After several rounds, Sixteen competitors had been reduced to two and the Squire’s Tournament approached its conclusion.

Emerging from victory against strong competitors like Dunstan Tullison and Ofren Kettleblack, Valen Vance was greeted with high praise as “a chip off the old block” and “true to his blood”, all men knew the Vance’s had as long a tradition of fine knights as long as any in the Riverlands save perhaps House Bracken.

Daveth Darry was heralded as an unlikely champion even by his own kin. His mother Alianna looked on with rapturous pride, while his stepbrother Ser Gareth and mentor Ser Adham both applauded him heartily. Even his father, Ser Lyonel looked on with silent approval. Some quieter few in the stands noted his easier run in the qualifiers, against the likes of a junior Kettleblack and pirate-blooded Blackfin.

Ser Edam announced the final tilt, while Father Mattheus stepped forward to declare the charge.

Giving Valen an approving nod, Berion handed his squire a fresh lance with a smile.  "Just one more to go kid.  Keep your head on straight and may the Warrior guide your arm."

Falling silent, the knight stared across the field to where Daveth Darry prepared for the bout.  Truth be told, he hadn't expected the young man to make it nearly this far.  Especially given the young man performance in the hunt earlier in the week.  Daveth had, after all, shown a total inability to control his mount during the ambush, and Berion had half expected the young man to have been unhorsed within the first few tilts.  Especially given that he had been paired against the likes of Ayron Kettleblack, who, despite his loss, had one of the strongest showings during the first round.

Still, stranger things had happened at tournaments, and thus there was little to do but wait and watch.

Valen mounts his horse once again, his gaze utterly focused on the grounds, he had gotten here, the finals, one step away from realizing one of his greatest dreams, it was all or nothing.

He takes the fresh lance from Berion and nods in return. "Thank you Ser Berion, I will." He looks at his opponent, having seen the same as Berion during the hunt he too was surprised to see he'd reached this far, so much so that he was suspicious, and just in case had switched to a ride of the same sex as the other squire.

He'll give a look towards the stands, specifically that of House Blackfin before turning his head back to the grounds, waiting with held breath for the signal.

The first two passes of the tilt passed with no clear victor. On the first, both squires adopted a neutral posture, and deflected lances without breaking their own on their rival's shield. On the second pass each lowered their lance, and kept their eyes fixed on their target - a tactic that several of the squires had used after the preliminary rounds to better acquit themselves at greater risk to their personal safety.

"Hasn't the boy heard not to swap horses in the middle of a stream," Ser Naton Serbera laughed from the central stands to a bemused Ser Adham as each squire failed to break a lance on their first pass.
"The boys risk too much with such aggression, trained knights lose their sight with such foolishness" muttered Ser Edam Ward, but the Master of arms was listened to by few, least of all his comrade, Ser Lyonel Darry, who heartily cheered on Daveth when the squire broke his lance upon Valen's shield.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)

First Tilt - Valen and Daveth each fail to break a lance on the other's shield, Valen maintains control of his new mount.
Second Tilt - Both Daveth and Valen break a lance on the other's shield riding eye's fixed, and remain mounted. Daveth takes five points of damage, Valen takes two. Each spend a destiny point, and Valen uses up his Blood of the Andals to remain seated.



HP: 1/6
AR: 5
AH: 9
Damage 7
Tilt: 12, 15
SiS: 9, 10
Environmental Effect: Valen receives a -1D to the tilt, and -3 penalty to Stay in the Saddle while tilting against Daveth, despite changing out his mount

---

Valen finishes the first tilts with sweat dripping beneath his helmet, he's been putting all he could into nailing each of those hits buthe hadn't been able to bring down Daveth yet, he'd have to tire him out and wound him to knock the other boy off his ride, but for that he had to steal himself against incoming damage.

