It had been a very long time since the last gathering of the major Houses. With the North still a ways from the Windkeep, the South wasted no time in flaunting their attendance among the city that spectated. The tournament was one of fun and jest, but also of great importance; glory was to be won, as many knights from the three regions, whether their fealty was sworn to a lord or a sword seeking vows to take, had come to demonstrate the greatness of their regions.

As the King of Estiala, Soren Rathmore reminisced of his youth as a hand felt his clean-shaven chin. He had come to witness the great knights many times, and such a festival of prosperity was a ray of solace in the times of grief. The sixty-eight year old watched as the squires saw to fitting their knights with their attire, smiling as he turned to his wife.

"Your Grace," one of his attendants hovered along his side. "Lord Lear has arrived."

---

---

Rufus Santer had been up to no good. While his liege had obliged the young man that it was no issue to roam the city of the Windkeep as they awaited for the arrival of the Northerners, the squire found himself having too much fun, as the Raleis frequently told him.

Cursing as he rushed to bring his clothing back to his rightful body, Rufus kept his eyes on his reflection, paying no heed to the other pair of eyes that fit the woman's devious smirk.

"Where must you go?" she called out to him, her fingers twining along several locks of her dark hair. Rufus clicked his tongue a few times, continuing to clothe himself in a hurry as the naked woman watched him.

"To the tourney," Rufus replied as he slipped his pair of boots tight against his feet, making sure that he was as presentable as when House Ralei arrived. "It's almost time."

The woman sighed apathetically, rolling to her back. "So soon?"

As Rufus finished grooming himself, the male dug into his pocket and flicked a single silver towards the bed, grinning. "A squire mustn't be late to attend his knight."

The sun bore down upon the heads of both common folk and nobles as they traversed the cobblestone streets. A joyous amount of chatter drifted about the groups of people as they made their way to and fro the large city known as the Windkeep. It was a very important day for the whole of Estiala; the tournament of three regions was something that should be taken seriously by all occupants of the continent. And so, the members of House Ralei were one of those who had arrived in the western capital at an adequate time. Jaelyn Ralei remained close to her family as they sat on a bench close to the arena. Her eyes drifted over the variety of gathering people, wondering exactly where Rufus was-- he was supposed to be attending to his knight, but she couldn't catch any sight of him.

"Excuse me," the young woman mumbled to her father, nodding her head as she lifted herself up from her seat. "I fear that Rufus might have gotten caught up in his activities, again."

Jaelyn sighed lightly, gathering her dress around herself as she left her family's side. She hoped that dust would not gather on the hem of her dress as she made her way down one of the many streets of the Windkeep. She also hoped that her squire friend did not get into any sort of trouble; Rufus always seemed to get too ahead of himself when he had his version of fun. In fact, she knew exactly where someone like him would be-- and that was where she was going.

It didn't take long for her to find herself at the front door of one of the brothels of the Windkeep. Jaelyn knew that Rufus liked to indulge in women every so often, and so, looking for him near a brothel was probably one of the most intelligent things that she could do. She stayed off to the side, hoping that he would spot her as soon as he left the building.

@Solace

Viktor & Veronika

Veronika was clad in her training armor as she faced her teacher, Ser Brant, and his own Squire. She didn't like armor, felt like it slowed her down, that it drained her stamina. The helmet especially was incredibly annoying in how it restricted her vision, in how it made each breath of air difficult to inhale. She had first thought Ser Brant wanted to condition her to use some armor at first, but she had quickly noticed that it was probably because of his squire. Normally the two of them would restrain themselves during their practice as not to wound each other, but that squire... at first he had showed more than restrain as he wouldn't hit a woman, but now that Veronika was kicking his ass all the way to the north? Long gone was any restrain he had.

Her only advantage was her speed and the fact that she was ambidextrous, able to wield two swords while the squire two handed a long sword and the master hid carefully behind his shield and wielded a broadsword. No matter how good a fighter she was becoming, Veronika would readily admit that a woman would always have a weaker sword arm than a man, she thus had to fight smart. But to assume Brant only relied on his strength would be false, his squire maybe, but not him. As she stood between the two, Viktor raised a head from his ledgers. Normally he'd be her sparring partner but he was always busy, to her great woe. Still, under his eyes... she could not disappoint!

The squire roared and raised his sword to bring it back down, threatening to bash her skull open, the sword being dulled didn't mean it was harmless! But at the last second, Veronika moved sideways and let the sword hit Ser Brant's shield. "Watch the strength! Don't kill anyone you reckless idiot!" The squire wanted to answer something, but the master distracted him only long enough for Veronika to duck under his arm and raise his sword in his armpit. A hit to the torso where the plates didn't protect. By the rules, he was out of play.

