The Iron Alchemist

Chapter 33

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."