Beers and Beards Book 3: The Big Brewhaha

Tomorrow was it. Opening day.

We’d brewed our first batches over the past few days, but they wouldn’t be ready in time. So, at great expense we’d transported in our own beer from Minnova, just to ensure we were opening on time.

I sat in my loft cave-cubby in my room in the pitch dark and contemplated. Before, I would’ve been nervous; there was so much that could go wrong for a big event like this. We could have riots if past experience held true, or have the city show up at the last minute and tell us we weren’t up to code. Between the ultra-traditionalists and those driven wild by barista brew or liquid gold, some level of violence was nearly guaranteed.

And yet I was looking forward to it. I glanced down at my hand, which was gripping the Goldstone family warhammer for comfort. The thought of knocking in some heads no longer terrified me, and my heart was racing with the anticipation of tossing a ne'er-do-well through my can’t-believe-it’s-not-a-hobbit door. If and when there was a brawl tomorrow, I wouldn’t be hiding under the tables, I would be wading into the thick of things.

Between [Regeneration], [Thick Hide], and my high Vitality – a little lower now that my [Blessed] Condition had worn off, but still high – it would take quite a lot to permanently injure me. Plus, we had Richter as a [Healer] now. I suspected Opal was going to be in for a surprise when I didn’t run behind her skirts like I had back at the mine. I’d just need to make sure to keep my Red Rage in check.

I chuckled darkly to myself. This was merely one of a dozen things I’d noticed ever since I’d finished that hidden quest. I was no longer scared of the dark, and being underground felt comforting instead of claustrophobic. I found myself obsessing over my beard more often, and feeling more comfortable in my armour. I was fully a dwarf now, but at least I still had my ‘human’ drive.

The dwarven predilection to taking things safe and slow had to be a combination of culture and a long life rather than biology. From what I’d seen, experimentation was done largely by young dwarves – before their third century. Unfortunately, young dwarves didn’t have much political power, so their youthful innovation was burnt out by the time they could really accomplish anything. Gnomish culture, with its more egalitarian ‘whatever makes me money’ outlook seemed to have an advantage there.

A knock at my door broke me out of my thoughts.

“Aye?”

“Pete, It’s Johnsson. We’re about ta hit the bath. Want to join us?”

“Hmm… sure.”

I hopped out of the loft, tossed off my armour, threw on a towel, and opened the door. Johnsson gave me a big grin as I stepped out. He’d dyed his beard again, and was now rocking a fiery red doo, with graduated orange to yellow tips. When he ran around doing errands in the tavern, the beard whipped around like actual flames. It was a neat effect. We’d grown quite a bit closer since my big reveal, and he’d gotten it done during one of our bi-monthly trips to the beardy parlour.

“Who’s coming?” I asked, as we walked through the tunnels beneath the manor house.

“Kirk, Richter, Bando and Balin are already there.”

“Annie and Aqua?”

“Both busy. Aqua got a patient fer counseling, one of Berry’s workers, and Annie is doing some last minute paperwork at City Hall.”

I grumped. “Hrmph, Aqua’s almost at Berry’s more than with us recently.”

Johnsson shrugged. “Now that the brewroom’s done, it’s mostly just movin’ stuff around, and we only really need Kirk for that.”

Kirk was truly a Godsend, though he’d been complaining that his skills were being underutilized. Since we’d arrived in Kinshasa, everyone but him and Johnsson had either gotten a Blessing or Milestone, and he was feeling left out. Hopefully with the tavern opening that would change. He only needed one more Milestone to Specialise, so it would be a momentous event.

As we walked into the room I took a deep breath of the steamy air and felt back to that inner peace.

The sauna/bath was a large room in the manor basement. We’d expanded it out to be big enough for a good ten to fifteen dwarves to fit in at a time, with a permanently heated hot-spring powered by magic. It was straight up out of an anime, or my wildest vacation hotspot dreams. Water poured out of a goose-head faucet set in the wall into an comically wide and waist deep pool. Why a goose head? Because on Erd, geese were mythical creatures with a deep affinity to water Aether, like a watery phoenix. Go figure. As far as my past experiences with Canadian Geese were concerned, their only affinities were rage and violence.

