Dante: Old Friend

The tea house across the street from the local Bank Imperium was only a step up from the worst Dante had ever occupied. He sat on the stained floor mat quietly, the pot of tea steaming on the low, flat table before him. A pair of porcelain cups sat unobtrusively next to the pot, waiting to receive the hot liquid steeping inside.

"Stubborn. I've been trying to think of the perfect word to describe you, and that's it. Stubborn." The gravel vibrations of the man's voice almost boomed in the private booth. Only wood and silk-screened doors and walls separated them from the other patrons, but the privacy was enough to hide their faces and to turn their conversation to one of many in the din of the establishment.

Dante's guest was bald, a combination of age and shaving. Gray stubble was poking up around the parts of his head that would still grow hair. He had a matching gray beard, neatly trimmed on his face. He was large, and strong for a man of half a century; wearing black pants, boots, and a bright scarlet doublet. The clothes of a westerner who had no fear or shame of displaying his origin outside his own lands. He wasn't visibly armed, though Dante knew from experience a stiletto could be hidden within the sleeves of the doublet. In any case, this particular man didn't need to be armed, not even in the presence of Dante's hidden sword. There were no doubt half a dozen fully armed men hidden in the shadows of the teahouse, perhaps more given that it was he who suggested the teahouse. If the man had been Dante's target, Dante would have just made a very serious tactical error.

"I might say the same about you, chasing me clear across the continent just to have tea with me." Dante's voice was flat and matter-of-fact as he deftly lifted the tea pot, pouring the yellow-green liquid into the cups. The man laughed at Dante's retort.

"True, true. I'm a man who does what he can to get what he wants. I'd say that the same was true of yourself, but I can't seem to glue all of the pieces together." He took a brief sip of the tea, and nodded his approval. "I offer you three times what that hag imposter is paying you to do practically nothing, and yet you risk your life crossing the badlands to take her job. I can't find a personal connection, the job isn't particulary challenging and to be blunt you're being underpaid. Reputation alone should fetch you double."

"You've done your research."

"For all the good that it's done me, yes, I have." He sat back onto his rear end, crossing his legs in front of him as he crossed his arms. He let out a sharp exhale from his nostrils in mock frustration. "So, what in God's name are you doing here? You know they're going to find you, no matter how remote you try to go, and I can't help protect you all the way out here."

Dante took his own long sip of the earthy tea. It was a green tea; non-fermented, or hardly fermented. Very different from the blackened, herb infused brews from the west, with their hearty textures and their complex, almost smoky aromas. This was simple, clean, pure. No milk to be added, to honey to be stirred in. Dante allowed his eyes to shut as he drank it in, a rare luxury to take for him.

"...you want them to find you, don't you?" His guest suddenly said. Dante put his cup down wordlessly, his eyes sliding open again.

"Why did you follow me out here?"

"To offer you again a permanent, safe position. You deserve it for all that you've done for me."

"And what makes you think I'll answer differently this time than any other before? Because you put effort into following me? Because you're pointing out that I'm not getting my monetary potential?" Dante's question hung in the air as the bald man considered it.

"Mylan told me what happened." He almost whispered it, though the gravel in his voice would not lower the volume much. "She told me you found out. So I thought maybe...maybe you didn't need to look anymore."

Dante was motionless. His stillness seemed to make the man's nervous shifting much more animated. "Did she tell you what I think about that?"

"She did. But I didn't believe her. And I don't believe you. I think you're smarter than that."

"I'm not." Dante replied. He rose fluidly from the ground, gathering his baggage. The man sighed.

"Listen, the offer stands, for as long as you live. And I'll try to help you when I can, whether you want it or not. But as your friend, I don't want to see you go through all of this for nothing. At some point everyone has to give up."

"Thank you for the tea. I trust we'll see each other again." Dante said, brushing aside his words. He passed silently through the teahouse and back toward the Bank Imperium, and his waiting money.

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Dante: Preparations

The morning light was crisp and clean. The town, which had seemed sleepy and small the night before, bustled quietly with an even method to it. The tempo of the town was one that had its rituals and its functions, a town which was busy with the daily repetitive activities of its denizens.

