I bustled around The Shadow's Respite, doing last-minute checks of every detail for the event. My muscles protested with each movement, still stiff from the previous evening's adventures. The tables were arranged in a horseshoe pattern, creating spaces for the local brewers to set up their stations.

Pain shot through my lower back as I bent to straighten a tablecloth. This wouldn't do. I needed to be at my best for the tasting event. I had a small stash of restoratives upstairs, and had been hesitant to use them often after the creator had warned that using them too frequently could lessen their effect.

I climbed the stairs to my room, each step a reminder of yesterday's labor. In my dresser drawer, I pulled out one of the precious vials and uncorked it. The liquid went down smoothly, warming my throat with its oily tingle. Within moments, the aches began to fade. The bed looked so inviting. Fighting back a yawn, I turned away and went back downstairs.

Ragna and Caden were speaking in a corner of the room while sipping drinks. I approached them because a thought had just struck me. I had two judges and needed a third.

I greeted them and asked if I could borrow Ragna for a moment.

"Ragna, I want to talk to you about something."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"We have two judges for tonight's tasting—Fie and Roland. I've been thinking about who should be our third. Would you be interested? All you would need to do is taste the various ales and beers, rate them, and at the end of the night, we will decide which are the best, and I'll offer the crafters a contract to stock the bar."

"A judge? I would truly be honored!" Ragna pulled me into another back-breaking hug, and I was thankful for the restorative I'd just sucked down. "But why me?"

"You are always straightforward and not afraid to give practical and unbiased opinions. I believe your no-nonsense manner will make you a good judge. Now, you'll use the provided papers to write down any tasting notes and your score. Just move from table to table, tasting as you go. At the end, you can rank the brews. How does that sound?"

"This should be fun." She clapped me across the upper arm, setting me back on my feet.

I moved to the head of the room and cleared my throat. The assembled brewers turned to face me.

"Good evening, everyone. Before we open the doors, I'd like to introduce our judges for tonight's tasting." I gestured to where Roland, Fie, and Ragna stood. "First, we have Roland Hightown, our town steward. Roland is a valued member of our community, and he has the keys to the city, so be sure to properly hide your peach ale."

"Here now!" Roland laughed good naturedly. A polite round of applause followed, and Roland gave a small bow.

"Next, Fie Vinter, who knows more about spirits than anyone in Everspring. She has been a friend of the tavern from the moment it opened. She is also responsible for me seeking out one too many restoratives from the herbalist."

"It means you need to work on your drinking a little harder." Fie laughed and raised her glass in acknowledgment, as several people cheered.

"And finally, Ragna of the Hammer & Hearth, whose discerning palate we're fortunate to have tonight. Anyone disagreeing with Ragna's scores tonight will be put to work moving bags of coke around her forge. I've done it, so prepare your back for some pain."

"Sounds like you need to build up some muscle, Varix. I'm happy to put you to work anytime!" Ragna laughed. The loudest cheer yet erupted, particularly from the craftspeople in attendance. Ragna's reputation clearly preceded her, and this made me proud to call her my friend.

"Once the tasting has concluded, the doors will open. You're welcome to sell your brews to the customers, but as Fie should have told you, keep ten percent in reserve for The Shadow's Respite. If we have a good night, I'd like to make this a recurring event. Good luck to you all!"

Another round of applause met my words. I'd already worked out a deal with the sellers. They would reserve ten percent of their profits for the tavern as a small fee for being hosted. None had even batted an eye when Fie broached the subject and passed it on to them prior to the event. Most were well used to paying fees to have space in the open market.

I stepped down and moved on to speak with some of the brewers, asking them about their particular brews and how much they had on hand or could produce. I recognized a few faces, though many names escaped me.

Eldon Kettlebrook, a burly man with red cheeks and a salt-and-pepper beard, arranged bottles of his dark ale, Moonshadow Stout. His wife Marielle helped him, pulling off corks and placing the drinks into cups.

