Ansell felt practically lifted from his saddle by the impact. Both of them hadn't budged an inch to ensure that their lances struck true, and to say that much was an understatement. He reeled in his seat, nearly toppling as his horse proceeded to the end of the line. Still, he pulled himself up and recovered, shaking from the hit and the resulting adrenaline rush. He looked at his hand, unable to feel through the gauntlet, and saw that his lance had broken down to the hilt, that made them about even then, as he heard no victory trumpeting going on behind him. He took his spot at the ready line as preparations were made for the next round. He was re-harnessed, and handed a new lance for the second tilt. He saw that he had taken his opponents helmet off somehow. That was unfortunate, reflected poorly upon him in particular but he doubted that he had missed, his opponent was both skilled and unlucky enough to have deflected the lance, in this case into his face. Well, he'd seen a strike like that end far more gravely, and was grateful that they could continue with scandal. He checked his new lance briefly, bearing down and preparing to go when the trumpets called.