“Do you think it’s biological?” Kirk asked as we waited for everyone to wake up. “I know dwarves are weak to alcohol, but this is ridiculous.”

“I wasn’t affected.” I mused, poking Annie with my armored boot. She twitched but didn’t wake up.

“Something about the marriage of Spirit and Spark? You’re an otherworldly soul, aren’t you? Could that be it?”

“At least until I reincarnate once. I’m not sure I like the metaphysics of that. There’s an actual spiritual aspect to the sacred brew? Hmmm…. I could ask Barck tha next time I see ‘im.”

“Please tell me you realize the ridiculousness of that statement?”

“Oh, trust me, I do. But this isn’t the first time this happened. We had a similar incident once before. I suspect this is something similar.”

Beside us, Richter moaned and turned over.

“I poured them about eight ounces. At fifteen percent that’s roughly equal to five or six tankards of beer. It’s a lot, but not that much.”

“And it’s a bit quick for that kind of reaction. Usually four to five will make ‘em angry, sad, or happy, depending on the drunk. It’s usually seven or eight for the knock out.” As our head waiter and prime dwarf-tosser, Kirk was intimately familiar with the exact number of beers the average dwarf could handle.

“It may be a hidden effect of one of my Abilities.” I shrugged. “But I honestly think this is something different.”

We sat around and watched everyone sleep. Penelope continued to pilfer the remaining beer in their glasses until she ended back in front of me, begging for more beer.

Finally, there was a groan as Johnsson levered himself to his feet.

“Oh, that’s a surprise. I thought for sure that Richter would be up first.” I grinned at Johnsson as he staggered to his feet and caught himself on a chair.

“Pete,” he wheezed. “What did ya do to the beer?”

“Nothing,” I replied, my voice tinged with amusement. “You just couldn’t hold yer alcohol.”

“Then it must’ve weighed more than a minecart of iron.” Johnsson leaned back and cracked his back, then his neck, then his knuckles, then his knees. He held his palm to his forehead and groaned again.

“Feeling better?” Kirk asked, watching in fascination.

Johnsson frowned. “Aye. Almost all better, no hangover or nothin. Yet. It felt like gettin’ an entire evening’s worth of drunk all at once.”

“Uh huh.” I circled around him, making notes in my brew journal as I did. His face had been flushed a moment before, but was rapidly becoming a more regular pinkish hue, and his eyes were tracking me just fine. “How long was he out, Kirk?”

Kirk tapped his brow before answering, “I’d say about fifteen minutes give or take.”

“Suddenly drunk for fifteen minutes… is that what it felt like?”

Johnsson nodded vigorously, then licked his lips. “Aye. It did. Felt tha buzz, then the dark. Like usual, but much faster.”

“Too fast. You shouldn’t have metabolized the beer yet.”

At this point the rest of the team had begun to stir as well, and we waited until they were all back up on their feet, blinking and looking around in confusion.

“Alrighty.” I gave my best limp-wristed golf clap. “Good joke, I’m very impressed by everyone’s follow-through.”

Annie blinked at me. “What?”

I pointed at Aqua, who currently had her tongue out and was poking it. “I know for a fact that she put you up to this, just like the last time.”

Richter was holding his hands over his eyes. “You mean like with the bottles?”

I crossed my arms. “Yep.”

“Wait!” Kirk asked, looking stunned. “You think this was a prank?”

“Uh-huh! Last time I did something new and neat, these chuckle… folks, chased me around the city for an hour pretending to be mindless beer zombies.”

“It was pretty funny.” Aqua giggled, then grabbed her head. “Ow! My head! Or… not? I feel fine… why do I feel fine? Shouldn’t I be hung over??”

“We’re all trying to figure out the same, Aqua.” Annie muttered. “Richter?”

“Dunno? May be worth passin’ on ta Opal. Could be the alcohol? Could be the hops? Who knows?”

I blinked. “Wait, you lot were serious?”

They all nodded.

“Really?”

They all nodded harder, except for Penelope, who was trying to suck beer out of the hose on the carboy. I shooed her away, then regarded the grumble of blinking dwarves.

“You’re telling me you all drank a pitiful amount of beer, then passed out?”

“Aye. It was like gettin’ hit with the biggest and fastest drunken blackout ever.” Annie nodded.

“Hold on. Does that mean Pete just invented beer that knocks dwarves out!?” Johnsson suddenly shouted.

