Book 4, Chapter 64: Welcome to the Meadery
The Coalition embassy wasn’t much different from the other buildings we’d seen thus far – a tall wood and mortar building with crisscrossing wooden accents. One thing that set it apart was a tall wall surrounding the building, with a large outer courtyard filled with yurts, training dummies, and bustling beastfolk. Unlike most of the embassies we’d passed on the way here, there wasn’t a single giant flag hanging from the peak of the pointed roof. Instead, the dozens of yurts in the yard all had their own version of a banner or standard flapping merrily in the breeze as furry warriors butted horns and swung swords.
“As you can see, the Coalition is preparing for a last stand,” Geronimo said, a tone of bitterness in his voice.
“Is Grandia still refusing to aid them?” I asked.
“Yes,” Geronimo spat. “The Grand Archon and a majority of the council have voted to abstain from joining the conflict. The bulk of the refugees are being held back by our army on the western plains. The few you see here are leaders of their tribes, given explicit diplomatic permission to enter the city.”
I watched a trio of young beastfolk, their leonine muzzles slavering, and their eyes whirling as they struck at human sized training dummies. One had leopard spots in his fur, while the other had the more mottled look of a tortoiseshell. Both of their horns had sharp metal caps that allowed them to be used in combat, with deadly efficiency, as one warrior struck at the dummy with his sword and horns simultaneously.
“Why?” I asked, simply.
“Political calculus. They see more to gain from continued trade with the Western Kingdoms than by helping the tribes.”
“By your tone, you disagree?” I considered the diplomat more closely. His dossier said he was a Titled [Envoy] with a high Charisma and several diplomatic Milestones. There was no way he was letting his displeasure leak out by accident.
He snorted. “They are fools who cannot see that the Free City of Adventurers must stand for Freedom, or it loses all meaning. By Aaron’s Awesome Arse! It’s so incredibly short sighted! And that doesn’t even consider the fact that any one of us could be reborn as a slave in the future! There’s a reason it’s outlawed in every major Kingdom!”
Geronimo stalked forward through the yard, leading our trio of companions through the bustle. The beastfolk mostly ignored us, though a few gave Geronimo nods of acknowledgement or asked for news from the Council. A few shot curious glances our way, wondering who we were and some, hiding in the darkness of their tents, shot us angry glares.
I felt nervous, surrounded by this much weaponry and angry energy. Balin and Starshine were completely unphased though, and I lifted my chin to try and keep up with my brother.
The door to the embassy swept open as we approached, revealing a tall, black-furred beastfolk with tawny eyes. His horns were tipped with silver ornaments, and his left eye had the white-silver sheen of blindness. I say tall, but the tips of his horns still barely came up to Geronimo’s chin.
“Butler Lucius,” Geronimo said, smiling and gesturing at us. “May I present Lord Peter Roughtuff, Knight Balin Roughtuff – The Hero of Golden Light, and Juggernaut Starshine.”
“Councillor Geronimo,” The tall beastfolk dipped his knees in a faux bow while keeping his sharp horns upright. His voice was a smooth velvet, with the usual beastfolk Norwegian accent blunted to be near-Cascadian. “Thank you for your continued service to the Coalition. We will not forget your kindness.”
Geronimo shook his head. “Nonsense! I’m doing what I must. And speaking of which, I must take my leave here, Lord Roughtuff. I have much to do, and so little time to do it.”
“Oh, trust me. I understand,” I sighed.
So saying, Geronimo gave his perfunctory goodbyes, then swept out the door.
“Lord Geronimo is truly a giant of a man in every sense of the word,” the Butler Lucius said, his muzzle drawn back in a slight smile.
“Reminds me of Kirk,” Balin muttered. “Are all tha giants from Grandia mad?”
“I like it,” Starshine said, her eyes glittering.
I cleared my throat. “Did Ambassador Failith make it here ahead of us?”
“No, I’m afraid not,” Lucius said, looking downcast. “He went to pick up Mystic Isen, but they were unavoidably detained. I’ve been asked to show you to the meadery in the meantime. Would your companions like to come as well, or shall I have them and your things shown to your rooms?”
I looked at Balin, who shrugged. “May as well unpack. I’m not in tha mood ta hear ya gush about honey water.”
“I don’t gush,” I protested. “It’s more of a stream, or a gentle river!”
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Balin and Starshine looked at each other and laughed.
—
The inside of the embassy was quite a bit more opulent than the outside. There were marble pillars here and there, as well as quite a few tapestries depicting various moments in the history of the tribes. An especially large tapestry depicting a number of beastfolk in black robes stabbing a circle of white-robed beastfolk around the table, took pride of place in the main atrium.
“Does that depict the betrayal by the Daggerfall tribe,” I asked, pointing at it.
“Yes,” the dapper Butler practically growled. “It is to remind all those assembled here what is at stake, and what started this war.”
We walked under the tapestry, which hung from a balustrade overlooking the main entrance, and deeper into the embassy. Butler Lucius waxed poetic about the various bits and pieces of art as we passed them.
