Gerard Segremors

"It's like a festival..."

Those were the words Gerard couldn't help but murmur, almost breathless in awe as he finally crested the rise of the little hill, some hundred meters off the grounds, and turned to look over his shoulder. It was bright day out in one the many meadows that sat between gentle slopes like this one, crowned by a gnarled hickory, and those clear skies shone upon a splash of color that put even wildflower fields to shame.

Dozens, scores, hundreds— more banners and pavilions and blazingly proud colors than the coal-haired knight ever dared count, as if the whole nation had gathered here as the Roses did; to enter the lists, to tilt at the horn's call, to win glory for themselves and their homes. Fair maidens' hands were won on days like this, kingly ransoms changed hands, and names were first writ into chivalric legend— none moreso than that of the man whose name this tourney bore, Valours of Ithillin.

It was hard for him to breathe, almost, knowing that he was about to step into such a rarefied air as that— as the knight whose purity of image had been sung to him since boyhood. From his ideal, how many dreams like Gerard's had been sprung? How many men here were more alike he than different, be they noble or common-born, trying to chase one man's legacy, to live and fight and be remembered as Valours did? Royal blue, blood red, dusky orange, midnight black, seafoam green— the knights below those banners, surely, owed so much of themselves to the example his life had wrought. Was he looking down upon them all now, from just beside Reon's seat on high?

But nonetheless, breathe he did. His lungs were full of the magic in the air.

He was here. He was really, truly here. One of them now.

The barely-cool breeze brushed against his skin, carrying with it the scent of grass, smoke, and sun— the same sun that seemed like it was gently embracing his frame, a whisper from his radiant goddess upon the warm hug of sunlight against his skin. "This day is yours, O faithful child," it seemed to say, "This day alone, I give to you.". The plucking of a dozen lutes floated by, mixed in with the sound of voices from the world over, all talking, jesting, issuing honorable challenge.

He laughed to himself, and took a bit of the honey-smoked leg of turkey he had bought from one of the early stalls as when the knights had arrived. It was sweet and spiced— and to his tongue, richer than even the fare of the Princess's banquet, filling him with vigor unlike any he had found before in Aimlenn. His other hand rested upon the pommel of his trusty longsword, worn today at the hip and sharpened, oiled, polished so fastidiously even the beaten steel shone like new.

Just as much as he, his constant companion had no doubt dreamed of a day like this— to rise, finally, truly, from the mud in which they had both toiled so long, so hard. It was one thing to be accepted to the order, it was another to attend the expected soirees— But he could scarce deny what he felt, this clear and open day.

There was nothing that felt truer to that small, wide-eyed, impossible dream that Valours, Agrahn, and Cyrus had imparted upon the boy that had left home at only fifteen years. Every trial, every brush with death, every life he had taken and saved alike at the edge of that same blade... They had all lead to this.

This was his Knighting. This was his Day In The Sun. Everything before, even his ascension from man-at-arms to the Roses, was the preparation— today he was to announce himself to the world as Sir Gerard Segremors of the Iron Rose.

He could scarcely wait for the Melee.

Whatever plans Gertrude had for the morning or the tournament as a whole were suddenly interrupted by Tyaethe grabbing her by the wrist and outright pulling her along without explanation – beyond "We'll be late." Gretchen, when hunted down, escaped the same fate simply because the vampire's other hand was lugging her sword along, merely getting encouraged to follow along.

Their destination became obvious as she pulled them through the gathering crowds streaming towards the gates and onwards into the tournament grounds proper, leading the way past stalls and tents without once pausing to gather her bearings. Soon, the constructions stopped looking so temporary, more effort had clearly gone into the carving here, and someone had even erected proper ranks of seating.

But still she kept going, leading her way through to a door flanked by two armoured figures in the gold and purple of the crown knights.

"I was asked to keep an eye on you," finally, Tyaethe stopped to explain, the weight on asked leaving little doubt who had done the asking, "But I already have other duties today. Try to not cause trouble."

