Chapter 9
(Domestic Light Pilsner)
“What got into his beer this morning?” I muttered.
“He doesn’t seem to like you,” Babble said as he watched the dwarf’s cart shrink in the distance. “I’m good with people. I can always tell these types of things.”
“I don’t think it took much talent to see that he wasn’t happy,” Flora said. “I hope he has somewhere else he can buy his hops, or he won’t be able to make his beer this year.”
“I don’t think anyone will be all that disappointed if he doesn’t,” the gnome replied.
“You snooze, you lose,” I said. “And anyway, there are other hops farmers around here. I’m sure he’ll find something he can use. It just won’t be the best.”
“He doesn’t deserve the best,” Babble said and then looked at the sky. “Well, it’s the middle of the day now, and I’m starting to heat up. I’ll need some lunch. And then hopefully, a nap.”
“You just took a nap,” I groaned. “What do you do, sleep all day?”
“As you have seen, protector, I have a very active nightlife,” the gnome replied. “All of my business takes place during the dark hours, when the other creatures are at their drunkest and weakest.”
“So you’re effectively taking advantage of the drunkards in Hagop?” Flora asked, and she lifted an eyebrow.
“Of course not,” the gnome said. “It’s just when we operate. And if any other creature is foolish enough to want to get into a game of chance with a gnome after a few too many beers, then that’s their own fault!”
“But it sounds like you wouldn’t have much of a fortune without their foolishness,” I said as the edge of the town appeared.
“You just don’t understand,” the gnome harrumphed and rolled his eyes. “It’s so hot during the day. I don’t understand why any creature with an ounce of sense is outside in this. We gnomes, however, understand that the brain works better when it’s cooler.”
“Mmmm,” I murmured and shook my head.
Hagop was really bustling as we neared the town center, and Flora drove the cart along the shady side of the street and tried her best to avoid the groups of arguing elves and dwarves that littered the sidewalks. The fishermen were pulling their boats to shore to dump out their first catches of the day, and the washerwomen were hanging out their white sheets to dry in the afternoon sunshine.
“Do either of you want a pretzel?” Flora asked, and she gestured to her basket in the back of the cart.
“I’d love one,” I said.
It was becoming obvious to me that anything Flora baked was pretty damn good, and I was hungry after that little tour around the farm, so I grabbed one of the pretzels from the bag and bit into its salty, doughy goodness. And just like I’d suspected, it was approximately a billion times better than any pretzel I’d had back in Portland.
“What do you think?” she giggled as she watched me eat.
“You have quite a talent, Flora,” I replied happily. “I can’t wait to see where your business goes. I’m sure the bakers’ guild would be lucky to have you.”
“Oh, you’re so kind,” she said and blushed. “You know, I’d have more time to work on my recipes if I wasn’t always kneading dough. But I suppose you have to put in the grunt work before you can reap the benefits.”
“Yeah, I think that’s usually how it goes in a trade,” I agreed. “Years of thankless working, and then one day, you just hit the jackpot.”
We rolled up to the inn, and Flora steered Tulip into the shade of her small stable. We hopped off the cart, and I regained my land legs before trying to shift all of the hops from the cart into the stable.
“What’ve you got there?” Hildegard called out as she stepped into the yard.
“I have the hops,” I replied. “It was the last he had, but we managed to get the best.”
“You actually convinced the farmer to sell you the hops?” She raised an eyebrow and then looked at Flora as she jumped down beside me in a small puff of yellow dust.
“Well, Tyler did all of the thinking,” she admitted. “I just did the talking. But we struck a deal with Farmer Gold. If Tyler got the hops, I would have my boss stock his new butter in the bakery, so people don’t have to go all the way to the farm to get it.”
“Very smart,” Hildegard nodded. “If you can get your boss to go along with it.”
“I can,” the blonde said and nodded. “He’s been talking about adding things like butter and cheese, but he hasn’t found anyone who had enough extra butter to sell us. I think this is just the deal he’ll want.”
