Again, the awful wailing of the trumpets called, signalling that the melee was about to begin. The runway had been cleaned and prepared for the foot combat that was about to take place for the entertainment for the court and those in attendance. The man with the horn announced the names of those who were called upon to fight first in his loud voice. "Sir Jezin Tremora, and Sir Jon Easten, please make yourselves ready for combat. The tournament shall resume as soon as the combatants have presented themselves before the stand." And they waited. A fair time would be afforded for the warriors to make themselves ready, given the nature of the melee fights, but the audience waited only with cheers and calls for their chosen combatants.

From within the crowd a woman in a blue tie appeared, dressed in the same as her red haired comrade, and took a seat next to Sophia. She sat casually in the stands, a respectful distance from the girl she had approached. "It's not safe for a princess to be sitting alone," she said flatly, it almost sounded like an excuse. An astute observer might have seen that it was, because a certain red mop could be seen weaving through the standing crowd on the other end of the fairground. "Did a Karl Leid come through here?" The second statement sounded far less mechanical, betraying the speaker's interest. It seemed as though their charge had slipped or been deprived of them somehow.

Jezin turned towards the announcer when the trumpets sounded. A grin spread across his face when his name was called. So now it would begin. He strode down the runway, spear in hand. Jon Easten. He hadn't yet met the man, but it didn't matter who his opponent was. He would win this fight, no matter what. The Lyoki bodyguard halted in front of the stands, turned towards the onlookers and gave a deep bow. He smiled as he rose from the bow and spun his spear quickly around him. It was impressive to see a man wield such a lengthy weapon with that level of finesse. This flourish was made even more impressive by the fact that the core of the spear was made entirely of iron. He turned away from the crowd and towards the opposite end of the fairground, awaiting his opponent's arrival.

Gareth seemed to have other obligations at the moment, and with a quick goodbye ran after Thomas. "Yes, goodbye, I do hope we get a chance to talk later." The princess still spoke cheerfully. A woman in a blue tie took a seat next to Sophia. She looked vaguely familiar, the princess thought she had seen her earlier that day. Sofia turned to look at the woman when she spoke. Technically she was right, a princess sitting by herself was a disaster waiting to happen, but there didn't seem to be any impending doom nearby, not as far as she could tell. She shook her head. "Thank you, miss, but I'll be fine." She still smiled. The woman then asked about Karl Lied. Sophia remembered the man. "Karl Leid? No, I haven't seen him since the feast." She had no idea where the man had disappeared to. She had thought he was heading to the tournament. The princess froze when she heard Jezin's name and immediately turned towards the front. Jezin made a flamboyant entrance. Just like him, she thought. She clapped.

Jon Easten stood up from his seat, gripping the sheath that laid unattached to his waist next to him. He had been lent the sword by the tournament runners so that he could compete. He had only wielded a sword a few times in his life, but he was absolutely confident in his ability. As he was about to make it down to the combat area, he watched as his opponent was busy impressing the crowd. "Impressing." Jon thought, as he made his way down. "More like 'entertaining'." He stepped onto the dry dirt of the arena, sheath in hand. His opponent looked fairly well trained, and was even wearing heavier armor than Jon. As Jon stared down his opponent, he spat out to his side, and drew his sword from it's sheath, tossing the sheath to the side. The sword could be classified as a broadsword, more than anything. As Jon stood there, he was still completely confident in his ability to win this fight, not worried for a moment that he would not win against this man. The man might have a decade worth of training, but Jon had over a decade worth of determination pushing him to succeed. Jon turned to the announcer for a moment, speaking up "It's not 'Sir', it's just Jon Easten." He spoke, his voice fairly rough, as he turned his attention back to his opponent.