The posted guards didn't make a move to stop them passing through into–

It looked like a sitting room. A very expensive one at that, with anything normally burning – from the fireplace to the lighting – replaced with magical equivalents instead, in some deference to the way it had appeared to be nothing but a well-built wooden box from the outside (and the lack of a chimney, one would assume). Rugs, comfortable seating, small tables… and the far wall was completely open to the oldest and most permanent of the grounds' fixtures.

The crown's role in hosting the yearly tournament was comparatively new in Thaln's history, but they had stuck to this particular site from the beginning; expanding from it as hosting everything in the one field became infeasible. Half jousting lists and half duelling arena, it was now used for the most prominent events – the crown's favourites, the favourites to win, and so on. And this room had the best view by far.

As Tyaethe conducted introductions, it was quite clear why.

"Gertrude, Gretchen, this is her highness the First Princess Elisandre, his highness the First Prince Enrich, her highness the Second Princess Maletha," she pointed out the three blondes in order, for the moment ignoring or not noticing how the younger Maletha had brightened up at her entry, "And this is Haizea."

The last gave them a cheery wave – a pink-haired hundi girl in the same gold-trimmed red as Tyaethe; common paladin vestments. Considerably below the station of the local Reonite high priestess. "Oooh, Yaya, you brought guests!"

Fleuri Jodeau

It's almost time, Fleuri thought as he hiked up a hill that overlooked the tournament grounds. The Valours Tournament was back, the biggest tournament in Thaln. Fleuri had competed a few times- he was by his own reckoning a massive fool in those days but they were good times nonetheless.

The Flower of the North would soon be making his return to the tournament scene. He didn't want to make himself known on the field just yet, however, as he intended for it to be a bit of a surprise debut, with new armor and heraldry to better represent what he had become.

Fleuri had been preparing for the tournament for a while now. He had been practicing his swordsmanship, breaking in his new armor, and even had been brushing up on jousting. Everything he had gone through with the Iron Roses in recent months had honed him into a much more capable warrior than he had been as a tourney regular, but that was no excuse to not make meticulous preparations for the most prestigious contest of arms in the kingdom.

It'd be good to see and catch up with the other competitors. Not all of them approved of his decision to leave the competitions to join the Roses- but with how far he had gone as a fighter, perhaps he could convince them to reconsider their thoughts. Of course, even if he wasn't under a geas, it's not like they'd believe him about the true nature of his training with the Roses even if he could tell them.

Then again, they have no doubt also been improving their skills. In the time since he left, perhaps they too developed some new tricks with which to surprise him.

As he summited the hill, he saw that Sir Gerard had the same idea, to come here and gaze out at the tourney grounds. From what he could recall, this would be Gerard's first entry into a chivalric contest of arms.

"Hello, Sir Gerard, I didn't expect to see you here," Fleuri greeted his fellow Reonite. "Come to get a good view of the Valours Tournament before the festivities begin?"

Fleuri pointed out at parts of the field. "I have some good memories of that field. That spot right there was where I made good on my promise to Sir Westier to defeat him using just the pommel and hilt of my sword after he insulted my sister. All talk and no tassets, that one."

"Or over there, a few years ago, Dame Hildebrand and I faced off while wearing each other's heraldry and colors as mock chivalric favors. I lost that fight- neither of us got very far that time- but what really mattered was that we got a lot of people talking about us."

One couldn't expect to win every tournament, but one could always put effort into make their participation memorable. As an Iron Rose he'd be expected to behave with a bit more class nowadays, but that didn't mean he couldn't go out of his way to be showy.

"Speaking of which, Sir Gerard, do you have your heraldry in order for the tournament?"

@HereComesTheSnow

Gerard Segremors

@Crimson Paladin

The junior knight nodded, not daring take his eyes off the scene yet, burning it into his memories.

"I've dreamed of this since boyhood." he replied first, casting his eyes across the field like a broad fishing net over the lakeside. "Never once did I really think I would live long enough to see the Valours with my own eyes. To be part of it. I'll remember this moment my whole life remaining— so I'm here to take it all in, should I find I'll one day wake from a passing fantasy, and return to war until a senseless death."