But despite its sleepiness and size, the presence of the Lord, or rather, Lady Wei had attracted one very important institution: The Bank Imperium.

Dante walked crisply in his red-stained clothing, the cool air of the morning refreshing in his lungs. He wore his conical hat low over his eyes, masking his identity from those around him. Fortunately, most of the crowd was doing the same, and he attracted little attention. Ahead he could see the hanging banner from a raised pole of the Bank Imperium: a round yellow circle on a white field, representing a gold coin, with two black sword silhouettes crossing it. The main street of the town crossed in front of him, filled with wagons and pedestrians with heavy loads on their backs.

It was also full of beggars.

Dante walked past the first few, noting the cripple, the leper, and two others who pretended to be both. He stopped at the corner of the street, looking down at a boy. He was huddled in a ball, keeping his head low from those walking by. He wore a simple blue robe that was tattered and frayed, with long dark hair matted and dirty. He was leaning against something set on the ground, but it was covered by a drab brown blanket, full of dust. Dante stood over the boy, casting a shadow on him for a moment, until he looked up.

"Oh, it's you!" The boy said with a burst of excitement, grinning. He stood up quickly, sweeping the blanket off his belongings, revealing the pair of bags underneath. "I brought them here without any trouble, just as you asked." He stooped down and propped the bags up, dusting them off with his filthy hands as he did. The two bags were very different in size and shape. One was long and cylindrical, about half of Dante's height. It was made of a loose canvas and stuffed with clothing. The other was smaller, and fit easily on Dante's back with the single leather strap that would stripe diagonally across his chest like a bandoleer.

Dante rested the clothing bag on his leg as he swung the pack over one shoulder, rummaging through the contents. He was reassured when he found what he was looking for, and then pulled a hefty sack of money from within.

"You don't need to count it, I swear I didn't take any!" The boy seemed very defensive, and suddenly very afraid. He probably had taken something, but Dante expected it. After all, travelling was difficult. Perhaps he needed extra food, or maybe he bought himself a ride on the back of a wagon for a length. The bags weren't exceptionally heavy, but the size of them would make for an awkward journey, certainly.

Dante tossed him the bag. "Here. Good work." The boy's eyes widened, shocked at the amount. "But don't spend it foolishly. Find a trade, buy yourself an apprenticeship."

"I-I will! Thank you!" The boy said, almost yelling, though his street instincts had already tucked the heavy bag into his robe. Dante hefted the clothing bag with his left hand, hanging it over his shoulder, and headed toward the bank.

"Wait!" The boy called. Dante stopped, but did not turn. "What about this?"

Dante knew what he was talking about. It was a twelve inch long hunting knife, exceptionally sharp. Made from the finest steel of Aldennia in the southwest, a bonus gift from his last job. An excellent weapon, probably worth quite a bit of money in the mercenary markets. "Keep it."

Dante didn't wait for the boy's reactions as he crossed the busy main street, heading on toward the Bank Imperium. A bystander might have interpreted his action as generous.

They were not.

In all honesty, the amount he gave the boy, though more than he expected, was cheap for a courier. Had he hired an armed man to do it, he could've expected to pay three times as much. But, paying an armed man to carry his belongings would've defeated the purpose. For starters, he was an armed man. More importantly, he needed stealth. No one was going to look for him, or his belongings, with a small begging boy.

He stood in line for only a few minutes inside the white stone building of the bank imperium. He was escorted by one of the bank's armed guards to a wooden table, where an older man waited patiently for him. He was wearing blue and purple robes, as bankers tended to do across the land, and had several large ledgers piled on the desk to either side of him, an a thin quill with an inkwell. The quill was in sad shape, nearly stripped of the lines of fine feathers, the ink stained half-way up the length of the writing instrument. The banker's right hand was stained with ink along his fingers.

"Good morning, sire." The banker said, smiling warmly. He was an older man, bald save for the wreath of white hair adorning the back of his head. "Your identification, if you please."

