Beers and Beards Book 3: The Big Brewhaha

The crew went mad when we told them the news in a quick emergency meeting. Especially Richter, who begged some time off to quickly contact his [Alchemist] friend. He’d been working on his alchemical brew idea for months now, and this could prove the perfect time to put it into practice.

Our agreement with Riverside Brewery had us releasing our brews in just under four weeks. It would be tight timing, but we could do it.

We decided that the imperial brew idea was still a go, with added nitro as a strong possibility for the magic side. For additional magical fun, we’d wait till we heard more from Richter.

We also reached a consensus that we didn’t want to go too far. If we made some crazy magic potion that launched you into the sky or turned the drinker’s fists into stone, it would be both too expensive, and a bit too different from the Sacred Brew. We were brewers, not alchemists.

Then the dinner rush was upon us, and questions of magical brews could hold off until tomorrow. Or at the very least till the day after, since tomorrow was our trip to go see Opal and the mysterious Tourmaline.

I was up into the wee hours of the morning, too excited to sleep. To pass the time, I sat in my private thinking cave and practiced some magic.

The first spell I’d learned allowed me to change my personal mana into nitrogen ‘flavoured’ mana, and then used it to change the ‘flavour’ of a nearby Aether into nitrogen.

It worked great! But it took months to get the sigil just right, since both the input and the output sigils had to mesh together perfectly. Thankfully, as an [Otherworldly Arcane Brewer] I now had a shortcut with [Lesser Mana Crafting]!

My next spell was going to solve the biggest issue facing dwarven-kind on Erd; I was going to see if I could magically replace gluten. The only sigil I’d been able to find that did something similar replaced the proteins in spinach with bacon proteins.

A spell that I had to imagine existed because, why not?

All I needed to learn was the sigil to change my mana into a protein, and [Lesser Mana Crafting] would do the rest. Yesiree, bacon flavoured beer was absolutely a good start.

As I set to work learning the first few lines of the sigil, I twitched as a familiar *bing* sounded.

New Quest: A Magical World Part 3/10

Now that you’ve got some magic, try learning some!

Spells Learned: 1/8

Rewards: Moderate Increase to Mana

Do you accept?

Yes / No

Well, don’t mind if I do! That’s my second quest now with increased Mana as a reward. It took a lot of Mana to do anything, and if I was going to be responsible for all the magical brew we’d be brewing in the future, I was going to need it. I sighed at the thought of my future as a spell battery.

Large and in charge. In more ways than one! Nyuck.

—

The next morning found Bran, Annie, Balin and myself preparing for our trip to Blackwall. Much like the first time, we put extra effort into our appearance, with our best dress-armor and a fresh shower and beard comb. Annie looked quite fetching in a set of expensive mithril bracers given to her by Balin, and Bran actually bothered to swap from his chef's clothing to a velvety black set of leather that gave him a rather dastardly air.

All told, we looked quite good!

Since so many of us were going, we hooked Penelope up to the cart and drove her to Blackwall.

Unfortunately, we immediately hit a traffic jam. The main thoroughfare from the entrance of the city to Redwall was packed. Now that we were halfway through the year, the big events were looming, and local merchants were desperate to get their wares in. The wagons ran the gamut from small carts to ostentatious wagons similar to Whistlemop’s own.

The jam seemed to have been caused by the collision of a small vegetable cart with a pair of enormous ox-driven wagons – a rarity here below ground.

“How do they imagine the city is going to hold all these people?” Annie asked, shaking her head.

“I dunno. Our inn’s full, same as the others. I guess folk’ll be sleeping in the street?” I said.

“Aye. But they’ll get shipped right off to the reform mines if they do.” Balin shook his head.

“Would they really do that in tha middle of the Octamillenial, though?” I asked, a single eyebrow curling up. “Seems a fool way to run things.”

“Aye. Damn fool way ta run things.” Balin agreed. “Some of the adventurers at the guild are talkin’ about it. Couple‘a teams got warnings, since they couldn’t find an inn, and one team got shipped out after their third warning. Cannae believe some Greybeard hasn’t put a halt to it.”