Grim words, but lightly said— the enduring vista all the reaffirmation he really needed as he let it wash over him, and sink deep into the heart. Nodding along and following Sir Fleuri's guiding hand, he listened to each anecdote that matched a pavilion, a banner, a hammered-in post to split a field.

"Consider me warned," he snickered, jutting his chin towards the first patch of dirt his comrade had pointed out. "You'll have to point her out to me when the time comes— I'd hardly want to be insulting the wrong lady unknowingly, and draw my senior's ire so."

At the mention of heraldry, though, his good humor faded behind a quirked brow, and a small, unsure fidget. A first crack in that overawed armor his bearing had worn until now.

"Heraldry... Renar's made mention of that a few times, but am I not able to simply fight under the Order's banners? Is such a thing uncustomary, for men... you know, as I am?"

Finally. He'd finally been selected to actually take part in the Valours Tournament. Three years running since he'd joined the Iron Rose, and only now did Renar warrant entry into the tourney. Once again, the perks of being part of the Knight-Captain's retinue.

In prior years, he'd spent his time during the tourneys simply wheeling and dealing as best he could, trying any method possible to ingratiate himself into the good graces of those with power and influence. Being a relative no-name, even as an Iron Rose, and a bastard beside, the efforts amounted to only a few new contacts, often with more underworld influence than legitimate.

This year, though. This year, he was competing. Renar had been preparing both physicaly and mentally ever since he'd been notified that he would be participating. There was no time to be overawed at the sights and sounds: he'd been here before. Would he consider the long, strange, winding road it took to reach his first ever tourney, and to have it be one of the grandest stages in the land? Of course not. It meant nothing if he didn't make a good showing. And damn it all, Renar wasn't aiming to settle for just impressing anyone that had ever had cause to doubt him: he was aiming to win the entire thing.

The pageantry, the spectacle, none of it mattered. Only advancement, prestige, and victory. A savage grin crossed Renar's face as he sat in the tent assigned to him in the tourney grounds, having performed one more check of his arms and armor to ensure nothing would go wrong in the melee. All that was left was to wait for the bracket to be announced. Having the list of participants was one thing, but there was little point in preparing for specific opponents when the potential pool of fighters was so large. But with all of his preparations finished, Renar rose from where he sat and left his tent, intent on roaming the grounds to see whom exactly among his contacts was present this year, and who he could be introduced to as well.

Gertrude swore as Tyaethe dragged her along, but at least trusted the Vampire enough not to do anything about it. Gretchen followed, less petulant and more concerned. The duo was made to take the sights in quickly, or not at all. Gertrude already knew that she wasn't participating. She wasn't a knight, and had little in the way of martial capability. Blowing up aa arena made for a very short show, after all. Gertrude just figured she would eat something while the witless dullards bashed each other's heads in.

Apparently, Tyaethe had other plans in mind. Given how the scenery evolved as they traveled, Gertrude assumed they were going to the posh section. The amount of posh, however, she couldn't have guessed. Gertrude's eyes flickered to the colors of the crown knights as Tyaethe explained almost nothing to her.

"Haaah? I don't need a bloody babysitter-" Gertrude began to complain, a weird feeling in her gut as she was pulled into a room with three very distinctive blondes. She quickly quieted herself as Tyaethe introduced them.

Yaya would pay for this later. She was still in a bloody maid uniform!

"A-ah... your highnesses. A pleasure," Gertrude said as Gretchen quickly moved to flank Tyaethe's other side, "Gertrude. A mage in association with the Iron Rose Knights."

Gertrude and Gretchen curtseyed as a pair.

"Gretchen, a researcher."

As Gertrude smiled at the occupants, her hand squeezed Tyaethe's as hard as she could muster. It wasn't much, but it was clear that if Gertrude was capable of crushing the woman's hand, she would have. As Gertrude seethed quietly, Gretchen turned to Haizea.

