Chapter 88

Brewer, Level 685.

Brewer Level 685

Cooper Level 82

Mash Master Level 413

Brewer’s Chill Level 395

Brewer’s Harvest Level 685

Flash Ferment Level 410

Alchemical Control Level 99

Brewer’s Bubble Level 112

Hop Wallop Level 45

Whew!

I was making more progress than I thought was ever possible. Silver rank was within reach. I could almost taste it!

Going over my stats filled me with renewed vigor. I had even just earned my 112th quest shard for Hiccup’s Silo #43, and all our morning work of the day was done.

While BarnacleEyes handled our newly delivered batch of ptooey for the goblin spit beer, I was finally able to use Brewer’s Bubble to brew 15.5 gallons at a time. In the time that it took her to brew 50 gallons, I was able to do twice that with my skills. The only problem was running out of mana. Drinking more than a few mana beers was enough to make me tipsy and sleepy.

So I took a little farmer’s nap where the oaks outgrew the surrounding broadleaf trees. I heard cardinals pass by, the grackles cough and sputter, and the lovely hermit thrush. The occasional seagull flew overhead. I listened to the canopy leaves rustle and I sleepily watched the shadows of the branches play behind my eyelids. The forest floor was cool, though the warm sea air drifted through.

Refreshed from my nap, I sat up and stretched. My purpose had not been to nap, but to leaf through my Brewer’s Guide to Magic Ingredients. There was a recipe I was keen on trying, especially since I’d been having to brew and consume a lot more mana beers lately. A resistance recipe.

Brewer’s Attribute: Drunk Defiance. Both the simplest and most uncommon recipe. Used almost exclusively by brewers, alchemists, and potioneers, this attribute will grant its user with a percentage of resistance to the effects of alcohol. Stacking.

Ingredients needed: Quartz Crystal, any size, any clarity.

Skills needed: Alchemical Control.

Effect based on rank percentage: Bronze, 05%; Silver, 10%; Gold, 25-50%; Diamond, 50-100%; Fabled-Unexplored.

Thrush had bartered with the blue besties for tons of gems, so I descended to the cellar beneath my cabin with a lit candle in hand. I approached the tunnels in the wall that I knew Boggo frequented. I squatted and spoke at the wall.

“Excuse me-”

“Go away,” Boggo said. His voice was one I would never forget. It was screechy and bounced around the cabin with joy when he threw dice with Thrush.

“I’m Hawkin,” I said.

“Good job. You know who you are.”

I couldn’t hide my chuckles. “I was wondering if you could help me,” I said.

“Wonder all you want.”

“I need some quartz crystals. I’d like to trade with you.”

“That’s nice,” Boggo said.

“Please,” I said.

No matter what I said, Boggo was firmly against having anything to do with me. The only thing that interested him was knowing when Thrush would return. I had no answer for him. However, there was one thing left I could try.

“Would you like to shoot some dice?”

It was silent, save for some faint scampering. Boggo’s voice was closer the next time he spoke.

“What do you know about dice?”

“That it might get me some quartz crystals.”

That was all I needed to say. A moment later, a single die came tumbling out of a tunnel. Boggo rolled a 4.

“Your turn to roll,” he said.

“How do I play?”

“Just roll.”

I rolled a 3.

“Excellent,” Boggo said. “I go first. Throw the die in here."

After tossing the die in, Boggo went through a tantrum. I’d apparently thrown it in the wrong tunnel. He went on about how he couldn’t just dig straight through to other tunnels because there’s an order to the tunnels. It was my fault for inconveniencing him; my fault Thrush was gone; my fault there wasn’t much smoked fish around anymore; my fault the dreambons were dwindling. After asking how he liked the dreambons, Boggo grumbled and scampered off. Minutes later, he returned to his original hole and stuffed blue fur along the entrance to let me know which tunnel he was in.

“Geez,” he panted. “Now I’m out of breath. Hold on a second.”

“It’s your turn to role?” I said.

“My turn to roll. If I roll a 2, 3, or a 12, then I lose the pot to you. But before we start, you’ve gotta put something in the pot.”

“Beer?”

“That’s fine. Put it by the tunnel.”

I set down a waterskin of laughter attribute beer by the tunnel.

The game was short lived because Boggo’s first roll was a 2. He hollered like he was in pain, wailed like he’d been stabbed, and growled like he suffered fresh betrayal. I only spoke after his dramatic show was over.

“That’s a two,” I said. “Does that mean I win the pot?”

Boggo said nothing. After a pause, several quartz crystals dropped out of the tunnel. I caught a glimpse of his blue squirrel-y hands pushing the gems out.

“Just take it,” he said as though from his deathbed.

“Will you take the beer as a gift?” I said. “Even though you lost the pot?”

Boggo’s hand slowly reached out and felt for the waterskin. He slowly dragged it into the tunnel and all was silent once more.

“Thank you,” I said.

I’d been down in the cellar longer than I realized. The candle had burned through at least an inch, and I had to adjust my eyes when I exited my cabin. I tripped over BarnacleEyes who had been crouched down into a tiny ball at the threshold.

I hit the ground hard and the wind was knocked out of me. I labored to catch my breath and sit up.

“Would you watch where you’re going?” The goblin said.

“BarnacleEyes,” I coughed. “What are you doing?”

“There’s a cricket. It's chirping. It chirps all day and chirps all night. I’m going to smash it. It’s right here. I know it is. I could hear it before you came crashing through.”

“But-”

“Shh!” she said and slammed a finger to her lips.

In the silence that followed, a cricket made one slow chirp. As though testing the goblin’s patience. BarnacleEyes lost control and dove into the ground, fingernails first. She was beyond reasoning, so I let her play with the cricket after warning her not to hurt herself. Which she did, I later discovered. She cracked a fingernail enough that it bled from beneath and a bruise formed on the tip of that finger.

“Come here,” I said. “Let’s not ignore it. Wash your hands and I’ll wrap your finger in something protective for a few days, ok?”

Watching BarnacleEyes wrestle her own hands in a bowl of soapy water was pure comedy and it almost felt like I’d had one of my laughter attribute beers to myself. BarnacleEyes, on the other hand, was going about things too roughly. I intervened and showed her how to wash her hands with care and a little more gently. Once again, she loved it and looked up at me with big glossy eyes.

“Did you get the cricket?” I asked as I wrapped her finger in a strip of linen.

“They’re fast and sneaky,” she said with a glare at the threshold.

“Maybe next time,” I said.

When she was all bandaged, she was back to her jovial self and prepared for tonight's delivery. It was going to be our largest delivery by far. More than twice what we had been producing a month ago.