The place smelled quite strongly of fur and polish, though the only other people we bumped into were other servants. They all wore victoria era butler and maid outfits, which I again had to assume had been brought over from Earth. Though wearing all black when you spend most of the day cleaning could be multiversal.
“So what can you tell me about Mystic Isen?” I asked as we strolled past a large dining room which had been repurposed as a storeroom, and was filled to the brim with racks of armor and weaponry.
“Mystic Isen is the current leader amongst the Shaman hopefuls. He is the eldest amongst them, and was actually an apprentice of a Shaman many moons ago. He’s also one of those few living who has ever seen the Spiritual Nectar. He designed the room you’ll be working in as well.”
Lucius gestured for me to stop, then knocked on a non-descript door.
“Go away!” A feminine voice shouted, and Lucius sighed, then swung the door open to reveal what looked more like an alchemist’s workshop than a meadery. Of the four walls, every single one was festooned with glass bottles, racks, alembics, and metal utensils. An enchanted cauldron and a drying rack stood in the center of the room.
There were three other beastfolk in the room, all busily running to and fro doing whatever it was they were doing.
The eldest of the three, a beastess in a plain brown linen shirt and pants and a leather smock stormed up to us, removing a set of gloves as she did so. Her fur was grey-white, and age lines etched her eyes and nose. One of her horns was titled slightly to the right, and was more off-yellow than most others I’d seen. Her voice was terse, with the same Norwegian accent as most beastfolk.
“What do you want, Lucy, we’re busy. We have barely any time as is and – “ Her eyes widened as she took me in, and she broke into a sharp-toothed smile. “Ahah! You must be Brewer Roughtuff! Why didn’t you say so, Lucy!? Come in, come in! You don’t know how much we’ve been looking forward to this. I’m Alba. It’s lovely to meet the Forefather of Brewing!!!”
She waggled her horns in a friendly greeting, and Lucius, who’d been about to introduce me, was struck briefly mute.
“Yes, this is Lord Roughtuff,” Lucius said, stressing the Lord. “He has agreed to – “
“Oh, we know why he’s heyre. Now, time is wasting! You go do your [Butler] things, Lucy, while we handle the [Brewer]!”
Then she spun around and sashayed back into the room, shouting. “Alright you two spriggans! Clean this mess up and get ship shape! We have things to do!”
I glanced at Lucius. My high Perception was picking up all kinds of emotions as he barely kept from popping his top. I chuckled. “I think I’ll be fine, thank you fer bringin’ me. This is why I’m here, no? If’n you could tell the Ambassador that I’m here when he arrives I’d be mighty thankful.”
Lucius let out a slow breath and nodded. “Very well. Mystic Alba is… blunt, and fully consumed with her work. So I hope you’ll be patient with her.”
I immediately liked her. Obsessed with her craft and not overly concerned with the proprieties? Just like yours truly. We were going to get along swimmingly.
I waved at Lucius and stepped into the room to follow after Alba. It was roughly five by ten meters. Not huge, but not small either. A door set in the side wall spoke of either an addition to the room, or possibly a storage closet.
Alba had gathered up the two younger beastfolk, a young buck with sharp bronze antler tips and a speckled brown and yellow pattern, and a beastess with mottled umber fur. They looked to be early adults or late teenagers by beastfolk standards. They wore similar simple linen clothes and leather smocks.
“These two are my apprentices. Adrian and Livia,” Alba said with a note of pride. “They’re hard working and capable, even if they’re still a little lacking in their craft. Adrian even got his first Blessing already.”
The two did that knee-dip bow thing, and greeted in unison, “Greetings Lord Roughtuff.”
“Master Brewer is fine,” I said, giving a return nod.
They smiled back and Adrian blurted, rapid fire, “are you really the Forefather of Brewing? Do you really know how to make every alcohol on Erd? Is it true that you’re the reincarnation of the First Brewer?”
“Adrian!” Alba snapped.
“It’s okay!” I laughed. “Yes, I’ve been called ‘The Forefather of Brewing’, though goodness knows it’s a bit grand fer me. I do know how to make lotsa alcohols, though I doubt I could make them all. And I’m not tha reincarnation of the First Brewer.”
Livia quirked her head like a curious cat. “How do you know that?”
Damn perceptive child! My smile thinned. “How do we know anything?”
“That’s not an answer,” She complained.
“Enough! Don’t pester the Master Brewer!” Alba tutted, sweeping the youngsters aside. “Would you like to get started right away, Master Roughtuff?”
“If we’re gonna be workin’ in an alchemy lab together, just Pete is fine. I don’t want you to feel you have to take the time to say ‘Master Tender Brewer Lord Roughtuff look out!’ in an emergency,” I said wistfully, remembering what Copperpot had told me so long ago.
“Then Alba is fine, too. But not you two! Master Brewer will do!”
“Yes, Mystic Alba.” The two deadpanned.
“How about we start with you showing me around.” I said, looking around at all the controlled chaos.
Alba swept her apprentices aside, and gestured me over to a corner of the room. “Of course! My pleasure, and welcome to the Coalition Meadery!”