Contenders for ye Grand Spring Tourney
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Tournament Stands
Lady Serena struggled to control her sobs. She knew she was making quite a scene, but she could not control herself. When the Lord Master Herald had announced that the Vladimir and Richard would have to duel, she felt a wave of guilt flow over her. It was all her fault. And these wonderful chivalrous knights were going to be hurt because of her. Oh how foolish could she be!
She continued to cry a little, trying not to catch the eye of any of the knights, but especially Vladimir and Richard. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes pale as tears continued to slip down her face. Clenching her fists, she willed herself to sit still and not make things worse.
It was simple, Serena told herself. She would go into her tent and not come out until it was time to go home. That way, no one else would get hurt on account of her foolishness. That's what she got for losing control over her heart!
Tipping Grounds
Refreshed from the exertion of the tipping, Count Joao was feeling pretty good despite his failure to prevail. Removing his helmet for the presentation ceremony, he smiled and nodded cheerily enough to the Grand Princess. Having performed his noble duty, he dismissed her with a flick of his eyebrows and turned to watch Couer de Lion bestow his prize.
Queen of Love and Beauty? Tscah! Plenty of beauty, he saw, taking another look at the ladies. But Love? He saw vipers, not love. Oh, Serena, he sighed as he watched her cry. Foolish girl, with such hysterics. They knew the risk when they compete for your hand, girl. This is why love was such a silly proposition. Ladies acting beneath themselves and knights running around like sad puppies.
Couer de Lion sat passively on his horse, as Sir Paul announced the results, he knew that he had won, but showed no emotion. As he was announced winner he nodded his head, and then in turn nodded to each of the contenders, offering a hand to those that would take it. That being done he spurred his horse ever so gently and trotted towards the Lord Master Herald, from whom he received the glimmering crown for the queen of love and beauty. It teetered precariously on the tip of his lance and he flicked it a bit, drawing a deep breath from the crowd, as it seemed to fly in the air a bit before landing more sturdily a few inches down his lance. He looked to the heavens, as he turned his horse to face the beautiful women arrayed before him. Who to crown, it was not a hard choice, he had tipped in her name, and it would be dishonor to do otherwise, though it was a joust and he figured some theatrics were in order. Slowly he rounded a bout and came to the first woman in line, pausing ever so briefly, before moving on, stopping at different intervals for every woman. Before Yekaterina Polotovskaya he stopped a bit longer, and looked at her face, his head tilting sideways. Once could hardly see his eyes through his bassinet, which was glimmering under the spring sun.
Eventually he moved on past her, and then eventually past all the women, at which point he urged his horse, obediently to walk backwards past them again, this time he stopped squarely infront of the Princess Yekaterina, and bowing his head dangled the crown before her. Deftly he flipped his lance and the crown landed gently upon her head, his lance in a moments time, back held at attention next to him.
Eventually he moved on past her, and then eventually past all the women, at which point he urged his horse, obediently to walk backwards past them again, this time he stopped squarely infront of the Princess Yekaterina, and bowing his head dangled the crown before her. Deftly he flipped his lance and the crown landed gently upon her head, his lance in a moments time, back held at attention next to him.
18 rings...third place. Dimitru sighed, letting loose the long breath he had held through the tip. Perhaps it was just as well that he had not declared his intent to tip for the Princess, though he still held her favor whether she liked it or not, last night's tirade had made his future clear to him.
She was not to be his, nor ever would she be.
He surveyed the field, hoping against hope that he could find some reason to challenge another competitor to the death. Yes, that was what he must do. Either kill another man in spectacular single combat...or die here on this field, in front of his love. There was no place left for him in the world, only death. He wanted such a challenge...he yearned for it.
With a stone face, he watched politely as Princess Yekaterina Polotovskaya was crowned Queen of Love and Beauty, his lance in the air. He thought that just for a moment, she glanced his way, and when she did so, he bowed his head to her, but his face showed nothing. At the same moment, when he thought he had her gaze, his hand went to her ribbon, tied to the base of his lance.
When it was all over, he turned and rode out of the lists, and back to his pavilion, where Stewart tended his gear and Dimitru sat to think.
