The music in the bar was loud as typical, and seated in the far corner with a pair of empty lowballs was the usual sight. Gary Falcotini’s wide cheeks were now heavily peppered with greying overgrown hairs, if compared to the man he’d arrived as; many likely wouldn’t think they were the same. His weight had gone down a fair bit as well, not gaunt by any means but again not nearly the man he arrived as, for better or worse.

Sharon’s disappearance still lingered fresh in his mind despite the months to cope. He still maintained his work, but beyond that he just as missing as she.

“Another?” The lump of a man politely asked in an almost grumbled whisper as the barman made his way past him to grab a bottle of wine from a tall rack mounted on the right-hand side wall.

“Last one.” The bartender nodded reluctantly, motioning him to wait as he tendered the bottle over towards the table of four who’d requested it.

“Thanks.” He again grumbled out before returning his head to buried in his thick folded arm.

Shaking his head, the man continued through the bar-trough until reaching the opening in the center. Lifting the hinged slab of hardwood he continued through the dining area, swishing through the maze of round tables and assorted patrons.

“Your 854 Gordant-Udloq,” The bartender interrupts with a subtle cough to part the running conversation. Pulling carefully on the stopper, he stepped over to the person who’d chosen it and carefully pours a small sample into his accompanying glass. “You’ll find it’s far more astringent than we are traditionally used to, but the complexity comes in the form of the notes in that bitterness. Here for instance, you might find pine, and maple notes, a touch of nuttiness. And maybe something almost cranberry-like.”

“Interesting.” The man said, tipping the glass back and swishing the opaque liquid around in his mouth. Nodding to the bartender, the rest of the glass are filled in short order and the remaining bottle is left displayed on the table.

“Apparently the grapes they use for wine are more like wild grapes; super tiny with really thick skin and a large pit.” Laura explained with perked interest in the crystal bottle left at their table.

“And it’s all exported from the Iridaq Empire, right?” Francis asked as he held the glass aloft to get a better view through the cloudy pink liquid.

“There’s a few wineries in the northern Kindoms, like Viert, but yeah mostly it comes from the empire.” Sophia explained with a nod after rinsing down the bitterness with a swig of water.

“Being a ‘Gordant-Udloq’, I’d imagine it’s imperial.” Laughed the man who’d requested it initially. “Apparently Udloq was a ruler or something so they named this variety after him. I’m fairly sure it can only be made up there.”

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He’d heard as much from the various merchants and sailors around Irias. It was a common gift he received after simple treatments, so many of the medical staff from Irias were familiar with the drink.

“Well, it’s not horrible.” Francis muttered while slapping his lips to rid the taste. “I’m not sure I’d compare it to a Pinot, but…”

“Nah, I mean it’s not what we are used to but there’s a basis. With a few years we could be drinking some half-acceptable wine.”

“It’s more a question of allocation of resources then, is it worth the manpower required to conduct the research and development of a better wine-crop? Is the market larger than just us? If this is an acceptable product here, then how could we know if this world’s palette would even accept the mellower flavors of our type of wine?”

“They sure don’t like our beer.” Francis reasoned with a laugh.

“Well now let’s be honest, if you were used to drinking nothing but thick dark ale’s, drinking a weak IPA is going to be a bit disappointing.”

“Well Chad, as a former frat president you are clearly the expert on the topic of beer so I’ll give you that one.” Francis relented with another chuckle.

“Damn right.” Chad laughed in return, clutching for his filled glass mug, and knocking it back as proof.

“Oh god here it comes.” Sophia fearfully muttered, clenching her ears in anticipation.

As the last drops dripped down the mug and through his lips, the carbonation bubbling in his chest finally found a path and exploded out with a massive belch.

Slapping his arm repeatedly, Sophia gingerly apologized to the nearby tables.

It’d all become something of a weekly tradition at this point. Each of them always had dozens of things on their minds with their work, so having this time to spend together and relax was vital.

Sophia’s work meant that, when she wasn’t spending sixty hours a week planning massive projects, she was jet setting around to present massive proposals.

And her friends were no different, Francis had been promoted to main go-between for the village improvement plan’s, this meant he was constantly meeting with residents, merchants, local and A&R construction crews, and even a few lower nobles and other nearby powerful types.

Laura was teamed up with the ‘sewist union’ as they’d dubbed themselves, so she was able to act as the leverage needed to convince the mechanical department to develop a sewing machine model. Apparently, the device was in frighteningly short supply so its priority was extremely high by the time Laura found out about it.

Chad was the only one without a ton on his plate. He’d been on a break from working as the head EMT ever since his near brush with death had left him wheelchair bound. But that didn’t mean he was working any less hard, he was in the rehabilitation pools daily and had even somehow convinced the physical therapy trainers to book him two sessions per day.

Things were moving quickly and as a small team marketing for the livelihoods of almost a hundred thousand, the pressure the group felt was immense.

It might seem easy to just sell equipment and vehicles and make boatloads of coin, but in reality, what Arna and Reynolds wanted was to sell the ability to make that equipment. If they were constantly bogged down with making end-user items, their output and profit margins could never reach the same level as before. And worse yet it leaves them as a target.

They felt they had no choice but to jump-start the industrialization process in order to feel more at ease in this world.