[Groin Redbeard]

The shove rocked Lithor on the crate on which he was sitting, nearly upsetting him and the crate. These boys were becoming obnoxious. Base actions for base persons! So simple and puffed up, as if they had been raised instead of born to their current positions.

Lithor jumped to his feet. He thought of reaching for his sword—that would bring a quick end to this—but he remembered that his sword was tucked away under his cot. His uniform was for the feast and he bore no sword while inside the hall. They outrank Lithor but their actions are beneath him. He would show them some wit and if they still insisted on a fight then let them do their worst. He was not going to strike the sons of Athanar. A crooked smile crept on Lithor’s face as an idea formed in his mind. He was still in a relatively good mood and he was going to have fun with this.

“No bowing today, my friends. Eavesdropping knows no distinction of class; therefore, you cannot excuse your rude actions on it.” Lithor was sure to make himself talk loud and fast so as to not be interrupted.

“Such boys! Such shallow wit and knowledge! Know you not that when a boy becomes a man his pride diminishes and his chivalry grows. For a man with great chivalry indicates a great man: genial, courteous, intellectual, selfless, and courageous. While those faces of yours, those blank inglorious concavities, are devoid of pride, of poetry, of soul, of contour, of dignity, of character, in short, of chivalry. You are too simple. Why waste your opportunity on a shove? A dull, stupid and profligate boy, full of drink and low conversation, without dignity of appearance or manner, without sympathy of any kind with your working peasants and their ways and without the slightest knowledge of how to use the common tongue gently. Born into the ranks of the working class, your most likely fate would have been that of a street-corner loafer.

“These my dear sirs are things you might have said if you had some tinge of letters or of wit to color your discourse. But of wit you never had a grain. Therefore, if we are to continue in our delightful banter, I suggest that you cease in choosing from your poor vocabulary and continue in shoving this old greybeard.”