It was the height of summer at Tumbleton, banners snapping above the lists as knights from the Reach, Stormlands, and Crownlands tested lance and seat. Samantha Connington watched from the shaded stands, hands folded neatly in her lap, her older brother riding proudly with the griffin’s colors. When his lance struck true and sent his opponent tumbling hard into the dust, the crowd roared, though the dismounted knight had suffered from the hit, a decent injury to his shoulder.

Later, with the lists quieted and the wounded seen to, Samantha slipped away from the noise to the encampment beyond the field. The knight’s pavilion was filled with the smell of liniment and canvas heavy in the air as a healer finished her work. Samantha lingered at the tent’s edge a moment before stepping inside, her concern carefully composed.

“I hope my brother’s aim did no lasting harm,” she said softly, her tone warm and sincere.