The trumpets sounded up again, a frown dashed the woman's face for the duration of their fanfare, and then the fight was signaled to begin and not end until one side yielded or was rendered unable to fight. The crowd's cheering kicked up to new highs as the men took the field. Jousting was high sport, but this was entertainment, nothing got the blood going like blood letting, it seemed. It was disappointing to hear that Leid hadn't come to the tournament, but expected. There were only so many places for the man to be, however. She stood up and one fist up, touching her elbow with the other hand, and the other man down in the crowd began to filter his way out and head into the castle. Not anything worth panicking over, Leid just happened to be a great host and they wanted him close by. Her colleague would perform a more detailed sweep of the grounds, it was less likely he'd be recognized around here, odd given his actual status. "That's disappointing, I'm looking for him," the woman said, glancing at Sophia. She recognized the man on the field as the bodyguard to the Lyoki princess, as her comrade had detailed. A spear fighter, and an artsy one at that. She smiled, and found a distraction. "Where did he learn how to fight?" She asked, pointing to the princess' guard.

Jezin smiled as his opponent took the field. It was clear he had no intention of entertaining the crowd. He looked over the man. He was tall, blond, and wielded what appeared to be a broadsword. He made it clear upon his entrance that he was no knight. He gave a nod to Jon as he approached him, raising his shield in front of him as he walked. The sunlight glistened off of the shield, and outlined it's engraving beautifully. The bodyguard's gaze peered deep into the swordsman's green eyes as he tightened his grip around his spear, lowering it towards his opponent. "Well then, it begins." As soon as the words left the Lyoki man's mouth he made a quick move, bolting forward and making a quick jab towards Jon's shoulder. He kept his shield between himself and his opponent, ready to defend against the man's counterattack.

Sophia watched as Jezin made his first move, not breaking her gaze as she replied to the woman. "He's been training in Lyok for most of his life. He joined the ranks of the army when he was fourteen." She glanced quickly to the woman before looking back towards the fight. "Since then though, he's trained with the palace guard and the Brass Hand. He's won quite a few tournaments back in Veranthium." The woman seemed nice enough. "I didn't get your name, miss."

Jon wasn't one for opening quips, or even goading his opponent. It was obvious the man was going for the quick finisher as he jabbed the spear towards Jon's armored shoulder. While it definitely wouldn't feel good, his leather jerkin and chainmail would be more than adequate to protect him from a thrust from the long spear. Jon preferred to simply side step the long spear, to the side that Jezin was wielding the spear. Jon quickly charged forward, take a couple steps to the side, and shoving the sword towards Jezin's side, while throwing a haymaker towards Jezin's chin. Jon had got it lucky. He was facing a man using a spear and a shield, a style not know for it's flexibility or versatility in combat, especially against a lone swordsman.

The man was faster than Jezin had anticipated. His quick move to Jezin's unguarded side was an interesting surprise. He turned quickly, raising his spear and extending his shield arm, placing the reinforced barrier between himself and the sharp blade. The broadsword made and audible clink as it's blade bounced off the metal shield. Jezin ducked under the punch, leaving the fist to slide harmlessly across his plume. The man was more skilled than Jezin had anticipated, but quick moves alone wouldn't win him the fight. The bodyguard gripped his shield tightly and swung it towards Jon's mouth, at the same time sliding his hand up the shaft of the spear with great haste. He gripped the weapon closer to it's tip and made another quick stab, this time at Jon's stomach. For a standard soldier, a spear was of little use at close range, but Jezin knew how to maneuver his weapon, even when it was at a disadvantage.

Jon's blade clinked off, and the shield came rushing at his face. He also saw the tip if the spear coming directly towards his stomach. Jon had momentum on his side however, and ducked his head behind his right shoulder, as he allowed his fast pace to carry him forward, into the shield, intending to knock the man over. The shield slam definitely didn't feel good on his armored shoulder, but it wasn't going to leave much else beside a bruise. Now out of the way of the danger of the spear, Jon tried to high step his right foot in conjunction with his shoulder bash against the shield. The high step would allow him to place more force into the shield, and allow him the space to place his foot where he wanted it. In between the feet of Jezin.