I thought back again to Harmsson’s complaints. There really was a sharp divide between the haves and the have nots in Kinshasa, and if adventurers and tourists were getting picked up for vagrancy…

That divide was going to fill with gasoline.

I shivered, and thanked the Gods and Sam that we’d increased the security of the tavern. Maybe… maybe a panic room was in order, too? Damnit, what a terrible thing to have to think about.

I put it out of mind as we passed the site of the accident. A trio of dwarves were in a yelling match with a somewhat familiar foul-mouthed gnome. The highwatch were doing their best to keep tempers down, but they weren’t doing very well. We were just close enough to catch snippets of their conversation.

“You were on tha wrong side of tha road!”

“Godsdamn Minnovans! Think they can come here and drive like it’s tha scree!”

[Translated from Foul-Mouthed Gnome] “To apologize, I have a present for your parents.”

“MA ANCESTORS CAN SHOVE WHAT, WHERE!?”

The yelling quickly dissolved into a scuffle and several boxes were broken as the highwatch joined into the melee.

[Translated from Foul-Mouthed gnome] “MY CABBAGES!”

“That gnome seemed familiar.” Annie said with narrowed eyes as we passed out of view.

“Small under-world.” I shrugged.

Now that we were past the jam, it didn’t take too long for us to reach Blackwall. We were stopped by a pair of severe looking guards at the gate, and told to wait while they checked Bran’s credentials.

A short while later the gate opened up, revealing a dapper dwarf in a black suit.

“Ah, Mcbuttle. Good ta see ya.” Bran walked up and fist-bumped the butler.

“Good to see you too, Artisan Hurler.” Mcbuttle smiled. He bobbed his head at me, then swept his beard at Annie and Balin. “And if I’m not mistaken, Balin of Goldenlight and Brewer Goldstone?”

Balin shuffled at the mention of his epithet, his face turning slightly pink. Annie nodded appreciatively. “Yes, we are.”

“If you’d please follow me. You’ll need to leave your cart and goat with the guards though.”

*Bleeeeeeh* [Translated from Primma Donna Goat] “They’d better have treats!”

We followed Mcbuttle through the staid streets of Blackwall. I tried to tune out the snobbery and enjoy the shrubbery; the architecture here really was quite nice. The modern dwarven style felt a bit more utilitarian. Possibly the gnomish influence?

We arrived at Bentley manor in due course, but this time we were whisked in through the main entrance rather than a side door. A wall of black suited servants awaited us, their deft hands quickly stripping us of shoes, gloves, pauldrons, and weapons.

I felt the loss of the Goldstone hammer on my belt and my new wand from my breast pocket.

I should get a staff like Schist. Pull the old ‘you wouldn’t separate an old man from his walking stick, would you’ trick.

Eh, we were meeting the next closest thing to royalty, so I let it pass. Though if anyone tried to slip off my padded socks they were going to get some Pete to the face.

The meeting room was just as we’d left it, with the plain unadorned walls and the single painting of an elderly dwarf over the mantle. What was different were the two dwarfesses inside it. Opal was wearing a red sequined number today, which reminded me very much of the Lord of Minnova’s Elvis suit. She didn’t have any bracers or helmet, but she did have a blueish-silver mithril breastplate. The ensemble nicely set off her short-cropped white goatee and neck-length braided hair.

The lady beside her was something else.

I’d met Tourmaline Barnes before. She’d been in some simple robes at the time, with the barest nod to armor. Today she looked like a bloody valkyrie. She was decked out in a set of plate armor as ornamented as it could get while still being functional. Her platinum hair was braided up into a nest on top of her head, with curls spilling down the sides. Her beard didn’t bother with anything so mundane as ornaments or knots, instead cascading down her armor in a waterfall of shining ringlets. Her skin was the slightest of browns without passing into tanned territory, and it set off her umber eyes.

We all paused at the door to observe this… this…

Armored Goddess?

Paragon of Dwarfliness?

Ode to Follicles?

She would’ve fit right in on the cover of a Hugo winning fantasy novel, that’s for sure!

