"...That, grunt, of course depends on your willingness to shoot me. You know my friend, your lack of moralism, common courtesy or indeed anything else remotely indicative of standardised socio-herarchical sanity bemuses me to the point of disdain. Let me be very clear my friend, you cannot walk into another's house and act belligerent to them, nor bullying with your peashooters, nor threatening with your egotism. If this was house space..."Achille's eyes glittered dangerously. "...I once had the extreme displeasure of personally, and rather closely, attending the great siege of the Courville, but I'm bloody sure you wouldn't have a clue exactly what I'm alluding to, now, would you, you being a Sirian?"
Achille stared blankly at the invader, rage brimming in his mind. "So what are you man, an imbecile? You come into our domain and insult us, me? Idiotic as it is intolerable"he seethed internally.
"...My friend, a certain Maltese associate of mine once said I had the luck of a gambler, so if you truely wish to shoot me... well, go ahead. Let's see how this reflects with hindsight, oui? Let's see what happens."
And Achille extended his arms and grinned, comfortable in the knowledge that the Order imbecile wouldn't dare try.
THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's Shipping Unions, retired from a life of piracy.)