Beers and Beards: A Cozy Dwarf Tale

Master Brewer Schist was quite short for a dwarf, nearly gnomish in height, with a balding pate and a grey-white traditionally knotted beard that matches his palid skin. He wore a set of golden spectacles and beard bangles that offset his black master brewer’s robes quite handsomely. Said robe was worn quite loose, looking more like a poncho than armored dress-robes. His face was etched with laugh lines and he squinted as he looked around the pub. He very much reminded me of several interpretations of Friar Tuck. He was accompanied by Guildmaster Malt and a grey-robed journeyman brewer.

The pub was mostly empty at the moment. It wouldn’t really fill up for another hour or so, which gave us plenty of time to see what this was all about.

Schist spread his arms wide as we approached. “Ah! The dwarves of the hour!”

“Master Brewer Schist. Guildmaster Malt.” We bowed over clenched fists and gave the customary greeting. “We greet you on this most auspicious day.”

The rest of our party hung back and variously watched in interest, grabbed chairs to sit, or headed to the kitchen to cook.

The trio bowed and returned the greeting.

“This really is such a lovely place.” Schist said, his voice a warm tenor in the educated style. He tapped a gem-tipped staff on the floor in a habitual tick as he gave the environs an appreciative nod. Schist was a mage, and that was probably his sigil tool. Most dwarves preferred wands, but staves served dual purpose as a weapon and mobility aid.

“Congratulations, you two.” Malt gave a bright smile. “I always knew you’d be able to make it this far!”

I scoffed. “This far? We plan on going all the way.”

“Oho! Well, it seems the Gods saw fit to drop a stone in your path.” Malt chuckled, motioning at Schist.

I crossed my arms. “That’s fine, I just need to be boulder. We’ll win this in a landslide.”

Malt feigned shock. “It sounds like you’re already taking your win for granite.”

“Chalk it up to experience!”

“What brings you to the Goat, Master Brewer Schist? If you were planning to come, you should’ve told us when we met this morning!” Annie interrupted smoothly, giving Schist a curious glance.

Schist’s smile grew wider. “Well you see, until this morning I hadn’t put much thought into the semi-finals yet. There wasn’t much point when we didn’t know the contents, and who we’d be competing against.”

Annie and I both nodded. We’d done much the same.

Schist's smile thinned. “Honestly, I was disappointed to learn we’d be competing against you. Ah, not because we didn’t want to! Rather I was looking forward to competing with you in the finals! It seems like such a waste that we’re meeting in the semi-finals instead.”

Malt rubbed his chin, sagely. “Aye. I was too. It would‘ve made for a grand final match! But fate had other ideas.”

We’d been hoping to meet them in the finals too, though for a different reason!

“However, after I met you this morning I was struck by inspiration,” Schist continued. “So I ran to talk to my team about it. Then I asked Guildmaster Malt here if you’d be likely to agree, and if he’d be willing to back me. Thankfully, he said yes to both!” He thumped Malt on the back, who coughed, then thumbed his armor in pride.

Annie and I threw twin curious stares Malt’s way. What had you signed us up for Malt?

Schist barreled on, which was apt for a brewer. “I still remember the tour you gave me of your brewroom! So many incredible new designs and brewing techniques. That bottler alone will save my apprentices hours of toiling over barrels. And your presentation to the guild! I’ve been feeling for years that something was off with my brewing. I’ve been using magic to clear our beer somewhat, and to reduce failure rates, but you showed me the potential that I’ve been missing out on.”

Annie and I shuffled self-consciously, looking around the pub. We were starting to gather a lot of attention. Master Brewer Schist was a well-known and influential individual, so his public praise would get spread around. That was good for us, of course, but it wasn’t too great for him. Where was he going with this?

Malt elbowed him in the side. “Yer rambling, Schist.”

“Oh, sorry. Where was I? The contest, yes. I’d like to propose that above and beyond the contest rules we add another stipulation!” He gestured grandly around the room.

Annie’s voice was cool as she cut in. “We can certainly consider it. But perhaps we could continue this conversation somewhere a bit more private?”

Schist blinked, then looked around the room at the beady beardy eyes watching our byplay with great interest.

“Don’t stop on our account!” A bystander put in.

“Aye! It was just gettin’ good!” Another added.

Schist coughed. “I apologize, I can get a bit carried away when it comes to brewing. You understand.”

Annie gave me a sardonic look. “Oh, absolutely, we’re more than familiar with the type here at the Goat.”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Hey! I resembled that remark.

We led the two Master Brewers to the brewroom. The rest of the crew stayed behind with Schist’s journeyman, both to keep her company, and to prepare for the dinner rush.

It took us a while to get to the office, as Schist kept stopping to admire the equipment, asking questions and scribbling in a notebook that he pulled up from a storage Ability. He had lots of questions, and Annie and Malt had to keep moving the two of us along.

Schist came to a full stop when we passed the fermentation tanks labeled ‘Light Brew’. “Is this using the Ancestral Seed I gave you? You were quick!”

“Yes, it is. Thank you again for the opportunity, Master Brewer.” Annie bowed forward, holding her beard out. “I’m certain if my father was here he’d be overjoyed. We’re going rack it sometime next week, and we’d be honoured if you’d join us for it.”