A series of buckets and drains to the side of the bath were meant for washing beard and body, while an alcove above the bath served as a wet-sauna. It was uni-sex, and the whole clan regularly just soaked in it to relax after a long, hard, day.

Some of them even used soap when I yelled at them.

Kirk gave a cheery wave as we walked in. He was chatting with Bando about what it was like in the human kingdoms. Balin was half-asleep in the sauna after another day of dungeon test preparation, and Richter was meditating under the goose-faucet, the water pouring onto his head.

I toed into the steaming hot water and immersed myself up to my waist; it was glorious. I sighed in contentment and closed my eyes.

Johnson wandered over with a bucket and began scrubbing his hair at the edge of the tub. He looked a little pensive as he asked, “How do ya think it'll go tomorrow, Pete?”

“Nervous?”

“Aye.”

“I think we'll be fine; we’ve already done two grand openings. Once when we opened the brewpub, and again for the barista brew launch. I suspect it'll be like the launch, but a bit smaller. Nothing we can't handle.”

Johnson's cloudy expression failed to clear. “But we had Berry and Copperpot's crew to help out that time, and they're busy.”

Over the past three months, Berry had successfully launched her band in Kinshasa, and was now doing performances once or twice weekly in Redwall. The magic of pure undiluted talent and extrovertism, I supposed.

Copperpot had his new gnomish barista brew factory well in hand as well, and our ‘subsidiary brewery’ legal fiction was working just as well here as in Minnova. At least, it had to be, since we hadn’t been attacked by any freaking gnomish ninjas this time. And not a peep from the local Brewer's Guild.

I suspected that Malt was the reason everything was going so smoothly, and I was really going to have to thank him. We had a newly furnished room ready for him in the inn, but he’d insisted on staying at the Guild instead. Maybe I could bring him some of those bimbleberry tarts he liked so much.

I stretched my toes and sunk down to let my beard and flowing umber locks float out in the water while I considered what to tell Johnson.

“We have the Diggers to help, along with Darrel's elementals. Plus, we're just one of many local taverns. I doubt it’ll be too crazy. I’ll be happy if we even fill half our tables.” I finally managed.

Johnsson sighed, nodded and focused in earnest on cleaning his beard.

I laid down fully on my back and closed my eyes, floating in my own warm little world. This moment of relaxation would be over soon, and what would probably be the most hectic year of my second life – the year 8000 – was about to begin. We’d decided to coincide our opening with the new-years celebrations, since everyone was out partying that night anyways. May as well get them to party at the new place for the new year, eh?

I couldn’t wait. The Thirsty Goat would be open for business once more!

—

Johnsson glared at me from where he was clearing tables at breakneck speed. He’d probably shouted something acerbic too, but it was lost as the crowd toasted Crack and Kinshasa for the umpteenth time this evening.

The tavern was packed to the brim, and practically every song ended with raucous cheers as Kirk grabbed another drunk with terrible pitch and gave them a terrific pitch. Nyuk.

Over four hundred people, and there were more in the street outside. My influence quest was ramping through the roof. Where were all these dwarves coming from!?

The volume ratcheted up as the [Bard]’s bagpipes erupted with fire, and he began an upbeat song called Years Ta Count Alone. It sounded a bit like a quick-paced Irish Rovers number from back home, with the audience playing the drums on the tables and following along with the chorus.

It’s gettin’ dark, yer crew’s gone home,

Leavin’ ya minin’ all alone.

You only need another year,

Tiara knows yer fortune’s near!

Are ya still in that Yearn durned hole?

You's a dwarf, or a mangy mole?

Git yer silver, and get yer gold,

Then come and live before yer old!

[Insert bagpipe riff]

A thousand’s a lot,

If all you’ve got,

Are years ta count alone!

So swing your pick,

And flick yer wick,

Hammer tha rock and stone!

[Insert drumming and cheering]

Lay down yer work, wherever y’are!

And grab a seat in yer favourite bar!

Toast to tha clan and toast ta Crack,

Another year you’ll not get back!

So now we’ll cheer, a brand new year!

Now raise yer mugs, and drink yer beer!

Ya don’t know where yer tankard is?

Knock out yer neighbour and take his!

[Insert bagpipe riff]

A thousand’s a lot,

If all you’ve got,

Are years ta count alone!

So swing your pick,

And flick yer wick,

Hammer tha rock and stone!