Brant wouldn't give her time to celebrate however and did a quick trust, exposing himself a little but not minding it. His shield had her left arm covered and she'd need the right one to deflect the blow... or so he thought. Veronika's right hand raised but rather than deflect with the sword, it kept rising, exposing her arm. The piercing attack stroke her bracers at the perfect angle to slice harmlessly against it. As his arm went forward, propelled by his momentum, Brent understood too late what she was trying to do as her hand let go of her sword and plunged downward, taking Brant's sword arm into a lock. Her left arm, still clad with a sword, raised. She was going to aim the sword at the slits in his helm! He had to break free and still had a shield and his strength. He surged forward, aiming to overpower her but found only air... well, almost. There was also a foot in his way, just present enough to make him trip. As he fell he smiled to himself. Veronika had learned well, if you do not have enough strength, use your enemy's against him.

__________________________________

"Bullshit. Even if she didn't strike the plate, no way a tiny sword like that could have pierced the mail under my shoulder!" Veronika smiled as she removed her armor, showing her face covered in sweat, although the effort hadn't made her alabaster skin any reder. Brant was in a much better spirit than his squire it seemed. "Gavin... you're a good fighter I'll give you that, but you trust that armor of yours too much. The point is not to be hit in the first place. Its why I wanted you to fight against lady Tolstoi here." The squire scoffed as his master called the woman a 'lady'. "And you, lady Tolstoi... you don't trust it enough! It was a superb move you did, deflecting the sword like you did with your bracer. You can see the use, no? Then you notice you could use some protections on your shoulders, that your legs are exposed... give it up already! Get that master of yours to commission you a full plate armor already! Its the way forward!"

Veronika, now clad only in trousers and a loose white shirt, politely bowed. "I thank you for your advice Ser Brant, and I promise I will consider it." Brant scoffed and took his sword before walking out of the courtyard, his squire following suit. "Make yourself at home! I need to be ready for the tourney. None of you wish to join us? I know you can get some of the best seats Viktor!" The thin merchant raised his eyes once more and smiled politely. "Thanks but no thanks, I have quite my fill of martial shows of prowess with my bodyguard around."

Another scoff from the master, a glare from his squire and they were off. Viktor went back to his business but soon found the refreshing touch of Veronika on his shoulders. She began to massage them gently. "I should thank you. Its because of you I'm improving so much." Viktor had a satisfied smile. "Brant is a good teacher. Keeping his debts from drowning him is well worth it if he can give you an ounce of his experience." Veronika had a soft smile and lowered herself to have her head next to Viktor's. "Not that." This prompted him to laugh. "Its certainly not because I'm a good partner! Well, at this point you'd be much better at being my teacher." Veronika moved her hands across his chest to hug him from behind. "Not that either." Then what? Slowly, she pointed at the ledger.

"Mathematics." Maths? Viktor was sceptical. Two years ago Veronika didn't even know how to count a write... "It is all mathematics. Angles, vectors, velocity, impact force and momentum." Viktor was well learned so he knew what she meant, but that was getting a bit more pushed even for him. "Its all about evaluating probabilities and variables... you'd be good at it, you who are always in your ledgers. Speaking of which... what is the flavor of business of the day?"

Well... that wasn't actually a business ledger but a debt one. Viktor had amassed a colossal fortune in a few very short years, but at the cost of astronomical amounts of debt. Get loans to invest in businesses that brought in more money than the value of the debt and so forth, which increased his revenues, which made him more solvant financially, which encouraged people to give him more loans. His financial cunning and negotiation skills made the difference in him being rich and anyone else being in a de facto state of bankruptcy... still, he knew what she meant.

"I'm the ice man." Veronika raised an eyebrow. "Ice... man?" Viktor had one of his trademark smiles, one oozing with confidence, arrogance and self satisfaction. "Yes. I sell ale and ice for the tourney. I'm actually the only ice merchant in the entire city right now." Veronika closed her eyes and laughed. "A man who sells ice." The irony was extreme to her. Ice was a calamity in the north and somehow he'd sell that. And people would buy... ice. "Ironic isn't it? But I think the best part is this: Can you guess who will really hate a hot drink? I'm guessing the northerners. I am selling ice, and the northerners won't have enough of it."

