Weiss' gaze swept over the tourney square, trying to grasp what variety of aristocratic fop she'd be forced to share a meal with, and found herself surprised. Pleasantly or unpleasantly, she had yet to see, but it seemed like at least some of the boys present hosted a shred of rugged charm, especially that fellow with the bright red jerkin. Gods, she could see his muscles from here. The lack of shoes, though, was an instant turn-off, and she could tell by his tanned skin that he wasn't Imperial— not that she had a problem with that, though father probably wouldn't let him set foot in the palace.

The boy with him had a painfully reflective brass breastplate, so bright that she could only see his vibrant blue hair past all the glare. Next to him was some mysterious lad in a full cloak, carrying what looked to be a giant slab of square metal. Her gaze was about to move to the next person— another mysterious lad in a full cloak— when the other one moved, or the light struck him, or a passing swallow happened to be carrying a mirror that reflected a singular beam of light towards his face. Whatever it was, the sight offered gave Weiss pause.

She could see the boiling pools of silver from across the field, the hard, sharp cut of his jaw, among features that were assembled with grace and beauty that Weiss had only ever seen in women. But then the light faded, and Weiss was only left staring at the shadow under his hood. She looked over the rest, though the remainder of the competitors were unremarkable— boys in armor with brightly feathered helmets and sweeping capes— much of the same crop that had been entertaining her table the night before.

Her attention was caught when her father rose from his cushioned seat. He spoke loudly above the tourney grounds' din, hands sweeping over his head in an overt display. "Noble fighters of Vale!" He called, "I have summoned you here today for a great many reasons!"

The fighters below watched him, gazes rapt.

"One such reason— for fun!" The fighters rose in a cheer, lifting their food and drinks above their heads.

"Another— to celebrate the coming of my son!" They cheered again, though this one seemed a little fabricated. Truthfully, Weiss doubted the assessment of the astrologer her father had ordered— her mother had clearly been proven to show an affinity for birthing girls. If she did manage a boy, though… Weiss shuddered at the thought. Her father was a wholly predictable man, but to the status of her heirship against a prospective brother's? She had no clue.

"And finally— to see who in this grand city has the mettle to take the hand of my daughter, Weiss Schnee!" The cheer rose again, and her father gave her a look that commanded her to show herself off to the frothing masses. Trying not to show the disgust on her face, she deeply bowed to the drooling congregation.

Her father shouted across the field again. "Now, fighters! Great knights of Vale! Let the tourney begin!"

Ruby jolted up in her seat, hand flying to her cleaver's hilt.

The announcer with the large mustache spoke up again, rushing his words. "Fighters! Fighters," he shouted, catching everybody's attention before they could start fighting preemptively, "please, gather 'round the edges of the field! The first round will be a battle royale!"

Thankfully, the multitudes of fighters heard him before they could follow Lord Schnee's early call, and begrudgingly sheathed their weapons as they retreated to the edges of the field. Ruby could see the groups gathering tightly among themselves, most being in couples or trios, though there were a couple groups of four. She eyed Blake, the bandaged girl who had proposed they team up, and nodded. Together, they retreated towards the edge of the field.

Ruby held the massive cleaver's grip tightly, though she had no intention of holding it for very long. She may not have been told as much, but she had enough sense to know that killing these fighting boys would be a grave faux pas, and might end with a noble lynching. At most, she could use it to keep them at bay, maybe take a single swipe if she was careful.

Blake pressed close to her side, hands invisible under her cloak.

Ruby took a final glance across the field. Only a few yards from her, that Nep fellow and his friend were posed similarly to herself and Blake. The trident was in his hands, while his friend simply held a wide stance, his hands open in a martial style Ruby had never seen before. Though, come to think of it, the only one she would recognize would be her sister's.

