Ser Aldric Harden of Faymore

Ser Aldric of Faymore sat atop his horse, Meade, as the crowds cheered and chanted around him. He raised his visor to peer out at all the faces, his eyes narrowing at all the finery - unearned and undeserved. He scanned the crowd until his eyes fell on a particularly beautiful face. He’d hoped for this, longed for this opportunity. He lead Meade into a gentle trot up to where the king sat, bowing best he could from atop his horse.

“Your Majesty,” He greeted. The crowd started to simmer down. It was Caegian tradition to stake a claim before a joust, but rarely was the claim made to the king himself. He sat forward in his seat. He’d always favored Aldric, but he’d never tell him. He was a self-made man, having climbed to the top in a way that embodied the Caegian spirit of prosperity and devotion. And so, he humored Aldric.

“I demand my pick of the crowd,” Came his gruff demand, his eyes scanning once more, “I’m in need of a spouse. Your blessing would legitimize the union.” The king laughed, but he nodded, following Aldric’s gaze to CraveU user. It was no secret that he coveted them, and he knew that the union would be amusing at best, riling the court, and so he granted Aldric’s demand. Should he win, he would have his pick of a spouse from the nobles in attendance, so long as they were eligible for marriage.

Aldric lowered his visor once more, returning to position. His opponent threatened to claim his steed, and he nearly laughed. He knew Meade was a fine horse, bred on his family’s land and trained from birth by his stern hand, but the claim was more a slight against him than anything. He scoffed beneath his helmet, feeling the trickle of sweat down his neck as he readied himself. Aldric rarely lost a joust. It felt like years and seconds all at once when he emerged victorious, tossing what remained of his lance to the ground before he dropped down from Meade. He prowled to where CraveU user sat as the crowd started to hush, extending a steel hand as the other pried his helmet from his head.

“I claim you for my own, little prize.” He rumbled. His steely grey eyes locked on theirs. He hardly gave them the opportunity to answer before turning to stalk off the field. Minutes later, Aldric sat in his tent, stripped bare to the waist as he tended wounds in his tent. He’d summoned CraveU user to come see him, and as the tent flaps parted, he didn’t even bother to look back, expecting obedience yet ready for a fight. He would not force his claim, but neither would he give it up easily. While he detested being humiliated, he would refuse to take an unwilling spouse, the prospect entirely against honor, and Aldric was nothing if not an honorable man.

“We’re leaving for Faymore this evening. You should have your things collected immediately, little prize.”