Veronika moved back and placed her hands once again on Viktor's shoulder, to massage them with more dept. "Viktor, you are a man who will sell ice to northerners. How long until the day you sell sand to the southerners?" Viktor closed his eyes and leaned on his work table, giving more of his back to Veronika to temper with. "Already done years ago, sand to make construction mortar, glass and so forth."

_______________________________________

Euric

"Uhm, my lord?" Asked one of Euric's vassal as he watched Jaelyn walk away. Euric however just waved him off. "The city's full of knights and aspiring ones from throughout the realm my good fellow, I don't dare to think there's been a safer place than where we currently are in recent memory. Let her do what she will." As the duke glanced toward his daughter, he had a short laugh before turning around and giving his wife, Viridiana dearest, a peck on the cheek. "One can actually hope on this auspicious day our child will find someone worth enjoying some time with." His daughters were indeed becoming old to not being married for so long, but he took this in an entirely new direction as he looked at his son and raised his voice so Arthur could hear him clearly. "And don't assume I'm talking about your sisters! You're becoming quite old to be a squire my boy, so watch, learn and try to find someone who could tolerate you in his service!"

Euric said that with a pleasant smile on his face but... truth was part of him hoped that wouldn't happen. Arthur was his oldest son, his heir... if something was to happen... Then again, that was only the worst case scenario. And no other scenario really pleased him as no matter who Arthur should chose as a master to serve under, it would either be a lowly noble who'd no doubt try and use the success or failure of his son as leverage, a member of the royal court who would make the King hold that Damocles sword over his head or worst... a northerner who'd! Gah! Make his son into a savage or something!

______________________________________

The Condotierri

"Oh please wake up mister Condotierri! You'll be late!" Only a groan answered the plea of (one of) the women who had accompanied Porthos during the last night. The light of the day as the curtains were open however were enough to bring the slumbering giant back to reality. "Oh all right! No need to go to the extremes!" Another groan and the super sized man got up of his bed, awaking the remaining girls. He stretched and winked at them before preparing himself.

As he briskly went into the lobby, mostly clothed, Porthos had a groan of exasperation. "Young lady, this is no place for someone your age, I cannot believe they've let you in here!" The young red head tomboy shrugged. "They told me you kept hogging all the women to yourself, so if I could convince you to leave so their business keeps running..." It was Porthos's turn to roll his eyes, in exasperation. He took the little hand of his 'girl' into his and led her out of the sordid place.

"I've placed the bets as soon as the booth opened, while you were sleeping. I think the odds are, uh?" Maria stopped in her tracks as Porthos changed course, letting go of her hands for a moment. Spotting him easily, she saw him approaching a young woman. Of course. Porthos bowed deeply in front of a lady who felt way out of place in such a salacious part of the town. "Excuse my intrusion my lady, but I cannot help but think you might be lost or rather... looking for something? I dare hope not someone, in such a part of town. Might I ask if I can be of any assistance?"

Maria bit her lip. While Porthos was hiding it well, he had been concentrating on the Lady's 'assets' rather than clothing. Maria however had noticed something, a crest one saw a lot in Caerleon. "Dad..." She whispered for the lady not to hear. God, she hoped he wouldn't embarrass himself in front of a Princess. That... whatever he was trying to do succeeding was unthinkable, so that was just damage control. Yet Porthos was, as usual when a pretty woman half his age is involved, irresponsive.

Geldyr Snow

Geldyr had decided to ride ahead of his entourage, a bit weary of the slow trod that comes with travel. He felt like riding hard and fast, and so he did, making his way quickly over the last stretch before making it into the city proper. He reared back his horse (named Strider) to a halt, and gazed at the large walls and the cobblestone streets visible through the open gate. He appreciated the architecture, as well as the city's well guarded walls for a moment, before making his way into the city proper. The tournament grounds would not be hard to find, he knew. It wasn't the brothels or courts that called to the annointed Knight. T'was the sound of clashing steel and arrows flying.

Arthur grinned at is father's words, which brought him back to why he was so excited to be here in the first place. While he wouldn't be fighting in the joust, he'd be fighting in the melee, an area where he had much more experience. Now of course there would be far more skilled fighters there, but Arthur was hoping that this tourney would be where he finally proved his worth, and gained a knighthood. Perhaps after that he could hold a title other than Heir Apparent at Caerleon.

Content with his fantasies about the future, Arthur resumed his focus on the world around him. He turned to his twin sister, Casi. "Would you like to explore the city sister? I fear that waiting around has become a bit of a bore," he said with a grin, standing up and extending his arm to his sister to help her do the same. He hadn't been to the city of Windkeep since he was just a young boy, and any memories of the time were locked away with the others that had made up his early childhood, such as learning to talk or walk. For this reason, he'd been itching to truly explore the city since his arrival, and now seemed as good as time as any.

