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After that momentary pause at Maize Maizier and the oddity that was his weapon, Nysa could finally relax.

He had managed to locate a powered individual he had never met before. It was odd to see him at the street level, but the lad was not going to judge the man about his manner of travel. With a sudden swiftness, he hopped off the rooftop, landing nearby the lavendar haired Page. Despite having hopped off the building, he landed delicately upon the ground with a subtle tap of the feet on the concrete.

With the air of someone who had seen this war for a while, he approached the elder man. A casual glance up and down over his uniform, the teal-haired fellow was able to locate a few symbols like he had seen upon Camelot's uniform.

"...Good evening, Page of Earth..." he uttered calmly as he seemed to circle about the man. He had found in the past that he needed to shoot straight, since offering chit-chat prior to his question made it more difficult for others to answer his question.

In a conversational tone, he inquired "...Might I ask if you have seen or heard of anybody that goes by Neptune?"

The lad did not even seem phased by how the man seemed startled by his presence. Though Nysa still seemed approachable, his face seemed oddly serious as he crossed his arms behind him, giving the Earth Page his full attention.

Without any hesitance, he replied "Yes, like the planet." Some might have felt shame having to answer such an obvious question, the Nysa still seemed just as unphased by the situation.

The odd mention of a weapon acting funny caught his attention, but the younger man did not seem to react too drastically in regards to the inquiry.

"I encountered some issues with it earlier this evening. However, would you mind answering my question, sir?" His head tilted to the side a bit, as if trying to silently coax the man into giving him an answer.

The negative response was not unexpected. This man seemed about as experienced as an infant. In a nearly snobbish manner, Nysa turned his nose up before he spoke again. "It is none of your concern, Page of Earth." He served Earth, a world that was still alive and well. Nysa did not know if the Earth had a princess or not to serve, but it was also not his place to bother.

He was about to turn away completely when the Page continued dragging out the subject of weapons. "...I did not say any of that, so please do not imply it." When some people got upset, their voices got fiery hot and fierce. However, Nysa's voice seemed to go the other temperature, growing colder.

The lad turned, only one eye visible as the other remained masked by his own long hair. His one eye was narrowed and glaring in an icy manner at the Page of Earth.

It was the wave off which was the final straw for the Neptunian Squire. Rather than allow such a rude Page escape, Nysa took off a white glove, revealing his rather dainty fingers underneath. With his other still gloved hand, he grasped to the edge of the glove before rushing in quickly to the Page's side. This man wouldn't get very far without feeling a glove smacked against his cheek. It was quick and perhaps painless (aside from the initial sting of the contact), but soon enough Nysa was putting his glove back upon his bare hand.

It might not have been clear to the Page of Earth, but Nysa wanted satisfaction. He wanted a fight for the honor of Neptune. And now, whether or not the Page understood, Nysa was going to ensure he got just that.

Dignity was not something that could be seen upon the Earth Page's face. Though the elder man seemed surprised, Nysa made certain to keep his guard up. He would not be caught in such a disgraceful way.

"I will not have you insult my honor nor the honor of the lady I serve." He tugged the edge of his glove back into place before putting up two hands, both balled up in fists.

None could accuse Nysa of being a barbarian. He was not well-versed in the ways of fist fighting. The only thing he had the honor of learning as a Page was how to punch something without ruining his fingers.

How to hit things hard was not a lesson he had truly learned yet. That was not a concern at the moment. Swiftly, the lad lunged in, lashing out a fist in a loose, novice manner.

He had made his hit, but there was no satisfaction to be had. Perhaps it had to do with the fact it really hadn't injured the man. Or perhaps it had more to do with the fact Nysa truly did not enjoy fighting. Whatever reason it might have been, there was a momentary frown to be found upon what had been a relatively neutral expression before. He didn't like frowning, though it was more due to how ugly it made one's face.

The man feigned a sort of innocence that Nysa suspected to be false.

"Apologize," he demanded before once more zipping in to repeat the onslaught of before. Perhaps it was in bad taste to expect someone to apologize as one was throwing their fists at the opponent, but at the moment, Nysa merely wanted satisfaction.

Nysa had swung, but he had missed, his air swishing past the man. However, he was quite sure-footed, so where many would have stumbled, he barely seemed to have an issue, easily recovering and straightening himself up again.

This man must have been dense. He had been insulting, and now he was acting as if he had no clue he had been rude in the first place! The teal-haired Squire narrowed his eyes as his expression seemed to frost over. He was not a fiery or fiesty fighter.

His voice grew sharp and frigid, but the volume dropped as he merely repeated his demand.

"Apologize."

He was not going to explain what had already been explained before. Once more, he spun about to swing a fist at the man again.

Nysa was still not very impressed, but at the same time his own skills in fist fighting were showing quite a bit of fault. The Earth Page was easily deflecting him now, and it wasn't even so much that the older man was trying. He wasn't trying, and was just flailing his limbs and managing to block Nysa's punches.

In the same lowered tone, he hissed out "My problem is you."" Once more, he attempted to get himself some satisfaction by swinging at the man once more.