Dante sat down, leaning the large bag of clothing against the chair. He could feel the stiff length that was his sword on the inside of the bag; he had hidden it to prevent it from being taken by security at the entrance. He swung the smaller bag onto his lap, and dug into it, pulling out the leather bound set of documents, setting it on the table. He then lifted his conical hat and set it on the ground next to the chair opposite of his bag.

The banker flipped through the document casually and then took Dante's left hand in his hands. On the pad of Dante's left thumb was a tattoo. Black lines scriggled and crossed each other along it, an almost random arrangement of markings.

They were not.

On the document was a matching inscription of his tattoo, which the banker compared. Satisfied with Dante's documentation and identity, he quickly flipped through one of the massive ledgers, whistling softly to himself as the sheaves of yellowed pages flipped to and fro. He seemed satisfied at one page and ran his finger up and down along the pages, scanning the entries.

The banker's eyes widened, as they always did. "Well, sire Mirako, I will be more than glad to assist you." The banker said, sliding a blank length of paper in front of him and reaching for his quill. "But I must warn you, we are a small branch, and we will only be able to accommodate you to a certain degree."

"I understand." Dante replied blankly. Of course they would, a bank in a city this small couldn't even cover one fourth of his account amount if he chose to withdraw the entire sum. Not that he did. "It's simple, really. I need six hundred total. Four in paper marks, two in coins. In the coins, one hundred in gold, the other hundred divided into silver and copper. I also need to place an allowance on my account, another three hundred. I will be making a large purchase and would prefer to use a slip of withdrawal with this particular vendor."

The banker was scribbling furiously with one hand, and snapped a few times with his left hand. A young man, no older than a teenager, rushed over to his side. The banker handed him the paper, whispered something into his ear, and the young man rushed off. "Yes sire, this shall be attended to immediately. Will there be anything else?"

Dante shook his head and gathered up his hat and his bag. "When will be able to pick this up?"

"Within an hour." The banker replied cheerfully.

"Very well. Good day." Dante strolled through the bank directly, slicing a path through the crowd in line. He had to admit to himself he was impressed a bank of this size would be able to gather six hundred so quickly. It would definitely be a hindrance to the local bank for the next few days, but perhaps the shipment was due in soon and would cause no problems. He was about to allow himself a rare moment of daydreaming, to let his thoughts drift as he wondered how to spend the next hour, when his eye caught the shape of someone he didn't expect to see.

"Withdrawing money? So soon after? Doesn't seem wise, does it?" The voice was low and sound like gravel, with a heavy gravitas not fitting the half century he had lived.

"No choice." Dante replied shortly.

Rane: The Caravan

Rane had no clue where he was going. Well, no, that wasn't entirely true. He knew, for the most part, what lie at the end of most of the roads he travelled on. There had simply been no rationale as to why he'd chosen this road, this day. After leaving the last village he hadn't actually heard about any other towns or particular Lords who were looking for help, be it worker or soldier, and so he'd just set out with no particular place in mind. It had only been a couple days, and Rane was in especially good spirits this morning.

Across his back was slung a simple canvas sack containing some spare clothes, a smaller bag of breads and some pieces of jerky-like dried meat, and a waterskin. Rane was currently using his staff as a walking stick. And that was, more or less, Rane's entire life, travelling with him. Sure, he had a few coins left in his pocket, but those were easy enough to come by. Everything else had some sort of personal value to the man - the staff, for example, had been won from a previous battle. His opponent was using it as part of a filigried spear that rane had acquired upon winning. He'd stripped down the metal bits and sold them for pocket change, but the shaft itself was one of the best weapons he'd ever come across. It was perfectly balanced, and whatever tree it had come from was hard as nails. The wood was heavy, and had broken more than a couple blades without receiving more than a couple nicks and scratches in it. It had taken him a solid week to the the lacquer off the damned thing.

Up ahead Rane could see a small caravan packing up and readying to make off for the day. The three wagons had parked in a small break in the treeline on the side of the road, creating a sheltered pocket between the carts and the woods. A couple women were taking down some clotheslines that had been strung up and were folding the laundry before carrying it all into the first wagon. Another, younger girl was finishing off the campfire, making sure that the coals were properly snuffed out and wouldn't be setting nearby plant-life on fire. Rane approached one of the men who was re-strapping some goods to the roof of the middle cart.