She was not to be his, nor ever would she be.
He surveyed the field, hoping against hope that he could find some reason to challenge another competitor to the death. Yes, that was what he must do. Either kill another man in spectacular single combat...or die here on this field, in front of his love. There was no place left for him in the world, only death. He wanted such a challenge...he yearned for it.
With a stone face, he watched politely as Princess Yekaterina Polotovskaya was crowned Queen of Love and Beauty, his lance in the air. He thought that just for a moment, she glanced his way, and when she did so, he bowed his head to her, but his face showed nothing. At the same moment, when he thought he had her gaze, his hand went to her ribbon, tied to the base of his lance.
When it was all over, he turned and rode out of the lists, and back to his pavilion, where Stewart tended his gear and Dimitru sat to think.
"Für Gott und Grünenwald"
Ritter Magnus von Grünenwald lowered his lance and thundered down the range. The blue silken scarf flowed from the base of his lance.
Magnus didn't count the rings as he rode. When he passed one, his attention was allready at the next down the line, and he didn't notice that he had missed the fourth untill the run was complete.
It was first when his horse stopped, or at least became as close to a complete halt as the spirited black mount, an impressive beast won from the Black Knight himself, that he once again noticed the world around him. The crowd was cheering him, and it was clear he had presented a good run.
His squire, Jonas, came and held his horse.
"A very good run, Sir. 19 of twenty. I doubt any man can do better than that."
"Thank you, Jonas. But we shall wait and see. Some of the other men have done very well in the first two runs, and I will not rule out the possibility that some might manage a flawless run."
Magnus remained in the saddle as his opponents made their runs.
After the second contenders run, the local champion Sir Vladimir Eevanivich Melnikov, Magnus reached up and removed his helmet. Whenever he rode, and for some time thereafter, he knew he was grinning like a madman, and it would not be proper to present such a face to the crowd. But now he had had some time to cool down, and his face did not betray any emitions.
As the runs were done, and it became clear that he had not won, he urged his horse a few steps forward, and shook Couer de Lions offered hand.
"A very good run, sir. Glad to see that only a true Christian knight could best me. I wish thee best of luck in the tournament."
Magnus remained as the queen was crowned, to do anything else would be to show a disrespect for the winner of the tip, but as soon as the crowning had been done, he turned his horse and rode towards his tent.
He would spend the evening in prayer, not rising from his knees despite the pain he knew would come from such actions, for two hours. And he would donate an additional 5 roobls to the church, once this tournament was won. This, he hoped, would be sufficient atonement for being placed second while wearing the colours of the Holy Virgin.
Ritter Magnus von Grünenwald lowered his lance and thundered down the range. The blue silken scarf flowed from the base of his lance.
Magnus didn't count the rings as he rode. When he passed one, his attention was allready at the next down the line, and he didn't notice that he had missed the fourth untill the run was complete.
It was first when his horse stopped, or at least became as close to a complete halt as the spirited black mount, an impressive beast won from the Black Knight himself, that he once again noticed the world around him. The crowd was cheering him, and it was clear he had presented a good run.
His squire, Jonas, came and held his horse.
"A very good run, Sir. 19 of twenty. I doubt any man can do better than that."
"Thank you, Jonas. But we shall wait and see. Some of the other men have done very well in the first two runs, and I will not rule out the possibility that some might manage a flawless run."
Magnus remained in the saddle as his opponents made their runs.
After the second contenders run, the local champion Sir Vladimir Eevanivich Melnikov, Magnus reached up and removed his helmet. Whenever he rode, and for some time thereafter, he knew he was grinning like a madman, and it would not be proper to present such a face to the crowd. But now he had had some time to cool down, and his face did not betray any emitions.
As the runs were done, and it became clear that he had not won, he urged his horse a few steps forward, and shook Couer de Lions offered hand.
"A very good run, sir. Glad to see that only a true Christian knight could best me. I wish thee best of luck in the tournament."
Magnus remained as the queen was crowned, to do anything else would be to show a disrespect for the winner of the tip, but as soon as the crowning had been done, he turned his horse and rode towards his tent.
