The day dawned clear and sunny, and as Visar and Sandre and the rest of the Kalduns rode in the column, Visar could almost say it was not freezing outside.  He and Sandre had been training at the Kaldun manor for almost two months now.  Visar thanked the Light all his fingers and toes were miraculously still on.  Frostbite had been a constant risk when training in the dead of winter, and several of the House's armsmen had lost toes to the ice despite the best efforts to prevent it.

 

But hope for warmer days was strong, and spring, or at least, Borderlander spring, was only a few weeks away.  And something far more exciting, to Visar at least, was mere hours from starting.  This was the regional tournament at Fal Dara, and almost a dozen Shienaran Houses with their retinues were formally attending, as well as plenty of other warriors who wished to try their skills at archery, swordplay, wrestling, jousting, and more.

 

Visar wore an open grin on his face as they passed the narrow gates of the walled town.  Glancing at Sandre a few horses up, Visar could tell that his friend looked to be in slightly better spirits, his posture proud and upright with the rest of the soldiers.  House Kaldun had not won a prize in this tournament in three years, and they had been training feverishly for the chance to win and prove themselves this time.

 

After quickly getting settled in their guest quarters and barracks, Visar and the Kalduns armored up and got into formation outside the gates.  Parade began an hour before noon.  Sandre rode with the cavalry which led the way.  Visar, although his riding skills had improved, marched with the rear guard, a pike square of about fifty men.  Archers and other infantry formed the middle.

 

As they reached the entrance of the tournament grounds set up outside the town, Visar could see the House ahead of them doing their maneuvers to please the Lord of Fal Dara.  After a few minutes, it was then their turn.  They marched in after the herald announced,

"House Kaldun, led and represented by Lord Tyr and his escort.  House Kaldun!" the herald repeated.

 

Lord Tyr rode ahead with Sandre and the others, and Visar did his best to march smartly, keeping his pike at the exact same angle everyone else's was.  When they reached the very middle of the tournament ground, the entire force halted, turned smartly to the right, and rose their visors and dipped their weapons in salute to their host.  Their show of strength complete, the Kalduns continued to their places for the tournament.  Lord Tyr brought over a hundred men for his escort, but only about twenty of them were actually competing.  Visar, feeling bold and optimistic, signed up for every event except for archery and jousting.

 

After the formalities of the parade were over, the tournament began.

 

The Archery context was first, but neither Sandre nor Visar participated.

 

Next was the javelin toss, which both Visar and Sandre had trained hard for.

Sandre was more than a little excited about the idea of being in a tournament. The Kalduns had not won anything in quite awhile, but nor had so many skilled Kalduns and Kaldun arms men participated at one time. He rode with the cavalry though he himself was not great with lance or spear. He was great using his bastard sword from horse back but there was no tournament competition for that. Having shown their strength they all made for their encampment of tents to change into their actual tournament armor and grab their tourney swords. The archery had already started and horseback archery would follow.

 

He waited outside of Visar's tent when he had changed. Visar had been gifted his own Tourney tent. A large thing made for a minor lord. He clapped his friend on the shoulder and they set off for the javelin toss. "I will have to rush this one. I am due in the fort for a strategy competition. Simple thing, they set up maps of a battle field and give you predetermined troops. You also get scouts to position on the map to reveal any enemy troops, then, as in real battle planning you hope for the best. Judges determine who had the best plans and set up new battlefield models for those they deem worthy to go on... Im quite excited by it. I have been studying strategy since I was five."

 

Studying was an understatement. Sandre had one entire wall of his bedroom in the barracks covered in shelves of strategy books.

 

Sandre found that his strength and size certainly allowed him to toss a javelin quite far. However he realized by watching others that there was a degree more technique to it than he had used. Something he would have to practice some time. When it was over he had not placed in the top three, but he had done well. He heard that one of the Kaldun archers had done quite well. Tyr and A'tal both enjoyed Archery and were in both of those. Sandre had to leave the javelins before those two made it to the Javelins to hastily throw the javelins before the three of them went to the fort for strategy.

