[Salone]

Ylnjor mounted the horse he was brought, awkwardly hoisting himself up in to the saddle. After situating himself he growled at the boy offering the lance, swiping it away from his arms.

"Of course I can use this. Unlike the last one."

He held the lance and shield awkwardly, attempting to adjust the weight and get a feel for the heft of it. For a moment, he felt doubt. Then the moment was gone, and his usual bravado returned.

"If those are the words you must use to squirrel your way around a bet, then so be it. If you win, I'll follow the hopeless one."

He laughed to himself, caught up in the absurdity of the whole affair.

"By Valhalla, I'll give Charlemagne up there his blasted alliance, if it will unseat the codpiece from his pet's backside! A kingdom at your side for a lance in mine!"