He would spend the evening in prayer, not rising from his knees despite the pain he knew would come from such actions, for two hours. And he would donate an additional 5 roobls to the church, once this tournament was won. This, he hoped, would be sufficient atonement for being placed second while wearing the colours of the Holy Virgin.
A knight arrives on horseback, followed by a small group of men, mainly servants. He present a document showing his nobility.
“Noble Master Herald,
I have traveled a long distance to participate in this glorious joust and to measure my strenght with the finest knights through out the world. My name is Sir Cyril Viscarious, and as my names man, Saint Cyril of Jerusalem, also I come from the city of Our Lord Jesus Christ, Jerusalem. My family is one of the few noble familiess left in Jerusalem, confessing to the one and true faith, the orthodox church, having my uncle, the Patriarch of Jerusalem as the guiding star in the tricky, dark corridor which we often reffer to as... earthly life.
My hopes goes to that you will accept me as an honorable knight, fit to fight along side and against my orthodox brothers aswell with and against the knights who follows the Bishop in Rome...”
Sir Cyril awaits the Master Heralds response.
The words of the Lord Master Herald echoed in Vladimir's head. His Syerina, had given her favour not just to himself, but the Knight of Gelre... Meaningless, he had not expected such from this woman and his heart sank. Now he would have to fight for his honour against a man whom he never knew nor ever held any ill feelings for.
It was with these thoughts and this heavy heart that Vladimir Eevanvich was to charge the rings. Fifteen... it wasn't bad, he could have done better and he knew it though, in the very least he beat his competitor for Lady Syerina's favour. However the true competition of that was yet to come.
He removed his helm from his head when it was all done, his golden hair blowing about his face in the cool wind. He took the hand of the "Cour de lion" and shook it firmly, nodding his head in congratulation. Vladimir looked over to where the now crowned Queen of Love and Beauty sat... just as well he didn't tip for her though he thought, he may have jeopardized her chances of winning such an amply fitting title. At least this may have lessened for her the dissapointment in the knight she had chosen by hand. However his mind rested on the Princess Katya not too long, nor did his eyes, he looked to the stands to look for Syerina. It was evident though she had already left with Count Joao, the only other knight that Vladimir had bested in the tipping.
As the various contenders and spectators began to make their way from the lists, Vladimir urged his horse over to the Lord Master Herald. As he approached Vladimir Eevanvich dismounted and led his horse over to the table, "I shall enter combat with Sir Jonker Richard van Baler until the yield, Lord Master Herald." Vladimir Eevanvich nodded respectfully to Sir Paul before turning and walking away. His pulse was quickening as he walked, his gut coming into a knot. He was walking in the direction of the pavilion of Count Joao. His squire took his horse away and he continued alone now on this trip that he dreaded but by honor had to make...
The twenty-four year old Vladimir Eevanvich Melnikov approached the pavilion still in armour minus his helm, his golden hair rustled by the wind hanging about his shoulders, his cold blue eyes were serious yet behind the imposing figure that was Vladimir, there was a distinct sadness. He stepped up, addressing whoever was watching the portal, "I have come with the intention of speaking with the Lady Serena. I being, Vladimir Eevanivich." He spoke deeply and somewhat loudly against the rushing wind. For the pained soul hiding inside, Vladimir's earthly vessel showed only the bearing of a noble warrior.
Joao's Pavilon
The end of the tipping had been misery for Serena. She was secretly relieved that neither Vladimir or Richard had won the contest, the better to allow her to escape back to her Pavilion. She had managed to stop the tears, but she still shook her head slightly as the contest proceeded, shame pouring over her. Oh how foolish she had been! Part of her was angry with herself and with Joao! Why didn't he tell her that only one knight tipped for a woman?
When the proceedings ended, and the Lady Yekaterina was crowned (good for her), she stood up as fast as dignity would allow, if not faster, signalled to her servants and made her way back to the Pavilion as quickly as possible, Joao's servants struggling to keep up. The second she arrived back at the tent, she threw aside the flap, ran into the corner, and buried her face in the cushions, sobbing. She never wanted to come out of the tent again.
