(1866-12-06) Sunsreach Tourney: Opening Parade
Sunsreach Tourney: Opening Parade
Summary: The Opening Parade to the tournament!
Date: 1866-12-06
Related: The Royal Wedding and all other Sunsreach Tourney logs
Adrienne  Aidric  Alina  Alysande  Antonia  Broderick  Clara  Clarke  Corvin  Darren  Elaida  Elrick  Emilia  Esyld  Gawain  Jaren  Joffrey  Leander  Michael  Raimond  Thaddeus  Tristan  

Tourney Grounds - Sunsreach - Rivana

An open space in the middle of the city the tourney grounds is a wide flat field divided by rose bushes that have been allowed to grow here since the ascension of Queen Alysande.

The outer ring of the grounds is set aside for competitor pavilions and the stalls of merchants and food sellers fortunate enough to win a space from the master of the games to ply their trade. The inner ring is the tourney grounds themselves; a flat oval of earth ringed by a fence with openings on each end and a high gallery to one side and a flat open space to the other. On tourney days the fence is freshly whitewashed, the rose bushes are trimmed and the gallery is swathed in green and gold cloth while all around spectators and competitors mingle with gallery filled with nobles and the common folk packing in cheek and jowl across the lists to watch whatever event is on offer be it the melee, archery or that highest of competitions: the joust.

When the grounds are not in use the lists are off-limits to casual visitors and the grounds remain fanatically well-tended, lest the field become uneven and some future match be lost due to loose dirt or a wayward puddle.


The tourney grounds are beginning to fill, the seats in the nobles stands freshly whitewashed, the commons swept and cleaned. The opening parade is in but a couple of hours and many are arriving to get a good seat— and to take their bets on who will be victorious in the next evening's Free-For-All melee event.

Lady Alina l'Saigner is there early, but mostly to get out of the manse. She has found a decent enough spot where she and her entourage can see the parade without being too close to it. Her husband is likely preparing his armor and horse now.

Lady Elaida Toulan is also in the stands, but in the box set aside for the royals— an affectation so gained with her betrothal to Prince Tristan. She looks distinctly uncomfortable being there without her husband-to-be, but he had some bit of courtly business that has kept him from an early appearance, at least that is what she would say if anyone asked.

With all the many people in Sunsreach and yet present for the tournament, Emilia is amongst those who have arrived a bit early for the parade in order to settle into a descent seat. A few others from within the House having come along with her, as well as a few Huntresses as well.

A spot that's 'decent enough' for the Lady Alina is more than suitable for the handful of mercenaries within the l'Saigner entourage and as such they seem in fine spirits, settled contentedly in place to pass the afternoon. No doubt there are some Wraiths drifting unseen within the crowd also.. but the charm of the Black Foxes is they make no attempt to hide their presence or purpose. Their Captain is no exception, as per usual. Attired in her standard leathers and insignia, hewing steadily on a mouthful of a pastry purchased from a passing vendor, Esyld regards the crowd and surroundings with interest, practically lounging where she stands. Or so appearances would have one believe. A sharper eye would note, amidst the good-natured banter cast back and forth between she and her comrades, her attention never wanders too far or too long from the seated blonde nearby.

The heir to Murnord sits to one side of the waiting knights leaving his Alhazred racer in the hands of his squire. He is dressed in his plate armor, but shifts often as if the chest plate was causing him discomfort. Despite that, the heir to Murnord shows no outward signs of displeasure holding court with some of the other knights of Murnord. Joking and laughing taking frequent sips from the skin of drink in his hand. Which seems to contain nothing more than wine or water but in truth contains a mixtures of herbs and wine meant to help him endure the wounds left by his unlucky time at the boar hunt.

Thaddeus sits astride his own horse, in plate decorated with lion motifs, matching hte surcoat. A sword hangs on his hip, and a lance, more decorative than useful by far, in his hand. The new canvas is on his shield bears the lion of Stoneshield, but for now it has no more use than to identify himself. His helm currently rests in his lap, but Thad is not quite sure if he will wear it, yet.

Corvin Fremont moves through the crowd, happily gnawing on what's surely Chicken on a stick. Surely. Mostly because he's eaten most of the likely alternatives and this certainly isn't the same. In any case, he finishes off his snack and discards the stick moving over near where those Black Foxes are gathered, and more specifically right up alongside that Captain of theirs. "Really, this is one of the least interesting of all the events, but I suppose it's unavoidable…" He smirks, "And I suppose my own tastes aren't necessarily shared by many." He casts his eyes towards a clutch of teenagers, who clearly look quite eager to see the parading knights, given their seats near the front and the general air of anticipation that surrounds them. "Probably going to be a long parade, too. Ah well."

