Chapter 112

Apple with a Cinnamon Knife

(Hawkin)

Brewer’s Reputation: 416

Along our hike, we came upon burgeoning spring buds and honey cocoons. There weren’t gigantic trees for miles, so we camped in the forest and watched insects begin to come to life. The gnats were the first to swarm our shelter. Was it the smell of our divine breakfast that drew them?

We piled razor clam shells together. The fragrance of tomato broth lingered on our breaths. With a wave of Brewer’s Bubble, we extinguished our fire. After our things were neatly gathered, we set off.

Monster fireflies crossed our paths. The smallest ones slammed into trees, like they should have been bumblebees. The larger ones beat a deep thrum and steadily wove through the forest.

Abigail took my hand. “How about some new beer?”

“You’ve brewed something?”

“Well, we’ve been enjoying our own beer lately. How about something new from a different brewer?” She passed me a bottle.

The glass was cold. I turned the bottle over and read the label. “Lee’s Gentle Fist. Spiced Billy Goat Lager.”

Abigail requested goblets. The dark garnet malt swirled against the glass and pushed out a fox red foam that mushroomed over the rim, cascaded over our knuckles, and hit the forest floor with splats. Foam drenched the ground when we clinked goblets. I sipped, and watched my Collection Journal fill out a new page.

[Lee’s Gentle Fist.]

[Gold rank. 04/100 Lesser Chimeric.]

[Brewed by Three Masked Kings Brewery.]

[Last year’s Spring Billy Goat after freeze distillation. The beer begins with the mellow sweetness of roasted apples. Caramel hops coat the malt in a buttery sweetness, with an undertone of roasted almonds. The lingering taste packs a burn of cinnamon, cardamom and chili pepper.]

[Special Attributes: None.]

Abigail’s eyes almost spoke before she did. “Oh, I’m definitely getting the spice!”

“Now that’s a knock out. Whew! I’m already sweating from the pepper heat.”

She frowned with some amusement. “It’s like an angry apple.”

“Yeah, one that’s trying to climb out of my throat with a cinnamon dagger.”

“I’ve been wanting to try this one for a while. Sure woke me up.”

“Ah, but it’s so good!” I said. “Perfect morning for it, honestly. Going back into the ring for another sip.”

“Sure kicked my butt into gear. We’re all packed up for the hike?”

We walked a circle around our campsite while our gazes scoured for anything we might have left. Knowing we would leave no trace, I said, “Onward!”

Yet our angry, dagger wielding apple beers were not finished. We choked on cinnamon spice as we hiked. …A sparkle of fireflies crossed our paths. Abigail turned to me and mimed holding a pumpkin–they were that big. The fireflies dimmed in the distance between trees. The foam of our beer hushed away to reveal the bottom of our goblets.

“How many more bottles do you have like that?” I said.

“From Three Masked Kings?”

“Yeah, or maybe from other brewers? Since you often travel to Lavenfauvish, you probably get to try new beers all the time.”

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“Ah, the hermit wants beer from around the world!”

“It’s more exciting sharing something new with you than on my own. The only thing I can buy around here is goblin spit beer. And I haven’t been completing quests for loot chests either.”

“I have a cellar full. Is that something you’d like to do? Stuff your Collector’s Journal? We could compare ours. Have I ever shown you mine?”

“Just one journal? You probably have entire volumes by now.”

“Nope, just a massive tome.”

“Wow…You have to show me. I’ve been inspired by so many good beers. Experiencing new ones helps me consider what I want to brew next.”

There was a world of beer out there. From where my Brewer’s Reputation started, there were hundreds of thousands of Brewers. To be in the top 500 was mind boggling.

It was a treasure to experience other Brewer’s beers. Abigail had taken advantage of exploring other beers throughout her quest path. I knew how lucky I was as a hermit to experience even bronze ranked beers from around the world. I would be a fool to scoff at anything I could get my hands on.

Abigail clapped like she was catching an idea the size of a mosquito. “Let’s brew something. How about a collaboration brew? My favorites have been ones we’ve brewed together.”

