The room was silent. All three men looked at one another. Not even the world dared make a sound in the tense silence. "Brother," Brandon quietly said and took a step back, "I will do as you say, but please, don't treat this any less than the greatest threat to our family." His tone was soft, having lost all the energy to continue fighting for his way after decades of it failing. Anton looked at his brother, his gaze softening, seeing Brandon be proven right after so long and still being denied what he wanted.
"Brandon. I just need proof. That's all I need." Brandon weakly nodded. Turning to Tristan, Anton narrowed his gaze, "What you have heard shall never be repeated to anyone without mine or my brother's explicit approval." Anton stepped forward, coming half a step away from Tristan, "I don't believe I need to say what will happen otherwise." Tristan rapidly nodded, "Get out, I wish to sleep."
Placing a hand on his chest, Tristan deeply bowed towards the two and left the room. Behind him, Brandon followed and grabbed his shoulder, his cold hand sending a chill down his spine, even if he wore clothing. "If you can get me the proof so I can do what I need, I will give you anything you desire, no matter what," Brandon whispered in Tristan's ear before walking off, leaving Tristan with that promise. Staring at the chancellor's back, he knew he had only promised that, not because of his ability, but Annabell's.
'But to promise anything. He didn't even warn me about reaching too high. How desperate is he for this?' Grabbing his temples and rubbing them, Tristan yawned and shook his head, 'Forget it, I wanna sleep.' Stumbling back to his room, he made sure to be as silent as possible and threw the door open, crashing into bed and swiftly falling asleep, his body and mind completely shattered after everything.
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"TRISTAN!" Edmund's voice cried out from the other side of the door, finally awakening Tristan from his slumber. lazily rising and staring at the door, he groaned, and looked out the window, seeing it was noon. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself up and slowly dressed himself in black robes that were plain and designed except for the gold threading running down the front adjacent to the buttons.
"I'm awake." Opening the door, Tristan saw Edmund happily smiling.
"You've been sleeping too long. Come." Edmund grabbed his hand and dragged his friend through the fort's halls. As he opened the front doors, the blinding light blinded Tristan, and his body tensed up, feeling the cold breeze, but Annabell's soft feather rubbed his cheek, calming him down. "You never sleep this late. Soemthing happened, or was it just getting used to your first night out?"
"Getting accustomed to being outside the palace. It took a while to calm down, and by the time I slept, even the owls had gone to sleep." Edmund chuckled as they ran through the tourney grounds, hearing eruptions of cheers in the distance every few minutes. Stopping Edmund, Tristan quickly bought himself some food, realising he hadn't eaten.
As soon as he finished, he let Edmund drag him off once more and was pulled up towards the viewing box overlooking the joust taking place. Taking a seat, he sighed and leaned against his fist. Looking to his left, Edmund sat with Mary and Wells, the man allowed with the royal family due to his marriage. To his right was an empty seat that was reserved for Cillian.
Looking behind and up, he saw Anton sitting in a makeshift throne, resting between his wife and Bradon. Alongside him, Matthew sat with his betrothed, nervously trying to talk to the girl as she politely smiled, not rushing him. A few extra places around Anton were left free, each reserved for the Great lords if they chose to sit with him, only Lord Makepiece doing so, happily talking to Brandon.
'Lord Clover and Sunflare are likely taking part in the joust even if it's only the qualifying rounds. As for Lady Blackwell.' Looking up and seeing her reserved seat placed lowest amongst the rest, he wasn't surprised by her no show, 'A Blackwell happily sitting with a Cosmaton would never happen.'
Looking around the arena, ignoring the current joust, he saw a few raised platforms, covered in fine materials, each one flying a banner of the Great Lords. Inside the platform flying the five-leaf clover, Sandra Clover sat in the seat reserved for the head of the family, smiling happily, flirting with men and women alike around her, her green hair left to flow freely as someone played with it. In the Sunfalre stand, the head seat was left empty as only his most loyal vassals were allowed to rest inside, watching and discussing matters.
Turning to the platform flying the red bridge, he saw Lady Blackwell sitting with a black veil over her face, hiding everything but her red lips, dressed as if she had just returned from a funeral. Watching the joust, Tristan caught the moment a man wearing a banner of a tree was knocked off his horse and thrown backwards, groaning in pain as the crowd roared with excitement.
The man squire quickly ran over, helping the knight up as two stable boys surrounded his horse and calmed it down. To the centre of the arena, the announcer raised his hand to calm the crowd, struggling to do so for a few seconds, until they were finally ready for the next round.