"I've a large supply. Got a dozen boxes in the cellar. Used to give them out to my kids, but they don't visit me no more. Figured I could put them to good use and maybe make a little money in the process. Here. Try for yourself," he uncorked one and poured a cup for me. It was dark and had a thick white head.

I took a sip and found it quite smooth. "That's good."

"I roast my barley. Gives it that dark flavor."

"And makes the house smell for days."

Eldon turned to his wife. "Here, now. Ain't that bad."

The corner of her lips curled down, and she shook her head.

"It's not as bad as that."

She put her hands on her hips.

Eldon turned to me. "She's right. It makes a big ole stink, but only when I roast barley tha's past its prime. I did that a few times but learned my lesson quickly. The ale weren't worth drinking. Well, drinking more than one or two, tha's to say. I hate to waste, I do."

The two continued to argue, so I thanked them and moved on. Eldon’s ale was good and reminded me of Guinness beer from back home. It would go well at the tavern, but it could also lead to problems if he continued to use sub-prime ingredients.

Near the window, Celeste Whitecap set out a brew called Frosted Wheat Ale. Her long silver hair was tied back in a practical braid, and she hummed as she worked. She'd been brewing for fifteen years and had a loyal following in town, as well as a small cart at the market a few days a month. I hadn't tried her beers yet, but they were highly spoken of.

"Good evening, Celeste. Thank you for coming to the event tonight."

"Mr. Vel'Naris. It's a pleasure to meet you. We've all heard so much about you," she said, and blushed.

I chuckled and waved off her comment. "I'm just a simple tavern keeper trying to make his way. Though I must admit, the attention has been... interesting."

"You're being modest. The whole town's talking about how you saved us from those bandits, and then the king himself visited! And now a dragon. You've been the talk of the town since you arrived." She pulled out a bottle from her collection. "Here, let me show you my ale."

I blew off her comments. While it seemed like a lot had happened since I'd arrived on Mythralon, much of that could be attributed to the being that hid under my skin.

As she twisted the cork, it shot off with a loud pop, sending foam cascading over her hands and onto the counter. "Oh! I'm so sorry!" She grabbed a cloth and started mopping up the mess.

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"No harm done," I said, helping her clean. "That's quite lively."

She blushed deeper. "Some batches are stronger than others. The carbonation can be a bit... unpredictable. The yeast gets excited sometimes."

I examined the cloudy liquid she poured into a glass, noting the uneven consistency. Back on Earth, I'd been particular about my beer, and inconsistency usually meant problems. Still, I brought the glass to my lips and carefully sipped.

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. The beer was extraordinary—light and refreshing with notes of citrus and a subtle spiciness that pleasantly lingered. The cloudiness worked in its favor, giving it a fuller body, but it was less attractive to look at. Someone like Old Man Guslan would drink this up without a second look, but Roland would be a much harder sell. I looked forward to his thoughts.

"This is excellent," I said, and I meant it. "My customers would love this."

"Thank you!" She beamed, then reached for another bottle. "Let me show you my regular wheat beer. It's more... well-behaved."

This bottle opened with a gentle hiss and poured crystal clear into the glass. The taste was clean and crisp—more traditional but equally tasty.

"You clearly know what you're doing," I said, "but I must ask about the consistency. The varying carbonation levels and color..."

"Ah. Yea." She nodded. "It's the storage conditions. I'm working on a better cellar setup, but right now, some batches get warmer than others, which affects the carbonation. With proper storage, they'd all be just like the second bottle. I've been saving to expand my cellar," she said quickly. "With a steady contract, I could make the improvements sooner rather than later."

I nodded thoughtfully and said, "It will be up to the three judges, but I appreciate your honesty regarding the product. Best of luck."

"Thank you for inviting me, Mr. Vel'Naris."