Jezin stumbled backward slightly as the man used his own weight and momentum to throw him back. He might've fallen, had he not braced himself against the ground behind him with the shaft of his spear. It was clear the man had little, if any, military training. He fought like a brawler, a decent street fighter, but undisciplined nonetheless. Still, It likely wouldn't be an easy victory. The man seemed persistent. His drive to succeed in the duel seemed to be a far more dangerous weapon than his blade. Jezin smiled, backing away slowly before slowly beginning to circle his opponent. The man was fast, he knew that much already, but the knight wondered just how long such a man would last. He tossed his spear up, catching it above his head and switching to an overhand stance. This was the preferred stance of soldiers in formation. It worked well in closer quarters and provided the option of throwing the weapon, though Jezin had no intention doing so. Jezin raised his shield slightly and braced the shaft of the spear against the barrier's top edge. He kept his distance, stabbing once towards Jon's left shoulder. This move was a feint. As soon as he started the attack he jerked the weapon back and made a harder, faster thrust towards Jon's collarbone. Holding the weapon in his current position added more momentum to each strike, and the blade was honed to a deadly point. If he got a solid hit, it would likely find it's way through the links of Jon's chainmail.

As Jezin took his stance, he allowed no time to give Jezin to start circling. Before Jezin could make his first feint stab, which would of suckered Jon in had he been more focused on his attack. Jon crouched down, and dived towards the ankles of Jezin, ducking under the shield. As he dived forward, Jon flipped his sword in his hand to face downwards, instead of the traditional blade facing up. Even if Jezin dodged out of the way, or high stepped out of Jon's reach of his left hand, his right hand, swinging inwards at Jezin's relatively unprotected lower thigh would more than like catch the man off guard. Jon was determined to win this fight, and was willing to go to any lengths necessary to win, except perhaps killing the man. This was a lethal match, but Jon had no intention of taking the man's life. Although, in this moment, Jon did not see Jezin as a human being. He saw the man as a shield and spear, that wished to inflict the same physical harm on him, that Jon wished to inflict on him.

Again, the man's brashness surprised the bodyguard. The man had flipped his sword and went for a slash at his leg. The animal-like force with which the man attacked was impressive, to be sure. Having no reliable way to dodge the sudden attack Jezin did all he could. He felt the edge of the broad sword strike his leg. The blade scarcely made it through his thick leather trousers, but it's edge was more than sharp enough to open the flesh beneath. A fire flared behind Jezin's eyes. The man's attack was brave, but throwing all his momentum into one move left him defenseless. The spear wasn't of great use at this range, but a large metal shield was capable of more than defense. He swung his shield arm downward with great speed at the attacker's head. The man had drawn first blood, something about that fact incensed Jezin's pride. He backstepped quickly after swinging his shield, which if nothing else would force his opponent to fall back. In an instant, he spun around completely, swinging the blade of the spear towards his opponents torso. Using a spear in such a fashion was extremely uncommon outside of Lyok, but the edge of his spear was just as sharp as any long sword.

As soon as Jon felt his hit connect, he started to roll out, but wasn't quite fast enough. Jezin's shield struck Jon on the back of the head. It definitely hurt, but Jon was thankful for his rough upbringing, as it gave him a hard resolve, and even harder skull. Jon kept rolling, until he was safely out of range of the long spear and Jezin, and then slowly got to his feet. Jon flipped the sword back in it's rightful position in his hand, and placed it out in front of him, staring Jezin down. There was a good 10 feet between the couple of fighters. Jon's ears were still ringing from the shield bash, but otherwise he was completely fine. All the shield bash had done was strengthen the resolve of Jon to win this match. Jon stood still. Jon knew what he had to do. He gripped the broadsword with both hands, and went towards Jezin. While not a blind run, Jon was moving fast enough. The blade was down and to the left of his left leg, gripped tightly, as he went towards Jezin.

The shield bash had made contact, but it seemed the man's speed had saved him again, as he rolled out of the hit radius of the spear. Jezin watched closely as his opponent gripped the sword with both hands and came barreling towards him. Realizing conventional tactics were proving ineffective, Jezin resolved to go for a less obvious option than an outright attack. He stepped to the side quickly and turned, putting his shield arm towards Jon. At first glance, the move seemed like a defensive maneuver, an attempt to get out of the way and set up for a block, this was not the case, however. In an instant, Jezin slid his hand towards the back of his spear and swung the weapon towards Jon's shins. At his speed, stopping wasn't a likely option, and the attack was far too low to block without falling.