 

Sandre wasnt sure where Visar had gone after that. There were knife throwing but that was considered a peasant competition mostly. Sandre quickly placed his armies on the map. Placing archers on a hill overlooking the battle field and separating them by rows of palisades. In front of them were the spears and behind the hill hid the cavalry. The enemy would either be peppered with arrows then decimated by cavalry if they tried to go around the hill or they would have to fight uphill while being decimated by arrows then have to fight from the low ground against spear. Even if they got through the spear each line of archers would cost three of the enemies own.

 

When he was done he left for the wrestling pits.

His own tent!  As Visar threw the javelin as best he could, he still could not believe that they had given him his own tent, as if he were an honored noble guest of the family!  Well, he certainly was a privileged guest, but he did not want too much attention.

 

He did not do nearly so well as Sandre in the javelin toss, and left early with Sandre, slightly disappointed.  Sandre went straight for the strategy game, but Visar didn't go with him.  He decided instead to wander around a bit.  There were so many events, some of them happening at the same time, and so much to do!  He saw quite a bit of the horse archery tournament, and watched in awe as a warrior shot his arrows with deadly accuracy while turned completely backwards in the saddle!  This, a fellow spectator enthusiastically told him, was a visiting Saldaean horseman, and he was sure to win the competition.  Then, Visar remembered he had registered for the wrestling event, so he dashed off to get there in time.

 

Every single man lined up for the event was taller and looked stronger than Visar, but he had studied Shienaran wrestling closely in the past two months, and knew plenty of tricks to beat it.

 

As the event began, Visar's first opponent didn't know what hit him, and fell into the dirt so hard that he lay stunned.  Visar did not even have to put him into a submission hold!  The rules were different than what Visar would have practiced; the wrestler couldn't strike at certain areas, and had to defeat his opponent by submission: either causing enough pain for the other man to tap out and give up, or knocking them senseless to where they could not get back up.

 

His second opponent was much like the first, but taller and stronger.  Visar waited, knowing that if he charged the man himself he would have less of a chance.  Sure enough, the other man came to grips with him, and it was simple enough to use his momentum against him.  He shifted grips and smoothly turned, throwing the man off balance, and threw him over his thigh.  The man kept a hold of him though, and they both tumbled onto the ground.

 

This moment was what Visar had been training for; he writhed quickly on top and gained a superior position.  He mercilessly wrenched the man's arm at the elbow almost to the breaking point.  Realizing this, the man tapped his leg, giving up.

 

After his third victory, which was only slightly easier, Visar could hear the crowd booing and cheering for "The Little Tairen".  He flashed a defiant grin at them all, but that smile faded when he saw who he had to fight next.

 

His fourth opponent was Sandre.

(ooc: that is if you're in the wrestling event)

Sandre was not surprised to see Visar had advanced so far in the wrestling. He hung out with Dante so it was darn near unavoidable. When the judges arm dropped Sandre went in knowing Visar would be seeking a tactical advantage of some kind. Sandre first tangled the mans arm and Visar tried to drop his weight and take Sandre to the ground with him. It would have worked for any other Shienaran but Sandre's size and build didnt make it work as well as it would have and Sandre used it to press his weight on Visar so he couldnt breathe. He sure was slippery though. Sweat from the previous matches made gripping hard to keep. Both tangled in a few more moves before Visar was forced to tap out or pass out.

 

When the match was over Sandre pulled his friend up. "A few more months with Dante at the taverns and I think you may have beat me." He wasnt sure about that but he wanted to make his friends pride leave the circle undamaged.

 

Unfortunately for Sandre, Visar had struggled so much that Sandre was wore out for his next match and lost.

 

He returned for round two of the War Games and placed his armies on the new map. In this one a lake stood between the two armies and the judges would move the Trollocs once after the armies were placed and allow the Commander to respond. Sandre held his units back and placed his archers at the waters edge to pelt the enemies on the other side. The judge then revealed the Trollocs with spears and hooks coming one way and those with swords coming around the other side in a standard pincer. Sandre moved his cavalry towards the side without the hooks, left the archers in place to pelt the ones with the spears and hooks, and set up his own spears to protect the archers. The cavalry would go right through the ranks they were charging and would circle around, but Sandres army would not be without casualties.