Other fighters covered themselves with colorfully adorned heater shields and menaced with swords long, short, or bastardly. She spotted a great many with bucklers and falchions, one with a rapier and a widely-crossed quillon dagger, one with a wickedly flanged mace in both hands, and a fair few with nothing more than two-handed longswords. For the most part, she wasn't too worried, but there was one fighter that gave her a long moment of pause. He was extremely tall, and covered from head to toe in a suit of tarnished, scratched plate. Frayed strips of leather hung between his triangular tassets, and a large skirt of patterned cloth fell below his knees in the back, though the dye was so faded that Ruby couldn't decipher the crest. A long pollaxe rested in both gauntlets, its head sporting a round blade, a long spike at the top, and a flat hammer in the back.

He stood alone, visored armet staring towards the announcer. The fighters around him stared, warily holding up their shields as if he would lash out at a moment's notice.

"Red," Blake whispered, "what's the plan?"

"Plan?" Ruby panicked— was she supposed to have a plan? "Why do I have to make the plan?"

Blake's eyes flicked down to her sword, then back up to her face. She shrugged. "Bigger sword."

Ruby groaned, her brain struggling to formulate much of anything. "Uh… what do you have?"

"Knives," Blake answered.

"That's… it?" Ruby side-eyed her partner.

Blake nodded, a coy smile visible in her amber eyes. "Many knives."

Ruby sighed. At least it was something to work with. Nep and his friend were pointedly staring at the towering menace of plate across the field, but Ruby could see the trio at her other side staring hungrily at her and Blake. The three boys had fresh, mildly handsome faces with classically pale Atlesian tones, with two carrying heaters and swords while the third held a longsword in one hand. Judging by their looks, they would face these three first.

"Okay, uh…" Ruby felt her brain working, now that she had a specific challenge in mind, "those three are going to come for us first."

Blake nodded. "Obviously."

"I can…" her thoughts hitched, but she forced them forwards, "I can break the shields, keep them off you while you focus on the other one."

Blake nodded twice, stance lowering as she tensed. "Good plan."

"Once we're done with them, hang back until I can make a new plan. I have a feeling things are going to change very quickly."

Blake nodded again, and didn't have anything else to say. They waited against the edge.

Weiss found her eyes wandering back to that cloaked fellow. He had an odd, nervous energy about him that clashed with the massive, ugly cleaver at his side. He seemed quite used to its heft, even with his smaller stature, making Weiss wonder what kind of body he must have under that shirt. His cloak was slightly parted, but only enough to see the belt at his waist, with rings and frogs hosting a multitude of weapons. Did he plan on losing his weapon? She supposed that would be smart, the thing must be extremely heavy, but she had to discard the attractive idea that he would just be throwing that thing around like a beast.

Weiss caught herself and blinked hard. What was she thinking? She didn't give a damn about any of these grunting apes, she was only here because she had to be! When this was done, she'd waste some time with whatever mindless boy crawled out of the dirt and took her hand, then send him home crying! Then she'd be free to herself for a whole season, or however long it would take for father to scrounge up the money it took to host one of these sweaty farces. She could picture it now— indulging in literature, dueling, practicing her magicks— all the things she didn't have time for when father was making her babysit these milksops.

Ah, Port was making his way to the center again.

The mustached announcer's voice rang out once more, making Ruby grip her cleaver tighter. She was ready, whether she felt like it or not. She had a goal, a friend, and a really big sword. Some part of her wished Tai could be there, or Yang, or even Qrow, anybody who could cheer her on from the stands, but all the faces were wholly unfamiliar.

She did catch one pair of eyes, though. Ice blue, and staring straight at her. Ruby was sure she couldn't see her face from this distance, but it made anxiety tangle in her chest nonetheless. Of all people, Weiss Schnee was watching her.

"Fighters of Vale! Who is ready to fight!"

Cheers rose over the square. Weiss was still watching.

"Who will take the hand of Weiss Schnee!"

'Me's and 'I's filled the air, weapons were raised high. Weiss was still watching.

"Then gird your loins and steel your hearts! At my call, the first Schnee-Vale tourney… will—"

Weiss was watching. Ruby's grip tightened. Blake pressed close.

"Begin!"