The sun hung low over Whitewalls, casting a golden hue over the grand tourney grounds. The crowd buzzed with excitement, eyes fixed on the list where knights prepared to prove their might.

Jeyne the Fiddler, known to most as a humble knight with a sense for music, leaned casually against a stone pillar near the edge of the arena. Her fiddle hung loosely by her side, the rich blue of her doublet matching her eyes. She watched, her sharp eyes following the knights, her mind preoccupied by more than just the spectacle of the tourney.