His suspicion had been mistaken in changing the ride, but alas he had to keep up the pace, there was no desire or the thought to accept loss here in him. He readied his lance and started to ride again for the third round.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)

HP: 7/9
AR: 7
AH: 13
Damage: 8

3rd round Eyes Fixed:
Tilt: 9
SiS: 12

---

Injuries were common enough in the joust. In the prelimary rounds Ofren Kettleblack had broken Roderic Charleston’s arm, only to suffer broken ribs and a concussion in turn. Though he had recovered well immediately after his loss, the young Forrest Frey had taken to his tent with a dose of milk of the poppy for his own pain.  Edric Mallister had near beaten Darvil Blackfin bloody before losing his seat, and most defeated squires sported bruises from abrupt falls from their own mounts. This had only worsened after the initial bouts, as squires began riding more aggressively, riding eyes fixed as common as not in the hopes of a surer strike, at greater risk of injury.

The air was cool as the squires readied for their third tilt, and a quartet of ravens circled the tourney field, before settling on the Lychester’s stand to watch. On their third pass, Valen and Daveth once again shattered lances, to great applause, for it was fitting that a grand final should be heartily contested. Daveth took the worst of it, though he gripped his reins with a hard-knuckled defiance and refused to fall.

“The boy is injured, he should withdraw,” muttered the greybeard Ser Ronnel Beesbury to Ser Robar Ryger.
“Would you?” the younger tourney knight asked, and both men laughed, for both knew the answer, so close to victory.

Lady Aliana muttered beseechingly into her husband’s ear, and the older knight grunted, nodded, and swung under the railing, limping over to where Daveth was exchanging his longer tournament shield for a shorter one, easier to carry on an injured arm. The two men exchanged words in hushed tones, with Ser Lyonel gesturing to the stands and to Daveth’s mother. Daveth reached down a reassuring hand onto his stepfather’s shoulder, offering his decision.

Once his father had turned his back to return to the stands, Daveth leaned over the far side of his mount, toward the common folk, and spat out a gobbet of blood onto the sand, before snapping his visor shut.

Ser Lyonel made his way back to the stands and seated himself next to Lady Alianna, “Daveth will continue,” he offered to her, with a mixture of pride and apology, before shouting loud enough for Ser Edam, Father Mattheus, and the gods themselves to hear, “My son will compete.”

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Daveth takes two injuries to stay in the saddle. Both squires break lances but remain seated.

HP: 1/6
Injuries 2/2
AR: 5
AH: 9
Damage 7
Tilt: 12, 15, 13
SiS: 9, 10, 9

---

This message was last edited by the GM at 02:32, Wed 23 Feb 2022.

Valen watches Daveth reel from the injuries and the entire moment of his decision to continue. Valen swallowed, he wanted to win by all means, but he didn't want to maim and potentially kill Daveth, his suspicions be as they may, looking as his family members who seemed so cold to him before act so caring now, he could imagine why the other boy wanted to prove himself so badly.

Still he wasn't planning to lose. As Daveth rides up again, Valen does so as well, wondering if he should truly go full force or not, but the doubt doesn't last long, he will always give all that he has. The two ride at each other again, as his opponent brings his lance up Valen knows his blow will strike true, so he zeroes in his own, whether one falls or both, Valen refuses to miss.

The two squires rode at one another; Daveth high in his saddle, Valen with eyes fixed, neither willing to ask nor grant quarter.

The crowd cheered on each squire; Valen for his great victories, Daveth for his underdog status. High above, the ravens squawked noisily, preening and calling to one another. Most defeated competitors looked on with vested interest or bitter envy, though some had lost their interest; the Kettleblacks having retired to play dice with men-at-arms of House Haigh.

The two squires collided with great force, each being rocked back in his saddle. Lances shattered and horses cried out. Valen's new armour bore the brunt of the blow, which was just as well, for Daveth hit him square in the chest, and he fell to the ground as his steed snorted in shock and confusion, having gained and lost a new rider in swift succession. Daveth was struck cleanly on his shield, and clung firmly to the reins as well, but his horse reeled onto its hind legs, it's eyes going wide in terror, and Daveth was thrown to the ground.

