Terence
Captain Jax Brightwater

The Mizzen, Tonate Proper, Southern Isles


Jax raised his head at the sound of the crier announcing his name.


"I guess this is it."  He chuckled to his two companions, "Help me up, big guy?"


Erik hooked his arms underneath the Eclipse and hoisted him into the destrier's saddle.  Jax shifted his legs into place briefly, finding that familiar grip in his muscle memory from his academy days.  Aleks stepped onto a stool and fastened the large cape emblazoned with the Crest of the Eclipse Guard.  Jax caught his helmet as Erik tossed it to him.


"I should find my seat.  Don't disappoint me, Tin man."  His booming laugh echoed throughout the tunnels of the Mizzen, sending a horse or two skittering in their stable.


Jax couldn't help but smile at the man who's sworn to kill him one day, before returning to his helmet.  He pulled the bucket over his head, and Aleks quickly fastened the last few buckles under his jaw.


"Flag."  Jax said, not really being able to turn his head all the way around in the new Jousting armor, he simply called out what he needed and held out his right hand.  Aleks raised the standard and pushed it into his palm, fixing the bottom into his stirrup.


"'urry up, Mainlander!  Vhey're callin' yer name now!"  Called the crier.


"I'll see you out there."  Jax called to his squire, before kicking his legs into Argon's side.


"Good luck..." Aleks squeaked out as he rode through the tunnel.


The contrast of the tunnel to the open arena in full daylight was blinding.  It made Jax squint briefly through his visor, blinking to adjust quickly.  Argon kicked into speed, galloping along the walls of the arena, you wouldn't know because horses often keep to themselves, but he was excited too.


"Give them a show, chap."  Jax encouraged his horse as it made the lap around the course before coming to a cantering stop in front of the King's pavilion.  Jax removed his faceplate and bowed before the nobles.

"Astoria is honored to accept the King's invitation."  He raised his head after bowing, and awaited his opponent.
Ora
Arin Cragton
The Mizzen, Tonate Proper

Arin shook the nervousness out of his body as other people paced around. Everyone was on edge as the crowd outside began growing. He stretched his fingers before he placed the heavy gloves over them. 

"Watch it, ass." He said, the younger man standing beside him fumbling as he picked up the glove again. "I'm only joking. I wish I were you right now." He said, laughing. Arin rolled his shoulders, testing his range of motion before he had to ride. *Only a bit longer.* He thought as he listened to the crowd cheer. 

Arin turned as the others began being announced. He was called after a brief period of time, and he glanced around. He grit his teeth together before the young teen beside him buckled the last straps on his armor on and handed him his weapon. He held it, trying to find the balance. He gave a nervous sigh before clicking his tongue and leading the horse out of the tunnel. 

*Gotta be a mistake. This is my opponent? Fuck me.* Arin thought to himself as he noticed the crowd settling after cheering for the last contender. He shook his head to clear his nerves and smiled as the horse beneath him began to saunter around the field. It was almost as if even the horse wanted to show off. What a sight the pair were, one a beautiful war horse bred for size and power, and the other a young pirate with stolen armor and an unknown past.

The crowd whispered as he rode past. Little kids pointed fingers, but some of the locals cheered as they realized who it was. He waved, encouraging a few of the women to throw flowers as he rode past. He laughed, his helmet hiding his excitement as he galloped past. 

He patted the horse's neck as it quickly slowed to a stop in front of the pavilion where royalty now sat. He glanced over at his opponent and removed his helm, shaking his blond hair out of his eyes before looking up at the men and women seated before him. 

"Thank you, Your Majesty, for allowing me to participate in this tournament." He said, bowing his head at Bradai Maíth. "I accept your invitation." He said, smiling as he raised his head. He looked over at his opponent and another wave of nervous energy washed over him. 

*Fuck.*
Rhonda
The Pirate King Bradai Maith
The Royal Balcony, the Mizzen

"I leave when I can. Vhis place, as nice as it may seem..." He paused to consider his next words, bringing the goblet of wine to his mouth. Droplets of crimson rested on the whiskers of his mustached upper lip, "Even when my duties become tiring, I can not simply leave. I'm not sure if your people recognize you Dennon, but—" He laughed, throwing a hand across him, "I 'ave found vhat even in 'eavy robes and braided beards, I can not be concealed. Vhere are too many daggers 'iding in tha shade for me, I am afraid. I would love to come to Ibeffiel, if I did not fear vhem at my back. Tha Mainland is no place for me, only at a place like tha Councils can I assure my safety. But vhen, of course, so did Anyanka Durkhan, and where is she now? Dying of infection from a wolf bite, per'aps?" 

When the next two jousters called for his attention, he stood from his chair, leaning over the balcony. "Well would you..." He looked back to Dennon with a quizzical glance, "I suppose she's fine enuff to send 'er First Knight to compete in a tourney. Queer, innit?" 

