Something to behold? Oh, yes. Yes, it would be. Renar had long envisioned exactly how such a duel would play out, and now it was almost within reach. He just needed to hold on just that tiny bit more. Maintain all he'd built until then. Which meant shaking off the pleasant dream and returning to the situation at hand.

At least the little chit had the right idea in a tourney such as this. For likely the wrong reasons, but still. Though that did beg the question...was she of age for that irritating little hundi ritual? As far as Renar recalled from cultural education and talks with Lein on the matter, the talk of a marriage duel had to be consensual on both ends. And while it would be both utterly hilarious and entirely necessary to see some people (Gerard) get shackled with a good noble marriage at last, the fact remained that Dame Lizaelea was foreign nobility. A possible wrinkle, despite the potential advantages.

"Allow me to hazard a guess then, Dame. Is this a step upon your obligatory rite of marriage? If so, allow me to stop something at the pass: should we duel, I do not consent to it being one of potential marriage. Take solace in that this is hardly a slight against you so much as that I've obligations that I'm expected to meet." He inclined his head in brief apology, catching Rolan's eye to implore him to not audibly wonder what Renar was talking about with that last bit.

Because it was worded exactly vague enough to be truthful, while obfuscating the fact that he didn't have a good excuse. He just wanted a more advantageous match for Thalnan politics.

---

With what he had seen of the other Roses fighting against threats as a united force, and assisting in such battles where he could, Rolan considered something to behold an understatement. He held no disillusionment about his own place among the Captain's retinue, hence his consideration to not participate before being asked, but there was no shame in being bested by another Iron Rose. The declaration from Lady Beaux on the idea of being lucky to witness such a thing got a brief nod.

"With how contests like these can go, I would be surprised if two of the Roses did not cross blades at some point."

Rolan expected it, the only question was who would end up facing who. Most of the Captain's retinue paired against the other should prove to be enlightening, as far as contests go, though he excluded himself from those particular matches. Should he cross steel with another of the Roses, he would not hold back but also not hold his breath. Ser Renar, in response to Lady Beaux mentioning facing one of the Roses in battle, already voiced his stance on it not being for potential marriage. Ah, right, that Hundi tradition. He mentioned it was hardly a slight but instead a matter of obligation, and Rolan recognized the look he had when glancing his way.

"With how seriously Ser Renar takes his obligations, I would consider it high praise that the thought even arose as a possibility."

No audible questioning, simply a reinforcement with the subtle mention of praise in that Lady Beaux would conduct herself well enough to find herself facing off against Ser Renar in one of the tournament duels. If Rolan were to hazard a guess, Ser Renar was holding out for a more valuable union, for whatever reason that may be, as political maneuvering and marriages for the sake of stronger positions were not unknown to him. His own father, curse his grave, had considered such as viable options to impart as a tool to consider. Fortunately Rolan did not have to consider that implication nearly as much as others might.

"Scary..."

Gertrude leaned back, crossing her arms under her chest and putting one leg over the other. How best to please both siblings? Generally more information would be better if it was important to clearly communicate their activities to a political ally, but the king likely got a full report from Arken. This was mainly a storytime, so comfort was more important.

"The Hunt was a frightening foe, to be certain. Not to spoil the story, but you may notice that our more prestigious knights have all made it to the tournament in good health, and with morale to spare. The duke's wits were returned. The story has a happy ending."

Gertrude smiled.

"I can skip the more... gruesome parts of the fight, if you wish."

How the hell was she supposed to even start on Tyaethe's mad bloodlust carrying her through that gorefest of a bloody fight? A good none of that would appeal to Maletha, and might actually make her scared of Tyaethe.

On one hand, that would be entertaining. On the other, Gertrude was finally starting to make friends.

---

Tyaethe's body wouldn't be good as anything but a battery if all her organs didn't quite work, but it was a good battery at least. One of the best in the world, really. Gretchen frowned, but nodded.

"I can't fix your body permanently as much as I can't fix mine permanently. At least, not yet. But I could force it to work how it's supposed to. Maybe enough for one bout? I haven't done it before exactly, but I know the theory well enough from my own studies and I can use Yaya as a battery."

Saying this, she leaned down and pressed an ear to Tyaethe's chest. It wasn't often one was invited to listen to an arrhythmic vampire's heart. It could be valuable as research material at some point.

Maletha shifted uncertainly, but with Elisandre stretching an arm back to wrap around her, and the child nodded. "Okay, I want to hear it."

"You really fought the Midnight Hunt?" The prince, quiet as he had been until now and focused on the tournament preparations, turned his disbelieving gaze over to Gertrude, "And you won? This sounds more like some fey ploy to me."

"Enrich!"