Clarke arrives over wtih some of the other knights, taking a moment to look over his helm then as he carries it under one arm and a long lance resting over the other then. Idly walking around then and looking about the area then, nodding at the other knights in passing then.

Tristan may be late to the tourney but his disreputable cousin Aidric is on time. Dressed in finery suited for his station, black velvet with silver embroidery and a good cloak of soft Eastfield wool pinned to his shoulder with a silver brooch, he makes his way through the knights until he finds Thaddeus. "Ah, there you are, I've come to wish you good luck in the tourney," he says in greeting to the Lord Marshall.

Gawain is there as well, in his squirely getup and waiting along with Thaddeus, having done all the sort of Squirey things to help Thaddeus out, like help him onto his horse and everything. He looks about at the other knights all marshalling up for the parade.

Among the Knights of Rivana, but this time…nowhere particularly near the front of the ranks, sits Raimond Giraldi, looking quite splendid in his well-polished full plate, and presently conversing amiably with a few Hedge Knights. Not terribly surprising that most of the other noble Knights of Rivana don't seem terribly keen on associating for the moment, but no doubt his brother is around here somewhere. Either way, Ramind doesn't seem particularly upset about the circumstances, but it seems clear he won't be first up in this Parade.

"Agreed." is the succinct response given by the dark-haired Captain, who apparently has no need to turn her head to assure herself of who the voice belongs to.. though there is the flicker of a smile for its presence. "Though if nothing else, it gives us the opportunity to carefully consider our wagers, hm?" Only now does Esyld flit a sidelong glance toward Corvin, only to then follow his gaze to the gaggle of teenagers, quirking a brow fractionally. "Or have you a front-runner in mind already? Ordinarily, of course, my coin would fall with my delightful half-brother…" Popping the last morsel of her pastry into her mouth, she briskly licks her fingertips clean.. and then is promptly on the lookout for something else. "What was that you had? Chicken?"

Clarke is by the back then, glancing at some of the other familiar knights. Most he knows at best by reputation, though some of the other Couvieran ones are familiar at least in passing then. Looking at some of the ones up front, he lightly clasps his gauntlets together then. Murmuring, "Something to strive for.."

Lord Joffrey t'Synclarre is also among the Knights of Murnord, occasionally casting a mildly concerned look towards Michael. He knows there's no stopping the Heir of Murnord from competing, so he hasn't even tried. While he does speak off-and-on with the other Murnord Knights, and cordially at that, he and his squire seem mostly intent on calming the steed he'll be riding, which for one reason or another seems a bit agitated this afternoon.

"So they said." Corvin replies to Esyld's query on the variety of meat he'd chomped, grinning just a touch sardonically, "But I suppose my money would be on Michael l'Corren. He won the last and leads the Circuit. Though it'd be a toss-up if Sir Gabriel were competing." Corvin considers a few moments, "But likely I won't be making any bets myself. I tend to have better things to do with my coin."

Thaddeus looks down to Gawain and says, "You ready for this? It's certainly not the most exciting part of this whole thing, but it certainly can help one's cause." His tone is neutral, and he shrugs, "What do you think?"

Michael is re-telling some of what happened at the hunt and spotting one of the hunters amidst the waiting knights he waves to Clarke. "Sir Clarke was there, he can tell the truth of it, had you seen larger boars in all your life?" he asks the Cavalier beckoning the man over.

"I think this is going to be the easiest part of the tournament." Gawain replies to Thaddeus with a bit of a nod, looking briefly about, "Looks like quite the turnout we've gotten as well, it should be a good tourney."

"Like buying questionable meat?" counters Esyld, with an answering smirk toward the Wraith beside her. Though, a moment later she waves vaguely with a hand, apparently not expecting an answer. Vibrant blue eyes meander skyward, gauging the weather overhead, then habitually toward Alina and those more closely placed in her vicinity. "A pity Sir Gabriel shan't be. Though he has greater responsibilities now, of course." Returning her attention to the milling crowd set slightly below where they stand, the Captain folds her arms and shifts her weight a fraction, as if settling herself in for the long haul. "Imagine. One day you might be expected to marry and suddenly learn how to behave yourself, Corvin." The twist of amusement across her lips at that notion is blatant, relenting to a grin as she looks toward the man. "Perish the thought."