 

The next competition he rushed off to was riding. In the main arena trollocs dummies had been set up to spin. On one arm was a ring you would hook with your spear. Hit the Trolloc anywhere else though and he may well knock you off your horse. It would be ring count that determined the victor. Sandre passed through that and wasnt knocked off his horse, unlike his cousin which made him smirk, but his count was medium at best.

 

He returned to the strategy tent surprised to see only three tables set up and one of them his. Other commanders stood about and he became very conscious of his own age. He was young and the other two men were twice or even thrice his senior. He bowed respectfully and his nerves calmed to see Visar standing with his cousin and uncle. Both the other men were High Lords of large noble houses who had command of armies that the Kalduns could never muster or afford. In this one both would receive two moves Sandre barely remembered what happened he was so nervous but many of the Lords standing about nodded in approval or had the look of lights going on in their heads. He stood and waited as the judges made their choices. One High Lord was eliminated and handed a Bronze medal. It left Sandre and the other man. Ten minutes later, Sandre was awarded the silver, second place, but still a great accomplishment for him.

Visar tried valiantly, but ultimately he couldn't win against his larger, more skilled friend.  He was absolutely exhausted after the match, but positively beamed at Sandre's encouraging words after he helped him up.  Visar was disappointed that Sandre lost the next round, but there were plenty of other events left to place in.  He may not be one of the best fighters without a weapon, but he was getting good at integrating unarmed skills with his other weapons, thanks to training with Dante and Sandre and the rest of the Kalduns. 

 

The adrenaline rush wearing off, Visar started shivering again from the cold.  He found his clothes, but his winter cloak was missing.  Had someone stolen it?  Visar frantically jogged around, still shivering.  Sandre and most of the family had gone up to the tent for the war games again.  Perhaps one of them had seen it?  Besides, it would be warmer in there.  Weaving through the people standing by the tent, huddling for warmth, Visar was about to go in when he felt a soft touch on his shoulder.  Spinning around, he saw first a white fur glove, and then recognized Lyse.

 

"Looking for this, are we?" she dangled his cloak in her other hand, a mischievous grin on her face.  She gestured him to come with her, and Visar hesitated only slightly after agreeing.  They had been playing a tense cat and mouse game ever since she started trying to embarrass him.  He had tried to put the situation as he saw it to her bluntly, but she would always smile and skillfully maneuver around him.  He was on the defensive most of the time, and sometimes he just wanted the situation to resolve, even though he still did not dare dishonor his hosts. He was learning to be able to flirt back discreetly, but the game was more difficult than he had imagined.  She almost always had the edge.

 

This time was no different.  They circled the tournament grounds slowly, and Visar had to buy her hot food and a pair of gloves to "ransom" his cloak.  On the way, they watched Sandre go through the 'ring' event, and laughed when A'tal fell off of his horse.  They were on their way back to the war games for the final round.  So much for saving for a good Shienaran weapon... he thought as his purse was now less than half full.  Finally, as they were about to enter the tent, she tossed the cloak over his shoulders.

 

"You must be very good to have lasted so long against Sandre," she whispered softly in his ear.  Visar was surprised at the sudden compliment, and somehow he blushed, even though he had managed not to at dozens of things she had said before.  He gave her a confused look, not sure how to react.

 

"Thank you.  I..." he started before Tyr snapped in a whisper,

 

"Quiet, Visar, Sandre is trying to concentrate!"  Lyse promptly left the tent after her father gave her a long look, but shot Visar a triumphant grin before the flap closed.  At Tyr's sharp gesture not to follow her, Visar reluctantly moved up closer to Sandre's uncle, and watched the match in sullen silence, trying to understand exactly what was going on.  The minutes dragged by.  Visar was visibly relieved when it was finally over.  He was proud that Sandre had gotten second place, but already he wanted to be out of the tent and watch the next events. 