"Oh, you call her 'Yaya' too? You must be friends."

The vampire fought off a wince as her hand was nearly crushed, Gertrude changing her mind and backing off once it became apparent that, no, there was no supernatural resilience in play: she really could do a lot of damage, even with her strength. Not that Tyaethe had any time right now to think what sort of message the maid was trying to send, or even free her hand.

“Of course we're friends!”

“Haizea is everyone's friend,”0 the older paladin noted, "She's also the primary reason I'm here – but since I am, I'll also be serving as another guard."

She was a crown knight herself; it only made sense.

“I'm sure Aimada won't mind if I take part a little,” and the pink-haired hundi was already pouting. Oddly, at this Tyaethe cocked her head as if listening for something before shaking it.

“You'd collapse after a single round.”

“Meaaaaan.”

“Oh, you won't play…?” That was Maletha, the child looking distinctly disappointed.

“Er, not this time…” Was there a good way to say ‘I'm too old for that?’

“But you can tell stories, right?” Elisandre asked, bright and shiny.

Well, that she hoped that Gertrude could manage that sort of thing… she might be better at sanitising the entire mess with the Moonlit Queen and the Midnight Hunt than Tyaethe would.

Enrich, however, remained silent, stepping over to one of the chairs and sitting down, already excusing himself from the conversation.

@Octo

---

Despite everything, Fionn had not really been considering participating in the tourney before. He wasn't even certain if it was a holdover from his time as a mercenary, or if it went further back than that, but outside of practicing with his friends or proper training, he didn't have much desire to participate in mock-battle. Unless there were legitimate stakes in play, he often didn't want much of it.

That was why he hadn't bothered to participate in the Valours tournament in previous years, even with Renar's getting on his case about it. Nor had he planned on it this year.

Until, of course, Ardor had gotten back to him, the smith managing to finally convince him that it was time to hang up the old sword as a family heirloom once again, and that he could make Fionn a new pair of blades. A pair! One to simply replace the old, another to fill the place of a true battlefield greatsword, should he need it. The first was presented to him with plenty of time before the tournament for him to seriously consider how he should test it out.

Little enough time to try and train with Lilia, Gerard, or Renar to really put it through its paces...and now pressing battles coming up. With the latter two both focused on tournament prep, and Fionn needing to test his new sword, that left him wtih only one real option: Join the tournament himself.

His name was drawn, most expected him to decline—and when, for once, he accepted, the one preparing the roster was visibly surprised. But it was taken nonetheless, and led to him now, blade whirling as he stepped through multiple drills to acquaint himself with the balance. It was different from his old sword, no doubt about that, but it felt just as nice in his hands as before.

Candaeln's smith did good work, unsurprisingly.

He paused, wiping sweat from his brow. His clothes were unsurprisingly soaked as well, although he'd be changing out into arming wear by the time any actual competition was happening. Tyaethe was busy somewhere else, likely with the royal family—more reason to compete, when he was told the princesses would be present, as he wouldn't dare disappoint the younger of them by not showing up after the mess of the banquet—which left him alone with Fiadh for the moment.

Elsewhere, he could hear the clash of metal as some of those competing decided to practice head-to-head. "Fiadh," he called her over, as another thought came to him all of a sudden. A knight's life was dangerous, and even in tourneys accidents could happen that could leave a man dead on the field. After seeing how Tyaethe had handled hundreds of years of her friends being gone before he came around and started forcing her to make more...

"You know, I'm really not expecting to live forever, whatever happens to make it end. What are you planning to do after I'm gone?"

Fiadh

The fairy cocked her head, frowning. "Why…? You're not planning on doing it soon, are you, darling? We only just met again, after all."

Her tone was almost accusatory, the niyar going unusually still in the tree as she examined Fionn for any sign of incipient perishing but, seeing nothing, she started idly kicking her feet. "Hmm… I've never really thought about it? I can always work it out afterwards, if I need to, there's so much time for me to play with. Trees are known for their patience, you know?"