And then the worst happened. She heard insistent footsteps outside and someone stopping just outside the flap of the pavilion.
""I have come with the intention of speaking with the Lady Serena. I being, Vladimir Eevanivich."
She burst into tears again. Oh, Vladimir...what must you think of me. Save yourself, go away, and never think of me again. Serena turned to one of the servants, shaking her head. Walking outside, the servant approached Sir Vladimir.
"Milady sends her regrets but she is not receiving at this time."
Vladimir's heart sank even lower with the words of the servant. How could he have been so wrong he thought? Her laughs last night, were not ones of pleasure after all, surely she had been laughing at him. Then she mocked him by giving her favour to another... To think that he could have actually believed that a woman who seemed so nobe would actually enjoy his presence. He was a fool, he was not attractive like Yuri or Yeleziveta, he cursed himself for every chancing to think he was.
Now he just stared at this servant, not knowing what to say. Should he simply walk off? Should he give a message for the young woman? He so wished to speak with her, it broke his heart even more that he could not. He wanted to apologize for being such a fool. Finally he spoke up, his voice had lost much of its impetus from earlier, "Please tell the Lady Serena, that I do not intend to fight to the death with the man to whom she has granted favour. I also apologize for misinterpreting the lady's intentions, had I known she already favoured another man, I would never have asked... If she wishes, despite the result of the combat between Sir Jonker Richard van Baler and myself, I shall drop any claim of my own to her favour. Let me know her response, and I will leave."
Sir Basileus was enjoying talking with the people in social tent. He looked at all of people around him with amusement. He then recline to watch and listen some more. He turns to one person who is sitting near him,
This is interesting and fun to listen.
Then he shook his with beamusement as the people seemed to be so undiscipline but that was to be expected for those who are without the benefit of Roman trainning.
This is interesting and fun to listen.
Then he shook his with beamusement as the people seemed to be so undiscipline but that was to be expected for those who are without the benefit of Roman trainning.
Joao's Pavilion
Serena sobbed some more as she listened to Vladimir speak. She could hear the hurt in his tone, and it made her feel even lower. Oh father, why did you ever want me to journey out into a wider world? All I ever seem to do is hurt people. She sat there, wracked with indecision. Part of her longed to run to Vladimir and explain everything, make him see how foolish it had all been - a poor girl ignorant of what tipping meant. The rest of her kept her rooted to the spot, terrified of facing him, seeing hurt in his eyes.
She looked around and say the servants quietly staring at her. There was a mixture of pity, but mostly it was concern, and some...was that disappointment? Serena stiffened, annoyed that servants would presume to judge her, and realized how foolish she was being.
Not knowing how she managed it, she stood and crossed the room, approaching the flap. Quietly opening it, she looked at Vladimir for a split second before her eyes immediately shot back down to the ground. Her left hand flew up in a listless gesture for the door servant to retire.
She stood there for a moment, too terrified to look up at the knight, yet knowing how disappointed he must feel in her. Her breathing shortened, and she was having trouble keeping calm. After a moment, the dry heaves subsided, but her embarassment was still there.
"W-what words can I tell you to explain? Is it enough for me to say that I was a fool? C-charmed by the idea of two knights who found me to be more than just a statue. If I had only k-known that by saying yes to Richard, I was saying no to you...oh what have I done!"
All dignity forgotten, her tears returned and her hands flew up to her face in a futile attempt to hide her distress.
The tense moments passed as Vladimir stood awaiting the lady's response. His stomach was binding tighter, what was going on? If she was to refuse him, why didn't she just do it? What other alternative could there be, she was beautiful and he was the odd one out of his siblings, not blessed like them with great physical beauty.
Then she appeared again before him, in the tent flap and suddenly his mind reverted to its state the night previous. The noble knight who stood so dignifided now quesitoned his every action once more, his every word. He saw her eyes, tearstained, red... but only for a moment before she looked to the ground. Maybe she was sad that Sir Richard had not won her the title Queen of Love and Beauty.