Ar looked forward to seeing the showing of each house at the tourney. He watched eagerly from his own seat at the table of the King’s honored guests, gazing upon the armors tailored made by the hands of dozens of different competing blacksmiths. Competition was at the essence of the day. He liked to see that too, people striving to overtake each other. “I hope the Northmen weren’t eaten by bears in a blizzard before they could mount their horses to ride here, but it would be typical of them.” He laughed uproariously as he was known to at a gathering. The lion of a Spymaster had his claws entirely sheathed and was in a gay mood. Tunics were acceptable losses as a lesser born lord frowned at a growing red stain near his neck. Ar loved the sun striking the Windkeep, baking the old stone and helping each person in attendance sweat away their troubles whether they happened to be physically exerting themselves or not. "I'm glad to be among the fortunate few in linens on a day set to roast us like this one."

The red stain called Ar’s thoughts momentarily back with a strong flavor of deja vu. The morning of the tourney he and his wife had woken to find their daughter distraught, since she had had her first blood spill onto the sheets during the night. He shared his eyes with his lady Rathmore now at the table, and took her hand firmly, taking her elbow closer to his own. He wanted to share his confidence with her that both of their children would be all right no matter the changes to come to them.

Much to her distress, Jaelyn couldn't find her friend. She didn't know why he had lost track of time... as a squire, Rufus should have made sure that he would be at the tourney on time. Hopefully, he wouldn't get in too much trouble. The young woman fiddled with the edge of her sleeves in a frustrated fashion, her eyes glued to the door of the brothel. At any moment, Rufus should walk out, and she would drag him back to the tourney. Yet more and more time passed by, and only unfamiliar yet sated faces left the building. Where could he be? she thought to herself, frowning slightly.

A voice caught her attention, and she turned around to see a dark-haired male standing before her. His back was bent in a deep bow, and she couldn't help but notice that he was rather charismatic. "Good day," Jaelyn greeted, smiling down at the man. Even though she felt somewhat uncomfortable in his presence, she tried her hardest to seem courteous. "I'm just looking for a friend, that is all. He should be along shortly."

@Wernher

Corvo leaned up against one of the many poles that dotted the tournament landscape, watching as people buzzed by and knights donned their finest armors in an effort to prove that they were the superior warrior. All of the glistening, shinning knights in armor with all their squires and weapons proudly put on display for the world to see, Corvo never truly managed to understand that aspect of the upper classes, must have been something that even living amongst them for a decade still hadn't fixed. Back when he was young and on the streets, one of the many unspoken rules was to never flaunt your wealth and power lest you were a gang leader of note or wanted to wake up with all your goodies stolen, if you even woke up at all.

Sighing as he heavier his body off its resting place, the young man growled as the sun flickered into his open eye. He cracked his wrists and swiftly sought out his lord, Spymaster Ar of House Rathmore, and once again check to ensure he had no more orders from his adoptive father. Parting the people in front of him, Corvo spotted the spymaster and made great haste in getting to him.

"Sir, is there anything which thou requests of me for?" Corvo's voice was low and hush, another force of habit no doubt. Should Ar require him to do anything it would be some sort of careful watching of someone of note or perhaps an attempt to seek out some shady activities of certain unscrupulous individuals. If there was nothing of the sort, Corvo would cozy up some place and enjoy the games, not that he'd be carefully watching none the less.

@Hippocamp

The ride wasn't very exciting. It was long, and people tried to talk to pass the time. Most of the time Joane didn't feel like talking or doing much, as she'd was saving her energy to try and cope with the nobility later on. Plus, traveling always made her a little motion sick if she rode for too long in a carriage. Soon enough they arrived, and Joane loathed that she'd have to sit watching knights show off for hours.

Honestly, she wished that she could be entered. Mostly for the sake of her own advancement, but it would not be princess-like for her to do so, so she'd play the part of the ditzy and distant northerner and see if her beauty couldn't help her brother or sister get more alliances for the north. She could play politics all day, and the game was easy. Smile, look pretty, and try no to appear conniving and like you were planning something.

Running a kingdom like her mother did was... a whole other matter. There were taxes, alliances, tithes, a whole bunch of numbers and dances and appearances to keep up at all times. Joane wasn't as much interested in it like her siblings were. Action was required for Joane t be interested in doing anything for the kingdom, and she often fidgeted when sitting still too long, which made the impending tourney all the more irritating.

