Chapter 21

Clone Brew.

The sound of the wind and snow took me from the collector’s journal. Winter was descending. Muscled arms of wind were using sheets of falling snow to brush and rake at the wilderness and my cabin.

The front door only opened when I used as much force as I could muster. Even then it only opened a few inches as it was blocked by quickly piling snow. The wind and snow were deafening outside and all I saw was white.

A gust came and slammed the door in my face. I was knocked backwards and fell back over my chair. The stove pipe whined and trembled. I felt a breeze through the stove.

The wind always foretold the brutality of winter and this wasn’t the worst to come. Winter would get much darker, much colder this year.

I should have warned Thrush. What was I thinking? I knew since the first signs of winter that this one was going to be a lethal one. How could I have simply let Thrush travel at exactly the wrong time?

To compensate for feeling worried about Thrush, I made extra onion soup. That way, Thrush would have something to eat if he returned today. It would be months before he returned, if he survived. There isn’t metal for hundreds of miles. Unless Thrush dug into the earth, eating as he went to mine metals.

I ended up eating the extra onion soup. Thrush wasn’t coming back soon.

I turned my focus to the level 3 Brewer’s skill book. I took my place upon the bed and held the book out.

[Level 3 Brewer’s skill book used.]

I didn’t take any damage, but I was exhausted by the time my mind absorbed all the knowledge within. I fought back an impending headache with several mugs full of water and laid back to massage my temples.

My system informed me that I’d reached level 3. I had a more improved taste for beer and ability to differentiate flavors. I acquired a higher tolerance to adverse effects, and beers that I brew will now have a minimum reputation of a Greater Poor Man’s beer. Lastly, I could now absorb level 4 Brewer’s skill books without taking damage or suffering harsh adverse effects.

I guess headaches and exhaustion aren’t considered harsh. Just like when I’d level up my axe wielding skill.

Leveling up high enough would one day grant me access to the Brewer’s Portal special attribute. Without guidance, I had no idea how that attribute worked and what it meant. Without another Fable stone, or a shrine to Dellia Lucerne, I was completely on my own. I had to find the answer to myself.

Drinking the ale from the Vale of Ara only granted me brief moments with Dellia on some plane between worlds. My time was always brief on that plane, and we barely had time to even open our mouths to say anything.

I wonder if leveling up would change that. Would I have more time in that summer field of flowers since I’d leveled up?

Before I tried, there were some things I needed to do, if I could exit my cabin. Judging by the receding sound of a violent winter storm, my cabin was buried deep beneath the snow.

It took me nearly an hour to finally open the door all the way. I had to scoop out a lot of snow. There was only one place to put all that snow. The empty 15.5 gallon barrel. Set by the stove, the snow quickly melted. One of the upsides of winter was the fresh source of water. As pure as the skies.

I dug my way through the snow outside, creating a long winding tunnel across the meadow and into the woods. Winter raged above. I kept digging, searching for hibernating vines.

I continued foraging for vines well into the next day after a fitful sleep. It was the storm that had kept me up. The howling. The battering of snow. I had heard tree branches crack in the distance. I even stumbled across a few as I collected vines.

After foraging enough, I set myself down and halved them on the bit of my axe. Then I scraped the pith from the insides, coiled the strips of vine, and boiled them to soften. After the first batch was sufficiently softened, I began weaving together a bowl. Then another. A third. Another, and a fifth. Then I stacked them together and wove them together.

“At last,” I said, hands cramping from the long and tedious task, “A strainer!”

Before testing the strainer, I celebrated my small achievement with a mug full of Ale from the Vale of Ara.

With the first sip, I succumbed to the illusion that I was on a summer field of yellow flowers where the dew freshly clung to thousands of petals. The illusion didn’t fade right away and I walked round a honeysuckle bush. Dellia Lucerne was crouched at the base of a bush, her hands cupped with a small bath of water. A small bird flickered in the water.

“Hawkin,” Dellia said, and I promptly came to, back in my cabin.

That lasted longer than usual! We were able to talk again, like the first couple times!

Leveling up must have been what kept me there. I wondered if that summer field was part of the Vale of Ara. The special attribute Brewer’s Portal suggested that might be the case. It didn’t quite make sense to me since the illusion, or plane of existence was strictly summer. The Vale of Ara would be covered in as much snow as my woods were.

After enjoying my mug of ale, I finished the rest of my day with some housekeeping, and brewing beer in the last four gourds I had available. One of which I’d fitted with a makeshift cork. Three of the gourds were filled with my lesser ingredients, while the fifth had been brewed with my best ingredients and blue brewer’s yeast. Having a strainer was a blessing. Separating the liquid wort from the grain mash was suddenly a lot more painless. There was now much less sediment in the beers. Just as I corked the mana beer to ferment, a prompt came up.

[New Quest Objective: Clone Brew.]

[Clone Honey Wicks Brown Ale.]

[Reward: Twenty uncommon brewer’s loot chests. Two rare brewer’s loot chests. One legendary brewer’s loot chest]

[Accept quest objective: Y/N?]

“Absolutely I accept,” I said, chuckling to myself.

After a quick dinner of roasted squash, I settled myself in my chair, across from the stove. I could hardly hear the winter storm, buried so deep as I was. I filled the stove with small throw away pieces of the strainer I’d woven and poured myself some of Henry Wicks Brown Ale.

Time to test my brewer skills and get to know what I’ll be cloning.