"Would you like some help with that?" A pleasant smile, Rane had learned, could go as far as most threats would. And while you were more likely to be taken as a weakling or a fool for it, that had generally worked out in Rane's favor in the past. The man, perhaps into his forties but with a worn sort of face, grunted, motioning Rane to the other side. Rane just nodded, set his bag and stick down, and grabbed ahold of a loose rope dangling opposite the one the man held. A couple good tugs and some neat knot jobs later the packs atop the cart were secure.

The man approached Rane, and spoke in what Rane thought to be an odd combination of sigh and growl. "Okay, what do you want?" He looked Rane up and down once. "Food?" He jerked his head to one of the women who was poking her head out of the first wagon. "Get this boy some grub so he can le-"

"Whoa, hold on there a second!" Rane raised his hands in a defensive sort of nature. "I just-"

"What? Money? We're almost done here. And the women are off limits." The man practically snarled this last part of the interruption. Rane's eyes went momentarily wide.

"What? No!" Rane laughed in spite of the situation. The fact that this province was practically a war zone had eventually had an effect on the residents. An air of pessimism surrounded almost every normal person he'd met on the road. People were becoming defensive by nature so as to avoid being tricked into losing what they had managed to save up. "I was just wondering if you'd like some company on the road." Rane slowly made his way around the man, back to his belongings. "I've got my own food," he stated, raising his worn-out bag, "and I can catch my own if I need to." Fishing was always pretty relaxing, and a lot of roads these days came close to a good water source every once in awhile. He'd also taken a deer down with his bare hands, once, but that hadn't been nearly as pleasant an experience.

The man, who Rane now presumed was head of the caravan, arched a brow, but otherwise did little to relax himself. Rane sighed inwardly.

"Tell you what. You let me tag along, rest my feet every once in awhile, and I'll make sure that all your goods make it where they're going." Rane knocked his staff against his forearm a couple of times, producing an odd set of muted clanging noises. If nothing else, that caught the man's attention. "I won't take your food, water, or your women," though he flashed a smile as he said so at the younger woman who was peaking around one of the other wagons. "And if nothing happens, I'll even pay you for your troubles." Rane's hand slipped into a pocket and reappeared showing off a few of the coins he had left. "How does that sound?" Rane re-deposited the coins and leaned a bit on his staff as the man considered things.

A few minutes passed, during which Rane could tell he was being appraised. The women from the first wagon, the young girl, even the other men who had been rigging up the horses were now looking his way. Rane knew he didn't look like much, but he wasn't asking for much either. He'd presented fair terms, and as it stood, the man didn't really have much to lose besides another pair of hands that he hadn't had to begin with.

"...Okay." The man said, after a few more minutes had passed, with a look that conveyed "but" in pretty much any way he could mean it. Rane gave a smile and a small bow before slinging his pack back over his shoulder. The men just shrugged and went back to finishing their work, while the women huddled inside the first wagon, from which Rane could hear a lot of whispering. "Come." The man motioned Rane towards the front of the caravan. Presumably Rane was going to stay up with the horses to keep himself out of trouble, but as he walked by the young girl blushed and smiled at him before dashing off to finish her own chores.

Maybe this trip wouldn't be so bad, Rane mused, as he strode on ahead.

Dante: The Job

The water wasn't cold, but it was nonetheless water. Dante held the urn of the clear liquid to his mouth, drinking very slowly, taking many breaks. The little town was alive all around him; people walking to and fro with loads on their backs, the smell of food wafting from the street side restaurants, a guard or two with their long spear and poorly maintained armor. The road was grooved two pairs of cart-wide wheel divots, serving as both a track for the drivers and a warning for the pedestrians. These grooves were not intentional, but the result of hundreds of carts passing over the roads.

