Beers and Beards Book 3: The Big Brewhaha

We all looked up as Johnsson entered the room, festooned in red and yellow and wearing ‘Kinshasa Brew Gives You Wings’ Draconis merch. He looked at our crestfallen faces in concern. “Uh oh. What happened? Why’re you all weepy?”

Richter patted a space on the chair beside him. “Come on Johnsson. You’re ‘de last one.”

“Aye, sorry. There was a cat fight.”

I winced at the image. There were thousands of cats in Kinshasa, and cat fights could rapidly spiral out of control.

”Do they need a Healer?” Richter asked, making to stand.

“Nah, it’s fine.” Johnsson waved him down. “It’s all handled. Anyone care ta tell me why you all look like someone died?”

“‘Cause Bando did die.” I said, burying my head in my hands. “You big, fat, jerk!”

Johnsson looked aghast. “What!? How!?”

“It was a goat accident.” Aqua put in.

“Aye, clear through tha billy.” Balin added.

“He was so young.” Annie wept.

“Och, I’ll miss ‘im!” Balin pulled Annie close and the pair wailed.

“I’ve got alls yer pretzels,” Bando said, sweeping into the office with a loaded tray. He looked around at the crying room and the glowering Johnsson. “Um, what?”

We all burst into laughter at Johnsson’s outraged protests.

“That’s what you get for coming in late, now sit down.” Annie pointed at the spot next to Richter. “We’re all ‘weepy’ because we found out who our competition is for the semi-finals.”

“Oh. It’s Riverside Brewery isn’t it?” Johnsson asked, taking a seat. “Everyone’s talkin’ about it.”

Annie took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “We got this envelope this morning. We haven’t even opened it yet. And everyone’s already talking about it. Gods.”

“The power of the hometeam.” I sighed.

“Aye.” Johnsson nodded. “They’re calling it tha fight of new and old. Kinshasa against Minnova. West versus East, Giant versus – “

“We got it!” Annie snapped. “You can stop now. What does everyone think?”

Aqua held up her hand. “I think it’ll be good for us either way. We already made it into the semi-finals, and the tavern is booming. If the plan was to get rich, we’ve already won.”

“I thought ‘de plan was to show off our new brewing techniques.” Richter said, pointing out the office window at the gleaming equipment.

“Oh, we’ve succeeded on that.” I put in, smugly. “The Master Brewers took detailed notes on all our equipment; Annie and my little pitch to them paid off in spades. With the success of Kinshasa brew and Copperpot’s inroads with the gnomes, I think they all see the runes on the wall. I expect similar equipment to be installed in every brewery in Kinshasa by the end of the year. Outside of the few hardliners that still show up now and then to protest, that is.”

“I don’t know about tha rest of you, but I want to win this.” Kirk said. “Show them the strength of the Thirsty Goat!”

“Aye!” Johnsson agreed, bumping fists with him. “Who cares if it’s against the home team! Let’s win this!!!”

“For Crack and Annie!” Bando shouted, excitedly. We all glanced in his direction; I don’t think any of us had realized he was still here.

“Aye! Fer Crack and Annie!” The cheer reverberated in the cramped office, and Penelope bolted out of the room with an angry bleat.

To her credit, Annie just rolled her eyes and thwacked the envelope. “Then without further ado, let’s find out what we’ll be competing on.”

We waited with bated breath as she opened the envelope and began reading it aloud.

“Welcome to the sem-finals of the Kinshasa Octamillenial Brewing contest. That you’ve made it this far is a testament to your hard work and dedication to the craft. In the last round you were tasked to make the most valuable brew, and we saw an incredible variety of beers. From beers with gold in them, to beers with salt, beers served in gem-encrusted bottles, and a beer drunk only by the king.”

“Hey! We’re in there!” Kirk shouted in excitement.

“Gem-encrusted bottles??” Aqua asked, looking horrified. “Who was that!?”

“Grey Goose brewery.” I muttered, darkly. “Talk about buying your win. They used the flood of gems on the market from Lucky Jean’s to sell bottles studded with gems for their bog standard Sacred Brew.”

“Aye, they're owned by a noble from South Kinshasa.” Johnsson nodded. “They’re definitely the wealthiest brewery in the contest.”

“Please tell me they didn’t win.” Aqua muttered, but she knew the answer in her heart.

I sighed. “No, they did. To be fair, they faced off against team ‘gold in the brew’, and that tasted vile.”

It’d also given me glittery shits for a few days after.

Annie continued, “For the semi-finals, we want to see if you’re capable of knocking Kinshasa off its feet. Everyone knows that dwarves are indomitable, capable of taking a punch and getting right back up, so let's put that to the test. This round, the populace will vote for which beer hits the hardest. Voting will go until the end of the 5th month.The winners will be required to provide beer for the Octamillenial Gladiatorial Matches.”

We all sucked in our breaths. That was going to be expensive, and a pain to brew enough while also meeting our own obligations.

“Are you going to be in the gladiatorial matches, Balin?” Kirk asked. “I’ve been hearing a lot about it from some of my adventuring friends.”

Balin nodded. “Aye. Brightstar is in tha’ amateur matches. Most of the adventurers are. It’s a fun way to prove and improve ourselves. Maybe get some Milestones out of it!”

