Chapter 69

Pumpkins and a New Deal.

On the following morning I decided I would fulfill one of my earlier quests. It was another clone brew from a beer I’d received in a loot chest weeks past, but had yet to try: Wheyhen’s Billy Goat ale.

After my morning of brewing goblin spit beer, I began working on the quest. On absorbing one of my skill books last month, I’d learned that there were several types of these goat beers. True Goat, Billy Goat, Double Goat, Ice Goat, and Wheat Goat. Billy Goat was lighter in color, so when roasting the barley, I was careful not to overdo it.

I labored over the stove, stirring the malted barley constantly. I kept an eye on the pan. I let the aromas guide me.

First came the aroma of mineral from the heat of the pan. Time and heat brought out the smell of fresh barley and hay. As the grain began to color the slightest bit, I began to smell a slight brown sugar. I continued to coax more aromas from the grain as I stirred nonstop. I was relentless, and my stirring coaxed the smells of brown sugar to melt into caramel. My arms ached and my left arm picked up when my right arm needed a break. I paused only to adjust the fire in the stove. To snuff out the flames and keep an eye on the coals. I stirred. Stirred. Stirred.

The fragrance of the grains began to change. At first I smelled bales of hay harvested in October. I briefly smelled a field of corn before my senses self corrected and I smelled an expansive patch of pumpkins.

It was a specific smell of pumpkin. After a few focused and contemplative moments, I was able to put my thumb on it. The smells reminded me of picking pumpkins under a bright sun in midday where the skin of the fruit was still warm. I could smell the juice that bled from the freshly clipped stem. In my memory, I could hear my hand graze across the pumpkin skin as I hefted its weight. I could remember slicing into the first pumpkin of the year with a triangular knife.

It was the perfume of freshly cut pumpkin, caramelized brown sugar, October bales of hay, and clipped squash stem. That was the specific smell. That’s when I stopped the roast and moved on to the rest of the brewing process. I brewed 4 more gallons and combined them all into one barrel, after using Flash Ferment on each gallon, one at a time.

[Quest: Clone brew Wheyhen’s Billy Goat ale. Complete!]

[Common.]

[Bronze rank. Greater Tavern Ale]

[Brewed in the city center of Vilan Haunch for annual spring festivals.]

[Reward: 40 common brewer’s loot chests. 2 rare brewer’s silver loot chests.]

I received a lot of generic grains, lactose sugar, oats, honey, hops, glass bottles, and biscuit malts. There were a few skill books, and more blue brewer’s yeast than usual. In one of the rare brewer’s loot chests, I got a pair of glasses. They were tall narrow pitchers with large handles.

Just as I organized everything into my personal inventory, Thrush entered the cabin with haste.

“Hawkin,” he said. “Orcs are coming up the trail from the sea.”

“Orcs?” I said.

I followed Thrush outside and we waited in the clearing for nearly twenty minutes before the orcs appeared. Thrush had smelled them from way off. BarnacleEyes appeared with them. She was attempting to block their advance, but they ignored her. She pushed at their legs, pulled at their hands, and yelled at them to stop. She even kicked their shins, but the massive orcs ignored her. The largest orc had a slump of grimacing skin for a face. Like an old dog. Two broken tusks armored his chin. His neck was wider than his head. Pleated black leather armor covered him. Hide was tucked into joints. He arrived and snorted like a rhino. They halted when they came into the clearing. BarnacleEyes fell to the ground, exhausted.

“I stopped them,’ she panted. “I did it. Whew! Hawkin, I stopped them!”

“You’re the hawkman?” The largest orc said.

“Hawkin,” I said. “What do you want?”

“I wasn’t expecting a human.”

“What were you expecting,” Thrush said.

The orc advanced.

BarnacleEyes was supine and still catching her breath. She lifted an arm, pointed a finger, and then panted, “stop!”

“I’m Ogo. You’re the one that brews the goblin spit beer?”

“I am,” I said.

“Your… goblin,” Ogo said and gestured to BarnacleEyes. “She said we don’t belong here.”

“The goblins have been deforesting the coast. They’re no longer welcome here.”