 

"Great job!  Didn't know exactly what you were doing, but second place sounds impressive! Good luck with the tilt." he told Sandre before branching off to the stands to watch the joust.  Sandre continued on his way to get armored and saddled up.

 

Visar had not signed up for the prestigious event, but planned on watching most of it.  Hopefully Sandre would do well.  He sat near the Kalduns, but unfortunately not close enough to Lyse to talk to her.  Thankfully, the joust was a good enough distraction to put off trying to have another conversation with her just yet.  He wanted to make sure that neither she nor her father were misinterpreting what was going on.

Sandre was never one to enjoy praise. He remained quiet while his family congratulated him. Only Edana's praise ever meant anything to him. His head sunk low for a moment while he thought of her. Only two more events to do. Jousting and the melee. Visar had chose to watch the jousting and even Tyr sat out as his age would have made it a disaster though he feigned interest in watching Sandre and A'tal and giving them a fair chance at the gold.

 

Sandre was clearly outmatched in the joust and he learned this after the very first tilt. His lance had glanced off the other Knights shield while he himself took a dizzying blow. Sandre resorted to using his lance as a club in the next tilt. If both went to the ground it would go to swords. When both Knights went crashing to the ground Sandre regretted his choice. The air was knocked out of him and he knew he would have bruises. He was the better with the sword though and made quick work of knocking the other man down. By the second time of giving a brutal clubbing he could barely get up to use his sword. It took longer but the man went down as well. His third tilt he actually one though he was sure the older Knight just did not want to be clubbed. His fourth tilt against A'tal he lost miserably when A'tal used his shield to deflect the clubbing and still strike with his lance, sending him to the ground again. This time Heart, his horse, came back around to try and drag him off the field as he was trained to do which caused no small amount of laughing in the stands. So sore, and embarrassed he returned to his tent to see to his bruises and a dislocated shoulder.

Visar still rooted for Sandre as he tried to win the joust by clubbing the other horsemen down, but did not follow Sandre once he was finally defeated by A'tal.  Sandre would want to be by himself anyway, and the joust continued.  A'tal won third place, but was finally unhorsed by one of the cavalrymen from Fal Dara.

 

The joust finally over, the Kalduns and Visar trudged wearily back to their tents.  There were still several hours before the tournament would conclude with the melee, with almost two hundred men-at-arms participating in the slugfest.

 

After taking it easy, eating, and suiting up, Visar was as ready as he'd ever be for the melee.  He caught a glimpse of Sandre, armored but still favoring his shoulder, which must have gotten hurt in the joust.

 

They got into positions, Visar gripping his blunt longsword nervously.  The melee would start with roughly equal groups of men starting at each four corners of the field, but after the initial clash or two, it was essentially every man for himself. What happened most often, he had been told, was that each House never fought each other, often teaming up, unless they were among the last to stay standing.  But backstabbing happened frequently enough too, Tyr had added.

 

Still, the Kalduns sensed that group strategy was key to surviving the early stages of the melee, and all were in their corner, with Sandre, A'tal, their master of arms Danz, and even Tyr had joined them, despite his wife's objections.  Although all weapons were blunted, plenty men had died in accidents before.

 

The signal horn blasted, and Visar was caught up with his corner surging forward, yelling curses and battle cries.  He ended up being right behind Danz, which turned out to be a good thing because no one could stand up to the grizzled veteren.  Left and right he struck and threw people down with an ease that suggested he was swatting flies.  A few minutes passed, and Visar was surprised he was still standing.  He had gone up against a fair number of people himself, and twice he had almost been knocked to the ground from behind.

 

Those left were fewer than forty men, though almost ten of them were still Kalduns.  However, it was time to break up any thought of team loyalty.  While still fighting men from other houses, the Kalduns would occasionally clash with each other.  Visar saw A'tal and Sandre go at it with their swords before he had to face another opponent.  After being lucky enough to knock that one off balanced, he saw Danz gently throw Tyr to the ground, as if he was tucking a child in to sleep.  Then, to Visar's horror, Danz turned and faced him.

