[Quiet Man Cometh]

Mistral rubbed at her shoulders as she made her way through the crowd, not as dense a throng as it might have been given many spectators were still at the tournament grounds. She had removed her armour and left it at her quarters for care, still feeling odd about leaving such chores to other people, but the pages had insisted, and she didn’t want to offend. Her lance arm was sore, and her ribs ached now that the rush of combat was wearing off, but she was still too enamored with the day to bother resting, and her injuries were minor, if worth considering at all. She first made for the house of worship, to give her thanks for God for her success this day.

Upon entering the chapel, Mistral saw the other woman shouting in despair, moving with clear pain from injuries. Mistral hurried to her side, aware the woman was familiar, likely the first knight she had faced, but without armour and helm she couldn’t be certain. It didn’t matter.

“Are you alright, ma Dame?” she asked, resting her hand lightly on the woman’s shoulder. “You are hurt. Let me fetch someone to help you.”