As they exited the carriages to enter the castle Joane said, "Father, must we all be here for the tourney? I'd rather be home, doing something. At the risk of sounding whiny, I'd rather not deal with people staring at my chest all day and offers of marriage for," Joane paused to deepen her voice for comedic effect, "'the good of the kingdoms for which we shall marry'. I'd rather be home studying numbers and reading for the entire time we're here instead."

She sighed, more out of boredom than anything else. Sigurd probably wasn't looking forward to this either, though probably for different reasons. Joane wondered how she ended up the social butterfly of the family. The one who silently watched her siblings bond with her father for years until she decided to try and make him interact with her and have something common between the two of them. The worst part was that those who knew about her sword fighting ability tended to make jokes about her it, saying that she was unmarriageable because the second she disliked her husband she'd simply kill him out in the open through a duel.

Honestly. If she settled down with a man, she wanted it on her terms. Was that truly so strange?

"At least they'll have decent food here, that's something at the very least."

@Solace@Ellion@NarcissisticPotato@HushedWhispers@TheLearClanIthinkIgoteveryonetho

Geldyr Snow

Off the cobblestone streets and onto the tough earth, Traveler and Geldyr had finally made it to the tournament grounds. He pulled upon Traveler's reigns, sending the horse rearing lightly and turning, giving the Knight a fine view of the scene. Knights, footmen, and archers milled about. Some conversed with one another, casually relaying the previous tournament's events. Others sharpened weapons and fed their horses, and a few mock fights occurred for practice. Upon both sides of the grounds were the bleachers, and above them were the noble chairs. Even higher was the royal table, all overlooking the competition just waiting to begin below.

Geldyr led his steed over to the Scribe assigned to gather information for the tournament roster, and he promptly signed in and showed his heraldry papers. Once past the initial entrance, he dismounted Traveler and led him over to the stables. "It's a fine day, isn't it?" he asked his steed, giving him some food and water before heading out into the open.

Tall and dark haired, with hard muscles and a fair look, he could feel the eyes upon him from some of the onlookers. A few might have even recognized him as a the Bastard of Lore Karlear, house Lear's bannerman. He strode over to the training dummies, confident and self focused at the moment. He unstrapped his belt, and removed his chainmail tunic for a moment, exposing his scarred and sculpted stomach and chest, before donning his sleeveless tunic once more. He grabbed a practice longsword, and stepped back from the dummies.

With practiced steps, he began to slice into the air with a rhythm, forming X's at first, before slowly making his movements more intricate and complicated. Soon his sword was performing routines, blocks and ripostes seemingly coming out of nowhere. His movements were sleek but powerful, and after each routine was done he let out a 'hya'. Suddenly he stepped forward, and hacked at the closest dummy, slicing it beneath its armpits, at the neck, the heart. Before long, he placed his chainmail back on, and continued the drill, stabbing and hacking, and parrying as if his life depending on it. He hadn't used a sword since they had begun traveling. He missed the feel of a blade in his hands.
@RainDash@Hippocamp@HushedWhispers

Cassiopeia enjoyed the games, as much as anyone else she supposed, but sitting here and waiting was taking all her patience. She was not the type of girl to simply sit and wait around, and so she eagerly accepted her brother's arm when he offered it.
"Please, brother, save me from my boredom." Cassiopeia stood before turning and pressing a kiss to both her father's and mother's cheeks.
"Don't fret father, one day we'll all be finding our own nests and then where will you be?" Cassi asked with a laugh before turning to her brother, nodding her head once.
"I spied as we were walking here a bakery just a few streets down, and I suspect they have honey cakes so I propose we make that our first stop, what do you say?" Cassi asked her brother with a broad smile.

It always came as a surprise how much energy could be wasted sitting in a carriage, doing nothing. The day would be spent reading, playing table games, talking, or simply staring off into the slowly changing landscape. Nothing that should have been too hard, yet, whenever the carriages stopped for the night, Isla was scarcely able to finish her supper before crawling into her tent for the night.

Isla had only been this far South once in her life. The place From that trip she really only recalled endless boredom and standing around being told 'how cute' she was or 'she'll make someone a good wife someday, speaking of....'. She didn't have a problem, but they had a lot of silly rules that no one ever took the time to explain. Now that she was older, they were easier to remember, still silly, but at least she wasn't going to offend some uptight grumpy old maiden by not curtsying to her liking. The memory of moment bring a smirk to her lips. Although, at the time it had seemed anything but funny.