 

Rubbing his heavily bruised backside, Visar limped out of the fenced in field, defeated.  He had almost landed a blow on the Master of Arms, or so he had thought, when someone from behind shouted and distracted him, and before he could blink, onto the ground he went.  There were less than ten left now, most of them spread out, trying not to be cornered, occasionally daring to duel, but the fight had lost its frenzied momentum.  Sandre and Danz were the only ones from House Kaldun left standing, though Sandre looked completely exhausted, and even Danz looked like he had taken his fair share of a beating.

 

Visar silently thanked the Light that he had escaped the field without being injured.  Others were not so lucky, limping from extended or broken limbs, or even being born away by stretchers for healing.

Sandre knew he would do well in the melee. His shoulder was screaming for rest but it was the last competition and one that peasant and noble alike stood side by side for. A rare event indeed. When it started he calmly went in swinging, from a path that specialized in multiple opponents and a sword large and heavy he was able to fell mostly people every time he struck if they werent looking and rarely did they last long when they did. Still though he was already tired and some had taken part in no competition but this one. He was not sure how many he put to the ground, took many to count. He had however almost went the ground himself when a warhammer struck his already sore arm. He took his bastard sword one handed and knew he would not last long. Still he was in the last ten. Danz was still running strong and Sandre knew that if he couldnt win this himself that taking out as many people as he could for Danz would prove the best strategy for a mock battle.

 

Going in one last time his swings were less effective than he had anticipated. He resorted to foot work to knock two men down but it was an exhausting process. Then there were five. All of them more skilled than him and they seemed to notice it as three of them turned on him. He didnt stand a chance and held only for less than a minute before he was rocked with blows and went to the ground. Visar was kind enough to help him up and out as he was barely able to move. He had to be ready again in a matter of hours for the feasting. Visar was invited too though he was not sure the man would join or not. When they reached his tent Lyse was inside. She had drawn water for him which he did not expect. Her and Visar helped him out of his armor and Lyse sent another woman inside to help bathe him. He wasnt to comfortable with it but he accepted.

 

A few minutes into it he realized she wasnt a servant, she was another nobleman's unwed daughter. Sandre hoped this campaign would start soon.

Visar quickly entered the ring when he saw Sandre go down.  The remaining fighters drifted away, darting in and out of each other's ranges like serpents.  That fight could go on for quite some time, Visar thought absent-mindedly.  But first, he needed to drag Sandre to safety, and that was no easy task considering the man was much taller and heavier than he was, and wearing armor.

 

Somehow he managed, and he and Lyse saw Sandre back to his tent.  Visar fumbled with Sandre's armor and managed to get it off.  Then Lyse let in a girl to help bathe him.  Visar raised an eyebrow slightly but said nothing.  As he left the tent, he shared a laugh with Lyse, who told him about 'the plan' to ensnare Sandre to the Borderlands.

 

It was risque to say the least, but somehow Visar knew it would not work.  Sandre, like himself, was bound to something else than family.  Though it must help to still have family that will welcome you back, Visar thought to himself.  His face softened, and he thought about his family, rescued from the clutches of Tear.  Yet his duty to the Tower did not allow him to see them often.  His duty...

 

Lyse stopped, and asked him what was wrong.  They were almost to Lyse's tent.  Visar awkwardly tried to stall, muttering about receiving a particularly jarring blow to the head.  When that obviously did not appease her, he started talking about the debt he felt he owed to the Tower.  She listened, but did not seem to be as happy about it as she had been when she told him about the trick played on Sandre.  They reached the tent, and Visar stopped.  Lyse lifted the flap, and gave him a considering look as she began to enter.  She was inviting him inside, he knew.

 

"I'm afraid I must leave you here, Lyse.  I will see you at the feast." he said stiffly, trying to keep his face and his voice like stone.

 

Her eyes narrowed into almost a glare.  She was probably insulted at the intentional rejection, but Visar knew that if he gave into temptation now, he would never fulfill his debt to the Tower; and he seriously doubted he would be able to convince her father for her hand.  If he walked down that road, he would never truly change who he used to be.  If she hated him for it, then that was how it had to be.

