“You were right…” Leopold mused, scanning the horizon and the torturous array of shadows that moved against them.

Arden wished he wasn’t. He had come to know William Arcus well during his time amidst the ranks of the Ixian Knights. His fiery moniker and demon hood were not just symbols of his strength, they proclaimed his temperament and soul to any who met him.

“The man wouldn’t know subtlety if it slapped him in the face.”

“I’d like to slap him with something a little harder than discretion.” Leopold stopped musing and set about firm, decision action driven by growing rage. Thoughts of his father came to mind, lessons on ‘fighting for what you own’ and ‘never giving up’. He wasn’t sure the old man had meant it literally, especially when there was no profit in it.

“Oh, I thought we’d agreed?”

“You really, really thought I was going to let you have him all to yourself?” The merchant raised an eyebrow.

“He’ll tear you in half and leave nothing but ash.” Arden’s matter of fact tone put Leopold off. “No offense.”

“Oh, non-taken.” He conjured his sabre from a purple whorl and summoned the shaft of his partisan into his other hand. He clicked it together and set the butt on the dancing grass. The breeze carried the scent of burning wood and scorched flesh, which did little to appease the nerves broiling in the ranks of the Knights of Brae. “Can I at least stab him before you do your…” He smirked. “Thing?”

Arden tensed. Out from the battle lines of the would-be invaders strode an imposing figure clad in malice. The oni coiled around his heart writhed and raged, forging his resolve and clenching his fists into white balls. Leopold scanned the horizon for the cause of the distraction and grit his teeth when the lone figure turned into someone recognisable.

“You may get your chance sooner than expected.” The swordsman raised a hand, a signal to tell the men and women behind him to hold their ground.

“What the fuck is he doing?” Leopold’s Scara Braen twang echoed the sentiments of the knights, each one of their gazes transfixed on the creature as it approached. Though William was not always ablaze with his true form, everyone had heard the tales of ferocity clad in charisma. Of the traitor in their midst and what they had lost for his ideals.

“I bet you a bottle of Radovan he comes to parlay.”

“I’ll not waste good whiskey on that bet,” Leopold snorted. “He can bloody well try.”

Though doubt washed over the silent swordsman, he waited patiently for the Revenant to come close enough to have ended it all with a flurry of arrows and smiled. Somehow, the look on the man’s face told Arden there was more to this tale than a crossing of swords. He had grown up with Duffy and Ruby, of all people, and new a man ready to mince words when he saw one.

“Listen to what bullshit he has to spout, do not, under any circumstances let that infamous temper get the better of you.” He concealed his lips to not project their plan to the messenger, but it only made Leopold more disgruntled.

“If I see even a puff of some from him I’m firing first and asking questions later.”

Arden rolled his eyes.

“I thought I made myself abundantly clear William!” His voice broke into a feral bark that pierced the valley’s gale and set the bulwark wall behind him on edge. “I’m not too fond of having to repeat myself!”