Or is it Cumhaill? the Volcae warrior retorts at the braggards' threat.

"It appears to me by your name that you are of mixed descent and have no more claim to this "little love affair" than I do.

Now before you say something that I will have to make you regret, sit yourself down and be drinking, for you are talking to a king of the Volcae. Even you mangy Irish I've been told respect their kings!"

Arecomici cooly finishes his cup and puts it on the table. The MacRoth remains standing, glaring at the Volcae. Several tense moments pass and then with lighting swiftness, Arecomici draws his blade and slams it into the table, breaking it in half with one swing.

"I am a son of the Volcae Arecomici, Lords of Galia Narbonesis. The annointed ruler of the Volcae people in the sacred wood of Nemausus, I am he who defeated Gaius in the meadow of the nine heads and placed his head upon my mantle for all to see, it is I who cut the hands off of a whole legion as a gift for my bride! Who is my challenger, that I may deem him worthy of my time and determine if his blood is worthy of being spilt by my blade?"