Aidric looks down at his finery. "I am as ready as I plan to get," he says with a smile that lives a mayflies life before he turn to more serious subjects, pitching his voice low. "I am not Sir Paul. My glory isn't going to come from the tourney field, so, I think I am done with them," he says with a slight downwards glance, though when he raises his eyes he smiles again, "But I still expect you to do well, my coin rides with you, remember that."

Clarke checks his lance, his helm over in the other hand, and then takes a deep breath, "Just remember, march, do as told, don't do anything foolish and do yourself proud."

Bedecked once more in green and gold finery, Broderick makes his way towards the tourney grounds with his young squire at his side. There are events he intends to enter, and those he does not, but he's ever concious of the Queen's words from a couple of months ago and how prospects could vary depending on how much he impresses. Noting numerous cousins in the crowd, as well as friends, it's towards the former he steers for now, heading for Thaddeus and Gawain. "Lord Marshall," he notes curtly, "a fine day for it I see."

A mild tugging occurs to the corners of Emilia's lips as Clara is let through by a few of the Huntresses and settles in next to her. "Just of in time, I am of thinking," notes Emilia to her friend. "Should be of a fine of show, even if a bit of a long of one." The young Cassomir leaning to peer off in the direction where all the knights were gathering and would be coming along from.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps not." Corvin shrugs, "If my Father wishes it, it will no doubt have some purpose behind it, and I will do as I am bidden." The Wraith chuckles, "And you realize, of course, the same could easily be said of you." He grins slightly towards Esyld, "But either way, I doubt it's in the works for either of us particularly soon."

"Corvin, what was that?" Alina leans back, gesturing to what he had been eating. "Smells good—" and before the words have quite left her mouth, the skinny Wraith known as Small Pie has already slipped off towards the vendor, holding up three fingers towards Corvin. Pregnant charge means her guards are rather on-point about such things. As quickly as he can manage, he comes back with two of the chicken-on-a-sticks, the third already disappeared as a matter of (poison-tasting) course.

Clarke waits in the general lineup of knights then, a few butterflies in his stomach then as he closes his eyes then and lets his look wander throughout then, dipping his head lightly in passing to any who look his way.

"I should sincerely hope not." Pushing her dark tresses back with one hand, Esyld wrinkles her nose in disgust.. only partially feigned. "The two would hardly mesh well. Guarding caravans in gaudy gowns? Settling lover's quarrels with fists?" Softening her tone appropriately, she adds, "..choosing the sickness that comes with childbearing over good old-fashioned hangovers?" A snort of amusement accompanies a shake of her head, though the words are obviously all in good humor. "Long may the current state of things continue, if you ask me.." The Black Fox Captain quiets with a smile as Alina turns to ask the very same question in regard to that tasty looking morsel Corvin had appeared with, looking mildly amused as Small Pie plays the role of dilligent handmaid. "That vendor's boots will be weighed down in coin before the day is through."

After exchanging words with Thaddeus, Aidric bids Gawain and Broderick hello before he collects his squire and makes his way to the stands. "Don't start," he says to his sullen faced squire who has definite opinions about Aidric's choice not to compete. Once in the stands he sends the lad for wine and settles back, legs stretched out waiting for the show to begin. More comfortable on this side of the railing if nothing else.

Leaning forward just a tad, Clara watches the crowd gathering for the parade. Then…a quick sidelong glance down to where the knights are to be lining up for their parade. "Looks like everything is settling up nicely." She leans back, sharing a smile with Emilia. "Maybe we will see some antics. But…I hope everyone behaves this time."

Tristan Tracano slips into the Royal box, giving people a magnificent smile. Ah, things have yet to begin. So he was not yet fashionably late. A shame. Seating himself next to his betrothed, he reaches over and gives her hand a little squeeze. "Are you looking forward to this tournament, Elaida?" He then straightens up his sleeves, making sure that his appearance is perfect. "Now remember, we are hoping that Lord Thaddeus wins this tournament." There is no mention as to where he has been or why he is just now showing up.

The Queen and King arrive with their Royal Lancers, making their way to the Royal Box. After their majesties are settled, Alysande nods to the majordomo for the parade to begin.

Alina leans forward, watching for— to her— the most important man on the field to begin his parading. She glances over her should and grins at her brother momentarily before her attention returns to where her husand should soon be visible on the field.

