Sir William Robert pulled his sword from the scabbard, eyes glued to his target. "Draw, jackal," his grin vicious. "Castratus." "Ha! A full measure of a man, I am. Next time you bend over to pick up that boar skinner, I'd be happy to show you, pretty." "I beg your knightly pardon. The full size of your, er, dagger was obscured, Sir Little." He snarled out the side of his mouth, "That's a sword, popinjay." "Try your lance, laddy."
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