Chapter 98

You are why I left

Brewer’s Reputation: 420.

At the firepit, Abigail toggled her cloak on. The fabric was pillow thick, and the hood hung like a high backpack.

She was emotionless for a moment, probably taking inventory. Her gaze then fell upon me. “See you soon.”

She snapped her fingers, and a series of incorporeal sounds followed. Glass shattered, liquid tinkled, and beer foam hushed. She vanished. It seemed that all she left behind was a column of blue-ish smoke, but that smoke was drifting out from the smoke stack of Thrush’s smoker.

Thrush was enthralled by his smoker. His purring was loud enough to be heard over the fire. It wasn’t thunder that rolled over the dome over the Sheltering Bubble, it was the gurgling of his belly. The flowers in the meadow and upon the brewery twitched at the sound and at Thrush’s stomping. The beast moved over to the offset chamber and stuffed more pecan wood over orange blue-tipped flames.

The smoke turned white for a moment before returning to its blue-ish color moments later. Thrush stomped back and put a paw on the handle of the smoker door. Flesh sizzled, black smoke squeezed out between his digits. In his massive eyes, there was excitement. He never failed to open the smoker door like it was the lid to a legendary loot chest. Melting fat rolled over blackening meat. Thrush’s toes danced, his eyes pulsed, and he showed his fangs with what was supposed to be a smile. Ah, but no other loot chest could contain such a treasure to Thrush.

And now that I had loot chests on my mind, and brewing beer was without a doubt what I treasured, it was time to open my two latest chests on Beyond the Cabin.

One sip took me to that plane. In the log house, Chimeric colors screamed from the shelves full of master beers. Sitting on the floor, I pulled out my rare silver ranked Brewer and Planes Cutter loot chests.

The wood of each chest was cheap soft pine. The metal brackets on each corner reflected the colors of forged ethereal labels from the shelves. Each chest seemed rather magical at that moment, and Barnacle-eyes came to mind. She always reacted to her loot chests like they were just as magical, and she loved them, and she stuffed them full of found treasures.

The Planes Cutter loot chest opened with a creak. There were Modify Ethereal Plane skill books, a Forge Ethereal Wheat skill book, a Dungeon Core, and a jar. The dungeon core was no larger than a human skull. Its surface was rough basalt with glassy inclusions that seemed to go from one end to the other like arrows stuck in a tight quiver. Ah, Dungeon Core #5 then. Perhaps an ice billy goat lager would suit it.

[Insufficient Minion Master level.]

[Insufficient Ethereal Dungeon Master level.]

Ah, of course.

The last item was a jar with a tag that read Planes-mana Collection Jar. The glass was thick and clear, and it was as large as a pie pumpkin. The cork was just as wide and I could fit my whole hand inside the jar.

Barnacle-eyes would have loved this. At the first thought of her getting her hands on the jar, I burst with laughter. The jar would have occupied her for a whole day! From morning to dusk, she would have spent her time putting things in, taking things out, and putting things in again, and taking things out again.

She would have carried it with her everywhere. It would have been tucked into her armpit while she mashed grain in the brewery. It would have broken the seams of one of her pockets—that’s for sure! And if her hands were full, she would prioritize the jar.

I rocked back and chuckled. This jar would have replaced her tankard for the day. After chewing on the cork, she would have drunk goblin spit beer from it.

Oh what a goblin… And while my mind imagined her with the jar for a day, I found myself laughing and chuckling along.

“Oh, Barnacle-eyes.”

Luckily, since the tag hadn’t been chewed off and made into paste I could read the instructions. So I placed the jar in midair on the ethereal plane. It hovered there with the cork beside it. After only a moment, a bead of condensation developed on the inside of the neck. When it fattened, it rolled down to the bottom. The liquid was the color of blue topaz and it sparkled like a cut gem. …Another bead of condensation formed. How long would it take to fill?