I nodded thoughtfully. Perhaps we could help each other out. The beer was too good to pass up, and storage problems could be fixed. Quality issues caused by poor technique were much harder to solve. But it would be up to the judges to decide if the beer was good enough to warrant a contract.

A younger brewer, Finis Blackthorn, nervously adjusted his display of apple-infused ale called Enchanted Orchard. Since he had a sweet ale, I hoped one of them would be as good or better than peach ale. My tavern was suffering for a number of reasons, but the loss of peach ale was a big one. If one thing said "Everspring," it was peach ale—and lavender.

I tasted his ale and was impressed, but a faint undercurrent wasn't very pleasant.

"Oh. Sorry. Here. Try this one." He offered another bottle after noticing the look on my face.

I sipped the second sample and was very impressed.

I asked Finis what was wrong with the first cup of Enchanted Orchard. He shifted nervously, running a hand through his dark hair.

"The truth is, I'm quite particular about my fruit," he admitted. "I only use Silverblush apples from the highlands near Crystal Peak. They have this perfect balance of sweet and tart that makes the ale so good."

"And the first bottle?" I prompted.

He grimaced. "Had to use some a mix of regular apples from the market. The highland traders don't come through as often as I'd like, and sometimes the Silverblush apples aren't as fresh by the time they reach me. The altitude and cool mountain air give them unique flavor, but they're also delicate. They don't travel well."

I took another sip of the good batch. Crisp, sweet notes danced across my tongue. The flavor was remarkably close to peach ale but with its own distinct character. Where peach ale was smooth and mellow, this had a bright, almost effervescent quality that made it almost as tasty.

"This is exceptional," I said. "Have you considered working with the traders to ensure a more reliable supply?"

Finis nodded eagerly. "I've been trying, but I don't have the resources—and they don't take me seriously yet. Most of their apples go to the bigger breweries in the capital."

"And if you had a contract with The Shadow's Respite?"

His eyes lit up. "That would change everything! With guaranteed orders, I could negotiate better deals with the traders. Maybe even arrange for faster delivery to keep the apples fresher."

"Just make sure you have enough of the good batch for the judges," I said with a wink. "And Finis? Don't be nervous. Your ale is something special."

He straightened up. "Thank you, Mr. Vel'Naris."

I approached another vendor. A tall, lanky man with sun-weathered skin arranged his bottles with meticulous care. His name was Kenton Blackmore, and his setup caught my eye with its professional presentation. Each bottle bore a carefully printed label showing a raven perched on a bundle of barley.

"Evening," I said. "That's quite the presentation."

Kenton smiled, revealing laugh lines around his eyes. "Good evening, Mr. Vel'Naris. My wife's the artist. She insisted we needed proper labels if we wanted to be taken seriously. They're hand printed, each and every one.”

He pulled out a bottle of Ravencloak Amber. The liquid caught the light beautifully as he poured it and created a large white head of foam.

"This is the best brew," he explained. "I use a blend of three different malts and age it in oak barrels that previously held brandy."

"Impressive," I admitted.

I took a sip and had to stop myself from downing the entire glass. The ale was complex—there were notes of caramel and chocolate from the malts. The warmth probably came from the barrels.

"This is exceptional," I said, meaning every word. "How much can you produce?"

"Currently? About four barrels a month. But we've been looking to expand. Just needed the right opportunity." He gestured around the room. "Like this one."

I did some quick math after glancing at his barrel. I'd be able to get about fifty beers per month, which put the total at two hundred. I would go through that in two weeks. On the other hand, this was a high-quality brew, and the crafter probably charged accordingly. I'd have to raise the price to compensate, which would decrease the quantity of sales.

I made my way through several more tables and found varying degrees of quality. One brewer's ale tasted like it had been filtered through old socks, but I managed a polite smile and thanked him for participating. Another had a decent pale ale, but nothing remarkable.