@The Otter

---

"Well, thinking about it would be wise, like," Fionn replied with a shrug. "I'm no fairy, after all, it comes for all of us sooner or later. Just don't want you to spend centuries being sad, you know?"

Gertrude quickly let go once she realized she was actually capable of hurting Tyaethe. Apparently assuming the woman was always borderline invincible was a mistake, and she felt a tightness in her chest. When she thought Tyaethe couldn't be hurt, she was determined to crush the woman. When that turned out not to be the case...

Gertrude glanced down at Tyaethe, taking note of how small she was. She ran her thumb gently across the back of the woman's hand, and muttered an apology.

"S-sorry, Yaya."

As reluctant as Gertrude was to insert herself into the situation, it was obvious that Tyaethe needed help managing all these people. Gertrude's social skills were awful, but she could fake them well enough. Maybe helping would alleviate some of whatever was going on inside her chest, whatever that bloody was.

Gertrude took a seat near the princesses and smiled.

"Wouldn't it be a bit unfair if Yaya took part?" Gertrude addressed Maletha, reaching out to pat the girl's head, "what's a tournament if you know who's going to win?"

The younger princess quickly hid behind her sister before Gertrude got too close, and the mage's cheeks colored.

This was not starting off well.

"U-um! Well. Uh... I was with the knights during their last adventure. Would either of you like to hear about it?"

Gretchen looked on as Gertrude floundered, but there was no way her getting in on this would help anyone, much less herself. She chose, instead, to remain near Tyaethe, who she began patting affectionately. There was none of Gertrude's usual snide bullying in the patting, she was purely trying to connect.

"So... you're here for Haizea?"

Gretchen's eyes flickered to the excited Hundi and back.

"Can I, um... help at all, Yaya?"

Gretchen smiled innocently.

Fiadh

"I don't like the sound of that," Fiadh replied, sounding disconcertingly upbeat for the topic, "I guess I'll have to put some work into it, won't I? It seems like something that might take a lot of thinking…"

---

"I m-meant play with me…" Maletha said, peeking out from behind Elisandre long enough to clarify for Gertrude's benefit before hiding again.

Fortunately for Tyaethe's ego – at least for the immediate time being – the witch's promise of story time attracted the older princess's attention immediately. "Oh, yes, they rode out to attend to Duke Thedric, did they not? I had heard there was some trouble but I never imagined it might be the sort of thing the knights could help with. Please, tell us everything!"

With that, everyone except the paladins and Gretchen had moved to be seated, with Enrich's gaze remaining firmly on the tournament preparations outside. Haizea seemed to be all but vibrating in place, seeing nothing odd in the vampire stoically accepting the patting from someone that she had so little direct interaction with.

"No, I don't imagine I'll need much help. If I seem too distracted and Haizea is trying to sneak out, shout. She is not allowed to take part." The hundi visibly pouted again, before brightening.

"Do you know more about the knights taking part? I tried asking Yaya, but she just said ‘they seem like they'll do well this year’, and that's so little. How can you have fun predicting the brackets without information? I only know a little of Fleuri, and he's been out of tournaments for ages."

@Octo@The Otter

"Ah!"

It was only a scant few moments since leaving his tent that Sir Renar was suddenly greeted with a voice directed towards him from behind. It was female, light and of a higher pitch, and upon turning its source would be revealed.

The bright blue eyes of a girl, of similar height to the Knight-Captain, looked back at him. Her skin was light, her hair pink, and upon her head perched a pair of canine ears, a tail wagging excitedly behind her. Her body was clad in shiny, clearly just-polished and cared for plate, and her slight features were practically glowing with enthusiasm.

"You must be one of the Iron Rose Knights, aren't you?" The hundi girl asked excitedly, taking a step closer and leaning forward as she did. Her tail seemed only to wag even more quickly.

"My name is Lizaela, of the Beaux family," she introduced herself eagerly, "As you may have guessed, I am here to participate in the glorious Valours tournament! Ah, perhaps I shall even face one of your order on the field?!"

