Beers and Beards-Chapter 71Book 4, : Honeyed Hams

There are no quests and surprisingly few Milestones to be gained by lying on the beach with martini glasses while drinking mead and whatever else I finagled Kirk into fetching for me.

Well, some of my Influencer quests ticked up by one as Thirsty Goat beer and cider started to get popular in Grandia. Completing a level of [Human Influencer] provided a single boring half-point of Wisdom, but Level 9 of [Dwarven Influencer] netted me something neat.

[Deific Intervention] - Ask the Gods themselves to intercede on your behalf. They won’t be able to come to Erd directly, but through their agents or portfolio, you will be granted aid. This will activate automatically should you be about to perish.

So yeah, neat! And the level ten reward wasn’t bad either!

New Quest: Dwarven Influencer Part 10/10

Can you do it? Can you change the minds of so many?

Dwarves influenced: 1025/10,000,000

Rewards: [Deific Advent]

Do you accept?

Yes / No

And while there wasn’t much questing, there were long walks on the beach, though not with champagne. Mirelda and I opened up about our old lives, our old marriages and our visions for the future. We had more in common than we’d first realized, and soon fell into a comfortable routine.

Alba dropped by every once in a while to give me more mead and pass along updates. They were now secretly mass-producing Shamans! In fact, with Henbeetta bringing mounds of honey and Royal Jelly every time I sent her back, we were practically swimming in the stuff. There was enough honey that I’d stolen a batch to pass off to Bran, and we’d been getting honey bread, honey-beer chicken wings, and even honeyed words. I was seriously considering brewing a braggot, which was a special beer-mead made by fermenting honey with the wort. I was a sucker for a good braggot, which went well with cheese and grapes, and lots of other things I loved to eat.

And wouldn’t you know it? I was eating a lot these days.

—

One of those days found me at the Thirsty Goat, along with a passel of beastfolk who’d dropped by for a surprise visit with Mystic Isen and Alba. One thing turned into another, and there was soon a rip-roaring party in the Goat as the local adventurers got involved. Then I summoned Henbeeta and Deathbringer, and the party really got started.

It turned out that Deathbringer was becoming a bit of a celebrity in the dungeon. Imagine! A dungeon where the boss of the first zone was helpful! With a cool eyepatch and a funny accent! Plus, if you got him drunk enough he’d start showing off tricks with his axe, and he was hilariously bad at them!

For her part, Henbeeta was only here to hang out with Penelope. They were getting on thick as thieves, especially after Penelope discovered that nobody was going to tell Henbeeta no when it came to filching alcohol. The queen bee was especially partial to sweet drinks, like our backsweetened ciders and some of our stronger meads, and had zero compunctions about sharing it with her new royal confidant.

I let out a big belly laugh as Alba tried her claws at Axeschlaggen, only to dive out of the way as Deathbringer took his turn. He missed the mark, but it didn’t really matter as the entire stump disintegrated into splinters.

“How did we get here, Pete?” Mirelda asked, sighing and leaning onto my head. I wasn’t quite tall enough for a shoulder lean, and I categorically refused to sit in a booster.

I crooked a fuzzy eyebrow. “Through the door? Is this a trick question?”

She elbowed me in the shoulder. “No, you lump. Here, now, waiting on tenterhooks for a war to start. Drinking a bunch of alcohol underground in a dimensional dungeon with a bunch of freedom fighters, adventurers, a sentient goat, a gigantic queen bee, and a jolly beaver.”

I gave her question more serious consideration than it deserved. “I think it’s Tolkien syndrome.”

Mirelda giggled. “What, wishing elves were real and that you could go live in a hobbit hole?”

“Hey elves actually are real now, though there aren’t any hobbits that I know of. But no, I don’t know if it has a formal name, but I’m referring to how any story or event always eventually leads to high drama purely under the weight of its own history. Like how the hobbits start all happy in Fellowship and end up killing satan by the end of the story. Or ‘ickle Harry and his friends start with having fun learning magic but end up fighting wizard Hitler at a high school.”

“But those are stories,” Mirelda protested, sitting up. “This is real life.”

“Says the author. Come on, would ya really deny that fiction imitates life and vice versa? Think how every successful convention or business eventually gets co-opted, commercialized, enshittified, and then breaks into warring factions.”

“Mmm…. So you're saying that we should break up?” She gave me an arch look. “Already? It’s been a month, tops!”

I laughed. “No! I’m saying that while I started out just wanting to save beer, and you just wanted to write stories, we now have connections, history, and things we care about and want to protect.”

Mirelda glanced over to where Deathbringer was awkwardly helping Aqua clean up the remains of his stump, while Balin and Annie played hammercup with a rapidly reddening Failith. Then she looked deep into my own eyes before leaning in and placing a peck on my lips. “You truly have hidden depths.”

“Hidden!? I’m not sure if I should be pleased, or insulted.”

“Woo! Dontcha let Penelope catch you two smoochin’!” Balin shouted from across the room.

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I shook my fist. “Shaddup Balin!”

*BAAAAAHHHH!!!* [Translated from Primma Donna Goat] “Philanderer!”

Henbeetta shook her head from where she was sitting next to the big white goat. “Truly, males have no shame. Do you know what one of the drones said to me yesterday?”

*Meheee?!* [Translated from Primma Donna Goat] “No! Tell me, sister!”

“He said I had a shapely thorax! Can you imagine!?” 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

*Baaaaahhh…*

[Translated from Primma Donna Goat] “Unbeelievable. Males.”

I tried to tune out the two royal pains in the necks. Which was difficult, when one was a fifteen foot bee, and the other was, well, Penelope.

