Benedict surged forward as the tilt, began, leaning into his strike and bracing everything he could. His concern for strategy had left, and he was mostly concerned with planting a solid enough blow to throw his opponent. His lance caught, bowed, and in a moment of pure clarity, sprung free down the side of the man's titled body as his opponents lance seared into his braced shoulder, shattering and again sending the man spinning and reeling his saddle. Even his horse bowed slightly under the impact, slowing a bit before regaining its usual pace. Ansell pulled himself up, barely managing to keep his balance, but the trumpets calling the match told the tale. His lance remained unbroken, and he knew full well that his opponent had broken out a win against him. A fighting match, to be sure. The trained response, he bowed slightly on his horse to the victor before his squires led his horse away from the runway and off to his tent. The first bracket of the joust had concluded, and workers took to the field to prepare it for the first round of the melee, which would begin soon. A man with a horn began to speak from the stands, for the whole crowd to hear. "Sir Thomas to take the victory and advance in his bracket! Dear guests, we break now for a moment, to begin the first melee bracket here within the hour. Ready yourselves."