#amc6

“You can try.” He might be a villain, the sort to cut down friend or foe with equal amounts of blood lust but he wasn’t a backstabber. This was going to be a fair fight.

He stood his ground, ready to move as soon as Mire did. The murderer had seen Mire fight enough by this point that he had a fairly good idea of how this would go.

Refusing to fight would be suicide-- or, rather, Mire was more certain the other would try to kill them, regardless of their pacifism, than they were certain Creighton wanted a proper duel. When he was collected, the wanderer was nothing to scoff at with that crescent axe-- they had met its business end more times than they could count, and were not keen on throwing themself at it once again. 

He snickered, it seemed he had succeeded in getting a rise out of Mire. “I prefer my axe over any sword but I’d wager I’m still better than you with a sword, with any blade really.”

They were being baited. That was what the wanderer did. He baited them. Even so, they tugged their helm off and tucked it under their arm, trying not to grip it particularly tightly in their irritation. 

They doubted this, but knew Sir Creighton was stronger than they were, which meant that any altercation would have to be settled with cleverness as opposed to brute force. However, in this case, they were quite confident they had the upper hand.