Beers and Beards

The four of us, brewers all, walked in lockstep towards the Royal Box. The King beamed down at us when we stopped a respectful distance away, his pleasure evident.

I felt my knees grow weak, and arms go heavy, and beside me Lapis actually stopped and quivered. So this is what max mortal Charisma felt like! It was nothing to the absolute fear and awe I’d felt looking at Barck. It wasn’t anything so trite as mind control, and I’d felt similar when talking to powerful CEOs and businesspeople when they’d come to visit the winery. So, I steeled my will and hooked my arm through Lapis’s, practically dragging her along.

The King watched us with amusement, his mouth ticking up on one side.

“You may approach Us.” He said. “Speak your clans that they may be heard and recognized.”

“I’m Brewer Peter Roughtuff, Yer Majesty.” I did my best to nail those capital letters, but dang it was hard.

“Carrotson.” Lapis squeaked.

The King looked her up and down once, then continued as though he hadn’t noticed a thing. “You stand before me as the two greatest Brewers in Our country. Is this true?”

“Y - Y-” Lapis attempted.

I took a step forward. “We can nae claim that so easily, Yer Majesty. We may have performed tha best in this contest, but there could be a better Brewer somewhere out there. Because aren’t the greatest craftsdwarves on Erd held here within our borders?”

The King’s eyebrow raised ever so slightly. “Brewer Roughtuff. We have heard of you. Know that you have pleased Us.”

I flinched and glanced at Lady Barnes. She beamed down at me. There was some confused muttering from the crowd and Lapis gave me an accusatory glare. I returned an apologetic shrug. I wasn’t influencing the judge on purpose.

“But, that is that, and this is this. We shall remain impartial in Our judging. Guildmaster Malt, let Us taste the hard work of Our Master Brewers - which are We meant to imbibe first?”

“Neither contestant is a Master Brewer, Yer Majesty, but Brewer Carrotson holds seniority.” Monk said, her tone chilly.

The King frowned. “Not a single Master Brewer made it to the finals? The quality of the Guilds is slipping.”

He snapped his fingers and the announcer appeared at Lapis’s side. He gingerly took the bottle from her and walked up a nearby stairwell to the King.

“As you say, Your Majesty.” Monk snipped. Whoof, if tones could bite!

“Is this why you suddenly opened brewing to the populace?” The King asked, as he took Lapis’s bottle from the announcer and examined it.

“In part, Your Majesty.”

“Hmmmm….” The King gripped the neck of the bottle and popped off the top with a deft motion. Not popped the cork, no, he simply snapped the top off at the neck. Beer immediately fizzed up and down the bottle, spilling over his knuckles and to the ground. The King watched the beer drip down with amusement. “I do like these bottles.”

Saying so, he raised the broken bottle to his lips and drank while it was still fizzing.

Lapis and the rest of the arena held their breath as the King drank. He paused halfway through and looked quizzically at the bottle, then resumed drinking. When he was done the whole bottle, he wiped his arm across his beard and then flicked his hand to dry it. “Interesting. Can you explain how this beer represents Crack?”

“Yes your Majesty.” Lapis stepped forward and repeated the spiel she’d given me in the basement. “This beer has been enchanted to taste just like the last beer you tasted. No matter where you live in Crack, it will have the unique taste of your local breweries. A dwarf could buy a Brazen Bull Memory Brew in Kinshasa and would taste identical to his favourite from back home even if that was as far East as Gemena.”

“Ah. So that’s why it tastes like that.” The King nodded. “We can feel your sincerity in the quality and theme of this Sacred Brew. You are a dwarf after Our own heart, and Crack appreciates your contribution.”

Lapis looked like she would faint. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The King placed the bottle on his armrest, and turned his steely gaze on me. “You are dismissed, Brewer Carrotson. Brewer Roughtuff, you may approach the Royal Throne.”