The Darry squire looked up in horror as the beast overbalanced and fell toward him, desperately rolling away, only to find his left leg trapped firmly beneath its bulk with shocking splintering of flesh and bone. Both steed and squire screamed in agony, and after the momentary cheers of the tilt, a hubbub of confusion and alarm overtook the tourney field, as attendants raced forward to free Daveth from beneath his trapped mount, and his mother cried out in horror. The Maester was called, and as he moved to tend the squire, it was clear to all who watched the boy's skin was pale as snow. Some few folk cheered as the boy was brought to consciousness, though he gasped and groaned in wretched anguish. Belatedly, folk began to realise that by points, the match was considered a draw, with three lances broke apiece, and each squire unhorsed, it fell to Lord Lyman to announce a winner, and folk turned to consider the host, who spoke in hushed tones with Ser Jasper Wylde at the centre of the noble stands.

[Both squires unhorsed, in a technical draw, with Daveth badly wounded from the tilt and being crushed beneath his own mount.]
This message was last edited by the player at 11:30, Fri 25 Feb 2022.

Berion immediately ran to the aid of his squire, his practiced hand quickly calming the beast so as to avoid the fate that had befallen Daveth.  Handing the reins off to a young man sporting the colors of House Lychester, he pulled Valen to his feet and into an embrace as he murmured  "Damn good work my boy, I'm proud of you"

Clapping his squire firmly on the back, the knight quickly beat a hasty retreat.  This was Valen's moment, not his, and he didn't want to distract from that.  Thankfully the overwhelming majority of eyes were drawn to the situation with Daveth, and thus, Berion's presence went largely unnoticed.

See Jarrak had watched the Squire's joust from among the hedge knights.  His keen eyes observing the participants with appraising and eager discernment.  As the last pair thundered to their fated collision, and unhorsed each other, he felt the tension in the air.  He could see the brutal aftermath, and the perfect time.  Damning propriety, he spoke, his deep voice a bellow meant to carry across the field, and inspire others to agree.  "Knight them both!  It is unwise to choose between Champions.  No matter who you choose, you will dishonor the other.  Knight them both."

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)


   I rolled Cunning, as I thought that was the closest to wisdom.  If you prefer a different attribute, I shall roll that instead.  He is trying to get both victors to be treated equally and fairly, to the highest order.

14:31, Today: Ser Jarrak rolled 10 using 3d6 with rolls of 5,3,2.  Cunning.

---

This message was last edited by the player at 19:34, Fri 25 Feb 2022.

Lord Lyman rubbed at an aching temple,

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
tasting ash on his tongue. Every night he was haunted by dreams of flames. Great billowing walls of flame that engulfed Castle Lychester accompanied by the bellowing of some monstrous beast. For years they had pervaded his nightmares and now often did so in waking hours when long days drove him to a moment’s rest. He knew this doom stalked his house, and he dedicated every effort to its delay.

He had accepted great humiliations in that effort. He had allowed the Most Devout and High Reeve to weave their plots, lest the Faith Militant or Crown be turned against him. Beside him, Ser Jasper smiled, wolfishly, and once more Lyman reflected how much he hated the man whose assistance was utterly necessary for House Lychester’s survival. Jasper had already taken his pound of flesh; the marriage gained Jasper the favour of Lord Bryce Connington, which he would no doubt leverage to gain support for his own elevation to the Lord of Fairmarket. Instead, Lyman considered which of the options before him marked salvation, and which the annihilation of his house.

Each had scored their three points and been unhorsed. Men might argue about degree and form, but in Lyman’s eyes it gave him discretion to consider more important matters.

Lady Gwendolyn was a useful tool in regards to Riverthorn, and perhaps a real ally for House Lychester; and young Valen had arrived in her train. Should he award Valen in hopes of flattering Lady Gwendolyn? But he was only a bannerman’s squire, a far distant scion of any Vance of note, and House Knollwood were a house of truly negligible influence. Passing over Valen was no insult to the Blackfins.