“Then it sounds like you made a good deal,” Hildegard said. “People will respect that. Maybe it won’t take you so long to reach that goal of owning your own bakery after all.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” I said. “And I’m glad to reap the benefits as well.”
Flora giggled, and Hildegard rolled her eyes at the other woman.
“Let me put these somewhere cool,” I said as I grabbed the sack of hops.
I carried the hops in the stable and found a cool, dry corner to set it in. Then I stopped to look at my grains, and I saw that there were even more sprouts. I’d be ready to mash my wort soon, and then I could start the real art of beer making.
“That’s a job well done,” the gnome declared and twirled around. “And now, I think it’s time for a beer. Three Pyotr House, please, Hildegard!”
“Come right in,” she replied, and she shot me a glance before turning around and heading straight back into the bar.
I could tell that she was impressed that I’d managed to get the hops. And why not? No other human had ever managed to get their hands on the best barley and hops for their beer, so I was already ahead of the game.
And when they tasted the beer I made, they’d realize just how far ahead I really was.
We followed Hildegard into the pub, where she’d already plopped three tankards of beer on the bar. She shot us another look before going to assist a small group of dwarves that were squabbling over their food. Babble climbed up on a stool and pulled his beer toward him while Flora and I took the stools on either side of him.
“This is a successful operation, you know,” the gnome said. “I know we haven’t made any beer yet, but we have everything we need to beat the dwarves at their own game. And I’m very proud of you, Tyler. I don’t think a human in Hagop has ever been able to get hops this good.”
Flora coughed to herself, and I turned my attention to the blue-eyed beauty who had been so crucial in the next step of the beer brewing endeavor.
“And we couldn’t have done it without you, Flora,” I said. “You really helped out.”
“I told you that I could,” she shrugged. “And that’s not all that I can do. I know a lot of the tradespeople in Hagop, and I’d make sure that your beer reached the right hands. So what do you say? Can I officially join your gang of brewers?”
Gang of brewers. I’d never thought about it that way before, but I kind of liked it. It made me seem like I was running some kind of crazy operation.
Which I was, at least by the rules of Hagop.
“Hmmm,” Babble mumbled. “Well…”
“Of course you can,” I replied. “You’ve more than proven yourself today. You’re trustworthy and indispensable. Welcome to the gang of brewers.”
“Oh, and what is this gang called?” Babble asked as he raised an eyebrow. “Tyler’s brew?”
“No, of course not,” I laughed, but then it crossed my mind that I didn’t actually have a title for my supposed gang. Hmm… Tyler’s finest? No, that didn’t sound quite right.
And then it hit me.
“It’s going to be called the King’s Brew,” I said.
“King’s Brew!” Babble laughed. “Why, it’s absolutely perfect! A brew that’s fit for a King.”
“But offered to the good people of Hagop, of course,” I winked. “Because what would I do without you guys?”
King’s Brew. Now that we had a name, I knew that we would really be going places. There was just something about having an official name that made the whole exercise seem more real. I couldn’t wait to taste my new creation, and I knew that the others would love it as much as I did.
We spent the rest of the evening scheming about bottle shapes and colors. Green was usually reserved for elvish wine and brandy, while the dwarves used brown bottles for their beer. It made it easy to figure out what something was, even if you couldn’t read the label, but Flora suggested that I could get a dark red bottle for my special brew. It was close enough to the brown in color that people would still know it was beer, but the red would let them know that it wasn’t just more of the same dwarven beer.
“I don’t know,” I said. “If people are expecting their beer to be in brown bottles, will they order anything in a red bottle?”
“It’ll make it stand out,” she assured me. “And it will make it feel special. Plus, it actually costs a little less than the dark brown. But the dwarves are just so stuck in their ways that they won’t change.”
“Well, if it costs less, that’s perfect,” I said. “And we can come up with a cool label to give it its own personal flare.”
“Mmmhmm,” Flora mumbled and then yawned as she looked toward the window. “You know, I think that I should probably be going back now. I wake up before the chickens to go to work and start kneading the bread, so I’m pretty tired.”
