Two funerals and a banquet

During a visit to House Morrigen to show his last respects to the fallen squire by the hands of his own, Symon not only found a patron but also saw the opportunity to rise House Withers back to its former standing. His end of the deal for accepting the money and support was clouded in mistery. One day his services would be called upon... No time to ponder long though. The competition continued. Had Longheart, Eddard's knight arrived timely? And where was the strange squire anyway? No one had seen him since his victory at the squires' mêlée... Trumpets sounded, calling all knights to the grounds.

The jousting started excellent. All three managed to escaped both death and utter humiliation in their first round. Symon stepped down after a risky joust -although encouraged not to do so by his squire Arys- and it would seem he was among the first to use common sense. Two knights fell. Deadly wounded or dead on the spot. The lances and keen eyes of Berthold and Mollos won. The toss determined that the two befriended knights would compete against eachother. Suspense filled the tournament grounds and the hearts of our companions. Who would prevail? To what cost? Would either one of them back down in time? Or would their hunger for glory, renown and -above all- financial profit take the best of them? Lances at the ready they spurred their steeds. Breathing stopped, hearts pounding, adrenaline pumping...

A shattering, the deadening sound of breaking wood.

As dust fell down around the stamping hooves, Berthold sat straight-up in his saddle. At his feet lay Mollos, pierced with the hardened tip of Yronwood's lance. In the mere minutes Mollos' soul fought for survival, Uller tried to sew the wounds, stop the bleeding, anything... yet all was in vain. The eyes broke, their stare towards the heavens... fixed upon the Stranger's face, who had come to guide him beyond this vale of tears.

There was no time for mourning however, as Berthold was to face the last knight in the final joust. A match worth watching. Both took damage as lances splintered, crashed upon the shields and again they launched themselves forward. Innumerable rounds they reeled in their steeds, turned, rode again. Again. Again. Until Loras Rowan missed. Another dead man to be collected by the Grey Sisters. One more name added to the list.

Surprise at the start of the knights' mêlée. The young lord Tyrell, heir of Cider Hall, had succumbed to his illness. A young man replaced him under the balcony. A new appearance shook the crowds a second time: a stranger, Dornish of descent presumably considering his physique, joined the other knights at the fighting grounds. Cloaked in white fur, armed with a shield and spear, bearing a self-assured smile. He took the west corner, Symon the north, Berthold the east and Dayne the south. Step by step they moved closer towards eachother. Dayne, Symon and Berthold formed some sort of triangle at the center. They crashed down on the white-cloak. Blows were exchanged at a high pace, taunts followed by a quick step aside, shields rattled. With cunning, well-placed strikes and sudden shifts of adversaries, whirling around blades, evading spear points at the last second, Berthold prevailed a second time.

That evening all were invited to a banquet at Cider Hall. Before riding off, Perros decided to search for Eddard. Arriving at his camp site, he found the squire had dissapeared. His search of the tracks lead him over the little creek at the end of the camping grounds, in the direction of the woods. No further sign. As if Eddard had gone up in smoke.

Upon their arrival at Cider Hall, it became clear that the Hall was nothing more than a little keep. One large hall, the roof beamed with cider trees, was the main and only living area. Four long tables were set up before the small table of honor. Our friends took their places amongst the other 80 or so invited. The meal began as Lord Tyrell, accompanied by the lady, the House's maester, a young man and the commander of the guard took their places. Drink offerings were made in honor of the young heir and soon all names of those fallen the last days followed. Eyes flew over the crowds to see how 'enthousiastic' offerings were joined. The young man sitting at the lefthand side of the lord was introduced as his lord's nephew. He would, in time, inherit the lands of his uncle. Cheers flowed through the Hall, short and doubting. While one envigorating dish followed the other, a visitor was brought forward. A man, in his late thirties, dressed in black. A man of the Night's Watch, a band of former criminals exiled to the North to protect the Wall from whatever was lurking in the lands of Always Winter. A criminal. Whispered voices arose as this stranger was invited to dine at the lord's table. Surely that was unheard of...