The announcer wordlessly took my bottle and walked it up to the box. I hesitantly stepped forward as Lapis shrank back. For all her terror, she had a gleam of smug victory reflected in her eyes. Well, we’d see about that.

I bowed at the waist. “Your Majesty, I present to you the Crack Pale Ale.”

“Indeed? And what makes you think that your Sacred Brew is worthy enough to hold the name of our Country?” The King asked, his voice growing dangerous.

I gulped. I hadn’t thought. I desperately ran through my memories trying to remember if naming something after the country was against any Ordinances, but kept coming up blank. Prevaricate Pete, prevaricate!

I licked my lips. “The brewing process for this particular beer grants it a greatly improved shelf life. That bottle in your hands can survive almost an entire year in transit before it goes bad. Making it the only brew that can be shipped to every corner of the Kingdom.”

Behind me, Monk and Schist gasped, and Lapis drew in a breath.

The King stroked his beard. “Interesting.”

“Furthermore, it’s made using barley instead of Erdroot, which means that even those living on the surface can make it.”

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“Like our South Erden cousins.” The King mused.

I steeled myself for my next line. “Or… humans and elves.”

There was confused chattering in the crowd, and scattered shouts of outrage. The King swept his gaze over the stands and there was immediate silence.

Then he turned that gaze on me.

I half expected to see a notification telling me I’d been ‘feared’ or something, but I felt only that same pressure from earlier.

“You would allow humans and elves to make our Sacred Brew?” He asked.

“It’s…” I took a deep breath, “This beer isn’t Sacred Brew, Your Majesty. I’m not allowed to call it that. It’s beer, and it's the first of its kind that was made for all races.”

“For all races…” The King mused staring into our bottle. “For all Our Subjects, big and small.”

So saying, he twisted the top of the bottle off, as he had Brazen Bull’s, and drank. He didn’t pause partway through this time, but sipped it slowly, appreciating every mouthful. When he was done, he put the bottle down with a *clunk* on his armrest.

He stared at it for a while, then turned to regard me.

“We don’t like the taste.”

… Fuck.

“You are dismissed.” The King waved me away, and I stepped backwards to rejoin the line of Brewers. Annie was white-faced, while Lapis and her husband looked downright jubilant.

The King sat and stared at us for a while, the silence stretching uncomfortably. The announcer went up and held a whispered conversation with him, then nodded and came back down without a word. As the silence stretched, the two white-haired Dukes beside him began to fidget uncomfortably as sweat ran down their faces.

Interesting. Why were they so nervous?

When the King spoke, I almost jumped out of my skin.

“We have heard much these past few months. Of Masters and Apprentices, of Gnomes and Dwarves. Of Citizens and Nobles. Of East and West.”

One of the Dukes began to speak. “Your Maj –”

The King nailed him with a gaze so filled with rage that I felt singed from the opposite direction. He stood and walked forward to lean over the parapet, looking around the Arena.

“Though this is a celebration of the Sacred Brew of the dwarves, We see many gnomes in the audience. If Our eyes did not deceive Us, a giant nearly proved himself the greatest drinker in Our country.”

There was cheering, catcalling, and a single boo, which transformed into a scream as the offending dwarf was tossed out of the Colosseum.

“And now this brewery brings Us a beer they say is for all our people! They claim it's not even Sacred Brew! What are We to make of this, Master Monk?” He glowered down at the Guildmaster.

Master Monk looked like she wanted to throw up. “Your Majesty, the Guild found Brewer Roughtuff’s arguments about the nature of brewing compelling enough to grant his beer a special status. Only True Brew and Light Brew can be given Sacred Brew designation, of which The Thirsty Goat’s entry is neither.”

“And this?” He picked up Brazen Bull Brewing’s bottle.

Monk hesitated, giving Lapis an apologetic look. “That is… a little more complicated, Your Majesty. Given the alchemy involved it could be Sacred Brew.”

The King threw the bottle down into the sand. It plowed through the ground to a stop right at our feet.