Elaida breathes a sigh of relief as Tristan joins her in the Royal box. "I thought you'd never get here," she murmurs to him, reaching over to take his hand sweetly. "You've been so busy all day, you highness." But then, she, too, has her attention on the field.

"Lords, Ladies, men and women of Rivana—" the majordomo announces, "your competitors… for the Rivana Circuit Tournament of 1866!" He then gestures for the knights (and competing squires) to ride forth. In the order they've managed, they will ride across the field, pause in the middle, announce their name and any accolades they might wish to share with the crowds (who will be betting heavily) and salute the rulers of the land.

Thaddeus nods to Aidric in thanks, "Thank you, ." He then nods to Broderick, "Cousin. I hope you are doing well?" Sadly this conversation is interrupted by the announcement.

Corvin's lips twist in a wry expression, before he leans over and gives Esyld a brief kiss, "Yes, I think I can live with the current state of affairs." He concludes when the kiss is broken, then chuckles as he takes a half-step back, "Well, that is the real point of these things, after all. To weigh down the coffers of the local vendors." Corvin notes of the Tournaments in general, "And the Circuit organization, of course." He does see Alina's glance, giving her a genuine smile in kind, and a brief gesture for her to turn her attention back towards the field.

As he's just getting comfortable, naturally the king and Queen arrive. He rises with the rest of the nobles to bow, and when he gets settled he takes his wine from his squire and raises his cup to Tristan. "Glad you could make it," he smiles from his seat outside the royal box.

Emilia gives a nod towards Clara,"Of perhaps we shall, but not of likely of anything to much. Seems most of the antics are saved for of later. " A mild turn of her hand and fluttery little movement amounts to something of a wave in the direction of Aidric as he is spied settling in amongst those in the stands. There is just a mild flicker of her dark eyes up to the royal box when the Queen and King make their arrival so that th eparade might begin.

Clarke gives a curt nod at the instructions of the Queen and a light smile then, getting up and over to the rest of the knights that are preparing for the parade then, letting his eyes scan on ahead then as he falls into his proper place over as things start to get started.

Suppressing a smile - at least keeping it to a faint smirk - following that brief kiss, Esyld holds Corvin's gaze with a knowing expression for a moment longer.. then abruptly remembers herself, squaring her shoulders and straightening with a gentle clearing of her throat. Whether she had intended to speak further or not, the Captain is waylaid by the arrival of Royalty, following suit and bowing low until they have settled in their prime seats. A few murmurs and hushed words of teasing from her fellow mercenaries are quieted by a sharp look in their direction as she returns to her prior stance, folding her arms. No, they're still not above a little jesting at her expense. And there's another who may share those impulses all too readily.. Though her vivid eyes settle upon Tristan only momentarily, there's a smile of mildly bashful acknowledgement, before the Captain demurely and respectfully lowers her gaze, returning it in due course to the field.

With the royal lancers approaching, Broderick somewhat reluctantly sends Andrew to the stands after Aidric and nods a quick confirmation to Thaddeus to indicate that yes, he's not doing too badly all told. Further conversation is stiffled by the herald and he readies hismelf to ride out, it's been a while since he's done so for a circuit event but then this isn't really the difficult bit. It being his home tournement, with his own House hosting he walks his horse up towards the front, seeing no need to wait on others. Working up to a gentle trot he makes his way across the field before reining his horse in in the centre and turning to face the royal box. "Sir Broderick Tracano," he announces crisply, "knight of House Tracano, Veteran of the Thirty Years war, Knight of St Paulus." Leaving out any mention of the civil war he salutes the Queen first, then the King, then the crowd, before moving off to let the next knight in line do the same.

Next up is a female knight on a dapple grey destrier, grey eyes glancing here and there in a face that very much displays the pride and excitement of Sir Antonia l'Valdan beneath a raised visor of a tourney helmet which in its design echoes the form of a falcon's head. She wears an armor of maille enforced with plate, of a darker shade of steel, beneath a cloak of blue colour that sports the coat of arms of her House, the yellow sun on a field of azure, lined with silver. When it is her turn, she rides forward and brings her prancing steed to a halt, only to raise her voice that will ring over the tourney field with the surprising clarity and confidence of a woman who has adjusted well to her position as member of a royal family.

