Beers and Beards: A Cozy Dwarf Tale

Book 2: Chapter 46: Being Judgey

Book 2: Chapter 46: Being Judgey

Bran’s announcement was met with shocked silence. He was as much a part of the success of the Thirsty Goat Brewpub as, well, myself. WIthout him… we probably would’ve managed, but it would’ve been a lot harder.

At the same time, I knew that becoming someone ‘acceptable’ to Opal’s noble parents was something really important to him. And if working directly for the Grand Lord of Minnova was what it took… who was I to say anything about it?

“Oy! That’s goat shite ya sonnuvanannygoat! After all this, you’re just going to up and go!?” Johnsson jumped to his feet and tossed his tankard at Bran’s head. Bran appeared to have been expecting something like that, and sidestepped.

“I don’ like it!” Richter pounded his fists on the table. His eyes were red-rimmed and he appeared half-way drunk. He really liked Liquid Gold. “Yearn’s Yams, why do ya keep leavin' us!? T'ing’s are finally goin’ so well!” He actually began to cry, deep wet sobs that turned into blubbering sneezes.

The gathering storm died at Richter’s words. I glanced over at Aqua and Annie. They were trying to hide it, but they were similarly crushed by the news.

Aqua walked over and held Richter’s shoulders. “Richter. Johnsson… This could be really big for Bran. We’re still just a small brewery - but the Grand Lord of Minnova... Bran could become the most famous chef in the city.”

“But - “ he began.

“Bran’s already the most famous chef in Minnova!” Emma snipped.

“Literally!” Zirce added.

“He’s the only chef I’ve ever heard of!” Kirk shouted.

“We are happy for you Bran. But, I do hope you’ll spend some time thinking about the decision. This brewpub is as much about good food as good beer. And we owe that all to you.” Annie smoothly entered the conversation.

“Aye. I won’t jump into it beard first.” Bran nodded. “And besides, if you lot win this contest we’ll all be headin’ to Kinshasa together. Who knows, you may not need me anymore if you get big enough. Who’ll need boring old Bran when every dwarf in Crack is drinking your brews?” He chuckled self deprecatingly.

Opal squeezed his hand, and spoke in the tone of a wife giving a gentle reminder. Ugh, I knew that tone! “But, the Grand Lord will need your answer before you leave to the capital.”

“Aye.” Bran gave his fiancé a loving smile.

“We’ll always need you, you big lug!” I tossed a mug too, in the spirit of things. Opal caught it one handed and tossed it back. I caught it deftly with my helmet and it bounced back onto the table.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about the news. I… couldn’t imagine being in this world without Balin at this point, or Annie, or Aqua, or Johnsson, or Richter, or Bran for that matter.

Oh, there were Zirce and Emma, and Markus, and Mooney, and so on and so forth, but they didn’t quite feel the same. I think subconsciously I’d always assumed they were going to stay here and run the goat while the rest of us left for the capital when we won the contest.

If we won the contest, Pete. Don’t get too ahead of yourself.

Check that. I did know how I felt about the news. Screw being the big adult in this situation. Everybody in this room was way older than me! Bran had been instrumental in my success. His efforts had made the miners more accepting of my radler, and that had gone a long way towards acclimatizing me to this society. And Annie wasn’t wrong; our success was as much due to Bran’s incredible cooking as anything else. We’d be fools to let that go.

For now. I needed to do whatever it took to keep Bran with me, and I had a secret card to play. One no chef could ever turn down.

It was time to make use of my Godly stalkers and the Quest system. I muttered silently under my breath as everyone began asking Bran and Opal questions about their engagement. “Alright Barck, let’s test this. Tiara too; I heard you like good food and I’m willing to bet this is one of the things Barck isn’t allowed to help me with. I need a Milestone that’ll help me remember recipes. If I can pass it onto someone else? Even better.”

I already knew that the Ability I wanted wasn’t too crazy; Bran’s fancy [Cookbook] Ability would work just fine. If needed I’d grind out the new recipes necessary to get it the same way he had. Either way, my best chance at keeping Bran was revealing my otherworldly status and an endless supply of new dishes. I'd offer him an incredible temptation, and then respect whatever decision he made.

With my mind made up, I turned back to the table to join in another toast.

—

And then it was the week before the contest.

Or so they told me.

“You can’t be serious. There’s no way it’s been a month!!”

“Pete, I’m tellin’ you, it’s true.”

“It’s only been… [Mental Math]... By All the Bits of tha Gods! I can’t believe it’s almost been a month!?”

The crew all laughed as we stood around the white envelope that had been delivered this morning.

