Beers and Beards-Chapter 68Book 4, : One Last Hail Barck

“I believe Alba’s been letting you try and solve the mystery yourself?” Isen asked when we were finally all seated and ready. He had pulled a long pipe from his pocket and was puffing on it. The smoke it gave off had a pleasant scent, and faintly reminded me of cigars. Every once in a while he passed it to Alba, who took a toke before offering it to me.

I waved it off. “S’fine. I donnae smoke.”

Alba shrugged and handed it back to Isen, who firmly placed the pipe in his mouth.

Adrian and Livia looked longingly at the pipe, but seemed to be excluded from this ritual.

“Alba’s mostly been watchin’ and offerin’ advice,” I admitted. “Honestly, most of what yer doin’ is what I would do anyway. Yer missin’ a single kind of yeast nutrient I’d use fer staging, but it doesn’t exist at all, so it’s not like yer Nectar would’ve used it.” 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

“Mmm. We’ve tried many different techniques over the years, and mixtures of ingredients. She was letting you try yourself, as any input she could offer would, by definition, be wrong.”

“She said as much.”

“What’ve you been focused on?” Isen asked, pointing at the bottles lining the floor.

“I think that the ‘Spiritual’ and ‘Hot’ references are referring to the adjuncts. I’ve been exploring the Anima hot peppers as the best avenue, but we need somethin’ a bit stronger Mana wise to give ‘em a kick.”

“Ah, yes, I explored something similar years ago,” Izen shook his head. “Mayhaps you will succeed where I did not.”

I frowned. “I mean, shouldn’t Alba at least be telling me what not to try? What’s tha point of it if I’m just reinventin’ tha wheel?”

“Mayhaps we were but one ingredient away, and you will be the one who finds it,” Isen sighed. “Though I suspect it’ll not matter in the end. Even if you’re able to find the recipe, obtaining enough ingredients will likely tayke months. The Coalition will not survive that long. But at least we will have a legacy to give to our grandchildren.”

I slumped back against the wall, feeling utterly defeated. “Y’know, I’ve gotta ask. Why even bother to invite me here? Alba already knows how to brew a decent mead. You’ve got pretty much all the ingredients ever. What’s the point of me?”

Isen smirked ruefully. “I ask myself that all the time. You’re correct, we don’t think there’s much you can do. Ouhr hope is that maybe something you know, or an Ability gifted to you as the Forefather of Brewing and Chosen of Barck would fill in the gaps. You are a hopeless hope.”

“Gee, thanks,” I grimaced. “Y’know how ta make a dwarf feel real good about himself.”

Isen laughed, darkly. “There is nothing good about this.”

He gestured at the bottles of makgeolli and soju. “Now, what’s all this? I don’t recognize it.”

“Rice wine called makgeolli, and some distilled spirits called soju. Want ta try a sip?”

“No, that’s quite alright. I’m just fascinated by the bottles. What is that strange device on top?” He asked, shoving his nose at the whistlestop.

“It’s a whistlestop. It’s a bottle topper from my old world. They’re reusable and very effective.”

“It’s nice. Much better than our usual corks,” Isen paused, then made a hurr hurr sound in the back of his throat. “Or the nonsense that was the Spiritual Nectar bottle.”

“That’s right. You’ve seen it, right? Or had a copy? What can you tell me about it?”

Isen’s eyes got a faraway look in them, and he held out his hand like he was painting a picture. “The sky above hides sights unseen and molten gold holds it in between.”

I blinked. “That supposed ta mean anything?”

“It’s a description. The old bottles were hand-crafted from sapphire and crystal, then stoppered with golden wax, which made them a nightmare to uncork. I remember my master swearing about it when he made one for his eldest apprentice.” Isen reminisced. “When the Shaman-to-be completed drinking the nectar and finished their spiritual journey, the bottle was broken down to make their raiments.”

Interesting. But something about his story was bothering me. For some reason it sounded familiar…

I activated [Flash of Insight] out of habit, then sat bolt upright, my face freezing.

“What is it?” Isen asked, poking my shoulder with a claw. “Are you having a seizure?”

“No. I think – I think I may have some Spiritual Nectar,” I gasped.

The pipe dropped from Isen’s open mouth and dropped to the floor with a clatter. “What!?”

Alba was up like a shot. “Where?? How!?”

“Like Isen said, a God granted Ability, let me just –” I placed out my hand to open the door to the Thirsty Goat, then frowned. “Ach, dammit. That’s gonna get old real fast.”

“What is it?” Isen asked, looking at my outstretched arm.

“Nothin’. I just cost myself a quick and easy entrance to my home anywhere I please.”

“Mm? How?”

“Sold it to Grandia,” I groaned. “It’s gonna take at least half-an-hour by carriage to get there. Unless ya want ta walk through tha Nether.”

Stolen story; please report.

“... is that a metaphor?”

“No, I got this Ability…”

Isen snorted. “We’ll take the carriage. And perhaps you have learned a valuable lesson about selling things to Grandia.”

—

The adventuring guild in Grandia was something else. Unlike Kinshasa, which had placed its guild a short ways away from the dungeon to use as a staging ground, or Tree which placed it in the shopping district – since rifts made blocking the dungeon entrance pointless – Grandia had their guild placed right at the entrance to the Howling Mine dungeon.

Why? Because the guild was so freaking huge that any Stampede would end before it even started.

The Guild here was more like a district than a building. It was centered around the Howling Mine dungeon and the grand arena. All the streets leading up to said arena were lined with adventuring stores, from blacksmiths to alchemists to monster carvers, enchanters, and more. The streets were absolutely packed with adventurers, from the most fresh of newcomers to, based on their equipment, mithril or even named level adventurers.