The public well Dante was standing at was just at the mouth of the city streets, but he could already see his destination: a high-standing structure with expensive white-tiled roofing. It had its own gate, as if it were a government building, and its own guards. In fact, Dante could see the government building off to the west, and it was far inferior to the trappings that this wealthy man had constructed for himself, a monument to his own achievements.

Dante disliked the rich, but they usually paid in full.

He took one last slug of the water, tipped the urn over his hands and washed them and his face, and then set it back on the edge of the well. A swelling sense of refreshment floated over him as he strolled slowly toward the building. He was always surprised how fuzzy his concentration could be when he was dehydrated, and always more surprised that he never noticed his lapse in focus until after he was finished with it.

It only took him a scant ten minutes to reach his destination. The sky was already striped with thick bands of gold and lavender, the early signs of dusk. If he were one of these rich gluttons, he'd probably find shelter for the night and meet with his employer in the morning, when it was culturally more acceptable to do so. But Dante had neither the money nor the patience for such luxuries, and decided to enter now. A young guard stood at the left side of the gate, rubbing his eyes with fatigue. His shift was almost over, made obvious by the way he kept glancing between the barbecue restaurant and the ramen cart.

Perfect.

"Sir, state your name and purpose." The young lad snapped alert as Dante reached the edge of the entryway.

"I'm here about the job." Dante replied, politely but shortly. The man seemed hesitant.

"Is...is Lord Wei expecting you?"

"He is."

The young man thought a moment, thinking through the exact thought process Dante thought he would. He was less experienced, more afraid of making mistakes. Obviously the interior would have armed guards as well, but from a strict security perspective it would be safer to keep him outside the walls if he was uncertain. However, these wealthy, powerful men had wealthy and powerful friends. Not letting someone in who was supposed to be let in could be a far worse offense.

Obviously this young man had either made that mistake before, or seen someone make it, because a moment later he was yelling over the wall to let Dante in. Dante was wordless as he stepped quietly through the entry way and into the grounds.

The grounds were indeed impressive. White stone gravel served as the walkways, forming perfect borders around the neatly manicured foliage that dotted the grounds: trees, bushes, bushels of flowers. There were a few different buildings within the walls, but the largest currently had the most commotion. Servants darted in and out a side door with steaming plates of food. Silhouettes of people sitting down at a low table could be seen against the silk screen walls, laughing and talking loudly. Tendrils of foreign smoke slithered lazily through the air.

Dante could see one of the other guards near one of the smaller buildings heading toward him, probably to take his weapon, but Dante moved faster. Before the guard could open his mouth to object, he had already slid the door open, releasing a wave of smoke and food smells into the air. Four men sat at the table and looked up, shocked at the sudden, filthy visitor. There were also two women in the corner, sitting at a much smaller table.

"What's the meaning of this? Who are you, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here for the job." Dante replied with the exact tone and canter he did the exterior guard. The four men looked about to one another, but focused on an older, plump man in the center.

"I uh...I think we need to..." Dante noticed the man, probably Lord Wei, glance toward one of the women in the corner. She shot a sharp glare at him, motioning almost imperceptibly with her head. "Speak in private."

"Very well." Dante replied. The rotund Lord Wei rose to his feet with the help of two nearby servants and escorted Dante back through the door and onto the gravel walkway. The gravel crunched underneath their feet, Wei's steps seeming to sink just a little more than Dante's. A moment later they were in a nearby tea house: vacant, and dark, save for the singular candle Wei lit. The dusk had grown to twilight now, and Dante's senses were tense. He couldn't help himself, the darkness always made him wary, especially in the house of an unknown.

"Well, um, good man, the reason I uh...summoned you...is a delicate...um matter of...quite importance..." Wei's words tumbled out of his mouth, one over the other. Dante remained silent, offering no help or way out of his awkward tirade.

"Bao, get out of here." A woman's voice snapped from the dark corner. The rotund Wei, or Bao, released a heavy sigh of relief, and trod through the doorway, sliding it shut behind him.

"Then you must be Wei." Dante said to the darkness. "Though I was informed I would be working for a lord, not a lady."

