Chapter 35

Honeysuckle and Amaranth

Brewer’s Reputation: 905.

Dream Cutter Stone Shard Quest: 13,300/15,000 shards.

Much of the following morning was spent on the Beyond the Cabin ethereal plane. There was still the matter of brewing beer for distribution, forging ethereal ingredients, gardening for the fall harvest, and harvesting what was currently at peak.

I focused first on cloning Ethereal Stroll beers. Since those ethereal planes had been trespassed upon, I decided to make it a public project. Something was ruined about it for me; however, I didn’t want all of my hard work to go to waste. I discussed the matter at length with Abigail. We came up with the plan to simply sell it to Hiccup since it was an award winning beer. People of the world could delight in it, and it offered a stark contrast to the ethereal dungeon beers.

That didn’t take away from the fact that I was cloning as much of ethereal dungeon beers #1, #2, and #3 as I could. After a morning of cloning, my Ethereal Dungeon Master skill leveled to 856. I could still not use the 4th dungeon core in my inventory—try as I might.

For the remainder of our time on the plane, Abigail and I worked together to brew thousands of gallons of goblin spit beer. I worked with haste to forge ethereal labels and to wrap them into barrels.

“We’re going to run out of ptooey soon,“ Abigail said.

Out of 50 black barrels, 40 were empty.

“We’ll have to talk with Slime-tooth,” I said. “It’s great that we’re brewing more and more each month, but we’ll have to talk with Slime-tooth. If the goblins can’t keep up, we can’t brew more.”

“Aren’t they producing as much as they can?”

“That’s what we’ve been told.”

“I don’t see it happening—unless Gloom-glower’s fleet could triple.”

“Then we’ll soon reach our limit. That’ll be that.”

“I’m sure they’ll take regular beer instead.”

“We’ll see. If that turns out to be their only other option, then what can they do?”

Before leaving the plane, I gandered a look at my stats to see what leveled up. Brewer’s Harvest leveled up to 1829, Foam Cascade leveled up to 1679, Alchemical Control hit level 1999, Mash Master leveled up to 1973, Throughout the Ages leveled up to 1865, and Clone Ethereal Beer leveled up to 1802.

All my skills were slowly joining Brewer’s Bubble, Hop Wallop, and Forge Ethereal Label at level 1999. Planes Cutter Master was on the brink of silver at level 988.

After organizing ethereal barrels into neat floating rows, we returned to the wilderness. I led us through pockets of ferns and heaps of last year’s leaves. I picked paths that skirted low hanging branches.

We came upon an old trail of mine. Abigail and I had hiked the trail before. So did Barnacle-eyes and I. Wood was piled in neat round logs every few dozen yards. Tree stumps held a mess of acorn and pinecone shells. Honeysuckle grew along the edges of the trail. Goldenrods grew at the base, and they looked ready to flower. Chamomile grew interspersed among the goldenrod. They were in full bloom. Not only were they all flowering, their chalky musk hunkered in the air like a haze.

Stolen novel; please report.

“The marigold’s we grow,” Abigail said. “...When you touch the leaves, stems; they give off a fragrant tang. Chamomile sometimes reminds me of that.”

“I know, but it’s sweeter, isn’t it?”

“Like honey.”

“It reminds me of one of your barley wines. You brewed something one day that tasted like it had been aged in a crypt where the sun was allowed to shine.”

“There’s something meaty about it,” Abigail said.

“But if there was ever a tea that tastes like flowers, chamomile tea would be it.”

“Why don’t we harvest some?”

We waded into the chamomile and plucked the flowerheads. Every time I stood, I brushed my head in the honeysuckle flowers. Dew dripped down my temples. Busy bees buzzed in warning and moved along. Abigail too brushed against the honeysuckle. She blinked against a rivulet of honeysuckle nectar as it ran down over her face. She licked the bead of nectar from her lips.

“I’ve got an idea,” she said. “Mind if I experiment with a recipe?”

I gestured “go for it”.

She brought up her hands and must have used Brewer’s Bubble. As though her fingers were claws that clutched at an invisible drape, she stepped back and pulled her hands back. The honeysuckle flowers rose as if each one was pulled by an invisible thread. Beads of watery nectar began to float out from each flowerhead with mangled-looking petals. Abigail turned toward other honeysuckle bushes along the trail. She turned toward the other side of the trail. Thousands of drops of honeysuckle juice rained toward her and collected into a wobbling sphere of liquid. It looked like pure pastel amber, like resin that could trap not only insects, but also sunbeams.

Grain flew from her inventory in an arc. The cereal was wheat colored, but round like millet. Abigail began to employ a series of different skills, one after the other. The cereal was malted, roasted, and then mashed. Hops were added a moment later, and then the spent grain and hops were cast into the woods for animals and insects. The beer chilled to near ice with the obvious use of Brewer’s Chill.

After a successful brew, she bottled the beer in twenty, 250ml bottles. She held each one aloft, one by one, and donated them to her god. With each donation, they transmuted into shards. She handed one of the bottles to me and said that she had 5,990 more shards to go until her shard quest was complete.

We shared the beer, and I opened up my Collector’s Journal to find out what grain she had used.

[Amaranth, Am I Right?]

[Gold rank. 01/100 Greater Mythic.]

[Brewed by Abigail Yak.]

[Brewed with Yak and Billings hops, Amaranth, and honeysuckle nectar, this cereal beer boasts a higher alcohol content that marries the sweet tangerine of the hops with the grit of beautifully malted amaranth. The foam is Supreme Lattice. The aroma is reminiscent of white and donut peaches and double juicy. The malt of the beer is nearly 100% dry which masterfully tames the sweetness.]

“Broke into the Greater Mythic quality,” Abigail said.

My congratulations was perhaps over enthusiastic, but I couldn’t have been happier for her. I was struggling so much to break into gold. Her success felt like my success. Breaking into another quality tier was no easy feat and she was several ahead of me.

“As you know,” she said, “Grand Honorable is that last quality tier of silver. In gold it goes, Lesser Chimeric, Chimeric, Greater Chimeric, Lesser Mythic, Mythic, and Greater Mythic.”

“You’re in the last quality tier of gold?”

“If you’re curious, my Brewer quest path is at three thousand eight hundred and sixty-one.”

“You’re already in the second part of gold?”

“It might seem like I’m close to the four thousand diamond rank; however, nothing could be further from the truth. It’s taken a year to simply improve my quest path by one hundred levels. It’ll be a few years before I reach three thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine. Then I’ll have to break through.”

“Do you think you will?”

“No.”

“That sounded like an easy answer.”

“I’m not quest path focused. I’d probably have to work with a diamond rank Brewer for a few years and focus on nothing but brewing to really break into diamond. The two and three thousand levels are no joke. I made the decision before we met that I was happy at gold. I wanted to enjoy life. If I ever do reach diamond rank, it will be done at my leisure.”