There was a nag in Jostice's ear, the kind that made his trigger finger twitch and heart want to kill.
"I'll turn that scaly-faced jerked into soup-"
"Will you shut the hell up? You've rambling for hours now, and my heads about to split."
Grotknot pulled on his thick, bison coat that had him sweating like a pig. No man in their right mind where such a coat, Jostice thought. No man but a Bork.
"What...you don't like soup?" he asked, draining a glass of bubbly, golden ale. He burped.
"I've got enough to worry about then thinking of that snake."
"But he threatened your family-"
Jostice slammed his hand down, covered in dry Yurk's blood around the knuckles. "That's how he works, or have you forgotten?"
"I didn't stay long enough in the brotherhood to get acquainted with that man...though I do recall when he'd joined. He hated me then and still hates me now." Jostice raised an eyebrow. The man had more courage after a belly full of froth. "He has every right to hate me...and hate our family...if only he knew."
Jostice spun on his seat, facing the man. He hadn't been interested in anything in the old, empty saloon had to offer: the walls flaking, the bar dusty, the bartender half asleep against a beam, and the smell of rotted wood lingering in the air. Not even the small selection of beers, though enough to get him drunk, could ward his attention. Not until he looked upon the Borks face.
"What happened?"
"It was a long time ago-"
"I said, what happened?" Jostice rubbed his chin. "You and your boys didn't go to Rodge just for drinks...you went there for a fight."
There was no itch, but the man scratched his thick mane, swearing. "A fight would've been all the better...we was looking for a duel."
"Why?"
"Your Pappy never told you why it was I left the brotherhood, and put him in charge." Jostice eyes told him no. "I didn't think so..." Grotknkt said. "I left because he needed Scalefaces help with a job and I I wasn't keen on Merkoit join the brothers." He huffed, taking another drink to wet his dry tongue.
"Merkoits are southerns who resided in the swamps; what are mountain men fussing about them for? Their enemies have alway been the Huskmen."
"It was...until the Huskmen got the Merkoits involved; hired guns who took to the shadows and fought behind trees and boulders - too afraid to fight out in the open. "Well, to make a long story short, his pappy took mine-" He pulled a black cord from his pocket and setting it on the table, in the center was a small, off-white, dagger-shaped piece of bone. "-and I took his..." The man took another swig then glanced up from his glass. Shame in his eyes. "That day in Sundown I was already drunk, so I went to his establishment and bet him that if his men could out drink mine I'd give it back...He was betting man, so he took it...I was hoping drinks would lead to guns, though it never transpired. Leslie and the deputies drove us from the bar before any blood was shed."
"Bartender...Two more. " Jostice said. The man stayed still until Ace raised his voice and asked again; he leapt upwards and had their drinks poured faster than a fly smelt shit. Jostice slid ons to Grotknot, "here...drink."
He slurred, "you're just wanting to hear more-"
"You're damn right!" He said. "Rodges hate for his enemies is much stronger than his love for his friends... And it was brought on by the loss of his father..."
"I understand..."
"No you don't!" Jostice took a drink and his face wrinkled. It was bitter and strong, enough to make the hairs on his neck stand. "I rode with him...His father was everything he had, and finding the one who murdered him was what kept him gambling - to make money and to hire guns - that's why he took to the brotherhood in the first place." Jostice rubbed beneath the brim of his hat. "That's why he took Zachariah after we brought down the Stathest...to give the boy a life his father couldn't give him, or so he said."
Grotknot gruffed, "you certain it wasn't to use him for his gift? Seems Scaleface did pretty well for himself with a boy who could see the lies in a mans eyes..."
He shrugged. "Maybe..." Jostice right eye shrank while he drank. "To give his boy a better life or to get revenge on those who got him there." The next sip was worse than the last, more bitter and strong as he neared the bottom. He winced and wiped his lips, pushing the glass away to save his buds. "He hadn't know it was you until you went into that bar..."