"You were not misinformed." The woman was older, thin, with ample wrinkles lining to length of her face. Her silver hair was gathered behind her head, her hands were bony and frail. Still, the light of her eyes was bright. A cunning woman. "Despite who is in charge, I am forced to take deceptive measures in order to meet certain...cultural expectations. Bao is my nephew. A total idiot, but completely loyal as long as he has his fill of food, women, and wine."

"Whether 'Lord Wei' is real or not is of no concern to me, as long as the money is real."

"Hmph. My information about you is quite accurate." Lady Wei said, gliding through the darkness and sitting down on one of the seats of the tea house, her body and face half lit in the circle of candle light. "So I am assured you are you. I must admit, however, I am surprised that a man like could be bought at all. I mean, to think that the Red Striped-"

"Dante will be fine." He cut in, shutting of her musings. She looked surprised at his abruptness. "Or, if you prefer honorifics as this province does, you may use padrone."

"Padrone? Master? Ah, but yes..." Half of her face curled into a smile in the warm light. "Your skills are certainly masterful, that is certain. But I am not one to observe culture, as you have probably surmised. Nor am I one to engage in pointless prattle. So, Dante, let me explain to you the nature of this assignment."

Rane: The Trail

"Aaah..." Rane sighed as he soaked his feet in the cool waters of the stream. It hadn't been a particularly hard day, but it had been long, and the entirety of it had been spent on his feet. The sun hadn't set yet, and it probably wouldn't for a while yet. That was one of the things about this province - the days just seemed long in general, like the sun was watching and, like a child, it wanted to stay up as long as possible to see what was going to happen next.

"Well, I suppose I'd better get back, then," Rane said to himself, as he grabbed his shoes in one hand and raised himself to a stand. The water sliding off his feet formed splotches of mud in the dusty soil as he headed back down the trail that led back to the village. It wasn't much of a path - likely just a deer trail that had found some extra travelers in its day - but Rane had taken an immediate liking to it when he'd stumbled upon it. There were shorter routes to fresh water from the village, but the water seemed to sparkle more here, it tasted better. And it was quiet, which was always welcome after a full day of work.

Rane's mind was allowed to wander only for a moment as his path was suddenly blocked by a pair of imposing figures. Rane stopped, looked up into the eyes of the two, and arched a brow. The two men were at least a full head taller than Rane, though that wasn't saying much; at best, Rane stood just under five-foot-six. Normally this was fine, and about average for most local folks, but these men looked as though their mother had fed them a little something extra for breakfast every day. Rane had seen them about a couple times in the past few weeks - these were two of the hired "help" the local lord used to ensure his people were getting enough work done every day.

Each man wore the frilly accoutrements that were often associated with those of higher class: billowy shirts and pants held close by gilded breastplates and guards on the forearms and shins. They each wore a helmet styled similarly, and it actually surprised Rane that neither was adorned with a large, colored feather. The first man held a large, slightly curved sword with a single edge, like an oversized katana; the second had a stick in his hand that seemed to small for a man of his build, though a large club hung at his side. Rane's eyes narrowed momentarily. While their armor was mostly for show, and bore no signs of wear or damage, the weapons were another matter entirely. Judging by the grips and the wear alone, these men knew how to swing their weapons more than just mindlessly.

"Ah-ha!" Rane's face suddenly split in a smile. "I get it now. You guys were afraid I was going to leave now that the job's done, and came to bring me my walking stick and payment!" Rane's figure relaxed visibly, and he slung his shoes over his shoulder. "That's awfully kind of you, but there's really no need, as I'm-"

"Shut up," the swordsman's voice rumbled lower than expected, cutting Rane off. Rane looked taken aback. "We're here 'cause rumor has it you're tryin' to start a coup to overthrow Lord Shu." The man cracked a grin as the words came out, obviously enjoying the situation already.

Rane, for his part, simply looked confused. He took a second to look himself over, as if to glean what could possibly have tipped these men off. It certainly wasn't his build, for these men, and many more in the village, were obviously larger han he was. For that matter, he'd never so much as taken off the kung fu outfit he wore everyday, a faded navy and wearing its makeshift stitches like scars, at least not while on the job. He didn't look obviously foreign, though he did have lighter skin than the natives, and his hair shone a reddish-brown in the sun, unlike the jet black also found here. The eyes? Surely blue eyes were phenomenally rare, but that shouldn't set a Lord off, should it?