"I am Antonia l'Valdan. Competing to represent the kingdom of Couviere, I'll fight today for my husband Prince Silvio," here her hand moves to slowly draw the blade from its sheath, presenting it with the pointy end downwards to present a blue ribbon wound about the hilt. "And for my son, Etienne. Also the family of my husband, first and foremost his Majesty, King Jean-Paul, and… for Queen Louisa, and her Falcons." The tone firm and determined, not without pride, steely grey eyes lingering on Queen Alysande and King Jaren as she inclines her head toward the Royals and shifts her sword around, grabbing it by its hilt to raise it in a salute. Before she tugs at the reins of her horse, and guides it back into the line.

Michael rises from his seat when the order to begin is given and with a few groans and gritted teeth manages to make a solid show of mounting his Alhazred racer without giving away how badly it hurts. After all it wouldn't do to make the odds makers job too easy now would it? His squire takes a few minutes to brush down the blue and white barding of his horse while other knights make their appearance. Then, when Antonia has had her turn, Michael rides forth waving to the crowds, while his well-polished armor glints in the winter sun. Coming before the royal box, he bows once and deeply to the king and queen. Glad that the gesture hides the grimace on his face and when he rises he smiles. "Queen Alysande, King Jaren, many joys on your union, while I am a knight of Couviere and shall always fight for her honour, in this tourney, I fight too to honour your union and the years of peace I shall hope it brings to your realm and indeed the Edge entire," then, after that subdued greeting, he salutes with his blade and nudges his horse onwards to exit the field.

Clad in half plate, polished to a shine, it sincerely looks like Sir Leander Giraldi might be actually taking this event a bit seriously. On top of his black charger, he watches nonchalantly as the line starts. Of course, being Leander…he is in no particular hurry. Not yet.

Clarke's light leather armor with polished chain plates on top then with the bright heraldry of the Blue Chevaliers is riding a loaned brown stallion. A long lance is slung ahead then, his helm resting upon his head then as he slowly trots over then, saluting each knight as they pass then and announce themselves then.

"Oh, I would not miss this for all the world." Though Tristan's tone indicates that perhaps this isn't something he particularly enjoys. "Still, it gives me time to spend away from my duties and be with you, which is what is important." Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Esyld and the l'Saigner delegation. A brow raises as he watches the Black Fox Captain kiss Corvin, but that passes, his eyes sweeping past Alina and then back onto the field to watch the knights present themselves.

Clad in full plate, each piece crafted in lightsilver so that he is truly a knight in shining armor. Over this he wears a tabard in the colors of House l'Saigner. Moving forward, he pauses in front of Alysande and Jaren, reaches over and draws forth his lightsilver blade, holding it aloft as he calls out. "I am Gabriel l'Saigner. This is the last time I will compete for the Circuit Championship and I do so now not for myself and not for my house, but in hopes of a lasting peace be forged between North and South." He sheathes his sword, bows to each of them in turn, and then turns his horse and rides on. It seems he has said all that he needs to say.

Sir Joffrey t'Synclarre hops astride his mount, which does seem properly calmed now, thankfully, and gives it the lightest touch of his heels to urge it onward. He comes to a halt before the stands, lifting his visor. He is clad in well-shined full-plate, bearing a tabard marking his House. On his upper right arm rests a blue garter, trimmed in black lace. He unsheathes the lightsilver blade resting in a scabbard on his saddle, and salutes the Royals, speaking in a clear and steady voice. "I am Joffrey t'Synclarre, Lord of Edgebrooke. It has been my honor to defend the Walls of Valetta when they were threatened, not once, but twice, and to ever stand steadfast in the protection of the Kingdom of Couviere. In this contest I compete for the honor of my Lady wife and my family, and I compete in honor of all those of the Edge who have sacrificed to bring the possibility of peace." And with that declaration made, he lowers the blade, and turns his horse to trot off the field, sheathing the blade as he goes.

Applauding politely for all of those who have offered their accolades thus far, Esyld still claps somewhat more genuinely as Gabriel takes the field, stealing a glance to the Lady Alina with the ghost of a smile; quietly observing the blonde as her literal knight in shining armor offers his words to all. A pity that the l'Saigners should gain so renowned a knight, only for him to retire from the circuit. Though, it leaves room for the next generation to battle it our for the honor of representing their Lords.. so, all's well that ends well. And then comes t'Synclarre. While, of course, she's hardly on first name terms with the man, the mention of Valetta garners her attention, those striking blue eyes regarding the knight and more keenly taking his measure. Considering an outside bet, perhaps?

