge at the other, unshielded knight, poising his lance to strike the man's chest.