Rane's mock reflections were interrupted by the swordsman gripping his sword and making a heavy swing at Rane, as though chopping wood. Dust flew into the air as the sword collided with the ground, but nothing else. Rane had managed to roll to the side quick enough to avoid being split, and was just finishing putting his shoes on when the swordsman hauled his weapon out of the ground stared, wide-eyed and angry at Rane.

"You dare to defy Lord Shu?!" His voice boomed as spittle trickled down the corner of his mouth. The stick-holder just laughed out loud.

"Look, I'm sure this is all just a big misunderstanding," Rane began to plea, despite the smile that was tugging at his lips. "Let's just go back and talk to Lord Shu, and-"

"Impertinent little whelp!" The man's sword swung out again, in what would have been a decapitating blow had Rane stayed put. The bully's eyes widened again as he tried to halt his weapon, but the force he'd used to move such a weapon so fast made it impossible to change direction easily. Rane's figure had shrank and darted forward with surprising speed, delivering a quick triplet of jabs to the man's unprotected gut before twirling to the side so as to avoid a large body doubling over onto him. The swordsman bent over, one hand on his stomach, but managed to keep one hand on his weapon, which he swung again without grace.

"Tsk." Rane gave a little half-sigh and swung his arm up. The back of his forearm connected with the underside of the blade, arcing the blade harmlessly upward and throwing the attacker even more off balance. Rane took the opportunity to step into the man once more, this time to swing a fist at his wrist. There was a brief crackling noise and the large man's sword dropped from his hand as he dropped to his knees began uttering pained gibberish.

Ah, so that's how it is, thought Rane. These men had been on the top of the food chain for so long that they had never experienced real pain before. He turned in time to see the second man, no longer laughing, charging him and wielding the too-short staff in a similar manner to the previous man's sword. Rane once again stepped inside of his assaulter's attack zone, gripped the staff in one hand, the man's wrist in another, and, grunting, heaved the man over his shoulder, wrenching the stick away in the process. Rane was on top of him before he'd settled from his landing and he swung the staff, perfect in his hands, into a kneecap.

A few minutes later, after he'd rifled through the men's pockets a bit, Rane was back on his way down the deer path towards the village. He wouldn't be able to sleep with a comfortable blanket and pillow like he'd hope this night, but he'd at least get his warm meal before he had to leave. Rane stuck a finger through the new hole that man's sword had cut in his sleeve and sighed. Hopefully the wonderful elderly woman he'd been staying with would be more skilled with a needle than he, and could patch this up. The coins now jangling in his pocket meant he could at least offer her compensation for the hospitality he'd shown her (never mind the town fortifications he'd just spent weeks helping build.)

"It's gotta be the name," Rane mused as he neared his destination. Probably just another Lord overly touchy about the fact that he couldn't pronounce "Rane" correctly, or somesuch. The young man gave an abrupt laugh. "Yeah, or something like that."

Dante: The Road

The air was dry and motionless. Dead, like the air in a tomb. At least, that is what he imagined the air of a tomb would be like. It would certainly not be hot, however, and this air was hot. Tall pine trees stood before him endless rows, the thin points of pine needles offering little shade along the dirt road. The trunks were reddish brown, like the dirt itself, and seemed to radiate its own heat outward.

The only sound around him was that of his own methodical footsteps. Small tendrils of the red dirt plumed with every step, covering his sandalled feet. The dirt clung all the way up his uncovered shins, halting at the trim of his pant legs which ended just above them. The clothing he wore; the pants, and the short sleeved, split front shirt tied shut with an old brown sash he owned, had started out an off white, like the color of desert sand. They were light weight and kept the heat from his body. But the relentless, rust-colored filth he had traversed in for the last six days had dug into all of the garments, including the straw conical hat he wore. He very much doubted that any amount of washing would ever return the clothing to their original color.