Annie coughed. “*Ahem* We already know the next part:

‘Your competition for this round will be Riverside Brewery, run by Master Brewer Schist.

Congratulations on your win, and Barck’s luck be with you. Happy Octamillenial!’”

There was a beat of silence as we digested, until Bando broke in. “Haw! Big city dwarves can’t get their words straight! How is beer supposed ta hit anythin’?”

*Bing!*

New Quest: The Octamillenial Part 3/4!

Keep on Winning! You got this! I believe in you!

Semifinals Won: 0/1

Rewards: +1 Strength, +1 Vitality

Do you accept?

Yes / No

Yes, obviously.

—

A few minutes later, after Annie had given Bando the boot and closed the door behind him, we were around our round table preparing for war.

“What about spice! Like we did with salt, except using peppers or firevines!” Annie mused.

“Ooh! What about askin’ some of tha wrestlers to come and serve beer at the Goat? Get beer and punch!” Johnsson guffawed.

I added Annie’s idea to the list, and rolled my eyes at Johnsson’s.

We had a dozen ideas up on the chalkboard, including using Richter’s Alchemical Beer idea from last round to literally knock people out. Richter was still working hard with his alchemist friend to see if they could manage to make it cheaper.

“Up in the human lands we have some really strong alcohols. One is even called dreamwater because it knocks you right out!” Kirk said. “Could we… add some to the beer?”

The grumble paused to consider this.

As for me, I began to chuckle. Then snigger. Then guffaw. Then I laughed in ways no mortal words could describe.

Aqua edged away. “You okay, Pete?”

I stopped laughing, and wiped away a tear. “Better than okay! Kirk, you’re a genius!”

“What? Adding other alcohols to the beer? I don’t think that’ll work, Pete. And I don’t think we can try your ‘It Isn’t Really Beer’ idea in a beer brewing contest.” Annie frowned.

“No, not that.” I held up a Whistlemug full of Liquid Gold. “Who here can drink one of these and not feel it?”

I got some confused blinks, and I sighed. “Who can drink a glass of Sacred Brew and not get drunk.”

Everyone held up their hand.

“Who can drink two glasses? Three. Four. Five - “ I counted up until only I was left. Most dropped out around five or six, the lightweights.

“Are you going somewhere with this, Pete?” Annie asked.

“I am! Though it’s actually Aqua’s idea.” I gestured at Aqua and she looked momentarily confused before the light clicked.

Aqua jumped to her feet. “That’s right! You said you know a way to increase the alcohol content of beer!”

I nodded smugly, adding ‘higher ABV’ to the board, “Aye. You mentioned it during our brainstorming for the quarterfinals. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, recently.”

Richter frowned. “I think it would work, but it’s giving me a baaaad feelin’.”

I psh’awed. “Eh, it’ll be fine. Worst case scenario it knocks people out in two drinks instead of four. But for the concept of ‘a beer that hits hardest’? I think it's a shoe-in to win! Especially because, like Aqua said, people drink to get drunk, so a beer that does that faster is sure to earn votes!”

“What’s everyone’s thoughts?” Annie asked.

“Dunno why you’re asking us?” Johnsson said, one eyebrow raised.

“Aye, you’re the boss!” Kirk nodded.

I grinned. “True, true, this is a dictatorship of us. Do you approve, Annie?”

“Hmm…. I think I do. And it’ll give us a new beer for the menu no matter what. Can you explain how we’ll do it, Pete?”

“Absolutely! We’re going all in on the monarchy, because we’re going to make an Imperial brew!” I gestured expansively and began the spiel.

Then paused as, for the umpteenth time this afternoon, someone burst into the room and interrupted us.

It was Bran and Darrel. Bran was waving a large manila envelope, just like our own. “We got tha results fer the cooking contest! We won!”

We all dutifully cheered. “HUZZAH!!!”

“Congratulations Bran.” Annie said, smiling warmly. “You deserve it. You and Darrel have worked so hard in the kitchen for the past month.” She considered and gave me a questioning eye. I nodded.

“In fact. We’ve all been working hard. As such, Pete and I have prepared a small vacation. With the contest out of the way, I’d like everyone to take the whole day off tomorrow.”

“Aye. I have a meeting with Opal about you know what.” I waggled my eyebrows as the crew broke into excited murmurs.

We couldn’t talk more about it with Darrel in the room, but that would soon change. The Digger family were rapidly becoming a big enough part of our lives that we'd need to bring them in on our secrets.

“So, what does it say!?” Aqua asked, pointing at the envelope.

Bran’s face contorted in anger. “They said someone cheated!”

There was intense grumbling at that. Cheating!? For a contest of skill and craft!? Unthinkable!

“Who was it?” Richter asked, cracking his knuckles.

“They don’t say.” Bran shrugged. “I think they donnae want tha bastard hung and shaved.”

“Probably a noble.” I muttered darkly. Balin looked crestfallen, but didn’t gainsay me.

“So what DOES it say!” Aqua shrieked.

“Ah, Pete. You’ll appreciate this one!” Balin winked at me. “They want us to cook something… using beer!!!”