A/N: I just want to thank everyone who reviewed. I hope everyone enjoys this chappy! This starts right after the end of the last chapter.

"So, how do ye like this so far?"Bors asked while adjusting the bundle in his arms. He spoke as if the mud incident had never occured earlier.

"That was the highlight of my evening," she said with a smile, nodding to the unconcious Romans beside her, "So, where's Lancelot?" she said suddenly looking around the room.

"Using his injury to his advantage," he said with a laugh while nodding to the corner across from Tristan.

Shyare looked past him and only viewed on a swarm of nearly ten wenches, "I don't see him," she said in confusion.

"That's because the women are blocking him," he said as if it were obvious, he rolled his eyes.

Shyare formed a small 'o'. She noticed the women were fawning over him. Telling him how sorry they were and that he didn't deserve it. One woman in his lap kissed the top of his head. They all made angry faces suddenly, he must've told them what happened. Shyare gulped and slinked below everyone's view, but it was too late, Lancelot had already pointed her out.

The angry women glared and stormed her way. Shyare made a little squeak and hid behind Bors for protection. He looked over his shoulder in bewilderment.

"How are ye afraid of a bunch of women?" he asked incredulously, "Ye're one of them!"

"Easily," she said whispered while glancing over his shoulder, "I can't fight like them."

Bors rolled his eyes and walked away, leaving her in wide open view. Shyare managed to make a half smile and sat up straighter. The wenches had crossed arms and narrowed eyes. Shyare laughed in a nervous manner.

"You did that to Sir Lancelot?" the one infront said, she seemed to be leading them.

Shyare wasn't sure how to respond, but tried to breath through her mouth because the smell of twenty different bathing scents were so overpowering. She sneezed, and the women took it as a nod. The leader motioned for the others to attack. Shyare suddenly found herself on the floor in a deadly cloud of perfume. Bodies piled on her pulled her hair, scratched with nails and viciously pinched. She had no idea how the fought like this, it was barbaric! They could at least be civilized!

She finally managed to stand after punching and kicking her way up. Her braid managed to be destroyed and hair stuck out in all places. Blood seeped from the visible nail marks and brusises were already forming on her skin from the pinches. Across her neck was four slashes, bleeding from someone who had drug their sharp talons over her skin. Shyare breathed heavily. The leader stood infront of her and slapped her across the face. Shyare simply turned back and stared her in the eye.

The leader, who Shyare later found out was Lena, thought her job was done when Shyare didn't make a move to fight back, and turned away. Shyare roughly pulled her around by the shoulder and slugged her. Lena was now on the ground with a black eye rapidly appearing. She looked up in shock at Shyare who had a red hand print across her face. The rest of the wenches, with bruises forming from Shyare's kicks and punches in the pile-up earlier, sat on the floor trying to scoot away.

"Alright!" Shyare shouted at them, "This wouldn't have happened if you had found out the truth!"

"Well, you cut his hair off!" Lena said angrily, "His curls were perfect!"

"Magnificent!" another voice piped in.

Shyare rolled her eyes and continued, "Lancelot was such a bloody arse that he tied me in a horse's water trough in my night clothes," she explained, she put a hand up as if to wipe a tear away, just to get more of a rise from the wenches, "He did it and left me there for all to see..."

Shyare now had waterworks going and looked between her fingers to see the wenches pity her.

"Well," Lena said loudly to her band of barmaids, "It seems Sir Lancelot is the one to be taught a lesson!"

She motioned towards the dark knight, she in the lead with a pitcher of wine in hand. Shyare viewed with crossed arms. Lena threw the drink at the knight who had no chance to fight back. His eyes widened when the barage of girls knocked him to ground in a cloud of perfume. Shyare dusted off her hands, her work there was done.

A/N: I hope everyone like this chapter. Please review! No flames! Oh, and comments, concerns, and contrustice critiscm are all welcome! Tell me what you think!