Ronin had, for the first time in years, gone without the costume made famous by his predacessor. It really wasn't up for the job. He had been provided with a set of armour that fit surprisingly well and, fittingly,
somewhat resembled that of a samurai. For the time travelers and even most of the people from the safe house is was the first time he had shown his face. It was weathers, stubbled, but recognizable to anyone who had known him in the past. His hair was a mess and his eyes looked pale and almost lifeless compared to how he had been years before.
He made certain his tachi and wakizashi swords were fastened securely to his armour before climbing onto one of the steeds, hefting a yari-like energy pike in readiness once his foot-hands had grasped the stirrups.
"What was it they used to say years ago?" He muttered in a smoker's voice. "For Queen and Country?"