((I have decided! Valthas shall be a venerable and partially insane old coot.))
"So, boss? Whatcha gonna do?" Renee asked, catching herself slipping in a far too informal tone too late. Even if Sir Chackham wasn't exactly the most... courtly knight around, a squire shouldn't adress their knight like they'd adress their drinking buddy - the first lesson she'd learned and promptly forgotten again. Then again, the man should've known beforehand he'd selected a troublemaker. It had caused a bit of a stir, if she remembered that one right...
"Er, Sir Chackham. Isn't my position to tell you what to do, but if I were you... right now, I'd go after the werewolf. Maybe. I mean, it's a values thing, right? Glory from winning a tournament, or thankful villagers you rescued from a great menace. Well, you could die on the werewolf, too, but in my honest opinion you're better suited to handle that job, than winning a tournament? How long has it been since you last held a lance? Aah... sorry, sorry!"
Ask around whether any notable knights will be attending the tournament.
Valthas thinks on this most carefully, furrowing his fingers in his beard.
"Yes, I do believe you're right, good squire. My glee has alwas been found in gutting a leaping beast upon my blade rather than participating in-"Valthas' face squeezes to its center like he'd ate a lemon here.
"A fair fight. Yes, I do believe that we shall pursue the moonwolf!"To Westwilde! Attempt to conceal the fact that I've forgotten my squire's name!((I know she's named Renee, but Valthas is forgetful, which is why he has a squire to remember these things.))