Joakim nodded at Brier and let her excuse herself - she answered his question indirectly. If Blackwood was lost then that meant she'd be staying here for an indefinite time. Atleast she was safe. As Brier was leaving someone entered the hall and sat near Joakim. He introduced himself as Tomas, a bastard of the lord of Rossric. The duchess' half brother? [b]“Joakim Mirke Weade, brother of Gregar Weade. Pleased to.. make your acquaintance.”[/b] Joakim wasn't sure of the man, and his way of speech made him seem a bit like those trying to gain favor with Joakim. [b]“I'm sorry to hear of your sisters loss of title. I'm sure Gregar will see to it that she's restored in honor. For now.. feel free to sta-”[/b] His brothers voice interrupted him and Joakim turned to the black knight, who was now reaching for his sword.

Not missing a beat, Joakim shoved the bench away as he got up, getting in between Gregar and the black knight, who identified himself as Ash, son of Lily [i]the whore.[/i] Not a noble birth, possibly lower than even a bastard of a nobleman. It mattered little to Joakim, as even a peasant with a knife can slay a king, given the chance. Blood changed nothing. [b]“One step, [i]Whoreson[/i], and I'll cut you down before you can set another step.”[/b] His words were powerful, but he drew his sword shortly after to add power to the words, wielding it with two hands and getting ready to fight the man. The fact that the man was armored, and Joakim only wore a light leather jerkin, mattered not to him. Some of the lords got up too, placing hands on their blades. It seemed the knights' offer to fight for Gregar withheld them from slaying him right that instant.

Gregar looked at Joakim and the knight, a stone expression on his face, a sharp contrast between what he normally looked like. [b]“Please, Ash, son of Lily the whore, forgive my brother. He hasn't seen you on the battlefield as I have..”[/b] What the man said was true, and now that he undid his helmet Gregar could see clearly. This was the man who had slain plenty of knights, targetting them as if they were the king himself. He had destabilized entire formations by taking down commanders, but they had lost that battle regardless. Gregar had even witnessed the man cut down Kevin Morrigh, lord of Blackwood and husband to Brier, his sister. But, to not run the risk of an uproar, or even worse, a tantrum and frantic murder of a knight by Brier herself, he kept this to himself. [b]“You did kill many knights, some of those men of my realm. Honorable men who laid down their lives for their duke and king. I even crossed blades with you, and defeated you. Took you captive, bound you to my horse. Somehow you escaped, and I am yet not sure how.”[/b]

At the very least the man was skillful, more so in giving a show than in battle, but that didn't mean he was a bad fighter. Quite the contrary, the man was an able fighter if he took down men like Kevin Morrigh, a skilled fighter if anything, and men of similar caliber. [b]“Joakim, stand down please. If anyone is to cross blades with him, it would be me.”[/b] Joakim looked over his shoulder to see if Gregar was serious, then complied. He would stare the black knight in the eye for a moment longer, an aggressive flicker in his eyes as he sheathed his weapon and stood aside. Gregar stood up from the throne and walked closer, to stand at the center of the hall. [b]“But you were a mercenary, doing a job. I'm sure none of my men held a grudge against you. War is war. I can't speak for weeping widows and parents, but I cut down many men myself in that war, and I am sure their families are crying as well at this moment.”[/b]

Gregars hand went up to his chin, holding it as though he were thinking. Then he spoke out against the black knight. [b]“I'm afraid I cannot harm you, if I wished. I'll allow you to fight for your homeland, if you wish. 'tis not my bussiness what you do, whoreson. But I cannot speak for the widows and parents. Sad people do things they might regret.. revenge is one of them.”[/b] Gregar found this a good enough explanation and he returned to his throne. Before the feast could continue, he'd ask a question more however. [b]“I just wonder, why would a smart man like yourself travel to the lands where his opponents house? You could've gone to the Falkhalls, the Ironhills or the Forklands. Yet you went here.. the Whitelands, a rough country where the lord is someone you crossed blades with.”[/b] The question didn't demand a direct answer, as Gregar was thinking more out loud than anything. 

[hr] 

Joakim returned to his table where Tomas would still be seated, most likely. He'd sit down with some adrenaline still left in him, or battle spirit as it was called in the North. He'd have liked to cross blades with this man, to cut him down like the whoreson he was. [b]“Tomas, it was right? Have you ever had the misfortune of meeting a black knight?”[/b] He'd grab some pork from a plate, his entire demeanor changed from a nice boy to a vengeful lad. [b]“I've fought one of them at a tournament in the Big City. The king hosted a tournament, and this black knight competed against me. He was good, really good. He lanced down his opponents without trouble, and controlled his horse skillfully. So I made up my mind - I would fight him, no matter what happened. I pushed myself through the ranks, until I met him in a round not far from the final round. He was a good age, thirty or so if I remember correctly, and at the time I was barely 15. He looked me in the eyes before battle and said I would die.”[/b]

Slowly Joakim would eat the pork, looking Tomas in the eyes. He'd make sure Tomas and Amber were paying proper attention. [b]“I believed him, I knew he would kill me. I still rode that day, for my fathers' honor. But a 15 year old boy, fighting a 30 year old knight, clad in black? No chance.”[/b] Slowly a grin crept onto the face of the young lord. It was pretty clear that Joakim didn't die, else he wouldn't sit here. [b]“Our lances crossed and I shielded myself from his. He had chosen to ride with no shield, underestimating my capabilities severely. I knocked him off his horse, but he lived yet. So I dismounted and drew my blade, as he drew his mace. He struck first, quickly and strong, but I blocked his strike and cut his throat clean through the slit between armor and helm.”[/b] He looked at the black knight again, reminiscing about that moment the other knight had died. [b]“They're good fighters, black knights. There's a reason they are feared. And being feared makes you arrogant, cocky. It ultimately kills them all.. especially in the North. There's a reason we don't see many black knights here.”[/b]