Certainly enough time to at least see what my Brewer’s loot chest was filled with. And it had been such a long time since opening loot chests had been so much fun! Inside, I found coils of new hops, new burlap purses of grain, and a bottle of beer. Looking at the bottle of beer, it was easy to guess what the little goblin would have to say if she were here.

“Um, does this have ptooey in it?”

“Not likely.”

“Then it might not be good because good means ptooey.”

“Everyone has different tastes. And wouldn’t a gold rank spit beer taste better than a bronze rank spit beer?”

“But a bronze rank ptooey tastes better than a gold rank any-other-beer.”

And so the conversation would go, until she had too many thoughts going on at once, and then she’d ask for an onion to splash into her beer.

And as always, while coming up for air once in a while, she would offer to share her beer. It was a good beer, and it should be shared immediately because it was so good and she would smile and offer her entire tankard earnestly.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Laughter once more bounced around the log house. Oh, that goblin. I spent a minute letting the rest of my imagination run wild while my laughter ran its course.

In that time, condensation had run down the length of the new bottle of beer. I opened it and drank.

[Blue Ballet.]

[Silver rank. 74/100 Greater Legendary.]

[Brewed by Bergam Ilema.]

[Brewed from the blue hop yards in Kalefet. Both the foam and beer sparkle like azurite. One of the bluest beers on the market. Hops are grown in the lush wild hummocks of rural Kalefet.]

With all the items put away, I brought the empty loot chests out into the ethereal atmosphere. They would mark the start of a new pile, and would be filled with fruit, or beer, or anything else that I could give to Barnacle-eyes and Remember-not—couldn’t forget about her too, of course. They were bound to return for a visit, weren’t they?

Just as I was bound to return to my cabin grounds. Blue smoke drifted over the flowers and up to the top of our Sheltering Bubble where a dome of snow still blocked the sky. Had I been so busy, or did Abigail return much earlier than expected? How was her visit to Lavenfauvish? She slumped onto one of the firepit logs.

She was out of breath. A chill must have reddened her cheeks. I fueled the fire.

“I couldn’t find Slime-tooth again,” she said.

“You had time to look for him?”

“I dropped off more sustenance and healing beers.”

“I’m glad,” I said. She heaved a deep breath. “Are you all right?”

“Since I’ve reached diamond, long distance Brewer’s Portals are much more tolerable, but they still take their toll. I’m beat.”

“I thought you’d be tired.” I squatted before her and took her cold hand. Softly I said, “I’ve put extra blankets on the bed. I’ll put a fire in the stove.”

We gazed, and we gazed, and we gazed at each other. Flames burned in our half eyes. Blue smoke drifted around us.

“Oh, try this!” I said and brought out the rest of Blue Ballet.

“Not bad for silver rank! It’s so blue! This is like gemstone blue.”

Her eyes lit with excitement. As she explored the beer, I began to pick up on the flavors she masterfully identified.

“It’s viciously raspberry, wouldn’t you say? I think this is the first time I’ve ever tasted the color blue. It’s almost like candy gum and spun sugar?”

It was true. I tasted the beer as though for the first time. Why hadn’t it tasted nearly as good before? Only after she mentioned those flavors could I pinpoint them, and I had to agree with her. It was as if she unlocked my taste buds.

The ground shook beneath us. Thunder rolled underground. The wood pile rattled. …Thrush drew near.

“Smoked fish is almost ready!” said Thrush. “I want you to have first pick of the fish. Take the best parts!”

Abigail shot up. “Quick, let’s make that pecan pie for my favorite people!”

“At zero percent human, I’m no longer people.”

“Well, you’re still one hundred percent my favorite.”

“At one point, all by myself I was people…”

Any more of us, and it would have been tough to fit in the cabin. Especially with all the space Abigail needed to make pie. She hurled ingredients from her inventory and nearly filled up the table. Thrush came right up to the edge of the table. HIs eyes came just over the table, and his claws clutched the edge. There, he purred.

