[center][h2][color=DAA520]Rufus Santer[/color][/h2][/center]

Jaelyn seemed to find Rufus a jester of sorts, to which the squire held no protest. The young man looked between the princess and the other male, joined by a younger girl. They had simply watched their exchange, and continued to do so as they observed silently. It unnerved Rufus, slightly.

[color=DAA520][b]"He will,"[/b][/color] the squire nodded, taking a few steps away from Jaelyn. [color=DAA520][b]"But the poor man needs coin. What's a knight without armor?"[/b][/color]

Rufus had been extremely fortunate to become a vassal to House Ralei, though as with all squires, he had a distinct lack of a salary as an envoy for the House. His tutelage had been enough for him to secure a paying job in the Higher Cities, and slowly, the young man was building up his stash of golden foxes.

Obviously, to Jaelyn, he was only joking. Even if he was not being paid, Rufus was sworn to protect the people of House Ralei; he was no sellsword, bartering his loyalties to the highest bidder. [color=DAA520][b]"Let us return to the event before your mother desires my head on a pike."[/b][/color]

[@Ambra] [@Wernher]

[hr][hr]

[center][h2][color=1E90FF]Sigurd Lear[/color][/h2][/center]

When his father and mother had disembarked from their horses and finished their discussion, Sigurd was prompted by a maester alongside his family that their attendance was duly necessary, as they were late arrivals. The Northern bannermen dispersed as necessary, while the Lords of each House and their families followed the leading maesters to the tournament grounds.

Sigurd looked to his sisters. [color=1E90FF][b]"It's time to go,"[/b][/color] he said, following his parents through the city of the Windkeep. As they weaved around a fountain at the town square, the young man walked on with his hands held together behind his back, feeling him and his family catch the eye of many. They were the Great House of the North, after all; they were easily recognizable, and truthfully, it made him slightly uncomfortable.

After a bit of walking, the scenery and environment changed to that of a large field, on the opposite end of the city. Sigurd was impressed by the gathering of the diverse continent, receiving many cheers as they were granted a clear path to the pavilion. Like most of the architecture, it was gilded and slightly elevated, likely built atop of a hilly portion that the West was known for.

[color=3CB371][b]"Ulfar Lear!"[/b][/color]

A distinctive voice, authoritative and reminiscent of the North, shook Sigurd from his thoughts as they were stepping into the pavilion. [color=1E90FF][b]"Your Grace,"[/b][/color] he uttered instinctively as the King of Estiala rose from his makeshift throne of a chair, and personally greeted his parents. A younger boy sat in the lap of an older woman, presuming them to be the Queen and Prince.

Soren Rathmore had always been a friend to the North, as Sigurd learned of the king's history. The King had been raised under their grandfather, and so, Soren took kindly to the virtues of the North. [color=3CB371][b]"Come, Euric!"[/b][/color] he motioned a hand towards Lord and Lady Ralei, smiling.

[@RainDash] [@Ellion] [@Wernher] [@HushedWhispers] [@NarcissisticPotato] [@any other character in pavilion]