"Astoria!" Bradai shouted, tapping his cane against the stone floor of his balcony. He placed a hand on the railing as he addressed Ser Brightwater, "Anuvher one uff my Isle's most faifful allies. I do 'ope you give your Queen my call to arms. I expect nuffink short uff a show today, Ser. You would do well to not disappoint my people, aye?" When he smiled, his golden eyelet tooth glistened. 

When the Islander rode up, clanking in his heavy armor, the smile faded "What is your name, son? Is it your first time in 'e 'orse?" 

The arena began to laugh, but then folks began to shout his name. The Pirate King narrowed his eyes and gave the young man a long, hard look. 

"Arin Cragton, aye?" He nodded slowly, "By vhe end uff vhese tilts, you'd best 'ave the entire Mizzen screaming vhat name." With a flick of his cane, the drums started up again, signalling the start

Of the second match.
Antonio
Fogarth "The Pipes" Gloir, Royal Crier of House Maith
The Mizzen, Tonate Proper

"Ladies, gentlemen, and respectable rogues, be'old our second pair of gallant challengers!" Cried the announcer. "Vhis time, I'm pleased to say vhat I 'ave *Two* Names to sate your gnashing curiosity!

"On one end of ve fence, we 'ave in our midst a son of illustrious Astoria! Feast your eyes upon Queen Anyanka's first man, and final shield! Vhis man 'as been living by vhe sword ever since vhe golden days of Old Feyshore! Now vhat 'ee's free from ve Mad King's service, 'ee's ready to show us all a spark of vhe fresh, fiery spirit of Marin's youngest nation! Know 'is name—*Ser Jax Brightwater*!

"And at my uvver 'and, we 'ave ourselve's a Tonate man! Vhough 'ee 'as yet to make a name for 'imself among the wider folk, vhe *King* Seems to recgonize 'oo 'ee is, so 'ee must be one to watch, people! Some of you may already know him. Let's see what impressions we'll be left wiff about *Ser Arin Cragton*!"
Terence
Captain Jax Brightwater
The Mizzen, Tonate Proper, Southern Isles


Jax couldn't help but steal a glance at the boy they paired him up with.  Something about him was familiar but he couldn't quite place it, his cheeks and hair had somewhat of a familiar tinge that pulled at Jax's head.


"Star'ing positions!"  The crier called, and it snapped Jax from his trance.  He kicked his horse into gear and road to the starting point, where Aleks waited with a stool.  As the boy climbed up to unclip the cape from Jax's shoulders, his mentor asked him something.


"Does he look familiar to you, lad?"


"I didn't see him well enough, Ser."  Aleks stepped down and pulled the standard from Jax's hand, replacing it with a fresh lance.  He quickly folded the cape and set it aside, stepping to a corner and raising his hand to signify that his rider was ready.


Jax was still in his head.


*He's so young.


You were his age when you joined the Kingsguard.


That was different, there was an academy...


Don't underestimate him, Brightwater.*


He pulled himself loose just as the hornblower, well... Blew his horn.

Arin Cragton
The Spizzen, Toenail Improper Fractions


Arin looked around the crowd standing before him, admiring the sight. A mixture of cheers and boos reached his ears, and he couldn't help but smile. He noticed one of his friends, a short man with big ears that women loved to grab as they threw the pair of them out of bars, and he gave a slight nod before leading his horse to the starting point. He took a deep breath before putting on his helmet. 


*Easy Arin. 


But he's literally a fucking knight. 


That doesn't mean he's a good one. 


Look at his fucking armor... It's almost as bright as the fucking sun. 


That's enough... It's all okay. Just ride steady, and take the hit. Don't fall off.* He thought to himself, having an entire argument in his head. He closed his eyes and steadied his mind, calming the raging storm that had taken over his mind before opening his eyes again. The slits between the faceplate didn't give him much vision, but he could see enough to ride. 



The crier screamed, and the horse beneath Arin tore off, sprinting towards their opponent. 


It was over before either horse or rider realized what happened. Arin coughed, all of the air in his body escaping as the collision rang out into the crowd. Arin's head lulled for a moment as he recovered, the impact having dented his breastplate. The muscle in his arm vibrated from where he had struck the other man, but he held tightly to the lance and lifted his head. 


*Again.*

Captain Jax Brightwater
The Mizzen, Tonate Proper, The Southern Isles


Jax aimed for the shield as best he could, catching it on the edge and pushing it off, the tip slid against the armor beneath.


*Fuck!  He's wearing regular armor!*  Jax thought to himself as he reached the end of the lane and dropped his splintered lance to the ground.  A young Islander squire already stood ready with another lance that he took, muttering a "Thank you," That the child likely didn't hear.


*Don't kill him.  Hit the center of his shield, end it quickly.  The more passes we take the longer his life is at risk.*  Jax concluded.


He made a *Tsk tsk* Sound and pushed his thighs into Argon's body, the destrier kicking up dust in place as he readied.  The second call came and the beast leapt forward.


