Flamerule 26th, 1360 DR
"Leave him alone!" A tiny fist slammed into Jace Felling's chin, clacking his teeth together and making him step back, a look of rage and confusion in his eyes. Before him, rubbing his knuckles, was a floppy-haired, four foot tall brat of a seven year old, standing over the prostrate and crying form of an even younger boy. Jace looked around, and saw not just two of his buddies watching and quietly snickering behind their hands, but also a guardsman who seemed to find the whole affair absolutely hilarious.
"You piece of..." A second punch hit him in the stomach. He growled, outraged, and took a swing at the brat. The kid may have had a good right cross - for a kid - but he didn't seem to be much of a fighter, taking the strike to his nose and going down in a heap. Tears sprang into the kid's eyes much as blood poured from his nose, but the kid still got back to his feet, raising his fists.
"Go away! He never did anything to you!"
Jace was winding up for a proper punch that would teach the brat a lesson when a mailed hand slapped across his chest, shoving him back. "Go home, boy. Leave these two alone."
"Oh yeah?" Jace said, apparently not thinking to look before he leapt. Or think of a witty comment, for that matter. But now he got a good look at the second intruder - a huge, strapping older man with a thick grey beard and an ornate two-handed sword strapped across his back, clad in shining silver plated chain, with red cords belted around the waist, a second around his right wrist. "Who are you, his father?"
"That's a good way to think of me. Next time you think about bullying boys smaller than you, consider who they might have for fathers, brothers, or friends. It's likely too much to hope for that you might stop bullying because it's wrong, but I suppose a man can dream. Go. All three of you." Felling and his two goons took a better look at the tall warrior and apparently decided this was more effort than it was worth.
The warrior turned his attention to the two hurt boys, first to the one on the ground. He helped the boy to his feet, gently lifting him with one hand. "Up you come...there you go. Dry your tears, it's alright now." He lightly gripped the boy's face, the boy grimacing for a moment before breathing easier. "There we go, that should speed your healing. Is your home close by?" The boy, seeming a bit petrified, nodded and pointed. "Good. Run along home. Try to keep away from those three in the future. If they trouble you again, though, just talk about me. It should unnerve them." The boy nodded and ran off.
"Ahh, youth." He turned his attention to the bloody-faced fighter. "Well, that isn't something you see every day. What's your name, boy? It's rare to see someone pick a fight with something twice their size without a mound of treasure or a maiden in the offering."
"Valerian Shalebrook, sir." The boy's voice was a bit off from the blood running into his mouth and the break in his nose, but he managed to speak quite clearly.
The Knight reached into a pocket and withdrew a vial of blue-green liquid, handing it to the boy. "Here, drink this. It'll help." The boy nodded and took the vial, downing it in a gulp, his face momentarily twisting in disgust at the taste before the Knight took his nose and pulled it back into position, the boy jolting and yelping before his nose knitted back together, the flow of blood halting. He paused for a second, then rubbed his nose and gave a broad, bloody-toothed grin.
"There we go. That's better, hm?" The boy nodded. "May I walk you to your home? I'd like to speak to you. And your parents."