The prevailing wisdom had been that Daveth would never amount to a knight, and Lyman had long planned to simply annex Lyonel’s lands once he had passed without a viable heir for his title of Ser Darry. He had let Daveth and Ser Gareth jockey for position knowing that he could simply pass over both due to the weakness of their claims. But recognising that a man had no heir was a far cry from denying him one, and that is how the old knight would see it now. The decision was Lyman’s, and so were its consequences. Losing Lyonel’s trust would cast into doubt his commander, half his troops, and any real prospect of resettling Riverthorn. He could almost feel the heat of those nightmarish flames at the mere thought of it. Without Riverthorn, his debts would continue to mount, and Jasper would come for him again, naming some new price, some new indignity to subject House Lychester to in exchange for relief from the crown’s taxes. Lyman’s skin crawled at the thought, wondering what stormlander bastard the man would seek to marry his daughter to. This was the doom that awaited him, because he would not accept such a cost, and in refusing it, Jasper would make an example of him.

As Aliana wailed nearby over a gasping Daveth, Lyman considered the likelihood that if made champion, the boy might do him a favour and die of his injuries, thus securing both his father’s ongoing support, and the eventual inheritance of Darry lands by a Lychester.

---

He adopted a concerned smile, ignoring those few who called out their preferences by raising his hand to stay them, ready to announce the winner.
“My Lords and Ladies, it is clear to all that both young men are of gallant and chivalrous bearing, but few could doubt the resolve and tenacity of Daveth Darry, and so I name him champion of the Squire’s Tournament. Maester, tend his wounds and see to it that he is ready to receive his honours at the feast this evening. Valen Vance, we salute your valour, even in defeat.”

In response to his words there was widespread applause, though some few seemed disquieted as young Daveth was loaded onto a litter and removed to rooms within Castle Lychester to receive care.

[Both Darvil and Valen receive 6 XP for their participation in the joust. Darvil receives one point of glory for defeating an opponent of greater skill or renown [Edric]. Valen receives a point of glory for defeating an opponent of greater skill or renown [Ofren] and a second for making it to the grand final]
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:32, Fri 25 Feb 2022.

Valen waited for the verdict with bated breath, praying to the Seven that he might be awarded the win, only for Lord Lyman to deliver the crushing remark, and that was it, he lost. He had given it his all, even as his horse lost control as much as he'd ever experienced he went on to land as many blows as he could. But because Lyman decided so all that was over.

His expression was a mask, trying to contain all the emotions inside him, he politely bowed to the crowd in a polite gest, but he couldn't bear to pretend to be happy at this moment, one might remember a squire who won their knighthood in the tournament, but the second place would soon fade from their minds. For a moment a thought flashed in his mind, 'perhaps it would be better if Daveth had died, or maybe he'd still would'. Valen shook his head, he felt terrible for even having the thought, it was unbecoming of a knight and in the eyes of the Seven, and most of all, in his own eyes, he couldn't let such things fester in his mind.

He leads his horse back to the tent where Ser Berion is, he looks at his Knight with a downcast look. "I'm sorry I couldn't win Ser." Berion knows that look, Valen has a number of things in his mind he thinks were not right about this, but he doesn't think it's right to voice them fearing it'd be seen as an excuse.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:52, Fri 25 Feb 2022.

Berion's face was impassive, his emotions closely guarded as the results were announced by Lord Lymon.  After all, it was rather clear to anyone watching just how things were going to end.  As the predictable happened, Berion quickly returned to the tent alotted for use by the knight and his squires as a staging ground of sorts, only stopping for a brief moment to converse with a young man who was busy disposing of the shattered lances.  Seemingly happy with the answer he received, Berion entered the tent and waited for Valen to appear.  The young man was no doubt a tempest of emotions and he deserved a few moments to compose himself.

When his squire finally entered and began to speak, Berion held up a hand to forestall any further comment and pulled the boy into a bone-crushing hug as he smiled.  "Son, stop.  You went out there and gave it your all.  There's no shame in losing, and you certainly have nothing to apologize for.  Especially not when politics decided the victor, not skill.  So no matter how things may have turned out, I'm proud of you and the courage you showed today."

