(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

usiness, and wouldn't let his brother get his ham-sized fists in.
He was a lean man, with deeply tanned skin and piercing green eyes.
"Welcome to the Malako Brothers Distillery!" he cried, as if he could think of
no one he'd rather see than me. His lips peeled back into an unctuous grin.
"What can I do for you today?"
"Kester Malako, right?"
"Yessir, proprietor and half-owner of the Malako Brothers Distillery. Can I
sell you something?" His grin slipped slightly. A layer of syrup floating over a
venomous core. I hated him already.
"Half-owner?"
"Yes, indeed. My brother also owns a part interest here, though I don't know
that I'd call it an 'interest,' seeing as he spends so much time caring about it.
Listen, do you want to buy something?"
"What can you tell me about your brother?”
His face darkened. "His name is Crumplepunch. He's the blacksmith here in
town. He's doing his best to make sure my business doesn't succeed, and...
why am I telling you this? You're a total stranger."
I shrugged, "I'd like to help." If my voice had a little less gravel in it I
would've probably sounded more convincing, but looking him in the eye
when I spoke was enough. Few in Curst could do that.
"You would, eh? All right. Take a look at this. This is my copy of the legacy
our father left for us. Here: You can clearly see that the money that's
supposed to come to us should build up this distillery, not just get split
between the two of us. Yet my foolish brother insists that we just take the
cash, instead of building toward the future. Get his copy of the legacy, or
talk some sense into him, and I'll see you're well rewarded."
"I'll need your copy of the legacy to look over."
He looked at me suspiciously, and then relented. "If it'll get it done faster
and better for me, then all right. Here."
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