She paused for a moment, as if remembering herself.

"Ah, forgive me, I allowed my excitement to get the best of me," she said with an apologetic smile, "I had been hoping to meet a member of your order. You must be... Sir Renar, I believe?"

Despite her apology, her smile was still glowing.

@Psyker Landshark

---

A short distance away from Sir Gerard and Sir Fleuri, another figure stood silently looking down upon the field. He was an older man, his grey hair thin and features worn. This would perhaps have been unremarkable, simply a member of the audience for the tournament looking down on the field and appreciating its vastness, but he was not unarmed.

A slender, foreign blade was on his hip, in a smooth wooden sheath. Its lightly curved shape, combined with his distinctive unadorned robe, immediately marked him as someone from a foreign land to the east.

There were, after all, diplomatic matters that began at the Valours festival, so this was perhaps not unexpected. While one without much education in foreign countries may have been uncertain from where the older man came, for those with more familiarity it was clear he was from distant Akitsushima.

@Crimson Paladin@HereComesTheSnow

Gertrude smiled awkwardly. She hadn't even considered that Yaya was capable of amicably playing with children. What they would even do together was baffling to her, so she had simply assumed the girl was asking why Yaya wasn't in the tournament. This really wasn't starting well. Thankfully, Elisandre allowed a change of subject.

"R-right. Well... we received word that the Duke's wits had vanished. Or perhaps... they had been stolen."

Gertrude figured a little showmanship wouldn't harm the telling. She tried to emulate how Aleksiya and Merilia used to tell her stories. She smiled as she leaned in, still not getting too close to Maletha.

"Even court mage Arken had attended the Duke, but was unable to discover the cause. No fault of his own, mind, it was simply that inscrutable. The knights split up to conduct research, and we came to the conclusion that the cause was likely fey in nature. Simply put, Thedric's insanity was too much like a depiction of madness in a story to be true. Still, in his words there was occasionally a seed of truth. A clue. We had an appellation: The Moonlit Queen."

---

Gretchen smiled gently at Haizea as she continued patting Tyaethe's head. She was starting to understand why they had all been gathered like this, and concluded that she likely was capable of assisting.

"Of course, Haizea," Gretchen said, nodding, "I'd be happy to tell you about the entrants."

Perhaps if the woman could have fun betting on the outcomes of the fights with the information Gretchen supplied, she'd be kept too busy to rush the field herself. Keeping her entertained could only make their job easier.

"Fionn is daft enough to win," Gretchen started off, wanting to get the lout out of the way, "and enough of a glory hound to push himself well past where he should be going. He's also married to a Niyar, and incorporates fey magic into his swordplay."

Gretchen frowned.

"Fanilly is... mistress is quick, but she perhaps takes too much upon herself to be as lightfooted as she could be. I don't know if she wants to win enough to take victory, but her skill with a blade has been honed with a determination to live up to her title. I... admire her, a little."

Blushing slightly, Gretchen cleared her throat.

"Whether or not Renar wins depends on how... creative he allows himself to get," Gretchen continued, avoiding saying specifically that the man was a complete scoundrel, "he's clever, calculating, and skilled. I don't think he'll lose to anyone short of a monster, if they're not apt to strategize."

That was about as diplomatic as she could put it.

"Rolan is an excellent shot with a crossbow. Whether or not he can use his alchemical supplies, I don't think he'll have much trouble in a competition of bowmanship. He doesn't have any particularly strong abilities as far as melee or horsemanship, though. I think he's best when on a team."

Which is to say, Gretchen had learned that he can make some very good shots on a distracted opponent.

"If you already know Fleuri, there's little to say except that he's vastly improved his skillset from the last time you've seen him. He probably won't lose the joust unless he unexpectedly goes up against a legend."

Then, lastly...

"Gerard is... he fights like a commoner, but in a good way," Gretchen said, having difficulty describing what exactly she was getting at, "he does the job, and he wants to win. He has a fire that could carry him far."