It was finally time to see who the judges were for the contest. It wouldn’t change much, but it would have some impact on how we approached our pitch. We were allowed to send a single page of standard sized notepaper in with the beer, and we would need to tailor our writeup to the judges.

With a deep breath in and out, I opened the paper.

“Aaaahhhh!!!!” I screamed, holding it out at arms length and shaking with horror. My voice rose and fell in a wave as I stretched the cry out. “AAhhhAAAAhhaaHHH!!!”

Aqua began to scream too, followed by Johnsson, then Zirce and Emma, though I was pretty sure the last two were just joining in on the fun. Aqua’s jaw snapped shut after a moment.

“Your only emotion right now is smug enjoyment!” She grumped. “I hope your socks fall off!”

“Ahhhh… ha ha ha.” I wiped a tear from my eye. “I always loved doing that to… well, it’s fun. The judges are pretty close to what we expected. I think someone’s going to win tha bet.”

“Ooooh, I hope it’s me! I lost da last one.” Richter inched forward to peer over my shoulder.

“The three judges are…. drumroll please. The Grand Lord of Minnova, Prophet Barnes, and Louis Blackbeard!” I announced with flair. I’d lost the bet, since I’d been betting on the Lord, a Noble, and the head administrator of city hall. I’d considered Prophet Barnes a distant chance, but it looked like nobody was going to deny the literal mouth of the Gods his chance at sounding off on what it meant to be a dwarf.

“I WON!” Johnsson shrieked, pumping his fist. “I knew gossiping with all the nobles at the beardy parlour would pay off!

“You just copied my idea.” Aqua hissed. “I should’ve bet on Blackbeard instead of Bronzeson.”

“Ha, Bronzeson has no interest in being in public.” Johnsson crowed.

“You all owe Johnsson… five gold.” Annie said, leafing through her notepad.

Everybody passed over the gold, and then conversation began in earnest. We all had something we wanted to add to the note and the arguing got quite loud before Annie took control of the situation.

“I think I’m going to be responsible for writing it. Pete, you’re still waaaay too crassly commercial, and Aqua, you and Johnsson are just far too flowery. Richter, I think you’d just end up writing a dissertation, and Zirce and Emma…”

“Don’t need to turn us down, boss.” Zirce rolled her eyes.

“Coupla fusspots, dontchaknow.” Emma agreed.

“We could ask George?” I pointed at the golem as he walked by carrying some boxes of bottles and he booped in greeting.

“And this is why I’m writing it.” Annie sighed. “But I’d appreciate your ideas.”

“Are you worried that I’d write something so annoying the judges would give us the ‘pun’-t?” I waggled my eyebrows.

Annie scowled. “YES. Now, I think we all have good ideas for what to say to make the Lord happy…”

“Something patriotic?” Aqua put up her hand.

Richter thumped the table. “Somethin’ honourin’ Minnova’s brave adventurers!”

“Empty platitudes?” Emma grumbled.

“Yes, yes, and politely.” Annie nodded. “Whatever I write is going to need to acknowledge the Lord’s pride in a city he’s ruled over for almost 700 years.”

“Frickin’ dwarves….” I muttered sotto voce.

“Did you say something Pete?” Annie asked a little too sweetly.

“Nope. I may have ideas for stuff to put in for Prophet Barnes. I, er, talk to him a lot when he comes in for his Goatherd Pie.” Plus, I was pretty sure he considered me a special case. That could go both ways, but I was willing to bet he’d be on our side.

“Oh, hey!” Kirk exclaimed. “THAT Prophet! He’s a swell guy! He always leaves me an extra gold or two on the table!”

“And then there’s Blackbeard…” Annie finished, her frown deepening.

“An honest to goodness Blackbeard…” Aqua sighed. “I wonder what he’s really like?”

“Who or what’s a Blackbeard?” Kirk asked.

“One o’ de oldest and most famous clans in Crack. More dan one or two kings ‘ave come from der numbah.” Richter professored. “Unlike de other big clans, dey haven't suffered any major setbacks from Monster Stampedes, and dey won every Feud dey ever fought. And so dey are many. There's a branch o’ da Blackbeards in Minnova, under Blacksmith Battlehammer Blackbeard. He runs da Grand Market Smithy. De Blackbeard from de capital is… well, I dunno. Johnsson?”

“Louis Blackbeard is womanizing sonnuvanannygoat whose mother is embarrassed she ever let him out from under her beard.” Johnsson announced savagely. “He's most famous for recently being buried headfirst in a goat privy by a lady he was ‘courting’. He then had the gall to bring her before the courts for disrespecting a noble. He’s a cad, and he wouldn’t know good beer if it bit his foot.”

We all blinked at his sudden vehemence.

Annie coughed. “I’m not writing that in the note.”