“I think it does!” Aqua caught his energy, and was jumping on her toes. “Dear Gods! The contest! We’re a shoe-in to win!”

“Hooold it!” I held up my hand. “We’re not going to give this beer to anyone until we get it tested by Opal. If you all fainted, I want to know why.”

“But Pete!” Aqua began.

“No buts! It may be fun, but I’m not selling something that’s a possible health hazard!”

“I think every gnome that’s caught a head-height whiff of Assblaster would call you a liar.” Johnsson muttered.

—

“It’s safe.” Opal put down the ingredient list and pinched the bridge of her nose.

I’d still thought it was a prank until Annie had actually sent the summons to Opal. There was no way the uptight Doctor would be roped into shenanigans. While we were waiting, the group had a sudden second wave of drunkenness – without drinking anything more. Johnsson ended up throwing up all over Penelope, and we had to use multiple Abilities to keep her from murdering him.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Dear Gods, Penelope was bloody strong!!

Opal had arrived practically on fire, then spent a solid fifteen minutes berating us for emergency calling her over “a simple alchemy question.”

“So what caused it?” I asked.

“A combination of things,” Opal said. “As you’ve no doubt noticed, dwarves are weak to alcohol. That’s because our livers are specialised to filter out heavy metals, and are more susceptible to biological compounds like alcohols. On the other hand, we have stronger pulmonary systems to deal with poor ventilation underground.”

“I didn’t know that…” Annie said.

“How our bodies differ from the other races isn’t usually taught outside of basic physiology.” Opal gestured at Kirk. “Humans are tall and die young, Elves are green and plants, Dragons are scaly and powerfully magical, Gnomes are short and high energy. That’s not true for all specimens of course, there can be short humans or tall gnomes, but that’s as far as most education goes. Simply put, the fact that gnomes have better eyes than most races, humans have longer arms and make better swimmers, and dwarves have weak livers just doesn’t fit into a general education.”

“Ah hah! I knew there had to be a reason!” I shouted, pumping my fist. “But what about me? Why am I unaffected?”

Opal looked down her glasses at me, an impressive feat without glasses. “You’re a reincarnated Chosen of a God. You’re just a freak.”

“Oh, thank you, Doctor Opal.”

Opal frowned. “Yes, well. It wasn’t just the alcohol. That other plant you put in it, Pineweed, has a soporific effect when mixed with strong alcohol. Dwarves are especially susceptible to it for the same reasons as mentioned before.” Opal proclaimed, pointing at one of the sacks of hops.

My jaw went slack. “You’re joking.”

“No, not at all. Though it doesn’t have much use in medicine as it doesn’t last very long and makes you feel drunk. And why didn’t you know this, Richter, you could’ve told him.” Opal nailed him with a glare. “Aren’t you a [Healer]?”

“I’ve been focusing on my enchanting studies.” Richter blushed, looking over at his enchanted infuser.

“And it’s safe?” Annie asked with stars in her eyes.

Opal nodded. “Why’d you put it in your brew in the first place?”

“Because it’s something from back home…?” I assayed.

“You’re in another world now, Peter. Even if you know it’s the same ingredients, you should check that it actually works the same.” She rapped me on the head and I rubbed the spot ruefully.

I absolutely had assumed that identical ingredients would work identically. I’d had alchemists check every other ingredient, like the jelly finings, but the hops were so basic I hadn’t bothered. I wouldn’t be making that mistake again. “That’s the thing about assuming. It makes an ass out of you and me. Would it count as drugging people?” I asked with trepidation.

Opal thought about it for a while. “According to Country of Crack Ordinances, Chapter 16, Section 3, anyone drinking beer is doing so expecting to become drunk and cannot take offence against the maker of the beer for doing so. Based on your description, the feeling was identical to becoming drunk, yes? I’d reduce the amount in the brew, but It should be fine as long as you put a warning on the bottle. Can someone show me?”

Johnsson jumped at the opportunity and chugged a small glass.

And then immediately collapsed to the floor with a happy smile on his face.

“Is that bad for the liver?” I asked.

“No, our livers are bad at filtering out alcohol, but still hardy, and a trip to a [Healer] once a year deals with any minor organ damage.” Opal considered the bottle. “How long was he out?”

“About half an hour?”

“I have time.” And with that she poured herself a sleeve and drank it down.