The tavern rocked with cheers as the song ended, and the [Bard] launched into the extremely recognizable and bawdy Twa Bearded Lady.

Annie caught my eye from across the tavern and waved, then gave me a thumbs up. An elemental drifted overhead carrying a tray of drinks, and from where I was situated near the front window I could barely make out Rosie dwarfhandling some unconscious patrons out the side door to the inn. Through the opening in the wall to the kitchen Bran was swearing up a storm as Darrel passed food to Bando as fast as dwarvenly possible. In a distant corner, Richter was using [Regenerate Other] on a customer's broken nose. Everyone was busy, busy.

The night had begun with a line forming four hours before opening. Happy, curious, chatty dwarves wearing their good armor and reminiscing about the past year had stretched from our door out to Main Street. A small number of them were even holding bottles of Ass-Blaster or Liquid Gold, or carrying Whistlemugs. That had been our first warning that something was up. Then the line had turned into a crowd, and then a mob.

Aqua ran up alongside me out of breath as I cleared another table. “Pete! It’s not just us!”

“I'd say so! I'm workin’ hard here and yer just runnin' around?? Where's the justice in that!?”

“What? No, Opal and I just came back from buying Bran more ingredients. This is happening everywhere. There’s so many people in the city right now that there aren’t enough places for everyone to celebrate the new year!”

I grunted noncommittally. “More gold fer us, but it’s not really a good thing when all the inns are full. That’s how you ya get messiahs, and air BnBs.”

Aqua gave me a blank look then shook her head. “We only have enough beer for another hour at this rate. There’s almost definitely going to be a riot.”

I pointed to where Kirk had stored another dwarf’s clothes into his storage and was swinging the naked unfortunate around overhead by their ankles. “No there won’t. Kirk has ‘em all wrapped ‘round his big little finger, and Balin is guarding the door.”

“My [Sense Emotions] is going crazy. If you think Kirk’s going to stop a couple hundred high-strung drunken dwarves desperate for more Liquid Gold…”

“That and my [Bottomless Barrel] evolved an hour ago.” I grinned, and Aqua’s eyes lit up.

“Ahhh! Thank Barck, that’s amazing timing! What is it! What does it do now!”

“Because I was always using it to its max duration, it evolved into [Extended Bottomless Barrel], so it lasts longer. I can make a single drink bottomless pretty much permanently now. We’ll only be able ta do tha Liquid Gold, since Barista Brew and Ass-Blaster are slightly magical, but that should be enough fer this crowd!”

Aqua’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Phew. Good. We just finished building this place, and I couldn’t bear to see it get wrecked the first night!”

“Eh. I’m just glad it wasn’t a flop.”

“Do you think it’ll be like this every night?” Aqua asked, biting her lower lip and wincing as a couple dwarves in the uniform of a mining crew hopped up and began crowd surfing.

I shuddered; I couldn’t stand being lifted up anymore, it activated some kind of primal terror reaction in me. “I’m pretty sure this is a one off fer tha new year. It’s a big new year, and we’re a pub specifically here fer the Octamillenial. That’s why we have that fancy big certificate there.” I pointed to a place on the wall where a piece of paper larger than a gnome declared us a King’s Competitor for the Octamillenial.

Annie had received the official looking document, along with instructions in one of her many recent trips to city hall. For the next month, secret drinkers would be visiting all the Brewers that had won their local regionals. They would then confer to decide on the top sixteen. Same for the chefs, blacksmiths, hitball teams, and whatever other competitions there were; there were a lot.

The reward for winning one of the contests was a lot of gold, and dwarven nobility. I only really wanted to do well enough to entice Barck's avatar down for our bet, but Annie had been really, really, excited by the news. Bran too.

If similar scenes were happening all over the city… this year was going to be even more intense than I’d feared.

As I thought that, a grumble of dwarves in one of the raised sections began to fight, and the brawl quickly spread. The weapons were mostly metal tankards and fists at this point – we’d left the good Whistlemugs away for tonight – so it was probably all in good fun. Still, better to stamp it down before it got too rowdy.

I nodded at Balin across the room, and we began to move in. I lifted my trusty warhammer and we bellowed as one, “Fer Crack and Annie!”

Over at the bar, Annie shrieked, “DON’T START THAT AGAIN!!!”