“First course is up!” Bran shouted from the kitchen, and there was eager cheer from the assembled dinner crowd. A young Herder-Goldstone lad brought a platter to our table, and I rubbed my palms together in gleeful anticipation.

“What is it?” Mirelda asked, laying her napkin on her lap.

“Hive Honey and Golden Brew Glazed Ham.” I cooed, tucking my beard into my armor and tying my own napkin around my neck.

Bran’s Special Golden Hive Honey Ham

5 lb Ham

2 Bottles of Lager

1/2 cup Sweet Vine Sap (or brown sugar if you have it)

1/4 cup Hive Honey

2tsp cornstarch

2tbsp grainy mustard.

Preheat the oven to 325°F.Grab your ham and give it a fancy little diamond pattern by scoring it diagonally. Crack open those beers — one for the ham, one for you — and pour just over half a bottle over the top of the ham. Cover the whole thing with foil and bake for 30 minutes.While the ham’s getting its spa treatment, make the glaze by tossing the sugar, honey, grainy mustard, remaining half bottle of beer, and corn syrup into a small saucepan. Bring it to a boil on medium, then stir it on low until everything melts together and thickens.After 30 minutes, pull the ham out, ditch the foil, and pour half that glorious glaze on top, using a brush to coat it evenly. Crank the oven up to 350°F and bake the ham uncovered for another 30 minutes.Pour on the rest of the glaze because we’re not here to be shy, then bake for another 15 minutes.Take the ham out and let it chill for 15-20 minutes, then slice and serve.

“I could eat like this every day and never get bored.” Mirelda stated firmly as she took a deep sniff of the vapours wafting from her plate.

“I can think of a way to do that,” I said, grinning.

“Only if you fix those bloody tunnels,” Mirelda scowled back. “I’m not going to spend the rest of my life hitting my head on the ceiling every morning.”

“Speaking of life, any word from Berry about life-extension magic?”

Mirelda shook her head. “No. [Immortal] has some known Specializations that grant it, but not [Maestro]. What about Richter?”

I sighed. “No. Not even at the University Library.”

Our different life expectancies was one of the only big sticking points in our relationship. After losing our families once before, Mirelda was loath to put me through it again, and I could expect to live at least two to three hundred years more than her. So we'd turned to our local smart people for help.

Mirelda shrugged. “Well, hopefully something crops up within the next decade or two. Assuming you aren’t sick of me after that long!”

The next few minutes were filled with the sounds of blissful mastication as we devoured our food. The ham was savoury and salty, with the heavy sweetness that can only come from a really good honey. It was just hot enough to burn the tongue, but not enough to take away from the tang of the ham. My favourite part was the candied outer skin, which was somehow simultaneously crisp and chewy in the way only good caramelization could provide.

Our quiet moment was broken by the sound of Annie and Balin starting up a cheerful rendition of ‘Diggy Diggy Hole’ as they shared stories with the guests of how we’d all met. Adrian and Livia sat in rapt attention, their hands intertwined on the table.

Mirelda nodded at the youthful pair, a knowing smirk on her face and mumbled through a full mouth, “How’s your beastfolk influencing going?”

I pulled up my only new quest of the summer and gave it a glance.

New Quest: Beastfolk Influencer 1/10

I have to admit that I wasn’t quite expecting you to influence them in this particular manner, but beggars can’t be choosers! Maybe try making some Spiritual beer?

Beastfolk Influenced: 1200/2,500

Rewards: +0.5 Dexterity, +0.5 Agility

I frowned. “It’s moving slowly. I expect that there just aren’t enough people for me to influence at the moment, or those that could aren’t drinking much these days.”

Speak of the devil, and he will appear. Mystic Isen chose that moment to wander up to our table. He carried a bottle of cider in his claws, and his nose was a suspicious shade of green.

“Peyter, I am glad to see you well.”

I smiled at the old-timer, “I’m glad to see you out and about as well. You’ve spent so much time in Alba’s meadery, I was worried she’d figured out a way to turn you into an adjunct!”

“Hah! No, but our project continues with great success.” He gave me a knowing nod. “I must thaynk you again Peyter, for all you have done, and for providing my people a moment of respite.” He waved to take in the drinking, eating, and partying beastfolk scattered throughout the pub.

“Shucks, it was nothin’.”

“It was not nothing, and it may make all the difference in our final battle.”

I felt a chill at those words. “How soon?”

Isen slipped into the booth next to me, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Soon. Our scouts say they’re less than a week away. They’re moving slowly, as the nobles mixed in with them constantly demand stops for tea and crumpets.” He sneered, which was a completely reasonable reaction to crumpets.

A week… that wasn’t much time.

“Have you thought about my proposal?” I asked, seriously.

“To be there for the battle?” Isen gave me a look through narrowed eyes. “You’ve already done enough, Peyter. I told you. And you are young, with a full life to live. There’s no need for you to do this.”

Mirelda reached a hand out and I grasped it in a tight, trembling grip. I hadn’t realized I was shaking. “No, I want to do this. I may not be much of a fighter, but I am highly Specialized. I have magic, a cracking team, and Abilities that could make a difference. And I have lots of ways to survive, plus a few trump cards up my sleeve. If nothing else, let me serve as an escape door for anyone who wants to make a getaway if – if the worst happens.”

“But you are a noble of your people, are you not? Will they allow it?”

I snorted. “If not, they can get stuffed. But I did ask Duke Schist and he gave me permission, with a long line of caveats.”

Isen hesitated, then clasped his hands and dipped his head. “Very well. I will not turn down a hero of my people who wishes to help. Thank you, Lord Roughtuff.”

We sat until the wee hours of the morning, Isen, Mirelda, and I, talking about the good things in life.

While we still could.