“You know I was only kidding about blaming you for the attack, Pete.” Aqua whined.

“That’s not how it felt to me! Two guards got really hurt, and Whistlemop’s goat got eaten. And I feel at least partially responsible for it now.” I grumped. Which was partially true, one of the guards had a broken arm, and the other a burnt-off beard from Berry’s flaming meteors. The goat was thankfully found only slightly worse the wear in the stonebutt wombat’s stomach.

Aqua gave me a long stare. “You know I can sense the truth AND your emotions.”

I rolled my eyes. “That is incredibly boring.”

Annie cleared her throat. “If you two are done flirting, we’re all curious what Balin brought you.”

“We weren’t flirting!” Aqua and I shouted together.

Annie just raised her eyebrows and the rest of the crew laughed at our embarrassed defense. We were all gathered in the wagon for another evening’s rest, including Bran and Opal, although they seemed to be too busy snuggling to pay much attention. The one exception was Malt, who had first watch.

That was on purpose, since I was planning on discussing more Earth stuff.

Just to make sure though. “Richter, can you scan for commstones or something else Malt could be listening with?”

“Sure, Pete.” Richter looked around the room with his [Manasense] enhanced eyes, and eventually declared us clean. I wasn’t expecting anything, but the closer we got to Kinshasa, the more nervous I became.

Blackbeard had been an idiot, and even he’d slipped me a tracker on a business card at the first opportunity. The capital was giving off real nobles-and-their-powergames vibes from Game of Thrones, and I wanted to get into proper habits before we arrived.

I pulled open the large leather bag Balin had given me and began rooting through it. I pulled out several variations of grass, a big mass of poofy white stuff that looked like fur, a couple roots, some nicely wrapped bits that I assumed were organs from a beastie or two, some more roots, and an antler.

I turned to my brother and pointed at the pile of greenery. “Alright, Balin. You’ve been bugging me about looking at these all week. I finally have time, so give us the run down.”

“Aye, but some of it is gonna be a bit ripe by now, Pete.” He eyed a few of the wax-wrapped bundles. “You may not want ta open them.”

I shrugged. “That’s fine. I’m just planning on running them through my [Minimap] anyways.”

“How does that Ability work, anyways?” Kirk asked. “A miniature map? It saved us during the stoneskin wombat attack for sure, and it sounds amazing.”

“Oooh, yeah, of everyone you’d probably really appreciate it the most! I have a radar, erm, a map that I can always see in the corner of my mind. It’s not over my vision per-se, it’s more like an extra sense. I have a list of filters that I can set, and anything I’ve activated shows up on the minimap as a dot. Items are blue, people are green, and monsters or stuff that’s trying to kill me are red. The range is about 20 meters, but that’s more than good enough for most stuff. Anything that I’ve used as an ingredient can be put into the filter, but I can’t differentiate between them - they’re all just dots. I’m hoping that it’ll evolve to give me that functionality later. Oh, speaking of which! Aqua, give me your hand.”

Aqua held out her hand unthinkingly. “Why?”

“I need some blood.”

She yanked her hand back, cupping it protectively. “WHAT!?”

I sighed. “It’s not for anything weird, I just need to make some tea with it.”

Johnsson coughed. “That’s a bit weird, Pete.”

There was a murmur of general agreement.

I looked at everyone in faux betrayal, then grinned. “I really do need some blood from everyone. I was able to prove that if I use a specific person’s blood in a recipe, I can add them to my filter. I’ll be able to find any of you if you’re nearby, which may or may not be useful in the future.”

Balin interrupted excitedly. “Oh, I have [Party Finder] now too! It does somethin’ similar. Tells me tha direction and distance to ya. I was thinkin’ of addin’ you and Annie, Pete. Don’t need yer blood though.”

Annie frowned. “That may actually be helpful. Especially if we’re dealing with more of Blackbeard’s ilk.”

Opal looked crestfallen. “You know, not all nobles are like him. I know many who do their best for dwarven society. It can be thankless and heartbreaking work.”

Balin nodded along, a little desperately. “Aye! Most of tha nobility are granted it through hard work and provin’ themselves to tha Greybeards!”

I wasn’t too sure about that, but I was willing to let it slide. One example did not an entire section of society make. Well, there was also Opal’s mother, who was another piece of work. Still, two examples did not an entire section of society make, but it did imply a pattern. The Lord of Minnova had certainly been a cut above the rest.

“Anyways, I’ll get everyone’s blood later. For now, since I can’t tell what I’m looking at, just that it’s there, I have to flick through my filters one at a time. I’m going through every ingredient I’ve ever used in brewing or cooking and it’s… a lot. Thankfully I don’t have to do much more than think about it, so it’s pretty quick.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Aqua’s face wrinkled up. “So, are we just going to sit and stare at you while you…”

“Just sit here? Yep. That’s why I figured Balin should explain what all this is in the meantime.”

We all turned to look at Balin, who shrugged. “Aye. The poofy stuff there is from the mane of a grasslion. Easier ta kill than a lilyleopard, but they hunt in packs. These four packets are some of tha innards, an eye, and other bits. You can thank Manny fer separating all of it; dunno why he’s skilled in butcherin’…”

We all shuddered at the image of the sprightly and goggled glass-obsessed gnome dissecting a corpse with a fine glass scalpel.

“Tha grass is from the E ndless Plain,” Balin continued, “And these buncha bits and tha antler are from some plains deer.”

As Balin gestured to the antler, I jumped to my feet, screaming, “HUZZAH!!! Balin, I could kiss you!!!”

“We’ve been over this Pete, I won’t let ya. Me lips are fer Annie only.”

“I know, but I want to anyways! You found SORGHUM!!!” I held the white fuzzy stuff aloft, and everyone leaned in to look.

