His Thoughts

[Lye]

The last of the swill remained in its wooden mug while I pushed myself out of my seat. Leather groaned and creaked off my person while the stool screeched against the overly used planks of the floor. This simple motion and gesture caught the eye of a table of men who spent most of the evening hunched over in whisper and mumble. I rose, as did they. The ghastly vision of my scarred eye light up like an angry mob, pitchforks and all.

“Fuck,” I sighed.

I made for the door and felt the presence of the lot on my heels. Each clumsy footstep lurched like apes without grace and sounded like a stampede of dead from Raiaera. Outside, faint moonlight filled the muddy dirt streets and the musk of moss, mold, and horse shit did little to transition from the scent of the tavern. Horse, as I had no reason to give him any other name, stomped disapprovingly to the several others that emerged behind me. I laid my gloved hand against his neck to calm the beast and reassure it for what would soon follow.

“Ay there, pretty boy. You look mighty familiar.” His voice exuded intelligence and confidence befitting of him and his kin. “Reckon you might settle a wager?”

They filed out and circled me and Horse. My vision identified daggers, knuckles, some chain, and a few swords from the group despite their efforts to conceal them. A dozen pairs of feet, that plus a half of lethal tools of persuasion.

“What wager might that be? Which one of you looks best in a dress?” My hand kept running along Horse’s mane. He could sense the danger as much as I.

Snickers and scoffs came from the bunch. Their leader, much less amused, continued. “Me and my boys think you’re that fellow in the posters from the mainlands. Yerolk was it?”

Ulroke, but close enough for thick skulls hollowed out.

“Never heard the name.” I tugged at the saddle straps to check their tightness. This routine reassured Horse everything was alright. His restlessness simmered just as an air of silence found its grip on the moment.

“Bullshit.” Blurted out a different buffoon to their leaders dismay. “I know it’s ‘im!”

“Listen gentlemen,” I replied. “I’d just like to forget that piss swill I just drank and get on with my evening. Why don’t the lot of you be on your way or go back inside and make a few passes at the barmaid? Surely she’s more your type.”