Sir Kit tightened his grip on Summer’s wrist, causing her to cry out in pain, and pulled her with him as he spun around to meet Sir Isaac’s gaze. “I own this wench and I shall do with her as I please! Who do you think you are, giving orders in Argent lands?”
Summer struggled despairingly, frightened by both the knave holding her so tightly and the anonymous young knight looming on his horse. “Please let me go,” she cried, “I’ve done nothing wrong! Please, my lord!”
“Of course I am – I am a noble knight whereas you are not even worthy as being labelled as scum on the bottom of my shoe. What gives you the right to attack this poor woman, especially with children nearby?” Sir Isaac called out as he slid off of Buttons with an elegant ease, wielding his sword out if it came to the moment of imminent attack.
“And I am Sir Isaac, from the land of Derek the Hale – you would do well to honour my request lest you find your body impaled upon my sword.” He jabbed said item forwards to add to the threat, the girl’s cries causing him to hiss. “Unhand her at once!”
“How dare you?” Sir Kit seethed. Wrenching Summer behind him and throwing her to the ground, he growled, “Stay put, wench. I’ll be back for you as soon as I’ve run off this interfering mongrel false knight.” Sobbing with fear, she pressed herself back against the wall, many small hands reaching over to pat at her shoulders.
Sir Kit stalked over to his horse and drew his own sword with a steely rasp. “You’re not a Hale man,” he sneered. “Hale men know better than to come into the lands of the Argents and throw their weight around. Argents don’t recognise Hale authority! You’re just an interfering bastard with some pretty toys who’s going to get his face broken in a minute, before I get back to dealing with my property.”
He advanced on Sir Isaac, jabbing at Buttons’ belly and hind legs. “You gonna fight, or are you all talk, pretty boy?”