Abigail gave me instructions on the filling while she worked on the dough. The smell of roasting pecans, like buttered wood and roasting chestnuts, filled the cabin. Abigail cut a giant circle into her rolled out pie dough and set the cut ends to the side.

Thrush put the tip of a claw into the discarded dough. “Can I eat this?”

Abigail nodded and slid more pieces over. Thrush opened his mouth, like it was a lid, and scooped the dough into his mouth. His purring became deeper, and his eyes began to pulse.

And I stirred the roasting pecans until they were done and I was ready for the next few instructions. I brought our wood oven stove to temp.

“Can I eat this?”

“Go ahead,” said Abigail.”

And as the filling came closer together, and more pie dough was rolled out…

“Can I eat this?”

“No.”

And soon, in the rhythm of things, Abigail told me all about her trip to Lavenfauvish before seeking out Slime-tooth. Erik Skullander was all on board with our idea. He had asked for a paltry cut with each cloned brew, and was very adamant about Slime-tooth’s name remaining on the title. Corylus helped us acquire the seeds—anything for Hawkin, he’d said—and first thing tomorrow…

“How about this?” said Thrush.

“No—uhm, actually, yes, it’s all yours, enjoy.”

…We could start planting Little Spuck okra on the ethereal plane. It would be fantastic to work on gardening again, and maybe we could tend to the flowers that needed attention on the cabin grounds.

“Can I eat the spoon?”

“Lick. Lick the spoon.”

Thrush licked the long wooden spoon. HIs tongue brought it into his mouth. There was a loud crunch.

“Sorry,” he said. But there came another loud crunch. “Sorry.” Another crunch. “I’m so hungry.”

We assured Thrush that it was all right, the thing was old and too used anyway.

Sending the spoon to the depths of Thrush’s belly must have been what made Abigail remember something else from her visit to Lavenfauvish. Hiccup had been beyond excited to receive the latest dungeon beer with the Minion Master. And since he knew it was going to be more dangerous, they consulted with the city of Lavenfauvish, who dispatched a dungeon inspector to explore with them. It caused a stir among the eager dungeon seekers who’d been waiting for the next Ethereal dungeon to hit market.

“Can I eat the rest of this?”

“Here you go.”

And Corylus had been focusing on evolving walking plants lately, and that had been so much fun to see.

Thrush’s belly gurgled. He burped.

“Yes, Thrush, all yours,” said Abigail, giving him the bowl with the rest of the filling.

And the pies were placed in the wood oven on racks.

While Abigail explained to Thrush that the pie had to bake, and it would take time—yes, like smoking fish—I couldn’t help but feel something suddenly sit right with me.

Thrush treasured his smoked fish, but here he was eating scraps from the table and waiting for pie to bake while he had a massive slab of smoked fish in his smoker ready to eat. While Abigail was exhausted after traveling long distance, she had gone to look for Slime-tooth, and here she was making pie for everyone, instead of recovering.

And while loot chests were just loot chests, thinking about Barnacle-eyes had turned the loot chests into something else, something much more fun. Even sharing a beer with Abigail had brought out more flavors than before.

I sat and admired my companions at the window of the wood oven stove.

How exciting would loot chests have been without having had Barnacle-eyes in my life? And without her, Abigail, and Thrush, brewing beer would only be half the treasure it had become.

How strange it was to realize this. Lunstad had been filled with people. How was it that this human and those creatures had brought a tremendous amount of joy to the life of a hermit?

Ah, but it wasn’t just being around people and creatures that brought joy.

I left Lunstad because of the unkindness of people. And It wasn’t that Barnacle-eyes would share her ptooey with me; Thrush his smoked meats; Abigail her soul. People in Lunstad had shared things too.

Oh, how clear it was…

To some, all their lives, kindness is a fantasy. And some people, some creatures, some goblins, were truly rare magics.