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

Rufus' admirable smirk defused to one of a weary smile as Jaelyn began to behead him for his scandalous activities within the brothel. The squire had always found no trouble in indulging himself within an ounce of fun, every now and then, especially if it was within the royal capital where the women were desirable. Though, personally, he still preferred the ones from the South, if he had a choice.

[color=DAA520][b]"I've no time to myself these days, my lady! Certainly, in your noble heart, must you find the kindness to allow a squire his off-time!"[/b][/color] Rufus spoke in an eloquent tone of voice, mirroring the manner of speech prevalent among the highest of nobles. It was an accent that he actually detested for its almost-condescending sound, but one that he had no difficulty rendering.

While Jaelyn kept her sullen expression, the corners of Rufus' lips curled upwards into a wide smile, laughing. [color=DAA520][b]"I must apologize to Lady Ralei when we return to the tourney. For a lady of your stature to be seen in this... [i]unlucky[/i] location, it reeks of dishonor."[/b][/color]

Rufus, like his relationship with the other two siblings, found him a close friend and confidante to Jaelyn, as the page-turned squire had become more of such than a young boy tasked with cleaning their rooms and pouring the wine of House Ralei. Many squires dreamed of knighthood and taking the vows of chivalry to wear like their armor, but Rufus had already accomplished his own dream; the company of friends was all the young man needed.

[@Ambra]

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[center][h2][color=3CB371]Archer Rathmore[/color][/h2][/center]

Even in his sickness, [color=3CB371][b]Archer Rathmore[/b][/color] was a restless boy, and longed to see the tales of past tournaments come to life. The nine-year old boy had ventured from the confines of his bedroom in the Windkeep, against his mother's urges to remain in bed. He had grown bored, and the sight from his window was incomparable to actually being there.

Along the streets of the Higher Cities, it was a bit of a bizarre sight to see a member of the Kingsguard wheeling Archer along in a wagon, searching for the tournament grounds. [b]"My lord, hasn't your father ordered-"[/b]

[color=3CB371][b]"Well, [i]I'm[/i] ordering you to take me to my father!"[/b][/color] Archer interrupted the knight abruptly in a childish manner, causing the man to sigh and continue with the little lord's command.

His light brown eyes circulated as they stopped at the statue of the Andals, scanning the area of the Houses for his father. When he spotted his father, Archer tapped the knight's gauntlet erratically, pointing towards the pavilion.

Weaving through the crowds of spectators and participants alike, Archer was taken from the wagon and carried into the arms of the Kingsguard, who walked through the tables of each respective House. Stopping near the steps leading to the upper seat where the King sat, the boy waved. [color=3CB371][b]"Father!"[/b][/color] he called out, catching Soren's attention as a surprised look came about the old man's features.

[b]"Archer?"[/b] Soren tilted his head, motioning the boy to come forward. Archer told the Kingsguard to let him down, and when he did, the boy took a few steps up before he fell forward. Another Kingsguard caught the little lord, and helped the boy up to his father.

[b]"Your mother told you to stay in your room,"[/b] Soren reminded Archer as the boy excitedly placed his hands against his father's lap.

Archer frowned, coughing. [color=3CB371][b]"I couldn't miss the tournament of the three regions, father,"[/b][/color] he explained.

Soren sighed, closing his eyes momentarily before re-opening them to smile down at his son. He affectionately ran a hand along Archer's cheek, tapping his shoulder and pointing to Elizabeth. [b]"Go sit with your mum,"[/b] he told the boy.

[@HushedWhispers] [@Hippocamp] (whoever is at a table at the tournament area like House Ralei)

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

Smiling at his sister's response, Sigurd found it difficult to hold to the positive expression for too long. [color=1E90FF][b]"Of course,"[/b][/color] he did not look to Ser Wyeth Mallory as the knight went off to the tournament before they would go themselves. The young man took a deep breath as he awaited for his father and mother to finish their business, standing off to the side and observing the Windkeep with admiration.

[@RainDash] [@HushedWhispers] [@Ellion]