Perhaps a little tipsy, the Brit plodded down the well-used dirt path just behind the tavern. High above the sun was teetering on the horizon, threatening to descend in the next half hour and plunge the village into darkness. But there was still daylight left, and while it lasted there was time for a proper scrap. None of that bar-fighting nonsense, the relatively tall (for his age) young man who had been drinking just four years shy of actual adulthood preferred the open air when it came to fisticuffs. Besides which he got more than enough messy close quarters brawling back home, and he was on holiday.

The kid was an Englishman, London born and bred, and his name was John Poppins. He was almost as tall as the average man, and though slender his build spoke of a certain wiry strength that tended to herald a great strength and size. He’d also had five pints of ale and was feeling a bit fighty. He wasn’t exactly impaired by the drink he’d consumed, but rather enflamed by it. Ale never agreed with him much, though he only had a few years’ experience with alcohol he could tell already it wasn’t exactly a match made in heaven. Still, it had got him into trouble many a time in the past, that was the point, and it had done so again.

He grinned, fixing his cap properly on his head as a gust of wind threatened it. Blossoms from a nearby apple tree caught on his jacket, forcing him to brush them away with a negligent wave of his hand as he looked behind him. He wasn’t sure where the bloke he was supposed to be fighting was, but he figured he’d be there. ‘There’ being an acre of grassland surrounded by fencing only a short walk from the local tavern. John vaulted the fence, careful to avoid snagging his unsuitable trousers or his small pouch on the rotten wood. The field was made unique only be the presence of a single apple-tree in the middle, and it was to this that John naturally gravitated, strolling along with hardly a care in the world.

It was a beautiful sunset, but sadly, Rin was not capable of enjoying it. His fiance had been sent on a separate mission by Lady Ayameko, who had a habit of selling the services of her law enforcement out to other governments. Rin's nation rarely had much for them to do, so he couldn't fault the woman for her pragmatism. Of course, that didn't make Rin any less pleased about the situation. He didn't particularly care for these types of assignments, especially given John didn't really have an expansive list of serious crimes. It was mostly insignificant street crime, but unfortunately he had proven exceptionally difficult for local authorities to deal with, which was where he came in. Aware of John's habit of engaging in brawls, for reasons Rin couldn't begin to understand, he had arranged to meet him in this precise area through a messenger at the tavern.

Rin walked calmly in from the opposite direction, also towards the tree John was approaching, with nothing more than a casual walk, his sword still sheathed at his hip. Flying likely would have been more intimidating, or even easier, but Rin hated flying. He wasn't particularly fond of heights despite the lack of ability to fall from them, and in a pinch could tolerate them, but unlike many of the others from his Order who soared as high as they could go in the sky, Rin strongly preferred being as close to the ground as sensibly possible. Even his wife was more tolerant of heights than he was.

"Mr. Poppins," Rin called from the distance, assuming they would eventually meet next to the tree, "I am glad you got the message. Now, I have records from the local precincts tying you to thefts in the area with a total value of just over 9000 of whatever your land's currency is, so if you could pay that, along with the various fines we can begin to get this resolved. I believe local laws attach some jail time as well, so if you pay promptly we may be able to work out a reduced sentence with your authorities."

John leant again the tree and watched the sunset with a nonchalant air about him. Dismissing a beautiful sight with the casual air of youth, his eyes closed briefly and another gust of wind tickled the grass and whistled in his ears. He sighed, not really appreciating the metaphorical lengths to which Mother Nature was going to mark the coming conflict, before words snapped him out of his reverie. His eyes flashed open and he pushed himself from the trunk as Rin made his presence known.

“Nine thousan’ pounds? You avin’ a fuckin’ giraffe ma’e?” He laughed at the enforcement agent’s ‘deal’ and stood watching him for a moment. “You’re Rin righ? Din’t thing’k you’d be’a Chinaman.” He shrugged. “Still, nuttin else for’it, we’re gunna ‘ave a fite me an you. I ain’ doin’ bird, you wanna chuck me in the shovel you go’ah ca’ch me Bluebo’al.”

With that somewhat confusing introduction, John stood resolute just a few feet from the base of the tree and watched his enemy closely, his left hand delving into the pouch at his side and slowly lifting up the lid. He felt for the rocks lining the bottom of the bag and balled his hand into a fist, drawing out a handful of the sharp stones.

“So was’ I’ gunna be?”

Rin really did try to understand John, but had no idea half of the words that came out of his mouth. Chinaman? What about birds? Something blue? Giraffes?

"Sir, I have no idea what you just said," Rin responded calmly, stopping about thirty feed from John when he made a motion for his pouch. Rin responded by placing his right hand on the hilt of his sword and drawing the blade quickly. "But I'm going to assume you aren't going to pay the fines based on your reply."

Rin's sword, which had been named Carried by the Wind, was visibly unusual. As soon as Rin had started to pull the blade from the sheath, the blade itself would disappear, converting into a viciously cutting wind in the same shape as the weapon's blade. Once he held it still in front of him, to show John he was taking this seriously, it would reform into the traditional metal blade.

Of course, he would get someone like John who not only sputtered nonsense, which irritated Rin as he found that not speaking clearly and concisely was a waste of time. He didn't like others wasting his time. Coupled with the fact John seemed to have no interest in getting this matter resolved promptly, which not only involved effort, and potential flying, on Rin's part, but also wasted his time further.

"I'd really like to get back to my wife-to-be," Rin added, "So if you could reconsider your response, I'd appreciate moving things along."

“Ey, you’re the one pullin’ ou’ a fuckin’ sawd ma’ey.” John swore in response, when someone whips out a sword that turns into a magical air blade you know things aren’t likely to go down too well. “I ain’ done nu’in so I ain’ go’ nu’in t’ reconsider ‘ave I?” He flicked the rocks in his palm up into the air and caught them again. “Bu’ li’e I said, if you wanna chuck me in the nick you be’a come ge' me.”

And with that, he slowly reached out to a scattering of stones surrounding the base of the tree. Some were a few inches below the soil, some were small, some were about the size of a fist, and in a short radius around him he gathered them with his power. It took time to establish control of his element, his skills weren’t that refined or well-practiced and he used them rarely. But none the less, after a few seconds he could have a fine mass of rock floating around him, gathering about a kg a second. All the while he watched his enemy, knowing he was giving his own abilities away at about the same rate as him. He had a magic sword, John had floaty rocks, there was a serious language barrier between the two of them, and the sun was setting.

The life I lead.