Four men adorned in yellow and black sat atop finely-bred chargers. Their armor gleaming, their lances freshly-painted, and the coats of their horses shimmering in the bright sun. The Baratheons had made their way to Lannisport, and a marvelous spectacle they presented.

Earlier in the day, Barristan had shot an arrow from a warbow into the barely visible center of a target from over a few hundred meters. His purse would fatten immensely from that. He had performed well in the melee, even if Jon was still sore from the battering that Barristan had given him in his rage. Monterys Velaryon had taken him down, yet even he had lost to the kinslaying Lord of the Vale.

Barristan hoped to show him, but a look at the day's lists proved they were far from close to fighting. The man was against Garth Florent first, an untested youth. The day might prove eventful yet.

"And which of us do you suppose will win, when we face each other to crown the Queen?", roared Argilac, slapping his son on the back while he talked to his elder brother. "Forgive me when I say this, little Argy, but that crown would look a damn sight better on Talia's head than Cynthea's."

"Those are fighting words!" laughed Argilac as he rode off to his lane, leaving the three other Baratheons behind.

"Against the Tully lad, I'm sure to win. Did you see the poor fool in the melee? They had barely blown the horn when he went down."

"I'm sure I can take a Lannister," laughed Duncan, ever the joker. "Do you think they'll eject me if I scratch his pretty little face?"

"You two go on with your easy matches," muttered Jon as he looked at his wife in the stands. "I like a challenge, and I shan't stop until Edric can play with the Queen of Love and Beauty's crown atop his mother's head."