Leaving us staring at two dwarves snoring peacefully on the ground.

“Now what?” Annie asked.

My gaze grew wicked. “Go get me a pen. It’s time Johnsson learned why you should never be the first to get blackout drunk at a college party.”

—

While we waited for Opal and Johnsson to wake up, we began taking very small sips from the other carboys. The hop-less batches were actually the least popular, which made me quite happy. The favorite had an alcohol content of roughly eleven percent with a lighter touch of hops. It still knocked people out, but it took a full tankard rather than a couple mouthfuls and it only lasted a minute.

Richter took charge of the chosen brew, excitedly running it through his infuser. The runes glowed and the beer flowed. What emerged from the other end looked unchanged.

At least until we poured it.

“It’s smoking. And looks kinda… fiery?” Johnsson muttered, peering into the mug. Black clouds billowed from it into his face and he coughed.

*Snrk* “Aye, it is.” Richter replied.

“It looks *hee* strange.” Aqua held back a giggle.

“What’re you all laughin’ at?” Johnsson asked, looking around in confusion.

“Nothin’.” I deadpanned. “How long will it smoke for, Richter?”

Johnsson pulled back from the smoking glass and rubbed his eyes. His beefy fingers just avoided smudging the enormous silly glasses I’d penned onto his face, and the grumble heaved with barely constrained laughter.

Opal had taken one look at his face and absconded to check herself in the mirror. Not that I’d be stupid enough to prank the fiance of the severe dwarf that cooked my meals.

Richter caught his breath and continued. “It’ll smoke for ten minutes after being exposed to air, but that’s not the best part.”

He took a sip of the beer, swished it around, then opened his mouth and blew out a small smoke ring.

“Oooh, the pipe smokers will love that!” Aqua cooed. “Me mum is one, and she can do some really neat smoke rings!”

“Can we afford the ingredients?” I asked.

“Can we – Pete, you’re rich!” Annie growled.

“And I’d like to keep it that way, thank you very much.” I sniffed. “Those reinforced front windows and doors cost a lot.”

“Aye, it’ll be cheap enough with this.” Richter caressed his invention.

“What’s it look like if you drink the whole mug?” Kirk asked. “Will you just… keep smoking, like a volcano?”

“Pete can check.” Richter motioned to me, and I dutifully took the mug and drained half the mug in a second.

Kirk clapped, but Annie just shook her head. “I’m still not used to that. Can you even taste it?”

“Aye, it tastes *cough* great.” As I spoke, I coughed a plume of smoke, which led to more coughing. “Agh, maybe draining it isn’t the best idea.”

I took a single gulp at a time until the mug was empty, and then spun around to blow a stream of black clouds in a wide arc. It was a smoke machine, but from my mouth. “Haha! This is great!”

“Let me try!” Aqua shouted, coming forward.

“Me first!” Johnsson cried, pouncing.

Aqua shoved him back. “You should wash your face first, you filthy animal!”

“What?” He ran to look at his reflection in the boil kettle. “Agh! Me Face! Aqua, you beardless bastard! May you stub your toes forever!”

“It wasn’t me!”

“Yearn’s yams, it wasn’t!”

“It’s my invention. Me first.” Richter grabbed a tankard and downed it. He coughed black smoke once, like something out of a looney tunes cartoon, as his eyes promptly rolled up into his head and he passed out.

As the grumble devolved into wrestling, a familiar *ding* sounded.

Quest Updated: More Brews Part 2/5!

More! MORE!

Invent sixteen new drinks. Mixes don’t count.

Drinks Invented: 7/16

Annie watched from the side, a look of contentment on her face. “Looks like we have a keeper, Pete.”

“For a beer that hits the hardest? Absolutely. And I can think of a great name.”

“Do tell? And it’ll need to be better than Assblaster.”

I ignored the jibe. “The first doppelbock was made by the Paulener monks, and was named ‘Salvator’. From that point on, it’s been a tradition to call doppelbocks ‘something - ator’. Given that our new beer gives a fire-ish breath, I was thinking we could call it Dragonator.”

“Since when did you make allowance for tradition??” Annie tittered.

“Since it required a kick-ass name like ‘Something-ator’. Do keep up.”

I hummed some Believer from Imagine Dragons as Johnsson and Aqua began fist fighting.

Dragonator.

Look out Riverside, here comes the dragon!