Schist coughed. “I’d love to come. I heard about… that unfortunate incident in Minnova. I hope nothing so untoward happens to you while you’re in Kinshasa. If you suspect any sabotage, please be sure to come see me.”

“You could start with getting those protesters to stop showing up every Aarday.” I grumbled.

Schist shrugged. “I chase them off when I see them. But, according to the City of Kinshasa Ordinances Chapter 89, Section 4 they have the right to protest as long as they obtain the proper permits. Do they have them?”

“Yessss.” I hissed. It was the first thing I checked. Cursed curmudgeons doing their bureaucratic legwork!

Annie and Malt eventually managed to herd us into the brewroom.

With the door firmly shut behind us, Annie turned to Master Brewer Schist. “Very well, Master Brewer Schist, you had a proposal?”

Schist pulled at his beard. “Yes, yes. And the more I see of your brewroom, and all this.” He gestured around the room at the various notes and diagrams on the walls. “The more I’m sure that I’m making the correct decision.”

“Ya need to stop leading the poor Brewers on.” Malt drawled. “Young folk have no patience these days, you know.”

“Hrm. Very well. You still have that mage on staff? Healer Richter? Is he the one that designed all your magical equipment?”

I puffed out my chest. “Myself as well! In fact, I just became an [Arcane Brewer] the other day!” Well, [Otherworldly Arcane Crafter], but same difference.

“Dear Gods.” Malt gawped. “Already?? Peter, that must be some kind of record! Why it was just last year that you Specialized for the first time!”

Schist’s eyes gleamed. “Oh? Even better.”

I raised an eyebrow, questioningly.

“I’ve never had an opportunity to really stretch my moustache as an [Arcane Brewer],” he continued, “and with my retirement coming up some time in the next decade this may be my only chance to do so.”

He looked despondent at the thought, and Malt patted him on the shoulder.

Schist thumped his staff on the floor, causing the gem on the top to flash impressively.. “The contest is to make a brew that can ‘hit the hardest’, but I think we can take it further. I propose that we both use magic to create Crack’s first magical Sacred Brews! Enchantment, Abilities, Spells, anything goes to create something the city will talk about for generations!”

—

It took a solid hour to hammer out the specifics of Master Schist’s plan. Malt provided some neutral input here and there as we worked.

This gist of it was:

Our breweries would announce we were crafting magically enhanced brews for the competition.

We’d both release said brews on the first day of the fifth month.

We’d put on a joint celebration at the end of the fifth month, just before final votes were tallied. The celebration would be at a to-be-determined neutral beer-garden within Redwall. I pitched the park where Berry was set up as a possibility, but Schist shot it down as being too easily affiliated with us.

That would leave just enough time for the winner to craft enough beer for the Octamillenial gladiatorial contest.

Finally, beyond meeting the nebulous requirement of ‘hitting hard’, anything magical was a go – Alchemical or otherwise.

My head was fuzzy by the time we hashed everything out.

Was this really happening?

Had the biggest Master Brewer in the city just called us out? Not as apostates, but as fellow craftsmen? No feuds, no throwing metaphorical weight around. Just a good old fashioned magical brewoff!?

Hell yeah!

As we finished with a spit-beardshake, I couldn’t help but shake my head in bewilderment. As if to seal the deal, I heard a familiar little *ding!*

Quest: Magical Brewoff

A world’s first! Isn’t this exciting? Beat them, or don’t.

Win or lose, I still win!

Magical Brewoff Won: 0/1

Rewards: Slight Increase To Mana

Do you accept?

Yes / No

I grimaced. Thanks for the support, Barck.

“I don’t understand, Master Schist.” I said, as we packed up. “This’s gonna put a serious crimp in yer relationship with the Guild. Why’re ya doin’ this?”

“You can’t just accept that I want to expand the confines of my craft?” Schist replied, a twinkle in his eyes.

“No.” I admitted. “There’s got ta be more to it.”

Schist considered for a while, then his face grew serious. “There’re quite a few voices both in the Guild and amongst the nobility that’re growin’ upset with how well you’re doing. You were a curiosity at first, some young upstarts from Minnova, but with the unrest in the city and your success with modifying the Sacred Brew, you’re rapidly becoming a symbol of change. I suspect that as we approach the festival, there’ll be an increased desire to see you removed as a variable.”

Guildmaster Malt nodded sadly.

I felt a chill pass down my back. What!?

Beside me, Annie had gone stock still. “You’re running interference.”

Schist sighed. “Aye. Your Guildmaster has been as well. With this, it should take some of the ill will towards you and focus it on me.”

“But… your reputation.”

Schist scoffed. “I’m Master Schist of THE Riverside Brewery, Brewer. Who would dare gainsay me in the field of Brewing?”

“But still….”

“If you want to thank me, then show me something great. I wasn’t lying when I said this benefits me as well. I want to compete with you, properly.” Schist proclaimed, heading out into the brewroom. “You have four weeks until the required time. I can’t wait to see what you brew up. Don’t disappoint me, young Brewers! And I assure you, I intend to win!”

Malt gave us a fist-bump each, then trundled after Schist.

Annie and I stared at each other in shock for a solid minute or two, then ran out to tell everyone the news.