"As cliched as it risked sounding, nobles who acted like two-bit villains in plays, all arrogant and condescending and coasting by on their station of birth and family name actually existed. The plays had based their stories off some particularly egregious examples of these types from history.

In the modern day and age, however, most noble-born people behaved themselves more normally, and actively kept a lookout against precisely this sort of behaviour. The most recent incident was when a noble in the union was so disgraced by his son acting like this a mere few years ago that the house ended up being demoted in status, and the old head of the house committed suicide out of shame.

Some might say that the issue was situational, because the incident happened outside the noble's home territory, and the offended victim in this case happened to be someone with her own pull and background.

These detractors have a point, as I do not doubt that in some corners of the world, the noble's parents or family would have either paid off or silenced the victim instead if they could get away with it." - from a term paper by Leigh Wainswrought, sociology student in the Levain Institute for Higher Learning.

"Well, glad to see you're making yourself at home," said Orloff with a smile as he returned to the room. He then threw a ring at Cal, a storage ring Aideen had lent her for this very purpose. "Here's the lass' usual batch. Ought to last her a few more years at least."

"Thanks," Cal said as she caught the ring and inspected its contents. The ring was a large one, the storage inside shaped like a cube roughly ten meters to a side, just a level smaller than the pendant Xain gave her. The entire ring's space was filled to the brim with barrel after barrel of alcohol, stacked neatly. There was so much of it inside that Cal thought it would have easily lasted her a decade, so she couldn't help but ask. "Does she drink that much?"

"Aye, that lass drinks like a fish when she's in the mood," replied the old dwarf with a smile. "It's a bit of a loss to have promised her a lifetime supply of booze if I made it big, but eh, it's worth the hassle I'd say."

"I assume you made that promise long ago then?" asked Cal as she raised an eyebrow in question. Orloff's rise to fame was relatively recent, from a dwarvish point of view, though shorter lived races would have disagreed vehemently. She nibbled on the cap of a leathery preserved mushroom as she nursed her drink as she spoke. "These are good, by the way."

"Why thank you. They were my favorite when I was nowhere near this rich," replied the old dwarf with a smile. "It's sorta a long story, honestly, but as you might have guessed, I didn't exactly start out… well.. big like this."

"I figured as much," replied Cal as she took another bite from the mushroom. It was chewy after it had been preserved, with a pleasant flavor that was almost meaty. "I remember rot mages being stigmatized against until your rise changed things, even."

"Oh aye, that was a thing. I got lucky with my foster father, but not everybody was as lucky back then," said the Braumeister in a reminiscing, melancholic tone. "I take it you're familiar with how we dwarves here handle orphans?"

"In broad strokes," Cal replied. Unlike most other races, dwarves had no concept of orphanages. Instead, a system of foster parents was widespread amongst them, which encouraged adult dwarves - being a couple was optional - to adopt orphans as their foster children.

Since dwarves in general matured fast - they were pretty much independent by twenty, though most favored spending their first century to study and prepare first - and had long lives, the system worked well, especially since the government tacked on tax incentives that made it an even more attractive option. All it took was some judicious observation to ensure that nobody tried to abuse the system to their benefit.

"Aye, my foster father was Karl Himmelsweg. He was unmarried all his life, and I was but one of his many foster children, but he was always like a true father to us," said Orloff in wistful tones. "It was from him that I learned how to brew in the first place."

"He's a brewer too, then?" asked Cal as she went for a refill of ale, this time trying one of the other barrels, and also filled a second flagon for Orloff.

"Oh nay, he was a diplomat by trade. Brewing was merely something he did for a hobby on the road, in small batches just enough for himself and some friends," Orloff replied. "Most of my foster siblings pursued their own careers once they were of age. I had stayed and worked as my father's secretary and aide when I was young instead."

"I take it you met Aideen during one of those diplomatic trips, then," said Cal with an understanding nod. "Knowing her, she's probably the one that planted the idea of using your affinity to brew, isn't she?"

"You knew her well," said the old dwarf with another guffaw before he drained his flagon of ale in one gulp. "Indeed, it was around three centuries ago, when I was a wee lad barely past my own first century, that she got the idea into my head. My father was an old acquaintance of hers and always brought her to share some drinks whenever he went to Paradise, and it was there that we met."

"I didn't exactly act on the idea immediately, mind you. Took me another century before I gathered up my courage to give it a try," he added with a wistful sigh. "Father had given me his full support, but I had not expected Lady Aideen to offer monetary support as well, an unflagging one at that despite the lack of success in my first century of attempts."

"Knowing her? She probably saw something in you… or just felt like it," replied Cal with a chuckle, which elicited another guffaw from the old dwarf in turn.

"Probably. I started getting palatable results by the end of a century's worth of trial and error, but it was my first true success that got me to where I am now," replied Orloff with some melancholy in his voice. "To be honest, the look of pride in my foster father's eye was a greater reward for me than all that the king had granted to me. I was just glad I had succeeded in time."

"Oh, my apologies. I take it your foster father has passed, then?"

"Less than a decade after I was made a noble, aye. He did spend his last years proudly bragging about it though, may Tohrmut ward his soul," said Orloff with a widening smile. "Anyway, enough about me. I take it you liked my brews as well and would care for some?"

"Honestly? These are magnificent," said Cal in honest praise. "If you don't mind, I'd like to defer the purchase until a bit later, though. I have some friends who I think would appreciate the chance to get some of your brews as well."

"Easy enough to arrange," replied the Braumeister. He then took out a round pendant, the size of a large coin, and threw it to Cal, who caught it mid-air. "Just show that to the guard when you're back. They'll let you in right away."

"Why, thanks."