A woman with graying hair offered me something she called "Dragon's Breath Brew." It turned out to be more accurate than I'd expected—the spiced ale nearly burned a hole through my tongue. I couldn't imagine anyone drinking more than one, though Urzan might enjoy it. Actually, that gave me an idea, but I would have to save it for later.

She asked me questions about the real dragon and seemed a little put off when I told her Frostfire dealt with icy breath instead of fire.

My thoughts kept returning to Tomas's Ravencloak Amber. It was exactly the kind of signature ale I wanted for The Shadow's Respite – something unique to draw people in and keep them coming back. I hoped the judges would feel the same way.

As I finished my rounds, I noticed Roland sampling Kenton's ale. The steward's eyebrows rose appreciatively, and he made a note on his paper. Fie was deep in conversation with Celeste about her wheat beer, while Ragna worked her way methodically through each offering, taking careful notes.

I was grateful that I'd chosen these three as judges. They each brought different perspectives – Roland with his refined palate, Fie with her merchant's knowledge of what would sell, and Ragna with her practical appreciation for quality craftsmanship.

In the corner, Kieran had set up his instruments and was carefully tuning them. His fingers moved gracefully across the strings, though I noticed him taking frequent sips from a flask when he thought no one was looking. I wondered how much of a drinker he was. He was steady on his feet, his voice was clear, and he wasn't slurring any words.

The murmur of voices outside grew louder. I looked through the side window and found a crowd gathering, their faces eager and expectant. I wasn't sure if they'd come for the beer tasting, the food, or simply to hear firsthand accounts of the dragon incident.

This was the first big event I'd hosted at The Shadow's Respite, and I wanted everything to go smoothly. More than that, I hoped it would be profitable. It would be strange if we didn't make more money than usual tonight, given the number of people waiting to get in.

As I pondered the idea of making this a recurring event, I noticed Kieran in the corner. He had laid out a gold-fringed cloth in front of his station and was warming up, running through notes with ease. I had to admit, the man had an incredible voice. The rich, warm tones filled the room, drawing appreciative glances from the other vendors.

I approached him, curiosity getting the better of me. "Kieran, what's with the cloth?" I asked, gesturing to the gold fabric.

He paused his vocal exercises and looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "Ah, Varix. Well, as you know, I'm doing this as a favor for Roland. I'm not being paid for my performance tonight."

I hadn't realized that. It seemed unfair for Kieran to provide entertainment without compensation, but it had somehow slipped my mind. "I'd be happy to pay you," I offered. "What's your usual rate?"

Kieran named a figure that made my eyebrows shoot up. It was high, much higher than I'd expected. But as I looked around at the eager crowd and considered the potential profits, I found myself nodding but countered with a slightly lesser number, assuming he was trying to catch me off guard and take advantage of my naivete.

"I suppose I can work for that. Thank you for the kind offer." A satisfied smile spread across Kieran's face. He returned to his warm-up, leaving the gold cloth spread out in front of him.

I crossed my arms as a thought occurred to me. "Kieran, if you're planning to collect donations, I'll need ten percent for the house. It's only fair, given that you're using my establishment, and now you're being paid. All of the vendors here are paying the same amount."

The bard's eyes widened, and he looked at me with an appalled expression. "Ten percent? That's outrageous! Do you know who I am?"

Oh boy…

I studied his face, trying to gauge his sincerity. Kieran was a performer, after all. It stood to reason that he knew how to act. I remained skeptical of his outrage.

"It's only fair," I said firmly. "As I said, all the other vendors are doing the same."

Kieran's mouth twisted into a frown. "I'll take it under consideration," he said, his tone short. "After all, I am the great Kieran Darkrune. My reputation alone will fill a paltry place like The Shadow's Respite far beyond numbers you have previously seen."

I bristled at his words. "That remains to be seen," I countered.

A smirk played at the corners of Kieran's lips. "Just as it remains to be seen if you really know a dragon and visited an ancient city."

We stared at each other, neither of us willing to back down.