The knight's expression darkened slightly, the carefully guarded mask of neutrality slipping somewhat as he continued.  "Valen, I need to ask you a question, and I want you to be completely honest with me.  What happened out there?  You didn't seem to be your usual self, and it didn't appear to be due to fatigue or injury."

As Berion hugs him instead of chastising him as Valen so wrongfully expected in his current downcast state, Valen lets him hug him fully and his while he tries his hardest not to cry, he can't avoid having eyes become watery.

"Thank you Ser, it feels worse because I did put everything I had into it, just...having someone decide that for me without knowing what it was like, it hurt." Lord Lyman may have been courteous about it but Valen could tell he was most of all a calculating man, and the decision he came to must have been only a cold calculation in his mind, with barely any appreciation for the actual effort of the squires.

As the knight asks him the question he pauses, reluctant for a moment, but he too had had his suspicions, he knew Berion must be treating this seriously, so there was no need to be silent. "When Daveth defeated Darvil, knowing the latter was a much better rider...I got suspicious, that's why I changed my ride, I considered he might be riding a mare in heat. I don't know if it's that, but it might not be, it could be checked. What I do know is that I made sure the other horse was of the same standard, but when I started riding it suddenly become incredibly harder to handle, hits I should have been able to stay mounted easily after required that much more effort, and I had to ride with my eyes fixed on him all the time, otherwise there'd be no way I could properly direct my lance at his shield during the pass." Valen was by no means naive, he didn't trust his opponents by default to be as honorable and forthcoming as him.

"I had no such experience in any of the other rounds, I'm sure Darvil and all those who faced him could describe something similar.

"It was an unjust decision son, you're allowed to feel that way.  A tie in the joust should be settled with either another tilt or afoot.  If one of the competitors is unable to do so because of injury, then that settles who the better rider was pretty clearly wouldn't you say?"  The knight's words were tinged with frustration, and it was fairly clear as to why that was.  Not only had his squire been cheated out of a victory and thus a knighthood that was rightfully his, but a precedent had been set for tomorrow's event.

"And aye, I gathered something was remiss when you changed mounts mid-contest.  And your horse was harder to control you say?  Well, it couldn't have been something with your kit as I checked that before every tilt myself.  That leaves either some sort of maneuver on the part of the Darry boy or something... else."

After a little bit Cat comes running around the corner. She adjusts when she spots them, slowing down to make it seem like she hasn't been as worried as she has been. But bits of hair out of place, a little heavier breathing, and that she rounded the corner still in a run all betray her.

She head toward Valen. Then she seems to remember propriety for a moment, addressing his knight first. "Ser Berion Knollwood, I believe? Lady Catelyn Mooton. May I speak with your squire?"

A smile appearing on his face, Berion bowed his head to the newcomer as he replied.  "Lady Catelyn, it's a pleasure to meet you.  And of course, he's all yours.  I need to step out to find Lady Gwendolyn and Ser Thoren anyhow."  Clapping Valen on the shoulder, his smile widened as the knight departed, allowing the two youngsters a modicum of privacy for just a moment at least.

"Thank you, Ser Berion. May the Warrior guide your hand today," Cat says as Berion departs.

Then she turns to Valen and looks him up and down to be sure for her own eyes that he's stable and not gushing blood. "Are you OK physically? That looked like a hard hit and fall. Of course, you hit your opponents even harder today. The Warrior was with you. For some reason everyone seemed to have trouble with Daveth, starting with Ayron, but I couldn't see anything Daveth was doing so well that would cause such difficulty. You bested him anyway, whatever Lord Lyman says. I do hope he recovers, though."