Then she finally spoke, the same delicate voice of the night before. Her words were such comfort, in fact she did not after all feel so coldly to him as he had thought. She returned to her sobs, her hands covering her pretty face. Vladimir could feel his heart split seeing this sweet young woman in such obvious discomfort. He wanted to reach out to her, embrace her even, to both comfort her and out of his joy that she did not in fact wish to reject him for the other man. However all he managed was to drop on his knee before her, he bowed his head, "It is I who was charmed by you my lady. I only wanted to bring you honour on the field, to proudly hold your favour in the competition. If I had known the results of all this before hand... Well, I would never have asked your favour... I... well... I wanted to impress my most beautiful lady so that she would look upon me more kindly..." Vladimir turned his eyes now up to the Lady Serena, their cold blue glistening in the harsh spring wind.
Joao's Pavilion
A few more tears fell down her cheek as she stood there, looking at the ground, and listened to Vladimir's words. They made her flush, and she was reminded of how happy she had felt the night before, struggling to talk with a complete stranger. And here he was, concerned for her, wanting to show her favor, despite her own foolish deeds.
She sniffed, clearing her nose and then gasped a little as she saw him drop to his knees in front of her. Her mouth hung slightly open as listened to him, and then her mouth turned into a small smile and she breathed a sigh of relief.
Oh V...I mean, milord," she held her hand up to her mouth in embarassment. "What a fool I've been. Of c-course you have my favor. I only wish I could keep you from g-getting hurt in that silly duel. Oh I was so flattered by the poor y-young knight. I didn't realize how it might hurt you."
She struggled to raise her eyes to meet his, and was finally able to make eye contact, marveling at the vivid shade of blue...eyes for her.
"P-please forgive me, milord." And without thinking, her right hand reached and gently touched some of the loose hairs on Vladimir's hand. Suddenly, realizing what she had done, she gasped in embarassment and recoiled.
"Oh...I must go!" And she turned around and ran back into the Pavilion tent.
Yeleziveta had been speaking with Miquel for quite sometime now and the sky was getting dark. The next day would be the day for the "tips" and she must remember to be up early to attend. She smiled as he asked for a more personal way to say her name, "You can call me beautiful if it pleases you." She winked at Miquel and began walking with him back toward the tower.
As they neared the portal she turned to him again, offering her hand up to him to kiss, "It will be my pleasure to see you again tomorrow Miquel. Volodya calls me Liz or Lizaveta sometimes, you of course can too if you like." She smiled at him one last time, she would have him kiss her before this tourney was over, she had already decided. "Have a pleasant night Maninin." However a ladies' favours must not be given lightly, tonight he woud have to content with her hand. She slipped through the doorway and into the tower...
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His heart that had hung so low suddenly shot back up once again at her words. Her sweet voice, so addicting, her words so comforting and reassuring. Not only it seemed did she not find him foolish but she actually cared for his well-being, not to mention for his feelings. Then she had risen her eyes to meet his, and despite the weather surrounding them, Melnikov felt warmed by their look, almost entranced never wanting to leave their gaze. She had reached out to him, and then suddenly the blissful moment stopped and she dissapeared once more, Vladimir's arm held out vainly as if it catch her.
He remained there kneeling for some moments, his arm hung limply before him where it had shot out vainly to catch Syerina, to keep her in his presence. Slowly now he stood up, a new convinction in his heart. He must win that duel he thought, he must have the honour of bringing her favour to the joust. Vladimir Eevanvich once more stood the tall noble warrior. He would no longer disturb the Lady, no matter how much he longed to see her again. Not unless he met her outside this place. No, now he would earn the right to be in her presence in a combat of honour. A combat he knew he could win.
As Vladimir Eevanivich walked toward the Fortress once more he remembered his words from the day before, speaking of such things as the tipping being matters only for women. Ironic he thought, he could die now because of this matter of women, be seriously injured and his emotions relied upon it. He turned once more toward the pavilion, a fleeting hope to see the woman he would fight for once more... Not that he needed to, her image was now quite burned into his consciousness.
Mina laughed at Volker's comment, she turned to meet his eyes, an amused smile still playing on her full lips, "Indeed, indeed, you are of course due to such circumstances forgiven Herr Volker."