“IS IT? OR IS IT NOT?” He roared.

Monk gulped. “No, Your Majesty.”

You could have heard a pin drop. Lapis was shivering with fear and her husband had his elbow protectively around her.

The King let us stew for another minute, before he spoke again. When he did, it was in an even cadence, like a parent explaining something to a naughty child. “There is much in Our country that is not as it was. The Sacred Brew is no longer the only beer. My favourite brewer no longer brews my favourite brew. A gnomess stands before me as a dwarf. The Duke of the North, Duke Blackbeard has been found guilty of High Treason and plotting against the Crown. He has been stripped of his Titles, and his clan purged from the ranks of the nobility.”

Oh, snap! My head reeled from the mental whiplash of the sudden shift in subjects, and gasps echoed through the arena.

“So now the seat of Duke of the North sits empty. Additionally, the Duke of the West, Duke Barnes, has abdicated his position to his daughter, Lady Barnes, now Duke Barnes of the West.” The King slowly ratcheted up in volume as he spoke. The two white haired Dukes behind him were quite literally quaking in their seats.

“It has been eight thousand years since our country was founded, and our Ancestors inhabited Crack for many years before. In all that time, we have proven our ability to weather all that Gods and Mortals could throw at us. Often that meant new walls, new soldiers, new magic. Thus, in consultation with the Council of Greybeards, to stand against the troubles that face us, we have decided once again upon something…. new.”

He held up a scroll of parchment, and then flapped it open. It spun down over the edge of the railing and hung suspended out over the sand. I couldn’t quite read it from this angle, but I had a pretty good guess what it was. My heart lurched in my stomach, and beside me Master Schist was gripping his fists so tight they bled.

“This parchment,” The King continued, “Was presented to me by a dwarf I know and trust. It was given to him by a criminal and traitor to the Crown known as Thad Harmsson. Much of this Great Charter is nonsense, but it contains a core of good governance. It is a wise Monarch that listens to His people and thus, in accordance with the wishes of the populace, and through the application of these principles, We make the following proclamation to Our citizens! Hear Us, people of Crack!”

The Colosseum surged to its feet as every man, dwarf, and gnome (and elf) stood to attention, their right fists over their chests. Annie and I awkwardly did the same, and a beat later Lapis and her husband did as well.

The King waited until all movement ceased, then spoke. “Every eight years, each of the Walls, from Black to Yellow, shall select from amongst them eight individuals to serve upon a Council of the Commons, one for each of the boroughs. Those thirty-two shall elect from amongst them one individual who shall serve as Prime Minister and Duke of the North for so long as they sit upon the Council. In addition, this new House of the Commons shall have the Power of the Purse for the city of Kinshasa, and the right to pass legislation to the Council of Greybeards for consideration. The first election shall be held upon the first day of the new year. This new system shall be slowly instituted all throughout Crack. Thus say We, King of Crack! FOR CRACK!”

The arena roared, “FOR CRACK!”

Lapis had collapsed to her knees and was openly weeping, and I spotted many gnomes in the stand doing the same. The gnomes were the majority populace in multiple boroughs, which meant they were likely to finally have seats in the government. Monk looked resigned, but smiled as Schist reached out and took her hand. They shared a poignant look, and sidled a little closer to each other.

“Now, given all that,” the King said, looking back at us. “There is only one answer for the beer that can best represent Our new Crack.”

I felt light headed. Did that mean?

“Thirsty Goat Brewing. We find your beer to be absolutely vile to the taste, but We are King to many and have no doubt there will be many who enjoy it. We task you, in your new position of Lord, to send your CPA far and wide, that all on Erd may know the taste of CRACK!”

*Bing*

Quest Complete: The Octamillennial Part 4/4!

Congratulations! And, thank you.

Rewards: [Pete’s Lucky Brew]

I very carefully, very deliberately, did not giggle like a loon at the King.

Cocaine’s illegal, Yer Majesty!

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