Clarke goes along then and gives a strong salute over as he passes along then, to the Queen and the other assembled nobles and knights, striding as straight as he could, "I am Clarke t'Cauthone, of the Blackfens. I have the honor of serving the Blue Chevaliers, charged wtih the protection of Rovilon and it's noble leaders, and our King. I have served him and the Cavaliers and have had the honor to fight to keep him and our realm safe. It is a duty and a prilevege to fight for the Cavaliers, for our King, for our kingdom. I will fight for the honor of the Cavaliers and the privilege to represent them here then." Saluting as crisply as he could then over with his lance then before moving on.

With the contingent of Cassomirs and Huntresses of Ironhold stands Adrienne Cassomir, more Huntress than lady actually, as she wears the tunic and leggings of her profession. Hair done perhaps a little more extravagantly than usual, no plain braid, but rather two smaller braids, starting at each temple to be joined at the back of her head, whereas the rest of her brown hair is left open almost, only joined at shoulder level with a ribbon to keep it somewhat in order. Green eyes scan the tourney field, sparkling with what could be a hint of curious excitement - a rarity to be glimpsed on a Cassomir visage usually governed by a stoic expression. Also, the freckled cheeks in Adrienne's face show a faint rosiness today as she moves to her toes to get a better view. A brief sideways glance given to Emilia, before the freckled Cassomir's gaze finds Raelyn, and then King Jaren sitting beside Queen Alysande. And then sweeps back towards the knights assembled on the tourney grounds to present themselves before the people of Sunsreach, and the Queen and King of Rivana.

Aidric looks up from his drinking when Andrew is sent to him, he nods and makes room for the squire before he turns his attention back to the presentations, watching them with a gamblers eye. Broderick looked well enough, and so did Michael l'Corren despite his wounds, his twin, Gabriel seemed in fighting form as well and his announcement caused quite a stir, then there was the princess, he knew nothing of this princess or of her skills. Settling back in his seat to sip his wine, he makes a mental note to look into the Champion of Couviere and this princess, and to find out why the former was quitting and he hadn't heard of the latter before. Though, that could wait, thinking of princesses lead to thoughts of ladies, and so Aidric lets his eye stray from the field to take in other sights for a bit while he sipped his wine.

Clara watches on with rapt attention. "oh, that is one bright set of armor. I must really remember to shade my eyes whenever my cousin Gabriel rides forward." There is a light giggle towards Emilia, then Clara sits back. "So…who do you like? I have to be reserved in my cheering…so many to choose from, though."

Having waited long enough, Leander starts his ride towards the stands. He actually is playing it safe and subdued. No leaping upon horseback this time. This time, he rides up calmly…and dismounts before the Royal Box. Clad in the white colors of his house, he stands besides his black charger, a stark contrast between the two. A low bow is given, both horse and knight together, before Leander stands back to attention. "I am Leander Giraldi, of the House Giraldi. It is my honour and pleasure to compete for the honor of all of Rivana, not just for house and glory. May we find our way to stand united for many, many generations to come." With that, he mounts his horse effortlessly, then rides off, to join the others.

Thaddeus follows as his time is ready and raises his lance in salute to the boxes, "I am Thaddeus Greycen. I have fought for this city before, and now I ask you to support me! For Rivana!" He grisn and continues riding.

There is a bit of clapping by Emilia as the various knights come and present themselves, a nod going to Clara,"Of true, is much of bright. Though sounds like it won't be of a worry after of this one. Given it was sounding like he was giving up of tournaments for the sake of peace." A mild brow raise given on that bit, before Emilia gives a mild shrug. "Not of sure I have of any I am liking over of much…So of hope mine-cousin might do of well, and brother," you know the not-Jaren one. Canting her head as Leander presents himself,"Wasn't he of the one who went about dancing with of you?"

Thaddeus follows as his time is ready and raises his lance in salute to the boxes. After his he stands in his stirrups and roars to the crowd "I may no need to say this to many of you, but I am Thaddeus Greycen. I have fought for this city before, and now I ask you to support me! This is our city, our tournament, our time for victory! For Rivana!" He grisn and continues riding.