She had minutes before been informed of Count Joao's intention to tip for her favour. Her gray eyes turned to look at the Portugese knight, it was a pleasing gesture anyway, though she would wait to see how he preformed before giving him her favour. Mina turned to Katya, "What do you know of this man that tips for me? All I know of yours is that he is a mute."
Katya smiled, her eyes turning to look at the Portugese count as well before turning back to Mina, leaning closer to her aunt, "Not much, seemed a rather unimpressing sort when we met him yesterday. Not to say he didn't look promising, but not much really stood out about him." Katya's eyes turned back to look over to Dimitru, the man who truly still held her favour. She remembered the night previous, maybe she had reacted a bit too harshly, but the point still stood and she wasn't about to apologize. All unpleasant thoughts and she looked now to the English knight openly declared to tip for her. Odd she thought, he had never even approached her to ask her favour, not that she could have given it...
The tipping itself was mere child's play compared to the jousting competitons to soon follow and held not the greatest amount of excitement among the spectators. It was enjoyable to watch, but Katya in particular was much more interested in the conflicts yet to come. Sir Magnus and the Englishman were obviously both men of great skill, to say Dimitru had impressed her with his preformance was to understate things considerably. She never would have thought the Moldavian capable of much in terms of martial prowess, appearances can indeed decieve she thought. Vladimir Eevanivich she could tell had surely not been in his own mind, she had never seen him act so before, his movements and actions were far from typical. Regardless, whatever was on his mind surely cost him a ring or two, she doubted if he could have made perfect twenty, yet she knew he could have done better than fifteen.
As such the tip was over, Yekaterina knew she was to crowned Queen of Love and Beauty and couldn't help but blush during the Englishman's theatrics. Something certainly felt off though, tainting much of the experience, more likely than not it having to do with the previous evening. She adjusted the crown on her head with a smile, meeting the gaze of the English knight, "Much too kind milord." Her eyes invariably wandered however back to Dimitru, this time she realized he was looking at her, he motioned to the ribbon attached to his lance. She smiled slightly despite herself... a good show.
Mina met Joao's gaze as he presented himself and returned his polite nod. She wasn't in the least disconcerted by not wearing the crown Katya wore now, this was all Pavyel's surprise to Katya in the end anyway. Mina was just along to relax and enjoy herself. The Grand Princess smiled slightly as Joao turned away from her, leaning over to Volker again, "Quite the graceful loser that one. Tell me, what did you think? The Bremer was quite good I noticed... but to tip for the virgin mother, rather unorthodox isn't it?"
Henry Manley was in the crowd, and he had cheered raucously as "Couer de Lion" had taken all twenty rings perfectly and had a great start to the tournament. Shortly after the presentation of the crown he began walking towards Yekaterina's place in the stands. Before he could reach her he found an orderly of Mina's court and handed a letter to him which he carried. It was addressed to Katya, and Henry stayed to make sure it reached her. Its contents were as follows,
Princess Yekaterina Polotovskaya,
I write to apologize for the transgressions caused much earlier in this tourney by my serf and friend Geoff. As well I should like to clear up much of the confusion that may have arisen from the events of todays tip, and my friend, "Coeur de Lion's" fighting for your favor, indeed, thins must seem unorthodox. If you should find the time I would very much like to discuss and explain some things to you in person if you could meet me in the social tent privately, this evening.
Representative of England, and His Majest John III,
Sir Thomas Waltham.
Princess Yekaterina Polotovskaya,
I write to apologize for the transgressions caused much earlier in this tourney by my serf and friend Geoff. As well I should like to clear up much of the confusion that may have arisen from the events of todays tip, and my friend, "Coeur de Lion's" fighting for your favor, indeed, thins must seem unorthodox. If you should find the time I would very much like to discuss and explain some things to you in person if you could meet me in the social tent privately, this evening.
Representative of England, and His Majest John III,
Sir Thomas Waltham.
12 rings......Richard spit on the ground. 12 bloody rings was all he had managed to get. Richard knew that he wasn't anywhere near his brother in terms of combat (though he did make a better fried chicken) but 12?! Last.........lower then the Pskovian. After hearing that he had to fight the Pskovian he shook his head. Another humiliation probably. Richard put his chin up, shoulders straight and guided his horse to Lord Herald. He dismounted and made a slight bow.
