The heir to Harvest Hall had been on a big tourney tour over the past two years, getting to explore much of the seven kingdoms and eat and dance. The last one he had ventured to was celebrating the union between House Baratheon and House Serrett in the West, where tragedy struck the young Lord Baratheon. That somber understanding carried itself back with Calvert Selmy to Harvest Hall, where his thoughts carried itself to that moment time and time again. Calvert Selmy had participated in various melees and jousts in these recent tourney's, never getting particularly deep in the competitions. His time with the sword was his time, time he could spend happily without his father frustrated at him. Now his father was busy with the other Stormlords, and Calvert had much time on his hands in the halls and grounds of Storm's End. Inevitably he would find himself in one of the training grounds, hoping to find partners in his endeavors. It wasn't that he couldn't do that somewhere else, probably with more effectiveness, but here he felt comfortable. Safe even, knowing he could lean on his strength and skills.

He bode his time as a number of other men, some noble and some smallfolk, either took use of the facilities or maintained them respectively. Normally attentive and interested in observing others and their styles, here his mind was not truly in the moment. The number of nobles present had made him ever cognizant of the looming pressure to get married and sire heirs of his own, with his father only ever getting older and his family otherwise quite small. The situation in the Stepstones would only bring more chaos to the Stormlands, and thus Harvest Hall, as well no matter what came of the meetings up above.

His mind was brought back to the situation at hand when he was called at by another young man in the field, who tossed him a sword. Not recognizing him, Calvert Selmy introduced himself. His opponent, introducing himself as Aegon Wylde, prepared a defensive stance. Calvert Selmy returned the favor, focusing on the spar that had begun. The two would share blows for some time before Calvert called it off, wiping the sweat from his brow and attempting to catch his breath.

"That was a good fight, I'd say."