"Don't you think I know that ... the guilt was eating at me for years," Grotknot groaned. "And I drank ... you know what it's like when the bottle takes over? You have no control and because of that I let my niece down - she was my apprentice and I was on the bottle trying to forget this man - and there was an accident. Scorned her so bad she's damn near unrecognizable." He choked, the words falling from his lips. "I didn't go to Sly's for a fight ... I was hoping he'd free me from what I'd done ... to his father ... to my niece ... free me from the guilt that haunts me." The man snorted and wiped his nose, looking at him with a hint of curiosity. "What happened with you and your Pappy?"
Jostice licked the back of his teeth, trying to rid his tongue of the bitterness. "Long story short, he blames me for the death of Remmiron - And he has every damn right to. My brother was my best friend, and I got him killed-"
The door to the saloon shrieked open, allowing light to penetrate the shadows that had long lingered. Two men walked in, one damn near tall as a giant wearing old garbs while the other, a short leathery skinned man, stood finely dressed in a black coat, trousers, and a round hat, cigar between his lips.
"Let's grab a drink before we head out, Brugar..." The man's voice was like chalk. "We've got to get ahead of the others if we expect to catch the boy..."
Boy? Jostice didn't make himself aware that he was listening, keeping his eyes forward, and putting a hand on the half empty glass filled with what made his tongue sting.
Grotknot rambled on about nonsense while he focused, listening to the mens whispers.
"This service here is shit..." Krix said, waving a hand at the bartender. "Two Dhugian froths and make it snappy!" The bartender took off as fast as his short legs could take him. Krix whispered to Brugar, "you're going to need to keep a cautious eye once we've hit the road, you understand?" The large man nodded. Krix voice shrank turning ghastly. Jostice managed to catch a few words. "The boys ... Sheriffs brother ... He'll likely ... armed."
Sheriffs brother... Jostice spun on the bench and stood, pulling on Groknots beard. "Pay the man ... we need to head out."
He groaned and pulled his beard free. "But I've got another round coming-"
Jostice wiped the hairs from between his fingers. "I says, pay the man, and let's get."
Grotknot didn't ask why, and was too drunk to notice the urgency in Aces face. He dropped a few coins, unsure if it was enough or too much and they headed towards the door.
"You there," Krix snarled, waving a hand. "Do you have a light? Bartender seems to be all out of matches and this cigar doesn't want to light itself." He laughed sharply.
Jostice ignored the man. Grotknot twirled nearly falling. "Sure do, friend." He pulled a pack from his coat, dropped them, then picked them up, raising them over head. "I'll bring them right," He hiccuped, "over..."
Jostice snatched them from his hand. "Why don't you get some air and I'll get the light."
The man fused but decided air would do him good. He stumbled out the door.
Aces eyes narrowed as he approached the man. Hand steady, hovering above the revolver at his hip. He stopped only a few feet away, looking the man over without an ounce of suspicion.
His nose was sharp as a dagger. Eyes black like stone. And head bald, or nearly to it, the dimlight made it hard to tell. The one beside him, who flicked his bottom lip and stared blankly at the flaking wall, was pale and stank like sour milk.
"Keep em," Jostice held out his hand.
"Mighty kind of you..." The man grinned, staring at him like he owed the world a killing. Jostice turned towards the door and the man voice carried after him, "Don't I know you?"
"Know me?" Jostices hands hovered closer to his revolvers. "Can't say you do..."
"You certain?"
Jostice didn't have to face the man to feel his eyes creeping up and down his frame, sizing him like two alpha wolves before the bite.
"Nope..." He took a step towards the door.
"Wait I do know you," his fingers snapped. "You're that gunslinger ... the one from the colosseums." He snapped again, "it's on the tip of my tongue."
"Ace..." He peeked over his shoulder as shadows darkened his eyes, "That's right ... What's it to you?"
He chuckled. "Heard you killed the Stormslinger and was a free man ... never thought I'd find you in a dump like this."
"Never thought I'd be here," he admitted, "but I like to keep my head down as should you ..." He laughed. "Never know when a stray bullet will strike."
Krix nodded, "thanks for the advice."
"You two drink up, now." It'll soon be your last, he thought then walked out the door.