No one had really been able to see anything through the cloud of dust the two men kicked up while they were fighting out there, but they'd all been smart enough not to try for a closer look. Men like that got to fighting, you never knew who else was gonna get hurt. Mercs were all hard men, dead-eyed, and in the end it didn't really matter who won; there was enough critters killin' in this country without men adding to the count.
Still, they all leaned close when the fighting stopped, peering through the dust as the hot, heavy breeze carried it off. Someone coughed, and the crowd shifted nervously. Mostly it was morbid curiosity, but there were those in the townsfolk who'd seen the fight start. Mercs were all bad, but some were worse than others. If the pale man won, they'd have to hope he'd been wounded bad.
Course, the smart ones had already taken off. If the darker man won, well, that was great; but if the pale man won, none of the smart ones were going to be an easy target. No one, not even a merc, should be able to smile and smile and smile like that, and kill at the same time. Wasn't natural.
The dust had cleared enough to show a standing silouette, and there was some gasping and shifting, because the hair was long, like the Pale Man's; but then the dust cleared for good and it was the other man standing there, looking kinda beat up and more than a little sad.
"Sorry, he said. It was the first thing he'd said since he came charging into the little town, attacking the Pale Man in the middle of cutting on some poor traveler. "Didn't mean to make a mess." The wind kicked up some fresh dust. No one knew quite how to answer that one. Two men dead of violence in the middle of town, and he was calling it a mess?
He had made a mess; this was the only road in town, and those huge bloody swords had torn up huge grooves in it. The hard-packed dirt looked like someone had taken a plow to it. While drunk.
But the Dark Man wasn't paying attention to them anymore. He'd turned to the body and cleaned his long blade on the corpse's coattails. The crowd watched in silence. The Pale Man had come through about a week ago, demanding booze and food and other things, so no one was sad to see him go. But they were still wary. The pale man hadn't died easy, no one could claim that, but they hadn't expected it to be so… quick.
He sheathed the blade once it was mostly clean, hissing a little as the movement pulled his shoulders. The weathered eyes of the townspeople picked out a dozen or so small hurts, but none of them would be the death of a fighter this good.
"Don't suppose any of you have some hot water and a place to sit down, do you?" he touched his shoulder and grimaced when his fingers came away wet. "Arms could use some tending." There was a little nervous shifting in the crowd when it sounded like the man wanted to stay. What was to keep him from being just as bad? The Dark Man looked up from poking his wounds to find that the crowd had retreated a good three steps. "Oh, come on. I'm not gonna hurt you. Look." He fumbled for a purse, not fat but respectably heavy. "I'll pay."
And those were the words that made the difference. The tension eased. Fighters were a dangerous and unpredictable lot, and mercs were even worse; but more coin in the village, well, that always spent true. Still, no one wanted him in their house. Someone waved him to the hotel.
+++
Rae was drying mugs when she heard boots on the plank flooring of the bar. She froze, lips thinning to a tight line, and tightened her grip on the mug so she wouldn't turn around and pitch it at the sadistic bastard who'd taken up residence in her bar.
It wasn't that he didn't pay; that was bad enough. It was that he'd been terrorizing the villagers. She'd managed to keep him from hurting anyone, so far. She just had to keep telling herself that he'd either get tired of them and move on, or the cavalry would stop hunting dragons long enough to save a whole goddamn town. Her grip on the mug tightened, fingers going white. She wasn't doing a very good job of calming herself down. She went back to drying, keeping her moves slow so he wouldn't see how pissed she was. If she could use half of what she had, the bastard would be a greasy smear on the floor. But while she had him under control--more or less--she couldn't take the risk that--
"Hey, Rae. Nice place you've got here. Met one of your friends outside. Company like that, no wonder you don't come home." The voice was soft, calm, even deferential despite the slightly mocking words. "I'm afraid he didn't like me very much. Took exception to me stopping his fun."
Rae spun around. "Who--"
The man's face twisted. "Some poor traveler, Rae. Face all cut up, stabbed in the gut a bunch of times. Poor bastard never stood a chance. Why'd you let it go so far, knowin what you could do? How could you let it get so bad around here when you could fix it for em?"
She set the glass mug down on the counter, because if she didn't she'd throw it at him. And glass was expensive. "You know exactly why, Yuzo. Though I guess trying to wrangle him was wasted effort. Thank you for stopping him." She folded the towel and carefully set it on the counter. "Now please leave."
His face kinda folded in on itself, and she'd never had much strength against that look; it was why she'd left without saying goodbye to him, to anyone. It was why she'd stayed in that damn village as long as she had in the first place. She closed her eyes, because if she saw that face for too long, she'd give him anything, do anything to make him happy again. No one who killed as well as he did should be able to exude that kind of helpless pain, but it seemed like he was always helpless where Rae was concerned.
"Come on, Rae. I'm all cut up here, from tryin to save those people out there. You'd lost him, or he wouldn't be killin that man." he stopped, tried a different tack. "At least help me get the blood cleaned off so I don't go around scarin' everyone. You know the rest'll take care of itself." The last was so full of hurt that she flinched; yes, she knew it'd take care of itself. Too well. It still hurt, and she couldn't bring herself to turn him away, not really. Even if it meant inviting other things across the threshold that were best left dead and buried.