[b]Robena[/b]

The miracle is that there is a sun. You're busy, there's not time to think about that, but on a day where the clouds were thick and the snow and sleet constantly felt moments away, now there is sunlight. There is a rightness to the world, that you should ride forth on shining armor to face the boar. Apricot's hooves are the wind, the braying of the dogs the only guidepost you need.

You may remark that in your ride, Sir Hector keeps up with you. She is not so shining or so grand, but she is [i]with[/i] you through this and that too is something special. 

The boar then is a great thing. Dark, its shaggy fur nearly black, its back full of thick, course bristles that come up on the arch to your head mounted atop your horse. It's tusks are long and sharp, and its legs corded with muscle. In its eyes, you see, not exactly what you'd expect. Not fury, no. There is a weariness and almost a relief when you come upon it in the glade and it sets to charge you. And pride too, and a certain fierce competition that says that you will [i]given[/i] nothing this day unless you earn it. 

Sir Hector is at your disposal, and the two of you both have mounts, shields, and boar spears for your use. It will be an even match, and one worthy of epics should either of you ever care to relate the details to a poet. 

[Tell us how you take the boar and roll as appropriate for this final labor.]

[b]Constance and Tristan[/b]
Now there is a smile from the lady, and the sun is out. The clouds are not broken mind you, but there are gaps in them and the sun is shining in little beams into the room. You might have the thought cross your mind that being a cat in such a room as this would be a truly sublime pleasure, for you could simply roll yourself into that sunbeam and stretch out to your utmost comfort. 

The lady's voice is lighter then. "You have a decision then. Good, that's good. I feared that you might still need another night to determine your feelings. But if you are certain. If...if you are certain then I think we may move to judgment upon the hunter's return. I do not know yet what her judgment will be. Your thoughts weigh greatly, both of yours Lady Constance and Sir Tristan. But there is still a hunt to finish and then we shall see the doom. Thank you." And here you can see already that her grip on the world is more ephemeral than real, and it is a great effort for her to wave a hand and thus let you know that you are free to leave her presence.

Perhaps the two of you would care to walk the hallways and discourse on what is to be done after all this that you may be properly prepared for Robena's return?