Making mead in single batches with no fancy equipment and no need for mass production felt like college all over again, and Alba, Livia, and Adrian were lovely company. They were all infinitely curious and absolutely devoted to their craft. Adrian and Livia had only been apprenticed to Mystic Alba for about four years, and would take their knowledge back to their tribes to continue the traditions. Alba had been making mead most of her life, and as it turned out this was actually her side gig. Her Mystic work usually had her making poultices, medicines, and performing small healing spells. While she wasn’t as effective as an [Alchemist] at potion making, or at healing as a [Healer], she was able to provide an adequate amount of both, and was flatly superior at dealing with things like the common cold. But with the war looming, she was focused on the mead as one last hail Barck attempt at uniting the tribes. She also knew a few fire spells, both for defense, and to cook with. Just like yours truly. We were seated around the lab, drinking one of their lower ABV session meads, when the door burst open and Failith practically tumbled through. “Lord Roughtuff! You’re here! You’re safe!” “Aye?” I asked, giving him a sardonic look. “Would I not be?” Failith nailed Alba with a look. “Alba can be – well, I’m glad things worked out. Do you need anything? Are your rooms satisfactory? Did she mayke you drink any of her bug mead?” He whispered the last with a note of horror. Alba laughed merrily, though Livia and Adrian didn’t join in. I chuckled as well. “Nah. We’ve been makin’ mead more than drinkin’ it. We think we’ve got a few leads.” Failith immediately brightened up. “Oh, excellent! I’m so glad to hear it!” I held up a half-full bottle of mead. “Session mead?” “A what?” He shooed Adrian away and sat down beside me. The youngster moved with only the faintest hint of a grimace. “Session mead. It’s a mead with a lower alcohol content than most. Closer ta 6 or 7% than the usual 12 ta 15. This ones a hydromel,” I explained. “Which means it’s made with water.” He shot Alba a plaintive look, and the old lady snickered. “Peyter’s been telling us all about the different types of meads,” she said. “We’ve learned quite a lot already!” “Aye. But I’m gonna be honest Failith, this feels like a lost cause. Without somethin’ more concrete there’s pretty much an infinite amount of permutations here.” Failith’s shoulders immediately slumped. “Of course.” “You said that this Mystic Isen might have more information?” Failith nodded. “Yes, though he’s occupied at the moment. There’s a rather difficult birth happening in the fields out West, and he’s handling it. He should be able to meet tomorrow.” “Jaira?” Alba asked, frowning. Failith nodded, and Alba swore. “Blessin’s of Barck to her,” I said, then stood. “Then I think it’s about time I went ta my rooms. And all this mead makin’ has me wantin’ to finish up a little project I’ve been working on!” “What is it?” Alba asked curiously. Balin and Starshine were both out when I went up to my room. We were located right at the front of the second floor, where we had a good view of the front courtyard and some of the seaside as well. The sounds of dwarven swearing and flashes of gold and silver visible out in the courtyard told me that the two of them were sparring with the beastfolk. The room itself wasn’t quite fancy enough to be called opulent. A pair of comfortable beds, festooned with furs and a few pieces of plush chairs and a coffee table were it for furniture, while the decor was mostly taxidermy of various birds and animals littering the walls. There was something disconcerting about looking up at the head of an elk on the wall, then glancing down at the antlered beastfolk in the courtyard below. I did a quick scan with [Map] to ensure there wasn’t anyone hiding in the room, or in the walls, or anywhere else, then popped open the door to Cascadia. The place was absolutely bustling. A few regulars spotted me and waved hello as I passed through the tavern, and I took a few minutes to chat, make polite greetings, and then hurried on down the path to Cascadia. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. My first couple nuruks had been ready earlier this month, and I’d set them up just inside the Vineyard in Cascadia. The temperature was always hot, dry, and windy in the dungeon, which made it perfect for drying the big blocks of moldy grains. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡✶𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚✶𝙣𝙚𝙩 With the dungeon opening for business soon, I wasn’t sure that I’d be able to leave them there for much longer, though. Maybe I could start building into the Vineyard? The local monsters really didn’t bother things if you kept them small and disorganized enough. As I walked into Cascadia, I snapped my fingers, and shouted, “[Fetch Monster]! I choose you, Deathbringer!” There was a *Pop!