 

"Formality does not become you, Visar." she said softly. "You are a fool." she added in a dismissing tone, and she shut the tent flap.

 

Visar let out a breath he had been holding, and slowly, awkwardly went back to his own tent to change for the feast.  He tried to convince himself that he had done the right thing, but Visar's head was still full of doubt and confusion as he entered the feast hall, clothed in rich blue and green under his coat.

Sandre didnt want to admit that he needed his shoulder wrapped. As soon as he had a moment to relax he had to clench his teeth with the pain. He had a few other cuts as well he had not been aware of. He was more worse for wear than he had thought. One of the cuts for sure would scar. He allowed the girl to wrap it. Her hands trembled when they touched his bare skin. He found out that she was of a much higher house than his own. Lyse had had her visit sometime during the training and she had been watching him. Her doe eye looks she gave him told him that she favored him appearance wise at least. (It would not hurt to be kind to her.) he thought to himself. When he was dressed he walked her back to her room in the castle fort. He waited outside the women's quarters respectfully and when she emerged he allowed her to hold his arm. He wasnt comfortable with it and kept thinking of Edana but didnt show it.

 

When they entered for the meal they were not early or late but he had caught Visar being introduced as "Visar of house Kaldun" when he had entered. Sandre couldnt help but laugh at the error and patted his friend on the shoulder with a "Welcome to the family." as he passed by, a smug grin on his face.

 

He took the girl, Belana, to the dance floor. He smiled and danced but every time he had to extend his arm the pain was blinding. By the third dance end he was sweating from the exertion and the wraps were loose. Thankfully Belana noticed and led him back to where Visar and the others were sitting. There was a tense air at the table though and Lyse was unusually quiet. Sandre decided to cut the through it. "So we are getting married." Both looked at him stunned before he said "Got you." and set Lyse to laughing and threatening to get him back. Belana too was laughing but was also turning red. He shot a smile at Visar to let him know he was ok.

As Visar entered for the feast, he missed a step when they announced him as a Kaldun.  Half tempted to go over and say he was just a guest, Visar let it slide, especially after hearing Sandre laugh and "welcome" him to the family.  It had been a while since he had heard his friend in such good spirits, and Visar was glad the tournament seemed to do the trick.

 

So did the girl, it seemed.  Sandre enjoyed himself dancing with her.  Visar smiled.  With such an attractive young lady, it was hard not to enjoy oneself.  Visar was tempted to ask someone to dance, but he would have felt awkward to ask Lyse, and he didn't really know any of the other single ladies in the room.  He contented himself with watching the dancing, trying to pick up some pointers on Shienaran dancing style.

 

Later on while they were eating, Visar tried to keep his eyes on his plate.  He felt like a fool for rejecting Lyse like that, yet he wasn't sure if there was another way.  Sandre managed to cut right through his worries and doubts, however.

 

"So we are getting married." he said, and Visar stared slack-jawed, dropping the food he was bringing to his mouth.  Really?! he thought first, wondering how in the world someone could have persuaded him to make that kind of decision within an hour or two.

 

"Got you."  Sandre said with a mischievous smile.  He had been pulling their legs.  Lyse immediately found it was funny, and Visar couldn't help but smile and shake his head.  But Visar noticed Belana blushing.  He wondered if she would take offense to making light of possible affections?  It wasn't something Visar was an expert on, and he imagined trying to intrude would only make things worse.  At least Sandre seemed to be perfectly alright.

 

In between the courses, Visar tried his hand at dancing, first asking Belana for a dance, and then braving himself to introduce himself to some of the other ladies at the court.  He was picking up how they danced, and it was certainly exhilarating, but he still felt a little awkward with it.

 

Finally, the feast ended, and everyone returned to their quarters in varying states of awareness.  Tomorrow, they would have only a few hours of the morning to rest off the drink and the bruises from fighting, and then they would ride back to Kaldun manner, to prepare early for the coming spring and the anticipated raids from the Blight.

 

(ooc: I figure this is as good a place to stop this thread as any, unless you have stuff to add with a post)