Beers and Beards-Chapter 67Book 4, : The First Meads

The next couple days were a whirlwind as Alba and I tried every combination of ingredients we could think of. I focused on ingredients from Anima, as it was Master Romero’s go-to, and it was closely tied to the Spirit. One of the rarer ingredients from the dungeon was a translucent pepper called Firetongue, which I called Ghost Pepper because it was faintly see through. It increased spiritual perception, which meant you could feel people’s gaze on you more easily and whatnot. It also made you more susceptible to mind altering effects, so at the very least it seemed like a good catalyst for the kind of mead we were making.

I tried eating it once.

Which was a mistake.

Kirk, Mirelda, Joseph, and Berry dropped by every once in a while to say hello before I sent them on their way again.

Berry served as a minor annoyance, filching our meads and asking incessantly about Shamanic magic. Alba kicked her out.

Joseph brought some contracts for me to read over and send on to Cascadia. It turned out the Adventurer’s Guild was trying to throw its weight around, given their close relationship with Grandia, and we weren’t having any of that! I asked Joseph to politely remind them that our dungeon didn’t need to be open to Grandia at all, and we were more than capable of making it Kinshasa only.

That shut them up and got us a sweet deal on taxes. Grandia eventually decided they wanted the entrance next to Howling Mine, and we agreed that it would go up the same day Cascadia opened to the public.

Surprisingly, Mirelda’s tidbits were the most interesting. Grandia, like Crack once upon a time, had no laws against public propaganda, so with Butler Lucius’s help she’d been crafting poems and short stories featuring the plainsfolk's plight and distributing them using Joseph’s burgeoning commercial channels. Good for her!

But time flies when you’re having fun making mead all day, and it was soon opening day for Cascadia to the general public!

At which point a bunch of things happened at once. The first adventurers entered Cascadia, the Thirsty Goat opened in Grandia, my makgeolli was ready for racking, and our first meads were also ready for racking. Oh, and I completed level 4 of the [More Brews] quest, which rewarded me with 1 strength and unlocked level 5, which was 32 more new brews for a [Karmic Reversal]. It wasn’t a new Ability, but it could be a literal life saver, so I was happy that I’d eventually have more in my back pocket.

I probably should’ve been a bit more present at the Inn with everything going on, but Annie kept assuring me everything was under control, and to focus on helping the beastfolk.

And so it was that I found myself in Alba’s meadery, holding a bottle of makgeolli, and passing a bottle of soju to Adrian.

“And what have we here?” Alba asked, examining the glass bottle I was using to store my Makgeolli. It held a faintly cloudy, fizzing liquid.

“It’s sparkling rice wine. And Adrian is holding rice liquor.” The soju was held in a ceramic bottle I’d had Kirk acquire for me. It’d come from a local potter of some renown, and looked quite the part if I did so say myself! Like a real sake jug that you’d see sitting at the waist of a samurai, or whatever the Korean equivalent was.

“Liquor?” Adrian asked, rotating his jug as he looked at it from all angles.

“No, that would be rude, and you’d get fur on your tongue” I deadpanned. Adrian stared at me in confusion for half a moment then his nose grew darker. So that’s what beastfolk looked like when they blushed.

“Oh, don’t bother the poor lad. It’s just spirits, boy,” Alba admonished. “Can we try it?”

“Sure. I brought it for everyone to share,” I said, gesturing at the bottle. “Want to pop it open?”

She levered the Whistlestop from the neck of the bottle with an appreciative nod. “This is such a clever little contraption.” She took a sip and shrugged, “Not strong enough for my taste. Refreshing, though.”

“Excuse me, Master Brewer. Did you make this soju as well?” Adrian asked, levering a claw in to pop the cork on the soju bottle and sniffing it. He pulled back with a huffing choke, his eyes crossing.

“Ah, careful there. That’s near over 40%. I asked the distillery to make it extra strong. Which also answers your question, I suppose. I didn’t make it; I’m not exactly adept at distilling.”

“Distilling?” Livia asked, pushing Adrian aside to sniff the soju as well. She too pulled back in involuntary reflex when the evaporating alcohol hit her beatfolk-sensitive sinuses.

I glanced at Alba, who shrugged. “She hasn’t gotten those lessons yet.”

“Well,” I continued. “Long and short of it is that alcohol has a lower boiling point than water. So if you heat an alcoholic drink up to near boiling, the alcohol will boil off before the water. If you attach a pipe to yer boiler, and chill the pipe, you can condense the alcohol vapours and make a stronger drink. In soju’s case, it’s made using boiled makgeolli. The specific setup fer alcohol is called a still. And speaking of which, do you know why I asked the local alchemists to do it for me?”

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Alba, who had my number by now, made a throat-cutting gesture at her apprentices, but Livia asked innocently, “why?”

“Because I still don’t like doing it! Nyuck!”

Livia giggled, and Adrian rolled his eyes.

“Maybe the alcohol will make your awful puns bearable,” Alba muttered, then took a deep swig.

I jerked forward in reflex to try and stop her, but I was much too late. “It’s really strong –” I began.