“That’s grasslion’s mane.” Balin said offhandily.

“I know it.” Bran said. “You can boil it and eat it, but it’s got a weird texture. Can’t do much with it that you couldn’t do with Erdroot, so it’s not popular. Plus, ya need to hunt grasslions for it, sooooo…”

“Yeah, it tastes like couscous, but worse. I can’t believe you found it! Do you know where I can get more, Bran?”

“Aye. It’s not too expensive since not too many want it. Grasslions are mostly prized fer their livers and blood. Tha blood is sweet, and improves tha taste of certain dishes, but Sweet Sap Vine is preferred by most cooks for obvious reasons.”

“Oooh, could it be?” I swapped my filters around and another set of blue dots appeared on my minimap, one for each grasslion organ. “It is! I think the blood is Sorghum Sap! That can be used as an adjunct!”

“So… what is it?” Richter asked.

“No! Don’t ask that!! He’ll monologue!” Aqua hissed.

“But now dat I know it’s otha’world knowledge I want ta hear it.” Richter hissed back.

Johnsson sniggered. “And here we thought he just liked the sound of his own voice.”

“My dulcet tones do indeed soothe the savage beast,” I said sagely.

“Is that why you and Penelope -” Balin began.

I cut off the inevitable goat-lover joke by answering Richter’s question. “Sorghum is one of several different types of cereals used to craft beer back on Earth. The primary base malts on Earth are barley, wheat, rice, and sorghum. Base malt refers to the main cereal used for the wort, like erdroot as the base malt for True Brew. I haven’t seen heads nor tails of barley, we’re all gluten intolerant, and Kirk told me that rice is only really available in the human lands.” I looked back at him for confirmation and he nodded.

“Yep! It’s most popular in the southern kingdoms closer to the equator, though I’ve seen it on occasion up north. I know you can buy small amounts in the human market in Kinshasa, but that’s about it.”

“Right,” I continued, “There’s also oats, rye, and corn, though oats and rye are pretty much always used as specialty malts since they make for a pretty awful base malt. A specialty malt is a small amount of cereal added to a base malt, like our dark umber erdroot. Sorghum is a distant fourth when it comes to beer making, though that’s only in my home of Canada.”

“Khan-eh-daa?” Opal tried saying the word, but stumbled over the unfamiliar syllables.

“Canada. We use barley almost exclusively, and barley beer snobbery can get just as bad as a Master Brewer with tha Sacred Brew. Other countries have their own preferred cereals fer brewin’, though. The countries of Japan and China prefer usin’ rice, Peru and a few other southern countries use corn, and maize is popular too. But sorghum is the primary base malt of tha continent of Africa. It’s the grain down in Aaaaafrica!!” Ah, I missed the sweet refrains of Toto. Maybe I could ask Berry if she knew any of their songs.

Opal held up her hand and a pencil. “You do know we don’t know what any of those places are, right Pete? Perhaps a map…?”

I shrugged. “The places aren’t important. What is important is that the Africans were using sorghum to make beer long before they met my people. It has its own history that dates back as far as barley beers. It has a few names, though Chibuku and Umqombothi are the most well known. It’s also gluten free!”

“Is this Africa place important, then? As a forerunner in the making of Sacred Brew?” Johnsson asked.

I hesitated. “The history of my ancestors and Africa is… fraught. Kind of shameful actually. Slavery, apartheid, proxy wars... It would take hours, if not days or years to really explain it all. Among the many things we did, we made it illegal for native Africans to make or sell alcohol, including their traditional brews.”

Johnsson looked horrified. “They couldn’t brew?? How did they drink!?”

“They still did brew, of course, just illegally in secret breweries-slash-pubs called shebeens. My own country once had something similar called speakeasies. It’s thanks to them that the traditional methods for making traditional African alcohol wasn’t lost, though it probably wasn’t all that altruistic.”

Annie had her notepad out and was furiously taking notes. “Why do your... Canadan… brewers not like sorghum?”

“There are a few reasons. It makes for cloudy, yeasty beer, leaves a metallic aftertaste, can be finicky to work with, has a lower alcohol content in general, and can easily pick up certain toxins. HOWEVER, that’s only because most Canadian craft brewers are trying to use sorghum to make a barley beer instead of an African sorghum beer. The Sacred Brew is already cloudy, has a low alcohol content, and from what we seen with the popularity of Ruddy Bloodbrew, dwarves like a metallic aftertaste. Plus, sorghum beer is pink!”

Also, it had more tannins and probably wouldn’t taste like old potatoes like pure erdroot True Brew. Honestly I wasn’t a huge fan of sorghum beer, and it really was a pain to use as a replacement for a barley base, but as a specialty malt, or in a pure sorghum beer? It opened up huge new avenues for experimentation!

I couldn’t wait!

Balin looked confused. “Why does pink matter?”

Annie and Aqua got it immediately. “Our spokesperson is PINK!”

I coughed. “Berry’s been very careful not to call herself that. She just likes the colour pink. Anyways, it’ll make it an easy sell. After Liquid Gold, imagine Raspberrysyrup branded pink beer. There’s a good chance it could get big if she makes the splash I think she will in Kinshasa.”

“Do ya know how ta make it? I thought ya said yer kin don’t like usin’ sorghum,” Richter asked.

“Eh, the hardest part will be the malting. I think the first thing I’m going to do in Kinshasa is find a malt-house and buy it. Maybe Master Brewer Malt will be able to help with that. Nyuk.”

There were exactly zero chuckles. Just smiles and nods, though Opal frowned. “Was that meant to be a joke? Why would he know about malt houses?”

“Because he - his name - I… forget it. Just keep your ears out for information about malt houses. Any more questions?”

There were a lot more questions, and Opal did eventually get her map.

I even included New Zealand.