The grand arena itself was quite literally a grand arena. The first archon, the famed Fourpwood, had decided to future-proof his adventurer-focused city by making the guild hall big enough to handle any number of people. The arena served as a training grounds, monster fighting pit, staging ground, and tournament hall all in one.

Centuries of monster trophies, adventuring regalia, and artifacts littered the grounds, giving it a savage and yet somehow refined feel. It was like stepping into a museum gift shop, except with a lot more sharp weaponry and with extremely burly shop assistants.

And now, there was another marvelous addition to all the grandeur. A large ornate door carved with the relief of a drunken goat. It sat next to the quest board in the guild hall, and people flooded in and out of it, some drunk, others bloodied, and all looking like they’d had a marvelous time.

“You seem to be doing good business,” Isen grunted, as two full adventuring companies stepped through the door. One was a large group of gnomes in grey hoods carrying the insignia of a wolf, and the other was a dozen giants wearing red tabards.

“Oh absolutely. And we barely pay any taxes,” I cackled and rubbed my hands together. “With access to Tree, Kinshasa, and Grandia, we may become one of the most popular dungeons in the world!”

And the reviews were excellent! 5 Stars! The dungeon of dungeons for the starting adventurer! Just dangerous enough to keep you on your toes, but not deadly enough to wipe out the average greenbeards! And it came with a safe base, delicious food, and cute fuzzy mascots that could save you in a pinch!

Remembering how Balin had gotten his moniker, I’d pitched the idea of ‘wandering beaven’ to Deathbringer, and they’d pulled it off with style. It only took them saving three parties from Beer packs before word got around; woe betide any adventurer who hurt or attacked one of the saviours and bearers of maple syrup.

I waltzed through the door like I owned the place (I did) and was immediately stopped by one of the Herder lads.

The frazzled boy did his best to look stern as he asked, “Party registration number please. Do you have a reservation? We’re full if you don’t, no arguing, I’ll fetch the guard. Oh, Master Roughtuff! Good to see ya, sir!”

“Me and my party are just passin’ through,” I gestured at Isen, Alba, Adrian and Livia. Adrian was quite literally agog, his mouth hanging open. “Keep up the good work. Don’t let tha giants push you around. Get Jeremiah or Kirk if you need extra help.”

“Aye, thankee sir!”

Isen let out a low whistle as we entered the Liminal Inn proper. Unlike when we’d first opened, nearly every table was full with laughing, cheering, and drinking people of every shape and size. There were even folks walking around the upper balconies, watching the crowd down below or just chatting outside their rooms.

I was briefly able to catch a flash of blue as Aqua delivered a platter of Bran’s current special – cider braised pork and eggs – to a table.

“You are doing well,” Alba muttered, wiping drool from the corner of her lips. “That smells delicious.”

“It is,” I said. “I’ll have Bran make us some. Fer now, we’re headed this way.”

We passed through the inn and down into the Goldstone compound. Poor Aiden, the tallest of the beastfolk, kept getting his horns caught on the low hanging tunnel ceilings. I really was going to need to get the tunnels enlarged.

I took them to the dining space to wait, then ran off to Barck’s cellar. Isen wanted to tag along, but we had too many valuable and secret brews in there to chance a stranger seeing them. The caged up barrel of the First Brew, as an example.

I quickly returned holding the suspect bottle, a large sapphire coloured crystal amphora with a gold stopper.

When I entered the room, Isen jumped to his feet, his face a rictus of shock and joy. He stumbled towards me, and Adrian had to catch him before he fell. “It cahn’t be,” Isen whispered, his voice cracking.

“I take it from your reaction that this is tha right bottle?” I asked, handing it over.

Isen took it in his shaking hands and caressed it, turning it this way and that as though drinking it in with his eyes. “It is. It’s been in my thoughts for two centuries now. This is it! Spiritual Nectar!”

“But… how do we find out the ingredients?” Alba asked, her voice hopeful.

“There are Abilities that can determine the ingredients of a meal or drink. They’re rare, but if we put out a quest –” Isen groaned.

I put up my hand to forestall him. “Actually,” I coughed, “I have that Ability.”

“Well why didn’t you say so,” Isen growled, and immediately began worrying at the gold wax with his shaking paw. “Damn this stopper!”

Adrian wordlessly took the bottle from the old beastfolk and calmly dug the wad of gold wax out with his thumb-claw and then made to pass it back. Isen waved him away, “No, give it to Lord Roughtuff. Quickly!”

I took the proffered bottle and went to drink it, then stopped with it halfway to my lips. “Uh, will this… affect me?”

Isen shrugged, “Mayhaps. But if it does, you’ll get a Milestone out of it.”

Adrian and Livia watched me with starry eyes, and Alba was practically humming with anticipation.

“This all feels a bit rushed…” I muttered. But, swept up into the moment, I closed my eyes, crossed my fingers, made a short prayer to Barck for luck.

Then I took a drink.

It went down like the strongest capsicumel I’d ever drank. It had to be at least 30% ABV, and was what I’d consider overly acidic, with very little tannins. This was not made to be enjoyed with a nice stew and buttered buns. Balance? What was that?

The heat hit me at the exact same moment as the alcohol, and I had a sudden flashback to my first drink of Dragonator. This wasn’t quite as hot, but had a way higher alcohol content. At the same time, my discount [Manasight] began to go crazy as a kaleidoscope of colours rushed in from all directions. I had just enough time to gasp out, “Don’t let the goat drink any!!!”

Then I passed out of time.

Out of reason.

And just plain out.