Hadryn watched as the melee began. The first fight was between a spearman and a swordsman both equally as skilled with their weapon. Neither had hit their enemy all that much in the fight, either they were both had awful hand-eye co-ordination or they were both perceptive enough to dodge just about anything that came their way. Something that annoyed him was the fact that they each had points in the fight where they could have easily just killed the other one yet they decided not to. Hadryn couldn't decide if this was just flamboyance or some sort of honour code. Either way he didn't care, it would only make it easier for him in his fight.

Jon wasn't expecting a shin hit, but to prevent being knocked down, Jon bent down, and tanked the hit to his shin. He wasn't expecting that hard of a hit, though. He had had wooden boards broken on him before, when his father was angry, but that didn't feel anything like a wooden shaft. It was painful, but Jon wasn't going die from it. Jon, immediately after tanking the hit, brought his blade across his body, and slammed it in the diagonal motion, from bottom to top, at the side of the shield. He was attempting to destroy Jezin's block, and allow Jon to finally get in really close, and end the fight.

Gareth nodded. "Good. Rest now. But please, take it easy, if you will." Their conversation was interrupted by the clamor of trumpets, and Gareth rose from his seat before Thomas. "Ah, I promised Sophia I would rejoin her for the melee." He honestly recollected his earlier promise, nervous she might expecting someone who wasn't returning, but he was also conflicted for he had to leave Thomas. Gareth didn't like going against his word. The Harker only hoped the knight would go with Gareth, at least until Morgan had to prepare himself.

"You should go then. Sophia is a princess, after all. They don't let to be kept waiting." Thomas said, with a small smirked, "Go on, I'll stay here and catch myself before I have to enter the melee." Thomas added, as he picked himself up and made his way over to a cot, in the corner of the room, which he promptly sat down on, Thomas wasn't as sore as he had been from some jousts, but he was definitely feeling the hit he had taken from Sir Ansell. That might of been the hardest he had been hit. He never even saw it coming, either. Maybe age was finally catching up with Thomas.

Gareth bowed. "I'll see you after the end of the joust round." He smiled at Thomas. "Bye." Harker strolled out of the tent and let the flap fall behind him, then the half-elf casually strode back into the fields, finding his previous position in the stands. There he found it, right next to Sophia, his seat still empty and in waiting, and he came as promised to sit next her. "Sorry for the delay, m'lady." Gareth apologized for leaving her to meet with Thomas, but his smile still played on his gentle lips as he sat forward in his seat, doing his best to try and catch up with the fight. Harker watched as one of the pair tried to destroy the other's defenses, the other he recognized as Sophia's escort. He knew whom he must cheer for in that moment, and he hoped that the escort would realize what the other man was doing in order to block accordingly. 'Come on, watch him carefully, sir...'

Thomas laid himself down, carefully on the cot. Relaxing himself as he did so. He was glad to be able to lay down, the first time for him in several days. Most of his sleep was caught sitting in a chair for a couple of hours, and most of his food was ate while carrying on with his duties. Thomas rolled over on his side, to relax even more. He would kill for a warm bath, right now. Thomas wondered who was fighting in the melee, currently. Probably Jezin, and donned his black leather doublet, as he headed outside. Eventually, he made it back to the dirt runway, now converted for a melee. It appeared as if the match was even for now. Thomas watched from afar, as the fight unfolded, taking mental notes of both of the contestant's fighting styles.

The woman nodded her head gently to the list of the fighter's accolades. Military at 14, Brass Hand member, obviously a royal guard. Her eyes followed his movements with the spear closely, bobbing around with an interest that didn't match the tired look she wore. As much as she would have liked to be evaluating the technique of the two on the field, the display was more for buying time to answer the girl's question. "Lexine Tristan," She said shortly. After she had introduced herself, she noticed that another man had joined them on the stands, though she didn't recall the name. He seemed to know the princess, for whatever that was worth, and so she left Gareth and Sophia in peace and went on watching the combat in silence. The spear wielder's style seemed familiar, and watching it was less a curious spectacle and more trying to put together the pieces of what she previously understood about the Lyoki. Her fleeting involvement with other continents had lead to some interesting sights, but single combat was rarely among them.