The bell above the door rings out through the store, filling the cramped space as the sound bounces off every item on the shelves. Artos moves his feet silently and motions for Dec to stay back and out of sight. He puts a finger to his lips then turns from the shopkeeper to focus on what's to come.

"Decker, you fat bastard, where are you? Come and see us, eh?"

"What do... you want?" Dec says from behind one of his shelves, his voice muffled slightly.

"Ah, he speaks, eh? Where are you, Decker. Come out and see us, will ya?"

Dec coughs and shifts in his hiding place before speaking up again, "WHat do you want?" he says more clearly this time, his voice almost with a hint of defiance.

And all the while, Artos creeps forwards watching and waiting for his moment. His feet slide across the uneven floor as if he were made from water. His fists clench and release as he prepares. His mind clears, the image in his head is of the soft white beach looking out over the crashing waves lapping at the shore. His eyes pick out three men making their way through the front of the store.

"Come on, Decker. Don't be difficult, you know what happens if you don't play ball."

"What do you want?" he shouts it this time, his voice bounding through the store like a tornado.

"Ooooh, the fat shopkeeper has some balls then?" The other two men snigger behind him.

"You tell him, Kain. Tell the fat bastard," says one, his voice lower than Kain's.

"Ha! Yeah, tell him, Kain, tell him. Make him squeal," says the other, his words coming out in a jumble, like rocks grinding against a river bed.

"Alright you two, pack it in. We don't wanna scare the fat oaf, do we?" Kain laughs. "Come on, Decker. We've come for what you owe us."

"He won't be paying you anything," Artos says softly, but his voice carries through the store as if he was standing next to them, whispering in their ears.

"Who said that?" spits Kain, his hand going to the hilt of a sword strapped to his belt. "I don't like repeating myself," he says through clenched teeth. "Who said that?" Kain peers forward, his eyes searching for the source of the voice. His hand clenches around the hilt and he pulls it up an inch, the scrapping of wood and metal almost inaudible in the cramped store.

"I wouldn't do that, not if you want to live."

"Where are you? Come out and play if you have the balls, eh?"

"Showing steel will get you a quick death. That, I promise."

Kain shifts from one foot to the other, his head swivelling around as Artos throws his voice like a ventriloquist to opposite corners. "Where are you, you yellow-skinned fuck? I'm gonna gut you like a spilt back of beans."

"No, you won't. You're too slow." His voice comes from the left. "You can't see me." This time it comes from the right. "Boo," his voice quiets to a whisper but it comes from directly behind him.

Kain turns on his heel, his sword halfway out of its scabbard when he comes face to face with the other two tribesmen. "Did you—" he is stopped short as a smooth blade materialises at the nape of his neck and a thick hand grabs hold of his head.

"What did I tell you? Too slow." Artos whispers, but loud enough for the other's to hear. His face only inches from Kain's he can smell the sweat-stained clothes and the dusty aroma of long travelling in the dunes. "Now, unless you want my other statement to come true, I suggest you drop your blade back into its scabbard." He pulls his dagger in a millimetre for effect drawing a tiny bead of red from Kain's neck. It has the right effect, Kain lets go of his hilt and the discord slides back down with a small click. "Good, now listen. You two," he eyes them. "Outside, middle of the street and keep your hands out." He nods, "Go!"

"You won't get away with this," spits Kain. "Do you know who—" He is cut off again as the dagger digs in once again.

"We'll see, eh? Now, we're walking out of here then we can have a reasonable chat. One where I can look at the person I'm speaking to, okay?"

Kain starts to nod but thinks better of it and speaks, "Okay."

"Good, well let's go then, shall we?" He leads Kain through the narrow shelves towards the door. He stops, holding the dagger firm as he looks over his shoulder. "I'll be back in a minute, Dec. I think there is something for me in here." Then he turns and walks Kain through the door and out into the street.

They take the few steps gingerly, more for Kain than Artos alone. They walk a few more steps when Artos stops again just short of the beaten hard-pack of the street. "I'm going to pull my dagger away now. Then we can talk, alright?"