Had Gertrude been the one giving Haizea tips, it likely would have turned out as a roast that made all the knights look bad. Thankfully, Gretchen had less difficulty being honest about the skillsets of her companions.

Fleuri Jodeau

"It would be acceptable to take up the Order's banner for the tournament," Fleuri answered. "Some in the audience may find it confusing to have multiple knights fighting under the same heraldry, but so long as you fight well and give them a show, you should be noticed regardless."

"Speaking of noticing," Fleuri continued, his gaze turning towards another soul on the hill, "It appears we are not alone."

It was a grey-haired man, clearly a foreigner. Judging by how similar his clothing and sword was to Rui's, the man was probably from Akitsushima. If Fleuri had to guess, the stranger had come here for the tournament.

"Greetings, stranger," Fleuri spoke, approaching the stranger and bowing in the manner that he had learned from Rui. "I presume you have come here for the tournament?" Fleuri was never one to pass up an opportunity to interact with fellow competitors before a tournament, especially those whom he had never met. He didn't always get the reaction he anticipated, but with a little creativity, one could make something out of even the worst first impressions.

@HereComesTheSnow

Renar was practically ambushed upon leaving his tent. He beheld the too-eager, Hundi, and most likely Ithillin noble with a measure of apprehension and disdain that he did his best to avoid showing on his face, instead schooling his expression into one of idle neutrality. How wonderful. Just the type of go-getter pluck he utterly disdained.

And she knew of him. Renar was aware enough of his own status to understand full well that he ought to not be that famous yet such that some foreign noble fighter knew of him on sight. So why did this Lizaela recognize him? He could think of half a dozen reasons off the top of his head, and few of them boded well, if any.

Nevertheless, there was little point speculating without a more accurate picture. Renar fixed a slightly more open expression on his face, offering a brief dip of his head.

"You're very well-informed, Lady Beaux. I am he, yes. Might I ask how you know, exactly? I'd not been aware that I was much of a recognizable figure, especially among foreign warriors."

Gerard Segremors

@Crimson Paladin

Gerard nodded, having heard what he needed to from the first sentence his senior compatriot had uttered.

"Mm. Then, I've nothing to worry myself over, this time at least." He just about managed to mask his inward sigh of relief with the flash of a smile. The matter of his personal coat had once again been successfully kicked down the line, away from sudden urgencies that always sprung up on a man who lived like Gerard had for so long now... Granted, he knew well that it would hunt him down and pin him eventually. If nothing else, all knights had symbols of their lives and meanings, in one way or another. Either the matter would eventually find him again, or... "Maybe I'll sort it out, should I show well today in the melee. If not, I—"

His eyes followed Fleuri's, settling upon the frame of an old man, lingering on the edge of the hill. His frame was slight compared to the two of them, both in the beginnings of their fighting primes, but a closer look revealed neither stiffness nor slack in his posture. He was straight over his weight, contained within himself. Such befit that distinctive style of blade upon his hip, and the robes that adorned him, familiar to Gerard only by way of the uninvited guest that had been foisted onto them all by Merilia.

Where Fleuri affected an unfamiliar bow, Gerard freely stood and narrowed his eyes quizzically. Rui aside, this man was the first he'd met from that faraway place of blossoms and foxes and painterly vistas, he was fairly sure.

"A long way west for you, in any case." he added on. "Chasing Reon down as she sets?"

Ah, wait. The faith might not have been so understood there as here— he knew that was true of the northerly wastes of Barukstaed, with their deities. So when you put an ocean and continent and, for all he knew, another ocean in the gap between their homelands...

---

Rolan had, in his wanderings of the various stalls and merchants, picked up a few miscellaneous items that caught his own interest. Some foreign dish he was not familiar with, though the heat it had was a surprisingly intriguing way to bring out the rest of the dish's flavor. He had also collected a few trinkets and a book on alchemical principles and recipes he had not seen in the collection back at the Caendeln library. No promises that it would be anything useful as far as actual recipes, but he might glean something useful from the discussion At worst, it was not terribly expensive so it was a safe bet to make. He was still making his way about the tournament grounds, familiarizing himself with the layout in total just in case. Old habits, and all that, but he did spot a familiar face in his wanderings.

