Sir Ector.

Sir Ector?

Ector! Sir Ector! The kitchen!

Sir Ector. Stand ye ready?

Sir Ector. Remove your helmet.

Oh, Sir Ector, you mean it?

Oh, Sir Ector! Whoa! What? Whoa!

Oh, Ector!

- Gawain. - Ector.

I tilted against Sir Ector many times.

For Sir Ector to shite himself to death?

Yeah, but, Ector... Ector, here's where all the excitement comes in.

Squire, Sir Ector must report at once or forfeit the match.

Sir Ector and Kay. They must be waiting all this time.

As long as Sir Ector doesn't fall off his horse, we've won.

The score stands at three lances to none in favor of Sir Ector.