"Ladies and Gentlemen. I present to you, Lord Hector Clover, Lord of the Flower Palace and head of the Clover Household." A horse ran forward from one of the side entrances as Lord Clover rode through, his helmet under his arm as he smiled and waved towards the crowd. His armour was a mix of gold, brown, and green, which was disgustingly ornate, looking entirely impractical with no other reason than to show off, yet the stability he rode with showed he had decades of experience.
Lord Clover rode before the platform, flying his family's banner, and looked up, bowing towards it, making his sister and the group she had with her cheer fiercely. The man rode around for a few minutes, soaking up the cheers, much to the annoyance of those who wished to see a joust finally taking his place when the cheers began to change from fanfare to awkward courtesy.
"Facing Lord Clover." The announcer could finally speak, rolling his eyes towards the Lord, "A wandering knight who only calls themselves the Wolf." The crowd followed the announcer's gaze and muttered to one another. Tristan did the same. The rules for the tournament were clear. Whilst participants for the melee and joust could be anyone, their identity had to be proven beforehand. It was strange that someone would hide that identity, especially when it was a chance to be scouted by the Great Lord.
The rider rode in, their black armour absorbing sunlight, a black beast beneath the, Tristan stared and couldn't help but frown and lean over to Edmund. "It's a woman." Edmund shot him a confused look.
"How can you tell?"
"Her armour shows her body is smaller than most knights. If that were all, it would be fine, but." Tristan tapped his chest, "A suit of armour is made around a person. You can't do that and hide a chest." Tristan narrowed his gaze. 'But that horse is too fine for a wandering knight. And her armour. It looks plain, but looking closely I can see an artisan has worked on parts of it.'
Tristan narrowed his gaze and quickly remembered soemthing. Looking behind him, he saw the places saved for Elais and Mabel empty, his theory being proven right when the king had a dark look on his face as he stared at the knight calling themselves the wolf.
Laughing to himself, Edmund, Mary and Wells gave him a strange look. "It's the Pricness." The three eyes widened in shock, but Tristan continued to laugh, leaning forward, seeing a woman joust for the first time.
The announcer walked off the field and took his place at the side. From the side of Lord Clover and the Wolf, squires came over and handed them their lances. The horses dig their hooves into the ground as the world came to a still. Lord Clover finally put his helmet on, a crown made of thorns and clovers carved into it.
The announcer let the tension build, and shouting began the moment it peaked. The two charged forward like lightning, eyeing the other like hawks, their lances raised, steady despite bouncing up and down.
Only the sound of hooves broke through the silence as everyone held their breath and waited. In a matter of seconds, there was an eruption as the two shot their lances at one another, trying to worm through their defences and score a point on the other. But both were skilled, easily seeing through the propping attacks. The Wolf's lance exploded on Lord Clovers' shield as Lord Clovers was knocked to the side.
Throwing the broken lance to the side, the Wolf grabbed the new one held up from them and rode around the arena, ready to meet Lord Clover once more. The crowd cheered as they screamed, trying to cheer on their rider, as a few individuals seized the opportunity to make the competition a way to earn a quick coin, taking bets from those around.
The two ran at each other once more, probing the other, hitting forward, Lord Clover expertly avoiding a hit as his lance broke on the Wolf's chest, nearly unhorsing them, but staying stable using their legs to pull themselves back up.
'Even if he is arrogant, he has some skill to back up his personality.' Tristan muttered in his head as he watched Lord Clover throw his breaking lance aside and take a new one, recharging. The Wolf met his gaze and, after getting a feel for the other, began to fully commit. The Wolfs, she would parry the lance aimed for her to the side, and broke on Lord Clover's head, earning a roar from the crowd as they jumped in the lead.
Running around, they charged again. Lord Clover raised high, looking as if he was going for the Wolf's Head, but in the final moments, like a snake, it moved as he lifted his shield, pushing the Wolf's Lance to the side and slamming it into their chest, using their body to finally throw them off their horse.
The world fell backwards and slammed into the ground, tensing in pain as Lord Clover came to a stop and threw his helmet off, looking towards his tent and bowing towards his sister and their entourage again. The crowd erupted in cheers as the man basked in them for a moment before dismounting and walking to the beaten knight, helping them stand.
"Marvellous display." He said with a happy voice, slapping the Wolf on their back, "May we see who is underneath the helmet." The Wolf hesitated for a moment, before audible sighing, their body slumping as they took their helmet off, the golden hair of the Cosmaton family showing as she looked to Anton. Mabel smiled in embarrassment before bowing to her father.