"Milord, a-as Sir Vla-Vla-Vladimir h-h-has chosen for the duel to e-e-end in a yiiiiiiiield so we-will I. I will choose t-t-to yiiiiield."
After that he walked around. Not into any direction in particular. He ended up close to the Portuguese Pavilion and then he saw Sir Vladimir, his opponent. For a few moments Richard didn't know what to do. Should he turn back to his tent? Should he go to his uncle who would probably be drinking a talking at the social tent?
Richard decided that he should talk to his opponent. Only to tell him that he had made no illusions.
He walked to Sir Vladimir and said.
"S-Sir Vla-Vladimir. A-A-As you m-m-might know I am J-J-Jonker Richard vaaaaaaaan B-B-Barel. I w-w-wish to s-s-say that th-th-though I think that y-y-y-you w-w-will defeat me in the duuuuuuel a-a-and L-L-Lady Serena pro-pro-probably likes y-y-you m-m-more then a stu-stut-stuttering boy I a-am. H-H-However, I am thaught i-in the w-ways of chivalry, chr-christian chivalry. I-I-I wil f-f-fight y-y-you as h-h-hard as possible. If I wwwwin then I will aaaaask the Lady wh-who she prefers. If it's y-y-you then I w-will let you be her champion. Though I think y-y-you wil win."
"Milord, a-as Sir Vla-Vla-Vladimir h-h-has chosen for the duel to e-e-end in a yiiiiiiiield so we-will I. I will choose t-t-to yiiiiield."
After that he walked around. Not into any direction in particular. He ended up close to the Portuguese Pavilion and then he saw Sir Vladimir, his opponent. For a few moments Richard didn't know what to do. Should he turn back to his tent? Should he go to his uncle who would probably be drinking a talking at the social tent?
Richard decided that he should talk to his opponent. Only to tell him that he had made no illusions.
He walked to Sir Vladimir and said.
"S-Sir Vla-Vladimir. A-A-As you m-m-might know I am J-J-Jonker Richard vaaaaaaaan B-B-Barel. I w-w-wish to s-s-say that th-th-though I think that y-y-y-you w-w-will defeat me in the duuuuuuel a-a-and L-L-Lady Serena pro-pro-probably likes y-y-you m-m-more then a stu-stut-stuttering boy I a-am. H-H-However, I am thaught i-in the w-ways of chivalry, chr-christian chivalry. I-I-I wil f-f-fight y-y-you as h-h-hard as possible. If I wwwwin then I will aaaaask the Lady wh-who she prefers. If it's y-y-you then I w-will let you be her champion. Though I think y-y-you wil win."
Katya received the note from Thomas and looked over to Henry Manely before opening it and reading it. She sighed slightly, it couldn't be helped she supposed. Who knows, it may be good for her to see Thomas again, her eyes looked up at the orderly, "Pytor, return to the Englishman, tell him I will be there."
The orderly bowed his head slightly, "Yes my Princess." He turned then to go tell Henry Manley...
Mina turned with a knowing smile to Katya, "Off to meet the admirer?"
Katya took Mina's hand and kissed it, holding it to her face before meeting her aunt's smile, "It seems so Princess."
Outside the Fortress
Vladimir had been walking back to Fortress when he was approached by Sir Richard. No doubt going to try and steal Serena's heart away from him, Vladimir was hit by a pang of jealously, his features hardened as Richard came nearer. Vladimir did his best to catch all that was said from Sir Richard, though admittedly it was very difficult by way of language, stutter and accent. However he caught most of the idea that was trying to be conveyed and he allowed himself a slight smile, he took Sir Richard's hand in his own and shook it firmly, "Brothers in arms and honour then. It shall be my pleasure to fight such a worthy and chivalrous opponent. Come, would you like to share a drink and words with me in the tent?" Vladimir Eevanivich did in fact wish to learn more of his would-be opponenet, and having him with him in the tent would give him a chance to keep an eye on the Knight in concerns to his Syerina.
- Status