"Right," Kain replies, unsure what to make of the situation.

Artos flicks away his dagger and steps back. Kain stands frozen for a second then turns to see Artos standing a few feet back out of range.

"You stupid fuck. You're going to die now. And now quickly. Interfering in tribe business. Ha!" he steps backwards as the other two form up next to him. "Blake," he says to the big man.

"Yes, Kain," he rumbles.

"Go and find the others. Bring them quickly, we're gonna have a party with this one."

Blake grins showing a mouthful of crooked teeth, then he's off running towards the saloon.

This will be interesting.

"You're gonna wish you never did that," Kain laughs aloud and is joined by the other tribesmen. "Wait until the others get back here. Then we'll have some fun and show you what the Dangu tribe are all about."

Artos freezes at the mention of Dangu; he flicks his eyes towards Kain, searching him for the patch. There it is. Why didn't I see it before? Because you were having too much fun taunting them dumbass. He flicks his gaze to the other stood at his side, eyeing the axe at his belt then seeing the same patch: A deep navy blue with a swirling silver rune embroidered against it. Fuck! Why these dickheads? Why here? He shifts his footing as shouting voices break the strange silence that had fallen. It doesn't matter now. Too late for that. Time to fight again.

"Ha!" barks Kain. "You're fucked now. Six against one. You're a dead man."

"We'll see," he whispers.

But his voice carries a little changing the look on Kain's face to one of pure joy. "A fighter, eh?"

The other tribesmen come running over, their weapons out ready, their blades honed to razor shape edges. A few chuckle and others just snigger, but all grin at Artos, their eyes lighting up at the prospect of the kill.

"You all here?" asks Artos. He stands tall, his hands by his side not giving them an excuse to attack just yet. His eyes flick to all six of them, taking in their stance and the weapons they carry. His mind captures them, their every movement as they ready themselves to attack.

"Are we all here? You're a funny one, aren't you? Look at this shithead over here thinking he's gonna live through this." Kain laughs again with the others joining in raucously, their voices carrying across the street giving them all an audience.

Artos senses the townsfolk watching them all, some peeking through windows and others making it outside watching from their planked boardwalks. But all eyes are on him and the tribesmen in front of him.

Artos pulls his focus in and directs it at Kain. "You really want to do this?" he asks, his face blank of all emotion.

Kain hesitates for a second before regaining his confidence, "Cocky, aren't you?" He turns the others crowded around him. "Right boys, let's show this prick what we're about, eh?"

Echoes of agreement mix together in a jumbled mess of words. "Alright then, show me your best. And after, I might show you what my blade looks like." Artos stands ready, he splays his feet and turns slightly towards them, his left shoulder forward. Here we go then. He keeps himself calm and blank of emotions as he watches for the smallest twitch. There.

Kain is the first. He sprints forward, his sword already out of its scabbard and in hand. The smooth, straight blade shines in the morning light as it flicks towards his face with speed. Artos shifts his head to the side rolling his shoulder as he goes. Kain steps back then thrusts forward again with a smile etched across his face. Artos waits till the last second, then side-steps throwing Kain off balance making him extend forward too far. Artos pulls back and throws a quick straight left catching him in the jaw. An audible crack sounds out as Kain drops to the floor in a heap of leather armour and flesh.

Artos peers down at the unconscious tribesmen then turns and stares at the other five men stood across from him. He lets himself smirk for a second but then it's gone without a trace. He flicks from one to the other, meeting each of their eyes with his green orbs. They all hesitate, shifting their feet but then they decide. He watches it in their faces, how they twitch and move with uncertainty towards him. Their grips tighten as their muscles flex with tension.

Feet move slowly, carefully but then as they see each other moving forward it gives them confidence and they begin to run at him. The few moments that pass are a blur.

