Ch. 4

"Sweet dreams are made of this. Who am I to disagree? I travel the world and the seven seas. Everybody's looking for something."

The Royale was in full swing tonight. People were anxious about the coming war and ordered more drinks to quiet their nerves. They cheered and swung their glasses up into the air as Pree finished his song, and then they fell back, lost to their thoughts. Two men nearby started to fight, but then they thought better of it. They cursed at each other and then went their separate ways, and more people walked in, thirsty and desperate to forget that the end might have come for them all. And it started to rain. It rained hard.

Pree stared out at the rain. He watched it crash against the stone. So much death had covered Old Town. So many bodies, and then he looked at the floor of his bar. And he thought of Pawter Simms. "For you, Red," and he downed a drink.

"Take the gun, and shoot him," a voice commanded, and Pree flinched. "Shoot him!"

"You okay," Gared asked as he wiped down the bar, and Pree looked once more at the rain. "Something wrong?"

"No," and Pree flashed him a smile. "Just thinking about the past. That's all."

"You never talk about your past," Gared replied.

"Nothing to talk about," Pree said as he looked around his bar, sighing deeply. Then, he noticed a man sitting in the corner, and he knew that this man was not from Old Town. He didn't belong here, and he was nursing his drink, waiting for the right moment. And Pree would be damned, if he allowed him to make his move. "Be right back," and he forced another smile at Gared.

"Okay," but Gared stared after him, glancing at the man that Pree was walking toward.

"You don't belong here," Pree snapped as the man continued to nurse his drink. "Leave."

"Good to see you too," the man replied. "It's been a very long time."

"I'm asking nicely, and just once." Pree leaned down toward him. "Get the hell out of my bar. Now."

"Come on, Princess," and a knife flashed against his throat.

"Go ahead. Say that name again," and Pree pushed the blade harder against his skin, drawing blood.

"I could always call you by your real name."

"Honey, that name hasn't been said in years, and it belongs to a small boy that was thrown to wolves."

"I'm not here to fight," and he raised his hands up into the air.

"No. You're just here to kill me."

"I am," and he finished his drink despite the knife still pressed against his throat. "So?"

"So, what?"

"What are you waiting for?"

Pree slowly moved the knife away from him and returned it back to its hiding place underneath his sleeve. "What are you waiting for," Pree asked.

"I want to know what happened that night."

"What night?"

"You know what tonight is," and Pree flinched. "It rained that night too."

"It's history. Ancient history. Now, get out before I have you thrown out."

"You won't see me coming next time, Pree," and he spat that name out. "I'm giving you a chance."

"To do what?"

"To tell me what happened that night when you left."

"Honey, you want a bedtime story? Is that it," and Pree laughed.

"I want the truth. I deserve the truth. We both know which one of us was really his son."

"You were just a stray that he picked up off the gutter."

"So were you." The man remained sitting in his chair, but his intensity rose. And now more stares fell his way, and Pree glanced over his shoulder at Gared. "So?"

"Fine. You want a bedtime story? I'll give you a bedtime story," but Pree turned and stormed away.

"Thought you were going to tell me a story," the man yelled after him.

"It's a long story, honey, and we're going to need some Hokk. Gared, get me the blue."

"You sure, Pree?"

"Just get it," and Gared pulled a silver key from his pocket and unlocked a small panel underneath the bar.

"Who's that man that you're talking to? He seems dangerous."

"Don't worry, sweetie. I'm dangerous," and Pree grabbed the bottle from him.

"Should I be worried," Gared yelled after him.

"No," Pree yelled back, and then he slammed the bottle down onto the man's table. "Alright, Draon. It's story time," and he sat down opposite him. "I'll pour, and I'll tell. And when I'm done, you leave, and you don't come back."

"We'll see," and the man watched Pree fill his glass. "Let's begin."

"No, there's no more beginning here. Just the end," and Pree held the glass up toward him, and the man did the same. And then they both downed their drinks.