“Na, na, I am Laurence only to you. I would ask your forgiveness of my son’s rash behaviour, but he offered insult to your lady,” Laurence glanced between Mordred and Summer, and Summer gave a tiny nod, “which I am sure you would have settled other wise.”
Edward opened his mouth to protest, and Laurence stepped swiftly past Mordred, catching his son by the ear. “And if he does not choose to chastise you as you well deserve, be assured that I will,” the older man growled. Edward yelped, a surprisingly feeble sound.
Still holding Edward by the ear, Laurence turned back to Mordred. “What is your will?”
The young knight moved from the way to stand beside Summer, watching her father and Edward convene, a small amount of pride welling up in him and if he cared to admit, an amount of victory.
“Uh – I -” he stutters, glancing to Summer then back to Laurence, “um, do with him as you wish, just so long as he never raises a hand to another woman again.”
“See how generous is this knight to whom you have offered insult.” Laurence shook Edward by the ear once more, then let him go entirely. “Do not show your face in the hall tonight. I will deal further with you on the morrow. You are dismissed.” He turned his back on his son, gave each of the other two a meaningful, if indecipherable, glance, and left the room. Rubbing at his ear, Edward followed sullenly.
Summer swallowed hard, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor with huge eyes. “Oh. My. God.” She put a hand over her heart, trying to keep it from beating out of her chest. “Well. I don’t think you have to worry about Edward anymore?”