The old beastfolk chugged for a full ten seconds, then wiped her lips with her arm and made an *aaahhh* of appreciation. “That’s good stuff! Great, even! Vodka doesn’t even compare! It’s smooth, and refreshing, and while it burns going down it doesn’t have the same bite to it. You’re going to sell this, yes? It’ll mayke a fortune!”

I curled my moustache in glee. “Really?”

“Yes, really! How much did youh make in your first batch?”

“Enough for about twenty bottles worth of the makgeolli, plus eight small bottles of soju.” I gestured at the bottle she was holding. “That’s twelve percent of the only soju on the planet, so be careful with it. Kirk swore he’d pillage any ship, wagon, or goat carrying it when I let him try some.”

Alba’s nose twitched. “That friendly giant? Really?”

“Aye. He fell in love with it. Penelope too. She and Kirk had a small war over who got the bottle I opened in the Thirsty Goat. Penelope won. Most of the crew didn’t really like it though, since it just knocked them straight out.”

“Haha! Yes, dwarves don’t even hold mead very well! I can see how something stronger wouldn’t agree with them!”

“I ended up giving Kirk two bottles anyway, one for him, and one to pass on to Val.”

“A shame, but I understand. Who is Vyal? Oh, the other Chosen at Hive dungeon.”

Alba had learned about the Chosen Catalysts of the Gods earlier this week, and had adjusted quite well, all things considered.

I took the bottle of soju back with a quick swipe. “Val sent word that he’s nearly all done there, and he’s passin’ through Grandia on his way ta Emerald Coast Dungeon. He’s got several barrels filled with Hive Honey for us. So he gets one bottle as thanks.”

“Such strange things happening in the world,” Alba shook her head. “We beastfolk are driven from the plains that we have inhabited since time before time, just as new races are born in every secret corner of the world.”

I patted her on the shoulder, then gestured at the bottles of mead we’d made. “Hey, that’s what we’re trying. Our first meads are done, so let’s give them a try!”

With the two apprentices’ help, we popped open all the bottles of mead we’d made, and Alba tested them one at a time. Since she was a [Mystic] herself, if she got the correct Milestone after drinking the mead, then we’d made Spiritual Nectar!

After roughly ten bottles, Alba had to take a break. She burped mightily, and Adrian and Livia giggled. “No. It wasn’t these,” she sighed. “And I had such hopes.”

“There’s still a few more,” I consoled her, “it could be there.”

Alba sighed. “I don’t think so. We’ve nailed the ‘Hot’ feeling, and I’m definitely feeling more aware, but the ‘mystic’ feeling still isn’t quite there. We need something with more Mana to it.”

I frowned, looking over all the ingredients on the wall. “There’s Mana Slime.”

Alba considered, then nodded. “That could do it, or perhaps some Arrow Frog Skin? It’s slightly poisonous, but its soporific effects and strong Mana could be a match to what we need?”

“Are there any other honey ingredients available? We’ve only used one ingredient from Hive…” I muttered, looking at the wall of ingredients.

“Hmmm, perhaps. Maybe if we…” We were about to dive into things, when Alba stopped and looked up at the door. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

“What?” I asked.

“Go away – “ Alba began, but was interrupted by a loud cough that penetrated the wood of the door. Her nose grew pale, and she shouted, “Come in Master!”

Adrian and Livia jumped up and stood at a quivering attention behind Alba as the door creaked open far too ominously for such a nondescript piece of architecture.

The beastfolk revealed in the doorway was quite easily the oldest looking person I’d seen on Erd. And considering that I’d met Master Romero, that was pretty impressive! His fur was shock white, and extremely long, more like a persian cat than the usual deer-down most beastfolk had. His antlers were woven with strings of beads, and he was wearing a collection of furs overtop of a set of common Eastern linens.

He had a crystal wand at his waist, as well as several potion bottles strapped here and there on his kit. His eyes were milky with cataracts, but that didn’t stop the sheer force of will that emanated from them as he nailed me with a look, like I was a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

I kept from shuffling uncomfortably, I was meant to be here.

“Master Izen,” Alba said unsteadily, then hiccuped. She stumbled and stood to greet the ancient looking beastfolk.

“Are you drunk, Alba?” Izen asked, chuckling. His voice was wheezy, and rustled like old paper. He looked askance at all the bottles of mead we’d poured out and laughed heartily. “Day drinking, at your age?”

Alba thumped him on the chest. “As if you’re one to talk about age!”

Izen clutched his hand over where she’d struck him. He cried with palpable agony, “Agh! My heart!”

“Oh get over it, that may have worked when I was a pup, but not now,” Alba scoffed, then her tone turned serious. “The baby?”

“It all worked out. Nothing a regime of healing magic and poultices couldn’t fix,” Izen said, patting her on the shoulder. Then his gaze turned back to me. “So, you’re the Peter Roughtuff I’ve been hearing so much about?”

I nodded. “And you must be Mystic Izen?”

“So I’m told,” he nodded at the bottles of mead lining the counters. “Did you make all those?”

“With everyone’s help,” I replied, smiling at the kids.

“But no Spiritual Nectar.” He sighed. It wasn’t a question.

I scratched the back of my head in discomfort. “No.”

Isen strolled into the room and took a cross-legged seat on the floor in the corner. “Then come, and let’s talk, Lord Roughtuff. Because you are truly our final hope.”