---

While Tyaethe would have liked to jump to the defence of the order – and, surely, her testimony would be more persuasive; if nothing else she had fought the Hunt twice – the sudden weight pressing against her chest was a distraction. A very embarrassing one. "I didn't think you'd do it…"

But the vampire made no move to shove her off, giving Gretchen all the time she wanted to try and puzzle out the beating, as well as she could hear it. Fast, far too fast, but that was a given for any vampire – yet, once past that, distinctly uneven, not just skipping but generally sticking to an odd three beat pattern more often than not. Then there was the sound of… something.

"Only one?" Haizea's voice dipped in disappointment, but then she brightened up, "Well, I just need to make sure it's the right time to join in!"

@Octo

Gertrude, heroically resisting the urge to put this brat in his place, plastered a patient smile on her face.

"It's good to be skeptical, and you're probably right in a sense. The Moonlit Queen had something we needed, and wanted an irritant that she couldn't take care of herself out of her forest. If we won, she'd lose something she'd spared little effort to get and gain something of legendary value. If we lost, she'd get a show."

Well, Gertrude could think of one thing that might get him to shut up and listen.

"But as important as skepticism is reason, perhaps moreso. If I told you that the first Roses, each at the height of their strength, could vanquish the midnight hunt... you'd believe it to be possible, wouldn't you? It would be close, it would be exciting, but they would win in the end. I won't say that we're their equal now, but a good mage can make up the difference. A great mage can exceed it. Before the bout, sir Fionn was gifted a blade as light as a feather but as sharp as an obsidian edge by one of the Moonlit Queen's attendants. He'd lost his own blade in his final assault on the serpent."

Dumbarse.

"But for the rest, I enchanted each of their weapons to strike hard and true. It would allow each of them to fight at a level above their own. We also had Tyaethe on our side, and as one of the original Roses herself, I think it adds credence to the proceedings. Especially since she kept the leader of the hunt occupied. Who, but our beloved Yaya, could hold the line at the edge of dread Rozenalt's blade? Aye, that same bogeyman from childhood stories innumerable was at the helm. And each had a score centuries-long to settle."

She was pretty sure that would gain the rotten princeling's interest.

---

"...What about me made you think I wouldn't do it, Yaya?" Gretchen chided as she pressed her head closer. It was an arrhythmia, to be sure, but there was something else too. She grabbed Tyaethe's waist to keep her steady as she listened.

"More than one is possible with Yaya's mana as a battery, but it wouldn't be a good idea. This is very experimental, and I'd have to test it a bit more. If I force your heart to work normally for too long at once, you might have an adverse reaction when it goes back to how it usually is. One bout is about as far as I can go before I become uncertain of your safety."

Gretchen closed her eyes as she pulled Tyaethe as close as she could. Her heartbeat was so bloody odd.

"It's beating so fast," Gretchen teased, knowing full well it was because the woman was a vampire, "is there a girl you fancy nearby, perhaps?"

There was a tangible pause, a moment of calm where both Maletha and Enrich got an identical look of dread. Then it broke, Elisandre practically vanishing from her seat and letting out an alarmingly high-pitched noise as she closed the gap to Gertrude. "It was the Bloody Lord Rozenalt, truly? Oh, I knew that all the stories were grounded in fact but—"

"Was he like the stories? Red haired and in red clothes? Oh but he couldn't have been wearing clothes, not as a leader of the Midnight Hunt, so red armour instead? Did he say anything? It would have been such an opportunity – ah, please, you have to tell me everything!"

The eldest princess was practically vibrating in place, her interest in their foe almost palpable even as her eyes kept drifting over to the beleaguered vampire across the seating, eager to interrogate her for everything.

"I could scarce believe the original knights would find themselves in a battle against the Midnight Hunt," Enrich managed to find his voice, drawing them up haughtily, "To get caught by them would be utterly foolish. How could the order possibly have a score to settle?"

---

"Propriety?" the vampire hissed, face red. Maybe from the other sister, but they were in the presence of royalty and one of the local religious heads, it should have been – not that Haizea seemed to care, just humming happily and nodding before looking out of the box at where preparations seemed nearly complete, "And no, I don't fancy anyone here! It's just always like that!"

Sure enough, listening to it more didn't help make it any less odd. There was definitely consistency, insofar as the beats themselves seemed to be a rather persistent lub-dub-dub, albeit rapid, more often than not… and, well, incapable of regularity in the normal sense. But, just on the edge of hearing – and maybe slightly more apparent with how insistently it still beat as a condition of vampirism – there was a near endless hiss.

@Octo

"A-ah..."

Dame Lizaelea's cheeks colored to match her hair almost immediately, the hundi almost freezing for a second before swiftly averting her eyes.

"O-of course not!" she stammered, "D-d-doing it here, in s-such a place, a-at a tournament..."