“Of course,” I nodded, and I stood up as she did because that was the polite thing to do.
The sleepy blonde gave me a kiss on the cheek, and I felt my entire face heat up with desire. I was so surprised, though, that I didn’t say anything until she’d already skipped out the door.
“Uh, bye,” I called after her.
“Huh,” Babble grunted and gave me a sleepy smile. “Looks like somebody is having fun.”
“Oh, shut up,” I laughed, but he was right.
The brew was sprouting, and I had a pretty girl flirting with me for fun. As far as I was concerned, things couldn’t really get any better at the moment.
“By the way, this is what’s left of your pay for the day,” Babble said, and he plopped a small sack of silver on the table. “Just for you.”
“Thanks,” I said as I scooped up the sack. “I don’t suppose you’ll be getting in any more fights tonight?”
“What, twenty pieces of silver isn’t enough anymore?” he laughed and then burped.
“Do you boys want anything else?” Hildegard asked, and she leaned over the bar and furrowed her brow. “Where did Flora go?”
“She went home,” I said. “She still has to go to work early in the morning. By the way, this is for you.”
I counted out the amount of silver that I owed her and plopped it down on the table.
“Thank you kindly,” she answered as she shoved it into her apron. “And Babble, I assume that you’ll be staying here for a few more hours?”
“It’s time for me to start my work,” he said with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “But I promise that I won’t drink as much as last night. I want to be well awake tomorrow when the giant starts his brewing.”
“Well, I’m under your charge, Babble,” I laughed. “So if you need a bodyguard, you know where I’ll be.”
“Very well,” Babble laughed. “How good it is to have a bodyguard so close on hand! You’re only up in the stable!”
“It’s true,” I shrugged. “And there I will stay. Anyway, I’m going to head up. I quite like the mornings here in Hagop, and I don’t want to sleep through them.”
I gave Babble a little salute and smiled at Hildegard, and then I snuck out the back door into the dusty yard. The faint scent of rosemary and mint drifted over from the kitchen, and I could see Tulip picking at a few blades of grass as she wandered around her corral. There were even a few crickets chirping as I made my way to the stable.
It wasn’t the best room in town, but for now, I wanted to stay close to my brew anyway, so the attic was perfect. I climbed the steps quietly even though there was no one else around, and I flopped down onto the straw mattress just as a cool breeze seeped through the cracks in the boards. Autumn was coming, and I fell asleep to the thought of cinnamon and fresh apples dancing around my head.
And then there was a bang. Well, several, actually.
“Tyler!” a small voice shouted, and my eyes flew open.
Light was streaming through the cracks, and it looked like the sun had just risen.
“H-huh?” I asked, and I sat up and looked around. “Come in!”
“I can’t!” the gnome called back.
The door banged again, and I realized that he wasn’t tall enough to get to the handle. I pulled myself up and walked over to the door, then I swung it open to find a tiny Babble with a large envelope in his hands.
I mean, pretty much everything looked large compared to him. But this happened to be a particularly large envelope as well.
“Good morning to you, too,” I yawned with surprise as the tiny gnome bounded in through the door. “I certainly wasn’t expecting you to be so chipper this early, especially after yesterday…”
“Tyler!” He shouted, and he waved the envelope in the air. “This is bad news, Tyler! Don’t you know what this is?”
“Babble, I didn’t even know what you were until the other day,” I told him. “And what do you mean, bad news?”
“This is a dwarven letter,” he said, and he waved the envelope again. “And it’s from Cassian.”
“Cassian,” I said in surprise. “Geez, he did look pretty pissed on the road yesterday. But don’t dwarves usually attack when they’re angry? Why would he send me a letter?”
“That’s just a stereotype,” the gnome huffed as he shoved the envelope into my hand. “I mean, it’s accurate, but still a stereotype. Just read this. We’re in deep shit now, I’m sure of it. Cassian wouldn’t bother with a letter if he wasn’t serious.”
So much for another perfect day in paradise.