The endless silence that had plagued his journey all day was suddenly broken. He could hear the baritone voices of men, singing merrily. They were fast approaching him, traveling along the road. There were three of them, looked so much the same they could be brothers. Each was bald, wearing only a colorful green and purple vest with floral print to cover their torsos, and baggy green pants to match. They were well muscled men, each over six feet tall, and each carried a unique weapon. The one in the middle had a long, single edged sword that swept like a fang. It was beautifully polished and looked almost white in the sunlight, two scarlet scarves hung from the pommel and flagged behind it. The right man held a war spade; a heavy pole arm with a fanning, axe-like blade that protruded form one end. It was a powerful, heavy weapon that took a great deal of strength and training to use. The last held a light spear, its glinting tip winking with the sunlight at the end of the yellow-white shaft.

The three brothers marched and sang continuously until they stopped abruptly in front of them. Their broad shoulders, placed end to end, blocked the road thoroughly. He stopped himself, though he did not raise his gaze to meet theirs, preferring to let the conical hat obscure his face.

"Ho there, stranger." The one in the middle said, raising his sword in his left hand and bowing. "I am Li, the oldest of the brothers Shu. We are travelling along these roads to fight in order to gain honor and experience. We wish to challenge you."

The silence had returned. He kept his gaze averted from the three bravado brothers. Li frowned.

"How impolite! I have challenged you. You could at least speak your name."

"Dante." He replied dryly. Li grinned.

"Well then, good Dante, what do you say to our bout? We will spare your life if you beg for it." Li's voice was filled with boastful excitement, anxious to swing his weapon into Dante's body.

"What makes you think that you have honor to gain in defeating me?" Dante asked, although he already knew the answer. He looked exactly as he was, a weary traveler. He had no possessions on him, only the long-empty water flask that dangled by his hip.

"Your sword, good sir." Li retorted, amused, motioning to it. "A man who carries a sword has honor with that sword."

Tucked in the sash behind him, Dante's sword was not one worthy of the imperial court. The scabbard was wrapped in dried, black leather straps that was beginning to crack and wear around the edges. The hilt was only nominally better, it was wrapped in newer burgundy leather, the two ribbons of leather extending from it to serve as the tassel. By all appearances, it was an old and meager sword.

Dante thought a moment about the situation. There were three options. The one he favored was to beat the men silly; use his superior skill to embarrass them and perhaps give them a few bumps and bruises to remind them of the confrontation over the next few days. He had found in life that killing men needlessly brought unforeseen consequences. The younger siblings or older fathers questing for revenge. Trouble with whatever lord was ruling the region. Perhaps even killing someone that he would need later. Besides, these were young and powerful men, and Dante could tell they had some skill. If they were to lose some of that bravado, they could turn into fine warriors and live long lives. He would be doing them a favor.

But he was tired from a days worth of walking in the dry heat. He had run out of water yesterday morning, and had eaten the last of his food last night. His strength was dwindling. He was confident he could still defeat them, but what if someone else came to challenge him later down the road? And perhaps this new attacker had killing intent? Wasting his precious stamina on beating these brothers might mean the end of his life.

His second option was simply to kill them. The paradox of swordsmanship was that it was far easier to kill a man than to not kill a man. He could already visualize the three clean strokes it would take to end each of their lives, and he would have plenty of energy for any future confrontations. But again, Dante disliked the killing of undeserving men. He would have to take his third option.

"Good sirs, I apologize for the confusion. I know not the art of the blade. I am but a humble servant delivering this weapon for his master. I have placed it in my sash in hopes of scaring away thieves and bandits on the road." Dante lowered himself to his knees, bowing in the manner a servant would to his master. Li laughed aloud.

"No need to bow, servant Dante. I did not realize. But yes, I can see now that you do not have the powerful muscles of a warrior. You are slight build, and we would have easily smashed your bones." Both Li and Dante smiled at this. "I wish you good journey."

The three brothers began their rousing chorus again and continued along the forest. Dante truly wished he could have taught them a lesson, but prudence won out this time. He hoped that somehow they would be taught that lesson before they were met with their early deaths.