She fidgeted, shifting from one foot to another, her gaze now slowly drifting downwards towards the ground, clasping her hands together as she found herself unable to meet the gaze of either of the other knights.

"I-it's not as if a duel at a tournament is unromatic, b-but it's not the setting I would like for such a thing..." she managed, her previously-enthusiastic voice having faded considerably in volume, "I-I d-didn't know you would bring up such matters so abruptly..."

Perhaps matters of romance were a difficult subject for the Lady Lizaelea.

@Psyker Landshark@Eisenhorn

---

"Nothing so grim," replied the old swordsman, a now-friendly smile on his weathered features. "Merely a chance for discussion among those of my homeland and yours. Of trade, of diplomatic endeavors, and other such matters. And for far more direct communication between those of us who wield the blade."

He paused for a moment as Sir Fleuri spoke, as if turning the knight's words over in his head for a few moments.

"So you know of that one, then?" he responded, his voice remaining polite, "She is of a nature unlike most others. A heart singularly focused on capturing the pinnacle of the sword, no matter what hindrances may encumber her. I cannot say many can pursue the very same path that she has."

@HereComesTheSnow@Crimson Paladin

---

The horn that rang out over the field snapped Fanilly's mind sharply to reality.

Ah---

Had she been daydreaming? Had she really been daydreaming the entire time? Certainly, it was incredible to be taking part in the Valours tournament, but surely it was entirely unbecoming for the Knight-Captain of the Iron Rose Knights to begin daydreaming in the middle of the field!

Maybe no one had noticed.

She took a deep breath in order to help compose herself. That horn signaled the opening of the tournament, in which steel would meet steel and warriors from across the lands would be tested against one another. Perhaps even some from far more distant places, here for matters of diplomacy or even simply due to wanderings over a great distance, would be present.

There was absolutely no way she could do anything less then put on the image of a fitting Knight-Captain. Do do anything less would be a failure in her role, wouldn't it?

Fanilly turned and began heading for the tournament ground. Originally, she had intended to visit the more festive side of the Valours tournament first, but she had managed to waste her time daydreaming.

She couldn't help but kick herself internally from frustration.

Oh, marvelous. Now he had to deal with the little wretch being embarassed. Once more, Renar resisted the urge to sigh and reveal what he really thought of the situation. At least she'd thought of the matter. That was better than he'd been expecting, truly. Really, why was the lady even surprised? What was any reasonable individual supposed to think of a Hundi her age, attending a tourney? It wasn't a sentiment he'd voice, for obvious reasons. But it was still oh so tempting.

Fortunately, Renar was saved from the exertion of having to play nice with the dame knight by the sound of the horn emanating across all of the tourney grounds. T'was time to commence with the opening, it seemed. A genuine smile crossed his face as he turned, a hand raised in farewell.

"It seems we're due for the start of the Valours. Ser Rolan. Dame Lizaelea. Enjoy your time here, yes? I'll be going on ahead." And with that, Renar began making his way toward the tourney grounds himself. Finally. Finally.

Gerard Segremors

@Crimson Paladin

A half-shrug and a raised brow, both common language regardless of tongue for the unspoken sentiment that a given response was "fair enough". He listened quietly for a time, as Fleuri and the old swordsman spoke of their order's unrequested hangar-on, of living by way of the sword right down to the marrow of one's bones. The singular pursuit of perfection, in so many words— Gerard remained silent, but he doubted it was quite so rare as the foreigner intimated. What was true was that she stood among few equals in how much ground she had achieved along that path. Quite evidently, the lot of them still had more catching up to do.

But when the horn called them forth in thundering tones of brass and war, the need for argumentation of any point ceased. As Takashima had already acknowledged— words were an unclear, muddied message in this field.

"Well, it looks like we'll have ample time to keep talking soon enough. Takashima, Fleuri."

A wolfish grin graced his features as he looked back over his shoulder, hand all but burning to free his blade from its' scabbard. Farewells first. He could hear the steel sings, indulge in a few strokes, roll out the shoulders— all on the way down the hill.

"Fair winds and gold rays to both of you. I'll be seeing you on the other end of the bracket. Reap greedily until we meet there."

And there, his case could be made.

Off to the grounds.

His Day had arrived, a long time coming.

"The score, Prince Enrich, was not between The Hunt and The Order. It was between Tyaethe and Rozenalt. One of Mistress Yaya's enduring regrets of hundreds of years was not ending The Bloody Lord for good with her own hands. This was her opportunity to remove a very old thorn from her side. A singular stain upon a long career that only she would notice, but notice she did."

Gertrude turned her attention back to Elisandre, who seemed the most enthusiastic of her listeners.

"But you are correct, Princess. He was not the same. On the inside, he was just as wicked as any story you've been told. On the outside, however, he was unrecognizable save for his blood-red armor. His head was a bare skull with eyes like glowing coals, and he wore a three-pointed gold crown."