The big man, Blake comes at him first. Artos ducks and side-steps in a fluid motion and snaps out a kick finding the big man's knee, buckling him to the ground with a yell. But he pays no attention, he spins around to face the next man catching him with a headbutt exploding his nose in a mess of red. He pulls back just out of distance as the head of an axe whistles past where his head should have been. The shorter man attempts to swing again but as he pulls his arm back he is thrust backwards by a spinning kick that catches him in the chest. He falls heavily holding his sides as he wheezes for breath.

Artos whirls around as the last two attack him together. They come from either side, both with short swords a foot and a half long. Without thinking they both swing at his head. He ducks as their swords swing freely through empty space. He pivots and skips away out of distance but continues to stare at them both. His eyes take on a mind of their own as they bore into them. Falling into a stance, he twists his feet in the dusty hard-pack and waits. They move. He sees it in their eyes first and how their mouths twitch turning into howls of rage.

Wait. Wait. Wait.

They get closer with every passing second. Their swords are almost in touching distance.

Now! he roars inside his head and pushes off from his back foot. He charges forward. Their eyes go wide at his move. He twists sideways between both blades then turns into a slide, pops up behind them with a spring and turns to face them as they scramble together almost cutting each other to pieces. One drops his sword as it catches the blade of the other and Artos takes his chance.

He charges forward once again catching the one still holding his sword in the chest before he can raise his blade. It doubles him over and he follows up with an elbow to the back of his neck, it drops him to the floor like the rest. Artos turns to face the final man as he scrambles to snatch up his weapon. He waits, letting the tribesman compose himself knowing he can take him either way.

"Who... are you?" the man mumbles, his eyes flicking from one unconscious body to the next. "How did you... how?"

"I know your tribe," Artos says, his voice low but commanding. "There was a massacre, a few months back near the Preepa pass."

The man's eyes go wide at the mention of the name. "That..." he pauses, taking another step back. "That was... was you?"

Artos nods, "I was lied to!" His voice rising now as the emotion etches itself across his face. "Balldock, he lied to us all! He made us..." he trails off, composing himself again. He looks at the tribesman with a fire in his eyes. "Enough of that. You will go back to Balldock and tell him Baron is off-limits. Tell him it was me who did this today. Tell him, if he wants to finish this, he can come himself." He spits the last word like venom from a viper.

The tribesman just nods without a word. He nods frantically as he takes another step back. Then he stops. His face twitches. The faint sound of boots crushing gravel reaches his ears. Artos releases his blade in a sweeping motion and thrusts it backwards with little effort.

A gasp fills the silence, then a gurgle emanating from behind him. He pulls his katana forwards and flicks away the blood then scabbards it at his waist. He turns, all thought of the other tribesman forgotten as he looks at Kain. His eyes wide and his hands pressing against his stomach as a deep red slowly seeps from between his fingers.

"How... did... you?" Kain speaks through red teeth. He falls to his knees, his eyes staring up at Artos now. "How?"

"I told you I might show you my blade. You should have just stayed down." he shakes his head. "I did not want to kill you, but you gave me no choice." Artos turns back to the last tribesman still standing frozen several feet from him. "You," he says gruffly. The sound slowly pulls his attention from Kain and back to him.

"Yes," he nods carefully.

"Wake the others up. Take them back from wherever you are camped. And remember what I told you."

"Baron is off-limits," he says as his eyes shift back to a dying Kain.

"Go," Artos whispers. But it has the desired effect. The tribesman starts off at a run then changes direction as he realises he was going away from his comrades.

Artos watches absently, only one eye on him shaking the others before he focuses on Kain once again. "You don't have much time. You will die soon."

Kain coughs harshly, it racks his whole body. "I don't want to die."

"That's not up to you anymore."

"I don't..." he coughs again, shudders then falls forward. He twitches once then lies still.

Artos clicks his tongue as he surveys the town around him. The men and women and even some of the children look on with wide eyes and slack mouths. What am I to do now? If they come in force there is only so much I can do.

"Mister?" comes a voice from behind him. Artos turns to face the man. "I can't wake Blake," he points. "I will take the rest back, but..."

"He will not be harmed. Now go!" he says and turns away from them as they limp away. 

Thanks for reading.