After the lord had taken his leave, the musicians continued to liven up the Hall. All seemed to relax a bit more and conversation became less public as several men and women withdrew themselves in corners and niches. Arys had an akward but rewarding conversation with the white-cloaked knight. After conversing with Symon, White -as he preferred to have himself called- agreed on teaching the squire how to use spears. First lesson was to be held before the break of dawn the next day. Yronwood and his escort, Alanys of the West, had a little talk with Mareq Dayne on the subject of the little lord's demise and Eddard's dissapearance, while Perros laid down his ears to the gossip of the other squires. None had seen him since the mêlée.
The Night's Watchman seemed to intrigue Yronwood as well. Straightforwardly looking the stranger in the eye seemed to peak his interest too. As the black cloak made his way through the crowd towards Berthold, Arys sneaked up on him from behind. The wachtman's name was Urek, he said. Since Berthold -hailing from the deep south- had not yet heard of the practices of the Night's Watch, a lively conversation followed. They decided to meet up again the next day.
As everyone took their leave, Symon saw something strange. As he made for the door, a young serving maid quickly eloped him. He turned to look, but she already stood at the other end of the Hall, her back turned towards him. No one else had seen anything peculiar about the maid, and none could really recall her having served them, so Symon left it at that. Seeing that Ser Morrigen was leaving the Hall on foot, with his companions already riding off before him, Symon decided to accompany his patron in case anything was to happen to him. It was an uneventful stroll.

Upon their arrival at the camping grounds, they witnessed Urek setting up his tent at the edge of the grounds near the creek. Apparently the commander of the guards had given him leave to camp there. Since Berthold had already dropped off his escort at her wagon, and possibly because his inquiring mind had still some reserve about this Umek, the conversation from earlier continued.

Alanys did not feel like sleeping yet, so she left her wagon in search for the stable master of the inn she visited earlier. She was determined to learn how the man had been able to handle her war horse so quickly and without effort. She found him asleep, and although the stable boys were adamant at waking him up, she decided not to. The old man could probably do with a good night sleep, she must have thought. As she rode back to her wagon, she suddenly felt something pulling her out of the saddle. Opening her eyes again after tumbling to the ground she found -to her surprise- her neck pricked with a dagger. The two thieves wanted the contents of her purse. She quickly handed it over, climbed back on and drove off. She cared little for her purse, it only had some copper and some ladies' stuff in it anyway.

The next morning, before the crack of dawn, Arys went to see his teacher, White. A few runs later, and with one foot wounded, he returned to his master with the news that White had agreed to train him. After breakfast, Berthold and Symon rode off to the archery range to meet with Dayne, White and Morrigen. Five arrows each, to be shot at the same time, would determine the winner of the archery contest. Helped with a small amount of some special herbs from Uller, Symon aimed his arrows slightly better than the others. He won the last round of competition.

The end of the competition was immediately followed by the awards. Arys, as winner of the squires' joust, received 280 moons. Eddard, as he was not present, did not collect his sum. Perros received 210 moons for winning the archers'. Conclusively all were awarded a gold-laquered token as proof of their actions.

The first tournament had ended. Our friends did better than many of the other squires and knights. At least, they can still climb in the saddle and ride off...

p.s.: A large loaf of bread costs 1 copper penny (CP). Ten pennies are replaced by a coin named a star (CS). Five stars make a silver stag (SS). Ten stags equal a moon (SM). Twenty-five moons make a dragon (GD). Or, reversed:
1 GD = 25 SM
25 SM = 250 SS
250 SS = 1 250 CS
1 250 CS = 12 500 CP

280 SM, the winnings of Arys, make a lot of bread...

Say for instance, that a man would like to purchase the best weapons, armor, and horse. Without even buying vital stuff like tents or bedrolls he would have to spent about 14 000 SS (1400 SM or 56 GD). Considering the fact that an artisan can make a decent living with half a stag a day... Not every man has the privilege to ride around on a fancy horse with posh pink feathers.