Gertrude crossed one leg over the other, and smirked as if she'd won something.

"Princess... I know you want to ask Yaya about the fight, but..."

Gertrude leaned a little closer, and made her voice a little softer.

"She won't tell you anything. I can assure you of that. She thinks it's too exciting, and that it will paint her in a light that will make you swoon. I, however, have no compunctions about telling you the whole story. You should hear it, princess. For the purposes of your records, if nothing else."

---

Gretchen grinned as she enjoyed the color on Tyaethe's cheeks, but quickly turned to sulking when the woman protested the insinuation that she had a crush.

"Boring Yaya," Gretchen said, puffing her cheeks out, "you're in the presence of some very pretty young women. Even if you don't mean it, you should lie."

Then, Gretchen tousled Tyaethe's hair.

"Anyways, aside from the arrhythmia, it sounds like maybe you've got a hole in there? I'm actually a bit surprised you lasted as long as you did. Well, before the vampirism."

"How did you have a grudge with Lord Rozenalt?" the prince's head swivelled to his other side – and the increasingly awkward-looking vampire with Gretchen attached to her chest. He almost immediately looked away again, cheeks pinking, but it was enough for Tyaethe to force herself somewhat into the conversation… briefly.

"Sescille and I were bored and we thought fighting the Midnight Hunt sounded fun," she grumbled – same story the Iron Roses had heard, "So Cyrus came along and we tried to finish him without being dragged into faerie. We couldn't do both."

There was a moment of awkward silence, soon filled by the sound of Haizea's giggling.

"Oh, so the Bloody Lord's monstrosity in life got reflected by his form in death!" Elisandre was quick to go back to the main story – perhaps still fascinated, or maybe not wanting to think too hard about famous knights picking an absurd fight because they were bored , "And – you mean it? You'll tell everything?"

Of course, Maletha looked a bit nervous, clinging to her sister tighter at the mention of how Rozenalt had become some skeletal monstrosity…

It was probably a good thing that Tyaethe hadn't added "and his armour was full of blood".

---

The vampire, for her part, seemed keen to ignore being told she should have a crush or lie, and was happy to take the interruption as an excuse to ignore it without needing to insult anyone. "You can actually hear that? You're right, I've run into some other people…"

She frowned, but then shrugged, "It's not a problem now and vampirism can't be cured, so I don't need to think of anything else. Haizea, though…"

"There's no hole!" The hundi cheerily replied.

"No, but every time you exert yourself it starts beating even more erratically."

@Octo

Rolan was not certain what response to expect from Lady Beaux, but watching her go as pink as her hair before beginning to stammer was not one. She had given it thought, fittingly, though seemed to have no intent to carry out such a tradition here at the tournament. That resolved that, as far as Rolan was concerned, then. To call her embarrassed was an understatement, though that left Rolan feeling more awkward than anything else. Romantic maneuverings were not his forte, regardless of cultural tradition or approach, though it did not seem that Ser Renar shared any feelings in regards to response to Lady Beaux's embarrassment. Mercifully for all parties involved, the moment did not drag for too long.

A horn sounded, clear across the tournament grounds, announced a call to arms for the beginning of the tournament. The reason the Roses were here and, by extension, the reason Rolan was here. Ser Renar wasted no time, bidding farewell and making for the tournament grounds proper. For his part, Rolan did not instantly stalk off towards the call to arms, feeling some obligation to at least be polite instead of taking off after Ser Renar.

"Well timed interruption, that. You are welcome to walk along if you'd like, otherwise, I wish you good fortune in the tournament and your duels during it."

Rolan would give Lady Beaux a chance to answer, regardless of her answer, but Rolan would not be found running late for the beginning of the tournament proper. One way or another, it was time for him to test himself in a contest he did not consider himself well suited for, but would participate in to the best of his ability all the same.

Fleuri Jodeau

So the old warrior knew of Rui. His assessment of her- a singleminded pursuit of perfection in the field of swordfighting- was a perfect description of the one-armed swordswoman that the Roses knew. In Fleuri's opinion, the Order blessed to have the company skilled outsider- and even more blessed that she stuck around even after Lein left.

I wonder whatever became of Lein after he departed Candaeln. I hope he at least took some of Merilia and Rui's lessons to heart...

Fleuri's musings were cut short by the sound of the horn sounding in the distance, heralding the opening of the Valours Tournament. There was no more time for contemplation- he needed to make his final preparations for the competition. He would need to fetch his horse, put on his armor, and make himself look presentable to the kingdom.

"I too had better get ready for the tournament. luck in the tourney, Sir Gerald, Takashima," he said to both of them as he hurried away.

@VitaVitaAR@HereComesTheSnow