* and the big burly beaven suddenly appeared in front of me. He had a white bar of soap in one hand, and a makeshift loofa in the other. His fur was wet, and he wasn’t wearing the special armoured brigadine we’d had made for him. In fact, he was completely naked, other than his eye patch. We stared at each other in silence for a moment, until Deathbringer cleared his throat. “Yes?” “Y’know, I’m just realizin’ that I have no way of tellin’ ya that I’m about ta try and summon you,” I mumbled. “Sorry.” “You are the masterrr of this Dungeon, and I agreed to be your ally. You ‘ave no way of knowing when you will need me, but I am ‘appy to come when called.” “I just need an escort to the drying racks,” I admitted. “It wasn’t that important.” “The stinky boxes? This way.” So saying, Deathbringer swung around and waddled off to the East, his tail dragging behind him and covering his tracks. I had to jog to keep up with his long strides. “How are the folks?” I asked. “They do well. The kits grow strrrong under the tutelage of the one known as Jeremiah.” I tripped. “Jeremiah??” “Yes. ‘E trains them in the way of the axe, and in pushing and pulling against the flow of the river. ‘E has fashioned them strange balls made of metal to strengthen their arms and has them do ‘squats’.” “Weight training,” I whispered. Jeremiah had been a gym junky back in his early days. Was he reliving his youth with the beaven? “And our making of the sugar sap goes apace. We should ‘ave enough to start providing you with the excesses soon. And much salmon!” “Excellent, excellent!” I rubbed my hands together with glee. The world wasn’t ready for maple sugar! It was still godsawfully expensive to make sweets in this world, since most sugar came from rare or hard-to-obtain dungeon materials. But the beaven’s maple syrup setup was able to pump out scads of the stuff, and Deathbringer’s boss aura kept the monsters away. This was also part of my plan to protect the beaven. No adventurer was going to attack the monsters – er, people – in charge of making the maple sweets and cakes available in the tavern. Bran and every other adventurer in the Liminal Inn would kill them! We soon arrived at a nondescript part of the vineyard where several wooden boxes had been set up. I sniffed, but couldn’t smell much beyond the faint whiff of sea breeze and musty dirt. Unfortunately, before I could jump in and check out my handiwork, I had to wait while Deathbringer went and booted out a pair of keggers who were hiding amongst the boxes. The two barrel-shapped monsters fled, rattling their wooden sides and making creaking sounds that sounded almost like yelps. “You said it stinks?” I asked, moving up to one of the boxes and giving it a smell. It was easy to tell when nuruk was ready for drying, as the initial white mush would become an off-white greyish yellow, and start sprouting dark red hairy mould. It did have a rather unique scent, but the drying process was meant to eliminate all that. “Brrrrr.” Deathbringer made a noise in the back of his throat, which I took to be acknowledgement. “It smelled terrible when it first came.” I eyed the big beaven. “That was before we knew each other. Hey! Were you eyeing to steal my nuruk racks too!?” “No, we avoided them. What were they for?” He snuffed closer. “They do not smell as bad.” “It’s for makgeolli!” Deathbringer tried, but wasn’t able to get his large incisors around the word. “Mak – gilly?” “Fizzy rice wine.” I went up and pulled one of the sheets out. It’d been drying for just over a month, which was on the low end for Nuruk, but would do in a pinch. And this was a pinch. I was eager to try out some new drinks dammit! None of the meads I’d made with Alba had been ‘new’ for my ‘More Brews’ quest, which meant some Mystic or mead enthusiast somewhere had made them before. I’d asked if they had a record, but Alba said she only had her records, not whatever other tribes had come up with over the years. I gave the solid brown hunk a sniff. “Yep, smells like nuruk. Good. If it still smelled mouldy, it wouldn’t be ready.” It mostly smelled like attic to me. Or like my old aunt Matilda. Deathbringer took a plate of the nuruk as well, and scraped it curiously with a claw. “Does it work like syrup? You boil it?” “Nope. I just need to grind this stuff up, then mix it with some rice, water, and sugar. The resulting slurry gets put into an earthenware pot called a hangari. I got one custom made a few weeks ago – it looks like a wide vase, but with a lid.” Deathbringer shook his head. “I do not underrrstand. But it will bring you joy?” “Some tasty makgeolli just in time for summer, and maybe even soju? Definitely.” We gathered nuruk for a few minutes, then walked back to the entrance of Cascadia. As we approached the door, Deathbringer said awkwardly. “May I… return to my bath? My wives will be wondering where I went.” I flinched. “Oh, uh, sorry, I’m not sure how this works? Uh, go back! I unsummon you! Deathbringer, return!” With another *pop*, the big beaven disappeared, leaving me alone with my dessicated mould and my happy thoughts. I was going to take this stuff down to my nuruk lair, raid Bran’s kitchen for some rice, and set it to ferment. The first batch of makgeolli and the first batch of mead would be ready at roughly the same time. I couldn’t wait!