A new figure cantered down the road toward them. His silver armour gleamed brightly, in spite of the cloudy dark; the plume on his hounskull still blew in the swirling rains; and his lance stood at the ready.

His horse, an old grey nag of shaggy countenance, was altogether less impressive, but as the knight had spent the better part of his equipment fees commissioning a really cool dragon emblem to be painted on his shield we can forgive him this single inadequacy.

Sophie did not bother wondering what a mediaeval knight was doing there; frankly, it was the least unusual part of the day.

The mouldering horse came to a stop, its rider dismounting some ten feet distant from the trio and planting his lance in the earth. His face was inscrutable, hidden by a helmet as it was, although somehow in spite of this obvious blockage he managed to radiate a perceptible field of indignant cheerfulness.

“I say, sirrahs, I consider this dreadfully uncouth conduct,” he declared, the voice under the helmet loud and merry. “For blaggards such as you to harass a lady - why, it is unacceptable, simply unacceptable. It is dishonourable, sirrahs, and I shan’t stand for it.”

“I beg your pardon?” Snaggle snarled.

“Pardon granted,” the knight replied magnanimously. “But I repeat my command: to harass a lady in this fashion is dishonourable, and I, as a knight, cannot stand still in the face of dishonour. Hence I ask thee to leave this glen and have no more to do with her. Elsewise draw thy swords and prepare to fight, for by my blade ye shall not leave this clearing having done what ye came to do.”

“But my dear sir, do you not know that we have excellent business with this woman?” Tooth intoned with the utmost grandiosity. “I can forgive your ignorance, but I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.”

“Business? What business could we possibly have?” Sophie cried in indignation.

“Why, do you not remember, missy?” Snaggle said, and grinned viciously. “You’re in debt to us; and quite a severe debt it is, too - more severe than the funds carried by you and yonder knight on your persons, coincidentally.”

“I most certainly am not in debt to you! I never borrowed any money,” Sophie declaimed, and turning to the knight remarked in a strong tone, “Don’t believe them. I’ve never met them before today.”

“Oh, you may have not, but your father, I can assure you, did,” said Tooth. “Long before your birth - which is why you don’t remember it - he took out a loan from us, promising to repay it forthwith. He, alas, failed to repay it - and even failed to tell you - and so we are here to collect the debt.”

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“My father was always wary of loans,” Sophie snapped, “and he would never have taken them from you.”

“Yes, he would’ve.”

“No, he wouldn’t’ve, and he didn’t.”

“Did too.”

Sophie slapped her face with her palm. “Look, even saying he did, how would that justify you in coming to murder me now?”

“Crime is temporary; debt is eternal.” Tooth merrily replied, before contemplating the knight with a noble visage. “Now, sir, as you can see we are here engaged in executive activities of a legitimate and judicial sort and, consequently, your presence is unneeded here.”

“So?” Asked the knight, who had remained silent throughout the exchange.

There was silence in the clearing.

“So…” Tooth repeated uncomprehendingly.

“I informed thee to unhand yon fair maiden, and affirmed that I would not allow blaggards such as thee to molest a lady. That you had reasons for your depredations or not was and is no concern of mine, and so I repeat my command: Cease thy depravities at once, and unhand this damsel in distress forthwith.”

“She’s not a damsel in distress,” Snaggle snapped. “She’s an office assistant.”

“Why can’t I be both-” Sophie started, but the knight was already moving.

He calmly removed a conical hennin from his saddlebags, walked over to Sophie, and plopped it on her brown hair. It looked comically out of place with her fashionable peacoat and trendy jeans, but hey, a conical hennin was a conical hennin, and as princess enthusiasts everywhere can tell you, there is no truer sign of nobility.

“Observe!” Cried the knight. “She is clearly a damsel, and she is in distress. Now, sirrahs, I bid thee withdraw, or thou shalt fall to my blade.”

Silence followed this proclamation. In the quiet, the knight turned to face Sophie properly, drawing his sword with a flourish.

“You need not fear, fair damsel,” the knight declared, “for I, Sir Higgins, was taught the way of the blade by the Squire Kugel, swiftest of feet in all of Lokshen. When once he had determined to run away, none could catch him.”

“Who?” Sophie said.

“And he was taught the art of combat by brave Pintele the Hirsute, mightiest sword in all the county of Knish.”

“The county of what now?” Sophie asked.

“And his master was Sir Farfl of the Lily Liver of Borscht, the kingdom’s most astute strategist. Many was the combat avoided by his celerity of thought and saponaceous tongue.”

“None of these people sound like exceptionally competent knights. Well, except that Sir Pintele fellow.”

“Oh, he wasn’t a knight - he was a cat.”

“…He was a what did you say?”

Tooth looked like he was ready to interrupt, steam visibly pouring from out his ears, but before he could say anything Snaggled snapped “Oh, to Heck with this,” and pressed the trigger on his detonators.