Before Catelyn approached the tent Valen replied to Berion. ”He could have found some way to interfere with the horses as well,  the smell of something perhaps? I don’t think it’s likely he could have tampered with their feed or water, a good number of the horses are tended specifically by their owners and the one I used was Forrest’s who wasn’t even set to face him. Daveth is knowledgeable from what I’ve heard, perhaps he found a means written somewhere if he did indeed do something.” Valen found it hard to determine whatever could have been done, he wasn’t particularly into the study of how to hinder’s a horse performance.

He was taken out of his brainstorming as he sees Catelyn arrive and Berion claps him on the shoulder before leaving. ”Hello Lady Catelyn, did you come to check on me? His question is soon answered by her own, having somewhat recovered from his earlier downcast state he manages to produce a faint smile amid his fatigue.
”Yes I am unwounded, for that I must thank the Seven and Forrest Frey, his armor shielded me throughout the rounds. Finally taking a look at himself after the recent round he notices the number of tears in his tabard but points out to Catelyn a fee dents in his armor, and that it was never penetrated or too bent. ”With the shield taking the brunt of it I think I’ve only accrued some bruises that will eventually pass.” He may be covered in dirt from the fall but Valen is thankfully not bleeding.

”I’m thankful  for the warrior for the victories he granted me, and though I didn’t expect it of Daveth to perform so…if he truly earned these victories by himself I won’t regret having lost the final. Valen was hesitant to truly claim or assume for certain a cheat by the Darry squire due to the nebulous nature of it all, and he didn’t want to seem to be making excuses in front of Catelyn. ”Thank you Lady Catelyn, I hope I managed to honor my promise from the Parade, riding with your favour strengthened my confidence.” From the first moment he discussed the matter of the Parade with Ser Berion and his sister, he thought he’d end up riding without one anyways, he had been surprised when Catelyn chose him and was glad for that, and that he hopefully didn’t disappoint her.

”I certainly didn’t intend to wound him like that, but it’d be a disservice to both of us to hold back because of it. I hope he recovers.” Valen genuinely thought so, he dreaded the idea of the other boy dying because of his blows, trying hard to not even considerate.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:31, Sun 27 Feb 2022.

"Oh, you most certainly fought honorably. My only disappointment was that you were not judged the winner. You deserved it. It was pretty clear that you had the upper hand, even if you both broke three lances and were unhorsed. If they were to try any sort of tie-breaker, it would be obvious to everyone. But there will be more opportunities for you to earn your knighthood, and there will be more tournaments to joust in..." Cat gives him a genuine smile. "Now what are you up to? Probably helping with Ser Berion's horses, I would guess."

”It disappointed me too, but I won’t let it dishearten me from other pursuits, there’ll be plenty more chances for me to earn it as you’ve said, I’ll need to show the same dedication then.” Valen wondered about Ser Ramsbold’s talk of the bandits in a location near Blackfin lands, if the House was to get involved then Ser Berion would probably the one to take them on in the field.

He returns a genuine smile of his own, thankful for Catelyn’s words. “I’m still in a fine state to perform ny duties, so when the Knight’s Tourney starts I’ll be helping Ser Berion with his horse and equipment throughout the jousts.

"I'm glad both your body and your heart are OK. I'll get out of your way so you can see to Ser Berion's horse and equipment. I'll cheer him on as he jousts. When Ser Berion is done for the day, come find me."

”There’s still some time till the Knight’s Tourney so you weren’t in my hair, but I should indeed get to them ahead of time.” With the incident with his own steeds he was paranoid to make sure Berion’s would be ok for the joust.

”I shall find you when I’m relieved of my duties then, but what for? He asks curious.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:11, Wed 02 Mar 2022.

"I don't know. You're the only person I know here outside of one cousin I only met when we were really little. It's nice not to be alone. Maybe there will be some dancing or music or something."

“I see, cousins can be nice but they hardly make for full company.” His mind was brought to his own cousin,  Kendred, it had been a long time since he’d seen him back in Atranta and even while he still lived there they never were able to spend as much time together as they’d like due to his training to be the lord.

”After the tournament there should come the Wedding Feast, music and dancing are traditionally a part of it, I’ll meet you there then.”