A blush accompanied my smile. “Mine too. Have a style in mind?”

Like our thoughts, fireflies crossed our paths. We stepped back from one which looked like it could hold a saddle. We crouched to watch another one emerge from its stringy cocoon. We meandered through occasional swarms.

Abigail added her voice to the beauty of the wilderness. “Let’s add a memory attribute to it.”

“Both of us at the same time? How does that work?”

“You’re after Golden Chapter beers. How about you create the memory? It’s another chance at brewing the beer you want.”

“Then you choose the style.”

Abigail grinned, and I wondered if it was with mischief. “Do we dare include some apples? They might get spunky.”

“I think we can weed out the rotten ones. Why not?”

She laughed. “Then a spontaneity apple beer it is! Wait just a moment.”

She withdrew a chimeric colored bottle of beer. Gift #1. The pop of the cork resonated through the land. It made 1 flat echo in the distance. Abigail sipped, and vanished.

The evergreen trees were pushing bright green growth at branch tips. Two fireflies collided with a chaotic thrum. They hit the ground and thrashed about until they turned onto their legs. Then they kicked off, sending twigs and leaves flying in their wake. As all the smaller ones seemed prone to do, they crashed into trees.

Abigail returned with an apple. “Grabbed a whole bunch.”

I slipped my arm around her waist and we staggered forward until we found a good pace between us.

After being lost in thought for some time, I said, “I’d like to use the Saint Maxt Barley. The one that’s supposed to have a chance at producing a Diamond Chapter Beer.”

“Are we all right with flavors of sage?”

“Sounds like a nice, savory contrast.”

“Let’s add Tuffull barley. That should add a creamy walnut flavor.”

“Hops? I’ve got Jungle-green hops. They’re called El Delta. They should offer up a woody ginger kick. Some citrus notes, too.”

She nodded. “Now, the foam…”

“I got it! Whipped white.”

We separated to begin our brew. There was no mistaking the Kiss of Yeast skill Abigail was using. It looked like dust was collecting before her. We managed different Brewer’s Bubbles for each barley before mixing them together.

“Fatten Cone is a new one,” said Abigail. “A diamond rank skill.”

The hops brightened in color. The cones opened up like pinecones in hot water. Their fragrance became rich and humid. After the boil, she pitched the beer. I used my Foam Cascade skill and listened to the whipping hush form within Brewer’s Bubble.

Abigail was so focused, she looked mean. “One last step—the memory.”

I employed Alchemical Control without any ingredients to contribute. My system asked if I’d like to imbue the beer with the Imbue Memory attribute.

[Begin memory.]

Cool morning air streamed over the land, over all of it; over the leaf laden forest floor, through undergrowth, between trees, through my hair, and across my brow and eyelashes and lips. Above a reflecting silver land, enormous fireflies frenzied their wings. They flashed hued lights so brilliantly that they should have exploded with each flash.

A hand slipped into mine. It was hot, like the surface of a sleeping stove with embers in its belly. Between our palms was her heartbeat. It beat hot against my palm, hot enough to widen my eyes. Secret lips kissed my cheek.

[End memory.]

We bottled the beer in Ethereal Forged waterskins the size of burlap sacks. My Whipped White Foam Cascade sub skill saw a massive increase in levels, and it was now at level 512. But I didn’t spend too much time thinking of my skills. Apart from the disappointment of not brewing a golden chapter beer, my thoughts were preoccupied by our hike. We laughed back and forth as we went. …Before I knew it, we had picked up the pace.

“We’ve been hiking so much that I’ve started hiking in my dreams, too,” I said. “For half the day I was certain we’d crossed the path of wild boars yesterday, until I realized it was just a dream.”

“Remember that stump that looked like a pig? That’s probably why you dreamed of boar.”

“That’s gotta be it. But I like it. My favorite days are hiking with you, and I get to dream about it too.”

It was almost confusing to go from ethereal planes full of spreading landmarks, to having dreams of the forests, to the silvery and green and bark brown world in front of me now.

As Abigail resumed work toward her Thewwy’s Puncheon tap quest, I took the lead to the next libation location.