A glance is cast down as Leander mounts his horse to ride onwards, and the Princess nods in affirmation. "Yes…that's Sir Giraldi. A bit full of himself sometimes, from what I have been told. But.. he was rather polite for our one dance." There is a pause as Clara turns to her friend besides her. "I really think that the dance was just his way of getting people to talk. You saw his brother, yes? Seems to me Sir Leander's dance with me was just a game between him and his brother…that happened to get the old guard rattled at Court." Then a sly little smirk…"And you know how I do love shaking the perceptions of the old guard. Too static for me…thinking that they are noble through blood alone, rather than deeds. "

"Hrm, it appears that Lord Thaddeus has decided to be very melodramatic." Tristan remarks, a slight smile creeping onto his lips. "Maybe that will grant him luck this time around."

"All for one and one for himself, there.." remarks Esyld, in a hushed aside toward Corvin as Thaddeus riles up the home crowd, though her expression is only faintly amused rather than soured. Flagging down a cup of wine - her first of the day, which must be some sort of record - the Captain shifts her attention surreptitiously over the faces surrounding herself and the rest of the l'Saigner entourage. Finding almost all to be enthralled with the knights, as one would expect, she relaxes a touch, loosing a quiet sigh and returning her gaze to the field.

Dark eyes flit on to Thaddeus as he presents himself, Emilia giving a nod to Clara,"Ah…of aye, I do recall of seeing his brother. They certainly did cause much of talking with of the dances and their of boldness." A mild tugging to the corners of her mouth,"Of aye, I do know you quite of enjoy rattling of them up a bit. Does that mean there shall be more of dances of then..with this Sir Giraldi."

"I do hope he wins," Elaida replies to Tristan earnestly. "He seems to be a very good man, and the One blesses those who are good at heart."

Alina watches her husband's parading with a smug look. Tourneys were not important to l'Saigner, and she knew that her husband could be lured out onto the field again should the prize be sufficient to take the risk. Still, he did look good out there…

"Hear, hear!" Aidric calls raising his cup for Thaddeus' presentation. The heir to Seaguard seems to be a crowd favourite as quite a few from the commons and a number of nobles cheer the man. Aidric smiles at that and takes a sip. The Giraldi though, do not earn his notice even if the men of Eastfield, particularly those sitting closest Duke Darren, cheer them readily.

Broderick had been quite content to sit quitely atop his horse and make mental notes about his fellow knights, but he's forced to roll his eyes at Thaddeus' display. There's a faint shake of his head and then he lets his eyes drift back to that lightsilve blade that had been dispayed earlier, that, is something he's going to have to watch out for.

Raimond watches Leander make his entrance, tilting his head curiously at the greatly-subdued introduction, compared to his last. He supposes he can see the decorum being prudent at this juncture. Still, when Raimond rides out, he does so with his helmet tucked under his arm, all the better to show off his face and the brilliant smile it bears. As at Pacitta, the bow is as much with the steed as his own body, and when he straightens, he calls out, "I am Raimond Giraldi, Heir of Watch Hill and son of the Lady Miranda Giraldi. I had the honor to battle for the defense of Pacitta in the Great Raid, the defense of Rivana at Blackstone, and for the defense of all good people of Creation's Edge at the Battle of Three Crowns. I claimed victory in the Joust at Pacitta, and stood second only to one other in the Tournament there. I compete for the honor of my family, and in the hope that I may bring honor to not only them, but all the good people of the great Kingdom of Rivana, wither it be in victory or merely the attempt to claim it." And with that, he too moves off the field, though his eyes do seem to find the fairly-obvious pack of young Tourney Enthusiasts as he goes, and he does toss a wink towards a particularly pretty girl among their number.

There is a shake of the head from Clara. "No. Once is rattling. Twice, maybe. But more than that, and it is no longer shocking…and will cause other discussion that we do not need right now." Clara may be young, but she seems to know a bit of the political game.

"Quite of true, never of good to cause of un-of-wanted of discussion," a thing Emilia knows about all to well. Leaning in to murmur something to Clara as she watches that nex knight introduce himself. A round of polite clapping offered. Looking just ever so stoic after the murmur.

"Well, there's a man who's never taken a pommel to the nose, if ever I saw one." Esyld chuckles, low in her throat, as she briefly follows that Giraldi's progress across the field. "He's prettier than most of the tavern wenches I've seen." And, judging by the snorts of mirth from some of her fellow Foxes, that's not a compliment, coming from her. Shrugging one shoulder lightly, she dismisses him from her thoughts and ongoing commentary, blue eyes seeking out the next to come forward and one hand idly swirling her as-yet-untouched wine in its cup.

