[Tancred]

Realising that Skye and Joram are deep in chatting (ooc: you’d better be… [img]smile.gif[/img] ) Tancred wanders away from them, strolling amiably between the pavilions, soaking up the atmosphere. All around them knights are busying themselves, cleaning their armour, yelling at squires, calling for wine, petting their horses. The young knight’s normally strained expression fades a little, and he smiles. For the first time in a long time, he manages to look young.
“This,” he declares, “is the life.”
“It’s been a while…” mutters Karnas.
“Oh, my, how long a while… ever since we stepped in what seemed to be a regular alehouse for a drink… gods above, I’ve missed this. Proper knightly stuff. Fights with rules and honour. None of that anything-goes getteth-him-afore-he-getteth-thou scuffling you usually have to indulge in on adventures. I hope I’m not too rusty.”
“Nothing a few spots of WD40 won’t fix,” Karnas adds snidely. “Don’t look now, holy-boy, but someone you REALLY want to meet is coming.”
“Who?” Tancred glances around. “What – oh, no, no not HIM -”
“SIR TANCRED!!!” a voice tinged with incredible campness rings through the air and a sprightly figure in blue armour minces towards Tancred, hands held together in an extremely effete fashion. “Oh, Daaaarling, it has been AGES since we saw you at one of these!”
“Hello, Sir Rupert,” Tancred murmurs. “Oh, my, look at the sun, I’m in a hurry, don’t you know -”
“Oh, now, don’t go running off like that, my dear man! It’s been YEARS! Oh, we were all so worried! And - ” the camp knight’s eyes look Tancred up and down – “oh, no, you are a mess… how on earth did you manage to get your armour in such a state?”
“Seven years of walking everywhere,” Tancred replies, voice level.
“Tut tut… dear me, Tancred darling, I’m surprised you even managed to get into the city as dirty as you are…”
Tancred suddenly seems evasive. “Come to think of it, Rupert, how did you manage to get back onto the Roll of Honour after that… incident with the cocktail dress?”
“Oh, well, now you mention it, dearie, they’re letting in all kinds to the tournaments these days,” Sir Rupert continues. We had a few elvish knights turn up to the last one, fine fellows they were too. Except for the woman, but with all that long hair, how could I tell?”
“They’re letting women back into the tournaments?” Tancred blurts out.
“Oh, come now, dear, you can’t be so biased these days towards…”
But Tancred was not listening. Hand clawing almost instinctively for his sword, the young knight glanced around him, eyes searching the courtyard, desperate and yet afraid to see…
There is a sudden flash of silver from across the way; a figure, standing out of the crowd. Tall and clad in glittering sheer armour, with a mass of burnished red hair streaming in the wind, a young female knight strides from the crowd. Gleaming in her hand is a glowing silver sword, antique and beautiful.
Tancred and Karnas both spit out a profane curse that causes Rupert to look around in shock.
Almost as if she could hear, the lady knight looks over – and her eyes catch sight of the tarnished young knight and his golden sword. A distinctly malicious grin is evident on her face, even at this distance.
Tancred stares back at her, face darkening.
As suddenly as she appeared, the red-haired knight turns on one pointed heel and slips back into the crowd.
Tancred watches the space she had left for a few seconds. His scowl recedes, replaced by an expression of worry and foreboding.
“Oh no,” he mutters. “Ursula de Gossard.”