Ares watched as he and his crew were about to be surrounded by creatures with the torsos of some kind of beastfolk, not quite man but humanoid enough, and with lower bodies of horses.

Centaurs.

They were centaurs.

Ares stared at them for long enough to allow them to finally encircle the crew until he finally snapped back to attention. They held with them bows, whereas most of those at the front wielded long spears.

“Hello there!” Ares called out with a giant grin.

“What brings you here?” the head centaur asked, an older man with long white hair that flowed down to his back.

“Just passing by,” Ares shrugged his shoulders.

The centaur looked down towards the dwarf and his lips curled into a frown.

“What brings an earthly one such as yourself here?” the centaur asked.

“Business,” replied Ozondo.

“What business do you have?”

“My business is my own.”

The centaur snarled as a few began to draw an arrow. “I have spoken!”

“So have I.” Ozondo reached down for his hammer, but Ares raised a hand.

“I would suggest against such aggressive stances, I’m starting to feel a little threatened,” Ares teased.

“You should be,” the centaur snarled.

“Oh?”

It was then that Ares summoned a rain of javelins that shot down from the heavens, landing directly ahead of all the centaurs.

“What of you?” Ares asked. “Do you feel threatened?”

The centaurs glared at Ares, knocking an arrow as his own crew began to arm themselves.

“Relax, relax,” Ares chuckled. “I’ll sort this out.”

“With your words?” Torak asked as he grabbed onto his weapon.

“Well, that or my water.”

“Master of Words,” Ezak whispered quietly.

Ares ignored the whisper. “So kindly centaurs, what business do you have with me?”

“We have no business with a-” the centaur paused and sniffed the air. “What are you?”

“A demi-god, half god half something. Two halves make a whole, isn’t that right?” Ares said as he threw a look towards those muscular horse bodies.

A few arrows loosened, silently weaving through the air before they disappeared with a thought. The centaurs froze in shock.

“You saw that didn’t you?” Ares said as he leaned back towards Torak. “They shot at me.”

“They did shoot at you.”

“That could have killed me, isn’t that right, Orndu?”

“It wouldn’t, I would have saved you.”

Ares looked at Orndu. “Orndu, that would have hit me right?”

“No, I would have cut the arrow down.”

Ares stared at Orndu for a long moment. Then he turned to Torak. “Torak, my adviser, that could have hit me, right?”

“It could have.”

“Thank you,” Ares whispered. “So I think I would be rather in my right to return fire, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would,” Torak said with a nod of his head.

“Ah,” Ares sighed, “I love it when I get permission.”

“What madness do you sp-” the centaur’s words were cut off by various javelins whistling through the air, striking through the centaurs’ bodies, causing many to fall in surprise and cry out in pain.

Ares thought for a moment that perhaps he should have actually made the walls a little taller, since the centaurs could actually see in. He had made the encampment a little shorter than usual, though he had no real idea as to why.

It was probably the dwarf.

Yet the thoughts slipped away as quickly as they had come as he hefted a spear and chucked it towards the centaur that had been speaking with them. The centaur managed to strike the spear aside with his own.

“Away!” the centaur exclaimed. “Away!”

The centaurs began to retreat, turning and fleeing. Ares was not one to allow them such business freely and so he summoned a few more javelins that shout out in a circle around the group towards the retreating centaurs, many of their behind being impaled.

Most of the centaurs who had fallen were still alive, wailing and groaning in pain as they tried to stand and gallop away, though their legs were not strong enough to get them up as many had been pierced through their thighs. Those that had been pierced through their shoulders were slowly trotting away, though found themselves prey to Ares’ javelins.

“Enough!” exclaimed the centaur from afar, pointing a bow and arrow at Ares. “Enough…”

“Is that so?” Ares asked as he nodded and then motioned with a hand. His beastfolk had taken down a few of the enemy from wherever they could reach, though Zika had some great fun hunting those that were trying to flee, tearing into a centaur and consuming them.

“Let them go!” the centaur snarled, arrow trained on Ares.

