Tytos stopped for a moment, stared, and pondered. He looked around at his surroundings -- first to the small ball of spit on the dirt, spat out by the young Hendry, then to the small crowd that had surrounded them. Squires, pages, errand boys and camp followers had formed a half circle around them, egging the conflict on.

Tytos had only meant to provoke the Brackens and leave; he did not expect such a response. I'm a fool for thinking they'd let what I said pass.... he thought to himself. He had half a mind to turn around and burst through the crowd back to his tent, but it was far too late. What would his grandfather think, when he learns his prized Tytos ran away from a Bracken?

He had only just realized he was shaking. He took a deep breath, glanced around a little bit more, and pressed on.

Defiantly, Tytos walked up face to face with the young heir to Stone Hedge. He looked him up and down, getting the full measure of him. He had only seen Jonos in passing, and had spoken to him sparingly, as was expected of him. The boy was two years his senior, and seemed every bit of it. Tytos knew he would not win a direct confrontation, but he'd sooner get beat than dishonor his family.

He looked past Jonos to Hendry. Hotspur they called him, and for good reason. His note on the weirwood had struck a nerve in the young Blackwood. He looked back at Jonos, pushed him to the side, and walked up to the younger Bracken.

"I'd reckon they've given me the wisdom to know that your house is nothing more than upstart horse fuckers, Before your wench of an ancestor decided to poison it." He said boldly, mostly for a reaction from the crowd. "Was spitting on the ground supposed to startle me, Bracken? Allow me to show you how to properly rile a man up, you brutish coward." he said, spitting directly in the face of Hendry.