Chapter 32
Daisies
Hawkin
Brewer’s Reputation: 999.
Dream Cutter Stone Shard Quest: 13,300/15,000 shards.
I woke to the sound of footsteps on dewy grass. I could not make out the figure that stealthily moved through the dark of predawn. It was not Thrush because the earth did not quake. I shimmied out of my bedroll, sat up on my elbows, and squinted.
Abigail cursed and then said, “I tried not to wake you.”
I grumbled something—I wasn’t even sure what it was, nor what I wanted to say. I was so tired that it took me several minutes to kick my mind into gear. Abigail meanwhile put together a small fire, just for light, and made tea. The tea was made with actual tea leaves, not the tisanes which I’d been calling tea for over a decade. It was dark brown like corn liquor. Flashes of flames rippled upon the surface. It had a fragrance of toasted cacao and mango. On the tongue it was smooth. There was an aftertaste of baked earth. Halfway through my mug, I was able to think straight.
“Morning,” I said.
Abigail was also tired. Our chatter was soft, barely above whispers, and we were slow to finish our teas.
The sky lightened. The colossal oak, grown to impossible heights because of the Aggravated Wild Growth attribute, caught the sudden sun on its trunk. The sun wept down the tree like gold water. When it reached its base, sunlight burst through the trees. Startled birds seemed to expend all their energy to sing. In the field where we had chosen to camp days before, crickets and grasshoppers leapt around like it was time to escape. Then sunlight found the flowers in the field.
Daisies.
What a beautiful name for such a flower. Hundreds of daisies stood among the glossy bulbous buttercups. Each daisy opened as though ardent for the sun. Their white petals stretched out. Every one popped open with the sound of flapping wings. They bared their saturated disc florets so that the sun could sit there. The stems bounced as though to brace against the weight of the sun. If nature could fervently love, the sun and the daisies were sworn together.
“I have to tell you,” Abigail began.
She told me to expect visitors in the coming months. All manner of folk were headed north. My gut twisted into knots of frustration as I listened. Thoughts raced through my mind. I heaved several sighs. I shook my head.
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Was this all Hiccup’s fault? Or did his actions only speed up the process? My Brewer’s Reputation had just reached triple digits. How could I expect to be left alone in my corner of the world in such a scenario?
It was clear to me then that I had no idea what being one of the Greatest Brewer’s in the world would entail. Perhaps I was only about to glimpse the consequences. Kingdom seekers…Dellia had known from the very beginning.
“The necromancer,” I said. “Will he bring violence?”
“If he’s looking for a phylactery—for himself—it’s almost as though you have his life in your hands. I’m doubtful he’s out for a fight.”
“And the fable rank adventurers?”
“Perhaps they’re more ruthless…Like I said, they stood aside while Thrush ran Margaux down. I have no idea what skills they wield.”
“...We don’t know what they’ll do to getty what they want,” I said. “And the Mist Hidden wall?”
“That will keep everyone out except for the fable ranked. I don’t know about the necromancer.”
I was preoccupied with two things for the rest of the morning: building frustration, and impending arrivals. We entered the Beyond the Cabin ethereal plane and harvest cardoons, radishes, and carrots. We worked in silence. Abigail gave me the space to mull things over—brood, perhaps—and I appreciated that.
But it wasn’t long before something else intercepted my train of thought.
Abigail and I were on our knees in the earth. We pulled the carrots from the floating earth with ease. They tore from the soil and came out as small as my index finger. One by one, Abigail wrapped the greens around a knuckle, pinched down with her thumb and pulled the carrots. She was gentle and focused. She spent the time cleaning every one with a splash of water and Brewer’s Bubble. She-
“-What?” she said.
“What?”
“You’re looking at me funny.”
“Sorry. I…”
I continued pulling carrots from the earth. But it wasn’t long before I slowed to admire the way that she handled nature. Her gaze was fixated on the row and she passed me by to move along to the next few carrots. As she passed, I heard the sweet song of an almost indiscernible hum. She bobbed her head in tune and breathed easy during beats. She-
“-Hawkin, what?”
“Sorry.”
We didn’t have much more to collect. The radishes were stored in ethereal forged labels wrapped into barrels. So were the cardoons and the carrots. Then, after returning back to the field on our hike, we made roasted carrot soup. We both had a hand in the roast of the carrots. The soup turned out creamy, fragrant like queen anne’s lace flowers, and with a hint of sweet walnut.
We sat among the daisies which seemed to be caught in a mesmeric sway. Summer insects affected blades of grass. The long shadow of the large oak moved like the hand of a clock while we talked shop.
Breakfast was a breeze to clean up, and dessert came in the form of little green cones. Hops. Abigail and I went through both our inventories of hops and pried them open. They were like flaky pinecones. Each one gave a different resinous aroma. Some were kiwi. Others were lime-like. Others were woody and herbaceous. Some were tropical and grassy. One was like creamed buckwheat.
While Abigail worked on brewing a few different variations of crisp ales using millet, I painstakingly put all I had into brewing an ice billy goat lager with all my skills. Abigail lent me a handful of orange jelly hops.
My quality tier rose to 37/100 Grand Honorable and I leveled up a few skills: Fire and Roast rose to a whopping 1873, Forced Carbonation rose to level 1812, Throughout the Ages rose to level 1854, Brewer’s Chill rose to level 1922, Flash Ferment rose to level 1844, Foam Cascade rose to level 1647, and the Greater Classic sub skill rose to level 567. I still did not break into gold rank.