Suffice it to say that Opal had to clear her throat twice before the three of us pulled our eyes away.

She stood and nodded her head in greeting.

“Annie, Bran, Pete, I want to introduce you to Tourmaline Barnes.”

We gave our hellos, and Tourmaline shifted slightly in her chair, not rising.

“We’ve met,” she said, firmly.

Opal coughed into the awkward moment that followed. “Yes, right. Well, come in, come in. Take a seat.”

Bran moved to sit next to Opal, and the rest of us piled onto the couch across from them. Soon the coffee table in front of us was covered in confections and mugs of Barista Brew. Bran nodded appreciatively at the food – he’d been training the Barnes’ family chef – and I nodded at the brew. A good choice for a business meeting!

“Thank you so much for seeing us, ah… Lady Barnes?” I hedged, trying to make smalltalk.

“Tourmaline.” She replied.

I paused. “Yes?”

“Call me Tourmaline, Brewer Peter.”

“Then, please call me Pete.”

“I will.”

Ah yes, just as abrupt as I remembered. Last time talking about alchemy had helped her open up. I just needed to avoid mentioning her mother or anything related to poison. Tourmaline’s mother was currently suffering the effects of some kind of terrible poison, and she was researching a cure.

I carefully crafted my pitch and tossed it. “How are your studies going? Have you gotten any new Milestones? We’re about to do some alchemy ourselves, you know,”

Opal frowned. “What have you done now?” she asked.

“In this case it wasn’t Pete.” Annie smiled. “As hard as that can be to believe. It was actually Master Brewer Schist’s idea.”

Opal blinked. “From Riverside Brewery?”

“That’s the one. They’re our next competition for the semi-finals.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.” Opal gave us a consoling look, and Annie and I bristled.

“We’ll manage!” We both snapped out together. Balin fiercely nodded to add his support, but the effect was lost by the eclair in his mouth and the whipped goat-cream in his beard.

“I have hit a roadblock in my current work.” Tourmaline replied. “But I suspect I may soon overcome it.”

Old Pete would have asked “what are you working on” but current Pete knew that was a loaded question. Thankfully, dwarves were so insular where their trades were concerned that none of my companions asked for a clarification.

Conversation moved on to the recent monster attack in Yellowwall, the Octamillenial, snippets about Riverside Brewery, and our thoughts on Kinshasa. I kept my answers as simple and honest as possible, though I was forced to dance around my feelings about the high nobility.

Tourmaline continued to give short, clipped answers. She was bright, smart, stunningly beautiful, and as straightforward as a brick wall.

When I judged enough time had passed, I launched into the reason for our visit.

“Tourmaline, has Opal told you why we’re here?”

Tourmaline looked my way. “Yes.”

There was a beat.

“And?” I continued, somewhat lamely. “What were your thoughts?”

“I’ll need to know why you want access to the Lyceum.” She said. “I can get you into it easily, but anything private will be difficult.”

I’d been afraid of that. I gave Opal a glance. Opal nodded resolutely.

So I told Tourmaline everything.

Well, not everything, everything.

I edited the story a smidge, leaving out our interactions with Lucky Jean’s, and explaining away our treasure-map journal as a ‘lucky find’. Balin had been more than happy to add a story of finding the journal in Deepcore.

As a [Toxicologist], Opal probably didn’t have any lie-detecting Abilities, but we still played it safe.

When I was done, Opal sat in silence for a while in contemplation.

Finally, she spoke. “I can do it.”

Before I was able to cheer, she continued. “But. I have a job for you.”

Great. A job. From a noble. Hopefully I wouldn't have to go kill a dragon.

“You may have heard about the unrest in the city,” She continued. “It has the potential to impact my research rather severely. You run a tavern and are privy to a great deal of information, yes?”

Ah, yes, bribe the innkeeper! An old classic! I did my best to look nonchalant. “We could manage.”

“I require any news or information you can gather for me about a dwarf known as Lord Harmsson. I am unable to use my regular channels so I would like you to bring me word of him or his plans as you hear them.”

Ugh. I would’ve preferred the dragon.