“It’s a good thing Goblins aren’t orcs then. I’m only here to talk.”

“You want me to brew beer for you too,” I reasoned.

“I want you to brew for me instead.”

“I’m the one you want to talk to, Thrush said.

“You must be the monster the goblins have been talking about,” Ogo said.

“I’m selling Hawkin’s beers to the goblins. We don’t have any more to sell than what we can brew. All that goes to GloomGlower.”

“Is it true that you can double your production every month?” Ogo said.

“No, not nearly,” I said. “I've just begun to hit a good pace at sixty barrels a week.”

“How much are the goblins paying you per barrel?”

“Hawkin, may I have a mana beer?” Thrush said.

“Of course. Let’s all sit, drink, and eat,” I said.

We had nearly enough logs for everyone to sit on around the fire pit. Thrush withdrew a large flat rock from his inventory and sat upon that.

“You’re stronger than you look,” one of the orcs said after watching Thrush handle the boulder.

“I’m many more things than I look,” Thrush said.

I retrieved the barrel of the Billy Goat beer while the orcs talked with Thrush and BarnacleEyes, whose demeanor was begrudging towards the orcs. I poured each of us a generous amount of the clone brew. Then I tossed Thrush a waterskin of mana ale. Our salut was polite and wary.

“Much better,” Thrush said. “I’m ready to talk.”

Ogo picked up right where we’d left off. “I’ll pay more than what GloomGlower pays you, if you brew for me instead,” the orc said.

“I’m a merchant,” Thrush said. “I’ve used my skills to get GloomGlower to pay me fifteen silver per barrel.”

The orcs were clearly surprised. For a moment they were speechless. They whispered amongst themselves. Then Ogo spoke up.

“You’re bluffing,” he said. “GloomGlower would never go that high. I’m not as stupid as I might look. I’ve looked into things before coming up here.”

Thrush smiled wide and horribly. His eyes pulsed and the orcs frowned. All but Ogo looked at another companion.

“Yes,” Thrush said. “Yes, I was bluffing.”

“You’ve got an odd way of going about things,” Ogo said. “Laying your cards on the table like that.”

“I am what I am,” Thrush said in a deep, cavernous voice.

“GloomGlower must be paying you five silver per barrel.”

“That’s right,” Thrush said.

“I’ll pay seven silver.”

“Thirty barrels a week at seven silver?” Thrush said.

“Sixty. I’d like more. I’d like at least One thousand a week,” Ogo declared and I nearly choked mid-sip. The orc continued. “I know that may take some time, but I heard you can continue to increase production. I’m a patient orc.”

“Why goblin spit beers?” I said. “Why not something more to orc tastes?”

The orc named Haf was the one willing to explain orc enthusiasm over the strange brew. The orcs were fascinated with goblin spit beers. They preferred it over their own and could not brew anything near similar. The preference had been acquired throughout the ages, and demand was high among the orcs.

“I could see myself expanding production, especially as I level up,” I said.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard since we left the volcanic isles,” Ogo said.

The orcs' companions celebrated amongst themselves at the news. Ogo and Thrush talked back and forth for some time over a few more mugs and boots of ale. The orcs were thirsty and we’d gone through nearly the whole five gallon barrel in the short time we’d been talking.

“I’m not budging,” Thrush eventually said. He dumped the rest of his mana beer down his gullet. “I’ve given you five good reasons why you’re going to take the deal,” he continued. “Take it or leave it.”

Ogo grumbled a bit and voiced his complaints, but Thrush was disinterested. Thrush even yawned while he listened to the orc.

During that time, I examined the orcs more closely. It was the first time I’ve ever seen the creatures. They were much bulkier than I imagined they would be. Much fiercer, with a lot more skin. These orcs were more charcoal-green than charcoal. Their ears were large and lobe-y from top to bottom. Their noses hung from the weight of the skin. Their bodies were still as a statue, but their facial expressions were restless.

First Thrush. Then the goblins. Then the blue besties. Then the orcs. To be fair, the blue besties were probably there before I arrived. Still, what’s next? Dwarfs riding dragons?

After negotiations, Ogo had no choice but to take the deal that would start at the beginning of next month. He took the deal.