Clarke watches at the Garibaldi brothers, taking a few notes then and skimming back over then as he watches the procession move on, and then looking up at the stands in passing. Glory.. He lets out a quiet inward laugh, obscured by his helm. Smoething he still must earn and has not quit egotten yet.

"You might be surprised. He and Lucas beat each other senseless in the bareknuckle brawl at Pacitta." Corvin notes to Esyld, a touch amused, simply because of enjoying the fact that appearances can in fact be deceiving. "But all the same, perhaps I'll have to be careful not to imbibe too much lest I end up asking him to dance."

"Really..?" Arching a brow, Esyld looks suitably curious following this tidbit of information. "Well, good for Lucas. And for the pretty one, risking his dainty jawline and such." There's a grin at the image of Corvin propositioning the Giraldi, though she doesn't comment further; simply shaking her head and taking a small sip of her wine.

When Raimond makes his introduction, Michael watches with a grin from where he waits with the other knights. He meets Raimond at the edge of the field, a conspicuous show of attention for the once common knight, "Looking forward to another fight like Pacitta," he says as he holds out an arm for the other man to grip.

Whatever Emilia said causes a bit of a flush to Clara's cheeks. "He would think it a positive influence. We simply cannot have that now." The other Giraldi comes and goes, with Clara chuckling softly to herself. "One subdued, one flashy. perhaps the younger Giraldi was ill? Or saving the spotlight for his brother? How odd."

Riding in the parade in Sunreach is certainly not something Elrick is use to, but since this is the last tourney of the year and also an important one, the young knight looks more than presentable. Armor polished to a gleam with a riding cloak clasped around his neck that holds the t'Tremaine colors and sigil, he has his helm on the pommel of his saddle while he looks out to the crowd. Elrick's steed is also draped in a t'Tremaine colors as well for the presentation, his House proudly on display, perhaps even a reminder to the South. A respectful bow is offered to the royal box that belongs to the Rivanan while a salute is then given to the Couveri. His introduction is kept simple as he usually does, no long list of is accomplishments and battle experiences, "I am Sir Elrick t'Tremaine, Heir to House t'Tremaine. I ride for honor and glory!"

Raimond looks to Michael and grins in kind, reaching over and clasping Michael's arm firmly, "As am I, Lord Michael. But forgive me if I also look forward to a reversed final outcome." The Giraldi knight grins, releasing Michael's arm after a moment, "Though knowing the fickle fortunes of the Circuit, it'll be someone else entirely that trounces us both."

There is just a hint of tugging at the corners of Emilia's lips at the reaction her murmured words cause,"Of indeed, and we could not have him thinking of that. Of truly, it just wouldn't of do." Nodding at the comments about the Girald,"Either could be of possible. His brother had of the better of showing in Pacitta, didn't of he?"

"Just as I hope for such a reversal in the joust," Michael returns with laugh as he conceeds "True. Should we be watching out for your brother then?" he asks with a grin. "Anyhow, luck to you sir," a glance towards the girls in the common section of the field. "I'll leave you to your admirers."

"Possibly." Raimond replies with laughter in his voice, in regards to watching out for his brother, "Though yours certainly has the reputation to be wary of." He adds, then inclines his head to Michael, "Luck to you as well, Sir." And then he parts ways with the Heir of Murnord, heading further towards where the other knights have gathered.

Michael bids his farewell to Raimond but lingers long enough to greet Elrick with a grin. "Short and sweet. I approve," he says, turning his horse to head back to the other knights. "Should be an interesting tourney."

Glancing up as one of the Foxes draws closer and mutters something in question, Esyld nods and begins to rise, reluctantly handing off her barely touched wine toward Corvin. Presumably she doesn't expect it will still be waiting for her, upon her return. For the time being, the Captain drifts into the crowd that surrounds the entourage, leaving the others to continue spectating while she deals with whatever has arisen.

Sitting with Emilia, the Tracano princess glances down…and happens to catch a departing Couvieri. The leaving Esyld doesn't seem to set any off with Clara, but the fact that it is Corvin that she was sitting with. Well…Clara immediately shifts her attention, away and out to the knights. It may have been subtle. Maybe. In any case, Clara is taking careful measures to not look in that direction particularly again.

Clarke watches at the other knights ni formation, and at the stands as best he can get from his perspective on his steed. Letting the reins hang loosely, he just is contnet to listen then, resting his lance now that he is out of the main parade a little more at ease then rather than at stiff attention.

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