“Well you aren’t really asking politely,” Ares said with a frown, “so why should I?”

The centaur narrowed his eyes as he then pulled down his bow, letting the arrow be.

“Is that how your people behave? You threaten and attack and then when you realise you were outmatched, you flee and cry for mercy.” Ares threw a look back towards Torak. “Is that how it is?”

“It seems that way,” Torak said. “I, too, am disappointed.”

“Disappointed is right,” Ares said, “how could you be so pathetic? I was rather looking forward to our encounter, but it seems as though you’re just a bunch of pompous pricks.”

“Let my people go.”

“Why?” Ares asked.

There was a long moment of silence as a couple of centaurs tried to get up. Ares raised a finger.

“Don’t,” Ares said, “or I’ll shoot.”

The centaur looked back towards Ares with his eyes wide, and then looked back to his own leader. He dropped down and then waited there, his life in Ares’ hands.

“Thank you,” Ares said as he then looked back to the centaur he had spoken to.

“Let them go, boy. We shall leave you in peace.”

“I know you’ll leave me in peace,” Ares said as his head snapped aside to some movement of some centaurs from behind him. Ares shot forth a javelin near them, it passing by ahead and planting in the ground ahead. “I’ve got eyes on the back of my head, you should be careful in playing your games.”

Ares was acutely aware he and his own were outnumbered. Even now the enemy could rain arrows upon them and it would only take one to really deal any damage to his crew.

“Let them come, Ares!” Orazuta snarled with utter joy. “I will deal with them all! Allow me my fun!”

“There might be a chance for you to still do so.”

“You would strike those that are unable to fight?” the centaur asked. “Have you no pride?”

“Much more than someone like you. Why don’t you give me a good reason as to why I shouldn’t start killing them all now.”

“They no longer are able to fight.”

“I said a good reason,” Ares growled. “They should have known their lives were forfeit the moment they came upon us in such a manner.”

The centaur wasn’t making any sense, but Ares could assume why. It was the same reason as his own world, where one people believed themselves to be above another, so they would cry and criticise others for a behaviour they themselves were partaking within.

“Perhaps I should quicken your thoughts by slaying a few of them at a time until you come up with something decent?”

The centaur snarled and Ares shot another javelin towards one of the centaurs nearby, piercing through their thigh. A wail filled the air.

“Enough!” the centaur exclaimed once more. “What is it that you want?”

“What do you have to offer?”

“We do not have much. We are but a people of the plains, what we have would be of no interest to you.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to start killing some centaurs, isn’t that right?”

“How do you know that name?” the centaur asked.

“What name?”

“You know of our people.”

“Yeah, so?”

“It is not a name that many know of… how do you know of it?”

Ares looked back to Torak. “What are they called usually?”

“Horsefolk by common tongue,” he said.

“Oh…” Ares looked back to them. “Uh, well, I had a chat with Rivee, perhaps I got it from them.”

“Rivee? The water-father?”

“The very same,” Ares said with a nod of his head.

“How have you spoken to Rivee?”

“I am King Ares, Master of Waters, Kin of all Riveans, these are the titles bestowed upon me by Rivee.”

“You have been bestowed by such titles by our water-father?”

“Yeah, basically.”

“How?”

“Well I conquered the Dragon’s Spine and then I was given the title,” Ares replied with a shrug.

“You conquered Dragon’s Spine?”

Ares sighed. “Yeah, yeah I did.”

There was a long moment of silence and Ares waited to see what the centaur would do.

“You haven’t introduced yourself as of yet,” Ares said.

“I am Arthur, low-chief of the Oldfield.”

“Arthur?” Ares said. “No wonder you think you’re hot shit,” he whispered.

“We will surrender to you, King Ares, and offer you restitution of our deeds. The finest steeds of our peoples.”

“I don’t think some of us could fit on your backs,” Ares said as he threw a glance to Orazuta and Zika.

“Not our bodies, but our steeds,” Arthur said through gritted teeth.

“Oh.”