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.