Her sister's voice drew her from his mindless wandering as he...complained about something. Isla flipped one of the painstakingly created curls over her shoulder as she glanced at the girl, who looked about as please to be here as a kitten in a sack."Sweet sister," she said purposely making her voice sound far more high pitched and proper than it usually was. "One might think you weren't overjoyed to play future fancy bedwarmer for these pompous lords," She then reached her forward to interlock her arm with her younger sister's leading the girl ahead of the rest of her family as they made their way closer to entrance.

The common folk had long been filtered out and those who remained were of class. It was interesting to watch the reactions of their 'peers'. A few she recognised as some of the southern lords and ladies who had come up North for one reason or another. Those who had a relationship with the girls would wave, which Isla would respond with a smile and a wave with her free hand. Others would openly gawk, never having seen the Northern Princesses or heir. Others still made a point to look at anywhere else but the Lear's, by either staring at a blank wall or by talking slightly too animated to be entirely believable. "Besides, little sister, one would think you'd be thrilled to learn how your future husband fights. A tournament would be a grand time find the weaknesses so that when you do to kill them with your sword, you can do you swifty. It would be unkind to make your husband suffer in his death over what the cooks should make for dinner, besides"she said, heading over to a bench that had been saved for their family. " We need your voice to make Sig seem more important. If we don't cheer for our sweet brother, who else will?"

Although Isla joked about marriage and husbands, she knew quite well that this could be the trip that got her her's. Her only wish is that it wasn't a lord so souther that she could never visit her family. Or one that expected her to wear painful show dresses on a daily basis. While the layers of light blue silk and silver embroidery made her feel lovely, an hour in the dusty arena would leave her short of breath from how tight the corset was laced. How Isla's sister could even think of food wearing one was a mystery to her.



Viridiana leaned into the kiss, an unpleased smile on her face as she watched her eldest daughter walk off. Probably to some whore house to find that...boy. If she could do so without looking as though she was undermining her husband, she would have called her wayward daughter returned to her in an instance. The vessels concern mirroring her own. Although, her husband had a point, her daughter would be fine, probably, but that didn't mean she wanted her eldest child wandering those parts of the city. What would people think? Shaking her head, her eyes refocused on her dear husband. "One would hope that our daughters would do better than 'finding' someone to 'enjoy some time with'" This was one of the things she had been speaking to many of the ladies of court. The heir of Trops house was to be stopping by anytime, not that she was ready to marry her daughter off, but she did want to start...courting options. She could only hope that both of her daughters would be around to meet him.

"Dear, I'd rather you waited," she said as her youngest daughter tried to leave as well.

The young man was astonished by how much the Windkeep had changed since his last visitation. Sigurd Lear, like his family, seldom left their home in the North, and so when House Lear accepted an invitation to an event of sorts that was outside of their natural boundaries, it was taken seriously by the other regions. He had been thirteen years of age when he rode for the Windkeep with his own convoy, a longtime tradition in a Lear boy's path in coming of age.

His horse whined as it scuttled alongside his father, at the head of their party. Sigurd kept to himself, casting a sideways glance as they rode into the capital of Estiala. As with the Southern major house, they were met with the adoration of the Western natives, who had filed themselves in long pockets of population to lay eyes upon House Lear.

He was relatively undisturbed by the length of their trip, to which Joane and Isla seemed to dislike very much greatly. As Northmen and the paragons of their region, it was in their blood to remain robust and stout; at least, for Sigurd, that was how the young man had to present himself, as his father stressed. There would be no qualms for complaining when the winds of winter would come.

Sigurd set his shoulders straight, his eyes remaining to the side. "The King cordially invited us to attend his festival, he reminded Joane as she addressed their father. "A gathering of the three regions has not occurred for over fifty years. It is the greatest honor for the Northmen."

When the faces of the common folk were replaced by ones of familiarity, more or less, House Lear and its bannermen found themselves at the Windkeep in its palatial greatness. Attended by the servants and squires of House Rathmore, they were relieved of their horses, advising Ulfar Lear and the Northern lords to make haste for the tournament grounds where King Soren Rathmore awaited their arrival.

While Isla and Joane sat themselves at a bench to recuperate themselves from the fortnight of travel, Sigurd kept to his father's side, his face almost one of sadness. As much as the festival of the three regions was meant to be a week of refreshment and celebration, the boy knew of the capital's despair.

The only heir to the King, Archer Rathmore, had been the first of the crown's three children to survive a series of deadly illness, and now at the age of nine, Archer Rathmore was on the brink of suffering from his siblings' same fate. It made Sigurd think, of how many years in his youth had been claimed by the pox, but for the King of such old age to have no true heirs, no true son or daughter to hold?