Jax kept his eyes locked on Arin's shield, lowering the point of his lance.  His heart pounded inside his helmet, adrenaline coursed through his veins as his next strike had the potential to seriously injure both of them.  But he needed to deseat the boy, to save his life.


The crack of the lance rang out through the arena.

Arin Cragton
The Mitzel, Tonate Prizzle, The Southern Izzles


Arin lifted the Lance again, steeling himself. The pain had eased, leaving him with a faint pounding on his arm. He smiled as they pair lined up again, ready for the second round. He looked into the crowd for a brief moment as the other man replaced his lance. Everyone seemed to be paying attention. 


"Riders, START!" The crier screamed, and Arin charged, holding tightly to his lance and shield. Dirt flew as the two horses ran, and the crowd went crazy. All Arin felt was the two lances hitting their target, and then nothing. 


*A younger Arin laughed as his mother chased him throughout his childhood home. In his small hand clutched a small necklace with a beautiful ruby inlaid in gold. 


"Damn you, Arin! Every day you act more like your ass of a father." She exclaimed, catching him and extracting the necklace out of his hand before placing it against her dress.


"Does the color match? This was the only thing your father ever gave me, but your father was never one for gifts. In fact, the only thing your father ever gave me was you." She said, turning to face Arin. Her face... Was blank. Featureless. As if someone took a rag to a painting and smeared the paint into a meaningless blob. 


"My father? Who was he?" He called out, but she faded away. 


"Valk."


"Rin." 


"Faren." 


"Sun." 


Voices exploded in his mind, each whispering the same name. The face of the branded captain began filling his mind, before everything faded to black.*


He was floating. He got knocked off of his horse... But the pain wasn't in his chest this time. His arm... No his shoulder felt like it had been ripped off. He fell to the ground with a loud crash, rolling head over heels before coming to a stop. He groaned loudly before placing his hands on the ground and pushing himself up slowly.

"Fuckin' hell." He said, lifting his face plate and spitting a bit of blood on the ground. He looked up at his horse for a brief moment, then back at the other man.


"Wait.." He said, looking back at his horse. The saddle had come loose. It was loosely hanging onto the horse by a couple of loosely tied strings. 


"Bullshit! I tied on those myself  the only way any of them would come loose is if... No fucking way." He said to himself, before standing up fully. "Aye! Who the fuck messed with my fucking horse?" He exclaimed, calling his horse over to him. He glanced over the saddle before yelling at anyone who would listen. 


"Two of the straps have been cut. I lost for no fucking reason!" He screamed, but the crier didn't listen before it exclaimed their winner.


"Fuckin' bullshit." He said, going to shake hands with Jax.

Captain Jax Brightwater
The Mizzen, Tonate Proper, The Southern Isles


Jax dropped his lance again at the end of the line, rearing his horse around just in case he didn't succeed.  Yet he did, the boy was on the ground.


"Bullshit!"  Came the cry, and Jax turned to his squire.


"What did you see?"


"You hit him, sir, bit his saddle did appear loose."


*Dammit.*  Jax cursed to himself.


*Take the win, Brightwater.


But he was sabotaged!


**Fucking take the win, Brightwater!***


Jax slid off of his horse, approaching the middle of the ground where the boy waited to shake his hand.  He reached under his helmet, undoing the latches that held it in place.  Tossing the helmet to the ground, he slapped Arin's hand away.


"You are a *Knight*, boy!  Don't let some half-assed cheat ruin your chance at victory!"  His voice hissed between his teeth, but there was a softness to it.


"Your graces!" He turned to the royal box, where the King of the Southern Isles and the King of Ibethiel sat.


"I humbly request our bout to continue.  The boy's saddle was obviously sabotaged, let us settle the victor in a classic test of arms, free from sabotage!"  He turned to look at Arin, giving a subtle nod.  "Show me what you got, kid."


"Kick his ass, Tin man!"  Jax barely heard the booming voice of Erik in the stands as he readied himself.


Jax turned and called for his sword, drawing it from the sheath Aleks presented.
Edith
**King Dennon Bigsby
The Royal Balcony in The Mizzen**

"If the opponent is an honorable enough man to admit, I see no reason to stop them." Dennon gave a gesture of approval with his hand for the fight to continue.

. . .

Once the action had died down enough for Dennon to continue the conversation, he turned to Bradai. "I suppose enough people around the city at least know that I should be careful. I think Queen Lucrezia thinks more like you do. The only time she has left Ibethiel was for the Council Of Marin. Even then, if plague hadn't entered the castle, she might have stayed anyway."
Harvey
Valkrin Farensun
The Mizzen

*Oh good, a surprise melee.*

Valkrin looked for Cragton's squire to rush out with his blade, but no one came. "The boy doesn't even have a sword." He pulled the amber-handled saber he carried out of its sheath, and handed it to a young guardsman to run down to Arin. 

"Tell him all of the Mizzen is watching him right now, but I bet on Brightwater, so he can be a good sport." Valkrin sent the guard with a push, and turned his attention back to the event.