Chapter 135

More Heads is not Better than One

Hawkin

Brewer’s Reputation: 382

The ebony handle was smoother than any other tool I had ever used. The grain had been cut at such an angle and with such skill that the wood needed no polish. With barely any pressure, my grip held firm. When I swung the axe, the handle never rotated. Thus, my strikes went deeper, bit with more volume, and an apple could be placed on the remaining stump without rolling. Ah, how much better it was to use a proper tool.

As I caught my breath in the spring air, I gaze at the canopy where monstrous fireflies flew. It was late enough in spring that they were laden with pollen, like they were giant bumble-bees. From the forest, fireflies of all sizes emerged from their silver cocoons. They swarmed the canopy enough that they applied green-yellow caustics to the forest floor and the sumacs.

I couldn’t believe it. The sumacs bore their bright red fruit right at our feet. Coming upon them meant that the sea was not so far. A wind rose, and I lifted my chin. I smelled the salt of the sea! Ah, what a brine!

All the work we were putting into trail management would shift to building the tavern very soon. Very soon. I was undeniably anxious about it. I was also excited. How terrifying it was to build something for the express purpose of accommodating people near my woods which I had been spending years defending.

I shook my head as I climbed the hill of sumacs. At the top, I gripped a leg-thick trunk and gazed out. The sea lay there beautifully murky-blue. Sunlight sparkled at the crest of every single wave. The Mist Hidden wall blocked much of the north from my view.

Halfway down the hill where it was grassy, I found a good vista over the wall. The grass was up to my waist, and I sat among the stalks for privacy. With a focus on my level 2300 Hop Wallop skill, I attempted to brew a golden chapter beer.

[Wheat Double Lager.]

[Gold Rank 09/100 Chimeric.]

[Savan wheat and Ovin barley blend flavors of rust, crystalized honey, yarrow, and ginseng. The foam is Whipped White which bursts over the fist and wrist like a gauntlet. Contains an unknown ethereal. Condensed flavors of lemon zest appear in pops of star-shaped starbursts. The carbonation is directionless, and the beer restlessly swirls.]

I sighed, and I wrapped my hands around my knees. It was my best beer to date, beating my previous quality record by 3 points. However, I had still not achieved my ultimate goal. I closed my eyes and listened to the rustle of the grass heads in the sea born wind.

I hadn’t had many moments to myself while we made our way west to the sea, but in the times that I did, I attempted golden chapter beers. Brewers had interrupted me in almost each of those moments. Word had spread among the adventurers that I was determined to brew golden chapter beers. Since then, I had nonstop received unsolicited advice.

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My ears perked at the sound of someone bounding down the grass. It was a Beer Collector whose name I had forgotten. He smiled, offered to share a bowl of fruit, and sat beside me.

“Pears? They’re perfectly ripe.”

Fruit was rare to me. “Thank you.”

“How’s the golden chapter coming along?”

“Still trying.”

“I’ve come across my fair share of them. And the Brewers that craft such wonders have the same thing in common. They focus on one recipe over and over again, like a flagship ale. That’s all you need to do. The rest will sort itself out.”

All well and good, but others had given me different advice. Just the other day when we were clearing elm, a silver rank Brewer had approached me. He’d surprised me by putting his arm around my shoulders like camaraderie could be forced.

“Scoring a golden chapter beer is like trying to shoot down a bird at night. But don’t even think about putting down your bow. Just keep shooting. Eventually, one of your arrows will hit. Don’t worry buddy, you’re doing the right thing. Give that noggin of yours a rest, and just brew, brew, brew. Make as many different beers as you can. Eventually you’ll knock out a golden chapter. That’s all there is to it.”

Then there was the day where we had to detour around a marsh of cattails. Another Breer had sidled up beside me around my nightly fire with Abigail.

“Lemme tell you a little secret. One that my first mentor shared with me. A wise man, he was.” He had made a fist. “It’s all a matter of power. You gotta level everything up as high as you can. Once you’re at the top, poof, it just happens.”

Ah, but that didn’t make sense. Hadn’t silver rank Brewers achieved golden chapter beers before? How did it make sense then that it was only a matter of leveling up? Even before taking their advice seriously, it went against the advice that Abigail had first shared with me.

So I politely listened to the Beer Collector while we shared dripping pears. And after lunch we descended the hill and continued the path through a forest of pine where the undergrowth was darker.

The pine wasn’t so dark that I didn’t see the sun beginning to set. Our troop made camp and settled in. Over soup, a Brewer made himself comfortable at the fire Abigail and I shared. He wanted to compare Collector’s Journals and fill some more pages out together. Eventually, he asked how it was going with my quest to brew a golden chapter beer.

“Closest I’ve gotten is with Memory attribute beers.” I tipped my chin at Abigail. “Her advice was to focus on those because they’re similar.”

“If I were you, I’d keep an eye out for rare ingredients. The exotic stuff really pushes your skills. That’s what happened to my mentor, and that’s what happened to me.”

But I had received a ton of wild ingredients and new strains of barley and hops. I had used plenty, and I had leveled up my new Paired Stars skill to 94 which imbued the beers with star-shaped clusters of flavor that popped on the tongue. No matter what ingredient I used, I couldn’t brew the beer I was after. All I could do, day after day, was continue my efforts and sleep on my shortcomings.

The next morning, the pine didn’t seem so dark, but the pine needles had built up over the years and I had to almost wade through them. Another Brewer waded up beside me as I bee lined for a standing dead pine.

“Any luck?” she said.

Of course it was about golden chapter beer. “Nope. “Don’t suppose you have any advice?”

“Glad you asked! It all comes down to one simple thing. Travel! Seek out the masters! You need to work under as many better-than-you brewers as possible and steal their tricks. If you stay in one place, you won’t get anywhere. Trust me.”

We were traveling. We were on our last stretch to the sea and it was enough traveling for me. I’d had to wade through grass, almost through a marsh, through accumulated pine needles, through fern…

I was the first to break through the fern. The sandy coast was at my feet, and the sea ebbed over small rocks. We had made it. There were only a few more trees to lumber, but this was it: the end of the trail alongside the Mist Hidden wall.

There were ships coming in from the south. There were humans aboard.