---

---

As a young man of self-proclaimed above-average intelligence, Rufus sighed once in relief as he had finally triumphed over the she-devils of the brothel in their desire to keep him within their establishment, in their company. He found himself tumbling along the stairwell, clumsily ensuring that his sword would not fall from his hip and lead the squire to a tale for the crown's jester.

When Rufus stumbled out of the scandalous establishment, he was quick to close the door behind him as he threw a hand down the top of his head, keeping his shaggy brown hair from ruffling any further. One of the whores gestured from the window above while he scratched his backside, letting out a stretch for the glory of the gods.

In the midst of his yawn, Rufus found an older man showing a respectful gesture towards the wall, seeing as it was towards Jaelyn Ralei. "Oh," the squire looked between the two of them, trotting towards his princess. He proceeded to scratch the side of his face, smiling. "Lady Lyn, may I ask why you are not with Lord Ralei?"

As she anxiously awaited the strange man's reply, a new face appeared from the entrance of the brothel. Her eyes focused on the young male as he approached, questioning her actions as he smiled. "I will return your question with a question," she tutted, her temper beginning to flare slightly. "May I ask why you are not at the tourney? You are late to your duties."

Jaelyn and Rufus had become good friends during the time that he was in Caerleon. She remembered when she first laid eyes upon him, a scraggly and rowdy thief awaiting to be punished. She always remembered when her father was merciful, and took him under his wing as a young squire. "I have come looking for you," her dark brow furrowed slightly as she glowered at him. "You should have seen my mother's face when I left her side to search for you."

@Solace @Wernher



It always amused him to see the two young Lear sisters chittering amongst themselves. They closely resembled a couple of sparrows chirping and squabbling upon a branch in the midst of spring. Of course they would be talking to one another-- they were in the very heart of Estiala, after all. They had every right to be excited about who they would meet and what they would gossip about. Wyeth Mallory dismounted his sandy-colored steed beside Sigurd, tossing a crooked smile down at the boy. "Keep an eye out for your sisters," he told him, patting him on the back as he left his side.

Wyeth made sure to make his presence known to the ones in charge of the tourney, saying that he would be competing as a knight sworn to House Lear. It was not the first time that he took part in tournaments; the man loved them so, as he enjoyed the feel of competing against other men like him. The only thing he did not like about such events such as these was the moments of preparation. Sometimes he would have to deal with nervous squires as they fumbled with his armor and lance, giving him wary glances as he observed their follies. While he had a large amount of patience, jittery apprentices were bound to chip away at it.

Unfortunately, there were no squires that were free to attend to him. Wyeth found himself roaming about the area, encountering a younger man practicing with his blade. "You have a good sword arm," he commented idly.

@POOHEAD189

Ar sipped his wine thoughtfully as he heard Corvo’s inquiry. He was pleased that his son was searching for a way to be engaged here, and he had one idea of how he could be. ”The armor on the knights of the visitors is of the highest quality, I think we could do well to work at solving the puzzle of the best way to pierce it. If I were feeling bold I myself might try stumbling into one of them myself to see how the plates behave when falls, but a cover up would be in order, and I feel like I would only spit wine everywhere blustering on…” Ar gave Corvo an expectant smile. "But hell, if you aren’t so sober enjoy yourself how you see fit. I know I will!" Ar added this to relieve the tension. He knew in some small part Corvo sought that from him, a permission to do what he thought best. He appreciated the sentiment of doing his duty always as a spy of the Spymaster, although for now Ar's face of iciness and lethality was as sheathed as it possibly could be.

Ar knew that his students and himself both had things to learn from the show of arms this tournament posed. The best riders, the best horses… And someone was sure to crack their head and feed the grass with their lifeblood. He had seen enough tourneys in his time to know this one would own up to expectations, maybe more. Something told him that the meeting of the many houses would give many stories to be told to the younger one's in attendance. For now he would drink to a lack of suspicion and hope the guards weren't doing the same.

@ClocktowerEchos

Geldyr Snow

Geldyr let out a breath, a light glistening of sweat upon his brow as he halted for a moment. "You have a good sword arm," he heard from behind him. The Bastard son of Lord Karlear turned to see a handsome man perhaps 10 years his elder, standing there, tall and strong. He had a northern accent Geldyr guessed, sounding much like his own. "And you've a good eye." he said, jokingly. He held his hand out to the man. "Geldyr Snow. My father is Lord Karlear." he said. In all honesty, most of the North had heard of Geldyr, but it wouldn't do well to act haughty or arrogant. He knew one wrong foot or one blade swifter than his could end his life easily. Plus, of course, he was no true heir to any position.

