Chapter 123

You Bastard.

I woke up just before the sun rose.

There was an ache in my bones. My journey was starting to roughen me up a bit. Though my bedroll was comfortable, sleeping on the ground was still sleeping on the ground.

I shivered, surprised at how cool it had gotten overnight. A yellow leaf spiraled down from the rustling canopy. The leaf struck dew from a fern.

I donned a knit cardigan, tied my hair back and broke camp. Dagger in hand, I carved slices from an apple as I made my way to the coast. I could hear the sea. The crashing waves that had lulled me to sleep last night.

I emerged upon the bank of the coast just as the sun laid upon the sea like a throw. The sky was peach colored where the sun rose, and turquoise in the north.

How far north must I go?

After stretching, I drank from another Speed attribute beer and powered up the coast. I Dodged driftwood. Leapt across boulders. Avoided the sand and rocks.

I couldn’t help but think how far from home I was. My gut twisted and a longing for home made me look back down the coast every once in a while. I missed my hills. My solitude. My gardens. The poetry of my daily life, fulfilling nothing but small tasks and brewing beer at my whim.

By midday, I’d returned my cardigan to my inventory. The sun warmed the earth. The sea wind seasoned my hair with salt. I’d covered a few days of travel in the span of the morning and stopped upon a long stretch of a sandy beach for a break.

Sandals in hand, I went down to the water. My dress snapped in the wind. I fought with my hair. The sound of the waves exhausted me. I sat upon bleached driftwood with an empty mind and stared out to sea. Out at the waves. The rolling surf. The debris of tethered pieces of wood.

A skeleton washed ashore. Its lifeless form, carried by the tide, looked as though it were tumbling about, grasping for a resting place. It was then that I noticed all the debris that had washed ashore. Bands of metal stapled to wood. The ragged cloth of a mast. A broken barrel with its hoops undressed at its bottom.

I rose, wiped sand from my dress, and advanced upon the barrel. Just beyond it were more barrels, half buried in sand. They were dark, stained, and beaten from innumerable use.

I rocked one to find it full. Liquid sloshed within. I heaved one from the sand and rolled it. The name HAWKIN was branded upon the staves and head.

“You’re kidding me,” I muttered.

I deposited the barrel into my inventory, and ascended the shore back to my driftwood seat. I brought out the barrel, put the point of my dagger to the bunghole cork and pried it open with a loud pop. Foam blasted out and drenched me. I gasped like I’d fallen into frigid water.

It took a moment for my brain to start working. I engaged Brewer’s Bubble and gathered 100 gallons of seawater. I guided the massive floating bubble over to me and peered through, seeing a dark object within. It was a skeletal severed hand clutching a stave. I plucked it out and then guided the brewer’s bubble closer towards me. I stepped inside and with a gesture, churned the water. Then I filtered away the beer that covered me as I stepped back out, and then let the bubble of seawater fall to the shore and flow back to the sea.

I was drenched but clean.

I returned to the open barrel where foam slowly snaked out and spilled upon the sand. The foam was earwax yellow. Discolored in my opinion. Didn’t seem right. My grimace didn’t hide my impression of Hawkin’s beer.

Who knows how long this has been at sea. How contaminated it is. However, it was still under pressure. The barrel was airtight.

I used Brewer’s Bubble to withdraw a small amount of liquid from the barrel. I guided the floating liquid into a tin camping mug.

The beer was weird. It was quite viscous. As though brewed with okra. Slimy.

“This doesn’t seem normal,” I muttered.

I tentatively sipped.

A slimy texture coated my tongue. It held onto the back of my throat and I gagged. My lips felt as though they’d been smeared in grease. I couldn’t even taste the beer. All I could taste were feet and toe jam. The grit of dirty toenails stuck to the roof of my mouth.

I panicked. Tried to wipe my tongue with my hand. Spit upon the ground. Violently dry heaved.

“What the shit is this!”

I felt an emotion that was uncommon to me. Anger. Fury. I was enraged. It felt like I’d been duped into a bad prank. I cursed Hawkin over and over. I gargled seawater. I gargled two other beers of mine—GOLD RANKED BEERS—before the awful tastes and textures finally disappeared.

I swear to the gods, I’m going to knock your lights out when I finally meet you, Hawkin. Bastard. Dumb, dumb bastard!

I half growled, half shrieked in pure frustration. I trembled at the experience, as though I had unwittingly walked through spider webs. I was furiously disgusted with the experience.

No wonder your beer was tossed overboard. Who in their right mind… Why would you brew… How the hell are you supposed to be this great brewer? What on earth is going on?

I looked around me, half gesturing for an answer. I even considered calling upon Potere to tell him a crime had been committed. That justice needed to be swift and sure!

I had to cool myself down, so before continuing my journey, I made fists as I paced around the beach, muttering curses and taking deep breaths.

I flexed my 100th fist before gathering my things, wiping the sand from my feet and slipping back into my sandals. I was sufficiently cooled off, though I’m sure my face still wore the annoyance of the experience. At least I felt better, so I sipped a delicious Speed attribute beer and sprinted north once more.

I was occasionally still annoyed at the horrible experience I suffered, but it was mostly in the back of my mind. It helped my spirits to run through nature. Along the coast with intermittent vistas of the sea. Through fern and the paths of animals. Over rocky outcrops and through birch forests where the occasional yellow leaf tumbled down.

At sundown, I camped. At sunrise, I gathered my things and continued my journey. Every few days, I brewed more Speed attribute beers and replenished my stock of mana beers. I kept an eye out for paths. For smoke. For any signs of human life.