Sword - A Book of The Damned

Chapter 6

Fixing the top button of his waistcoat, Artos looks around the sparse room as he picks up his belt and sword. He checks the strapping then wraps it around his waist, fixing the buckle together at the centre. He twists around feeling the weight of the katana on his left hip again, tweaking it slightly. He grabs up his snood and pulls it over his head then moves over to the window. He pulls back the curtains moving back as dust filters down from the rail above. He peers through dirty windows out into the street beyond. The sandy street is almost empty at this early hour, the only movement comes from a shopkeeper across the way fiddling with something inside his window display. He looks further down the street at a few larger buildings, the only two that are bigger than the saloon.

"Mmm, I'll have to check those out, see what they are." He rubs at a smudge of dirt absently and leans closer, he catches a glimpse of his reflection and moves back. "I need a shave," he says, rubbing the stubble on his chin. "God, I need more food." He turns from the window taking the few steps to the door. He twists the key with a click then pulls on the handle. The hinges squeak slightly making him wince unknowingly. Artos steps over the threshold pulling the door behind him and makes his way down the hallway towards a sleepy sounding main room below.

Reaching the top of the stairs he takes a quick look over the plain wooden bannister. He picks out the girl from last night, the one who came to his room. She stands by the piano, her eyes devouring the large instrument with hunger. Then he picks out the barkeep, Ernie was his name, yes. Ernie, he says to himself as he watches the portly man pick up a dirty washcloth and continue to wipe and polish the same glass over and over. "Like every other barkeep throughout this wretched land," he whispers.

A creak brings his attention to the batwing doors and the man who enters. He struts in with the confidence of a raging bull, all smoke and bravado. He looks around the room with distaste then tips his hat up and walks towards the bar and to where Ernie still stands polishing. But before he can get more than two steps, a smooth drawl takes the place of his heavy boots pulling him to a sudden halt, his foot still in the air.

"Now, Gain. You surely don't want to be coming here for trouble, do ya?" she asks as her skirts flow from somewhere under the stairs to make her way to the centre of the room. Her vibrant blue eyes looking him up and down. "Well, do ya?"

Gain looks at her now, a stifled moan on his lips before he speaks, "Well, Lettie. No, I don't want no trouble." He itches at a swollen eye and grimaces at his touch. "Fuck," he mutters.

"Well, now. We're not open yet, are we, Ernie?" Lettie says, her voice commanding in the empty room.

"Ah, yes. That right, Madam Lettie. That right. We ain't open yet, Gain. Not open." Then his eyes drop back to his glass once again.

"Anyway, Gain. You don't want no more trouble, especially from him," she throws her hand up in his direction making all of them turn and stare at the top of the staircase.

Clever woman. I'll have to keep an eye on her. Did I misjudge, maybe? We'll see.

"Morning," he says, he keeps his voice low, menacing. He smiles internally at Gain's response. He trips over a bar stool whilst backing up and almost falls, but manages to grab the edge of the bar just in time.

"I don't want no trouble, Mister. Not again. Sorry for last..." Gain pause as he catches Artos's eye. "Drunk me is a horrible man, ya see. Horrible."

Artos eyes him, fixing him with a stare for longer than necessary. "He licks his lips and runs his tongue across his teeth. "I'm sure the sober you is horrible too?" He lets the question linger in the air, not caring about the outcome. God, I'm hungry.