He glanced past the man and gazed up towards the King's table. He saw it was filling up now, with Lords and Ladies from across the land. If he didn't know better, he might have spotted a Lear family member or two. He'd enjoy seeing them before the tournament was over. It had been too long before he'd done so.
@Ambra

"Understood," Corvo bowed slightly as the spymaster turned his head away, smiling, "I shall take the time to enjoy myself."

Corvo didn't really know what that word quite meant. He knew that it mean to do something he found fun like a hobby or something of that nature. Thing is, he never quite got the time to delve into any hobby of any sort. Sure he had a good tongue for wine and charcuterie boards and he had a certain fondness for well carve wooden soldiers, but it wasn't like he spent any great amount of time or resources exploring them. Most of Windkeep's library was free of his handprints barring the tomes and encyclopedias of knowledge which he would surely one day use.

To him, his work was his life; twas all he knew.

Making a swift exit from the stands, Corvo began to casually stroll around the grounds, pretending to be lazing about as he hopped from one place to the next, a hidden eye kept a sharp for anything of use. He knew that it would be foolish to attempt to nick armor at this point, knights would surely know if their prized plate was misplaced by hands other than those they knew of. However, that's not to say that once some of the suits had taken a beating and bruise he wouldn't be able to weasel them away for "repairs".

Finding a secluded spot behind a small but dense grove, the man uncovered a small bag which had been hidden away in a chamber of natural roots. Opening it up, it contained a more common outfit, one which would easily allow him to blend as one of the many peasant who either were working for one of the knights or just a curious on looker. Hastily stripping off his noble character, Corvo donned the cheap tunic and leather which belonged to a certain "Evan Stone", just another peasant who had a most noble lineage of stone cutters and miners. In his new disguise, "Evan" broke off a near by branch and hunched his back a little, using the bit of wood as a makeshift walking stick cane. Rock can do nasty work to a man's back as "Evan" surely had witnessed firsthand.

Tramping off back towards the grounds, the man would begin to just poke around a little and examine things. While he certainly may not be able to "observe" an entire set of unmanned armor, certainly there would be value in being able to watch the smiths at work and perhaps "sample" some of their smaller wares: daggers, swords, spearheads and ingots. Such things were of relatively small size but good value that Corvo hoped to encounter lest he wanted to wait for some poor noble bastard to give the dirt a kiss of death.

@Hippocamp

Arthur grinned at the suggestion of the bakery, but his grin fell as his mother spoke, suggesting that his sister stay behind. He couldn't see why though, although he had to admit, he couldn't understand most of his parents' actions. Some of them were mysteries, even to him, and so he rarely troubled himself with their decisions. But today, he couldn't just let Cassie sit here with their parents while he went and enjoyed himself.

"Mother, we'll be alright! I promise!" he shouted, running away from the bench and practically dragging his sister behind him, as he led the way into the city, a large grin decorating his face. He was sure his mother or father would scold him later, but life wasn't for later it was for the moment. He turned and walked backwards to look at his sister, and smiled. "Now, where was that bakery again?"

_{@Ellion@Kaalee@Wernher}

The spymaster nodded deeply at Corvo as he trotted off. His adoptive son was welcome at his side, he had almost forgotten there was a seat at the table saved for him. Ar called out to Corvo’s back, hoping to grab his attention again for a moment. ”Come back and try the leg of lamb once you’ve finished!” Corvo was diligent and absorbed in the art of spying, for now. Maybe he would spot something no one else could today, a story only a spy could tell.

Ar was more than a little bit expectant. It seemed like something was bound to happen here, at this tourney, that would take everyone entirely by surprise. He almost didn’t hear what the Queen had said to him when he cast a searching gaze at King Soren, examining quickly the way he sat and his expression. In the man’s ancient face he couldn’t register much, but he knew this was another bad year for his liege. The man’s heir was weak and the other houses were strong. And from the word of many a crooked spy, Ar had heard the stirring of lawlessness across the kingdom. Soon shadows would clash against other shadows, the first shuffling of power in the Kingdom in decades. It was time for a game of musical chairs where everyone was to vy for the best seat available…

He didn’t waste time before reacting when he was addressed by her Highness. ”Yes, you heard right my liege.” Ar used a soft voice and spoke toward the side, to his Queen. ”It seems all things age more quickly than we suspect, even my children are getting on years.” It was typical of him to make some mockery of age in the presence of Soren, to see if the King could still take humor lightly on his bones. Sometimes it seemed like a laugh shook the man more than he could bear it.