Ser Renar, by Rolan's estimate barely having left his tent, was already being badgered by some Hundi girl. Similar height to the Captain, pink hair, polished but cared for plate, another person seeking fame and glory at the tournament. Not that he could readily judge, given he was also here, at the Captain's command, to participate as well. Now, whether or not the hundi was already issuing some sort of challenge or not was....well, not likely, Ser Renar did not look like he was fielding a challenge going off expressions that he could see. Rolan considered simply taking up a discreet position nearby, and observe, but that was not strictly beneficial to anyone involved. Besides, he could at least check in with Ser Renar, and if the man wanted the out of dealing with the hundi, he could come up with something and Rolan could play along easily enough.

"Apologies for the interruption Lady....Beaux, was it? Ser Renar, any word from the others yet? I imagine the Captain might want to speak with us collectively before the Tournament begins proper."

@Psyker Landshark

"Ah! I thought it might be so,"Though I admit, it was mostly a guess. I suppose it would have been embarrassing if I had guessed wrong."

It seemed even raising the possibility was of mild embarrassment to the hundi girl, who let out a somewhat awkward laugh. Perhaps she realized admitting to guessing was embarrassing in and of itself. Despite this, her tail was still wagging.

"I learned your name from letters, correspondence with my dear friend Lady Fio," Lizaela continued, "She is a friend of your First Princess, you see, and hears all sorts of stories! Among them were mentioned a name of a few Iron Rose Knights, and a 'Sir Renar' was among them."

Her sunny smile had completely returned. She was clearly overjoyed to be meeting a member of a storied knightly order, especially one that had so recently engaged in such impressive exploits.

She opened her mouth to continue speaking, but was cut off when Sir Rolan approached. She paused for a moment, scrutinizing him, likely in order to try and correctly guess which of the Knights she was speaking with.

"I don't mind!" she declared brightly, after a moment, "You must be..."

Lizaela paused again for a moment.

"Sir Gerard?"

@Psyker Landshark@Eisenhorn

---

The old man's gaze shifted towards the knights. In that instant, his eyes focused only slightly, and he paused a moment. When his lips parted, his voice was soft, relaxed, but with an underlying sturdiness like a healthy branch on an aged tree.

"Indeed," he responded, after returning the bow himself, "It is not often I am in these lands. For one of my lord's diplomatic endeavors to coincide with such a display of fighting skill---"

He paused for a moment as his gaze drifted out over the field. His speech was slightly slow, and certainly accented, but clear and without difficulty. He was obviously not unfamiliar with the language.

"---What luck."

His gaze remained on the field for the moment, his stance relaxed and easy.

"Takashima Yuichiro is my name."

@Crimson Paladin@HereComesTheSnow

Maletha was happy to quietly listen – although even her countenance had brightened slightly, engaged by the the storytelling – but Elisandre was far keener to jump in. "The Moonlit Queen? I thought that such a thing was merely legend, that no fairy really could lay claim to the title…"

Haizea nodded along, absorbing the information, until she came to a complete pause and blinked helplessly, the confusion writ large across her face and body language. "Married? To a Niyar? How did such a thing come about…?"

"There's no actual marriage; the fairy just seems to think she's his wife. He goes along with it well enough, so maybe it's true?" Tyaethe suggested, shrugging. The logistics of their relationship was none of her business, save for Fiadh's confusion whenever Fionn started interacting with the rest of the knights.

"Do you think they would want to be?" Without missing a beat, the pink-haired priest carried on to the only logical conclusion, "I'm sure I can make time for it! Oh, how exciting it would be, a Niyar could make a wedding so pretty too!"

…

"I'll ask."

"Excellent! So, do you know who plans to fight in the duels? Those were always my favourite," And speciality, of course.

@Octo@Raineh Daze