Book 4: Chapter 49: Everything’s Clear Now

The next stage, clarification, was one I was looking forward to the most. Elven Red was incredibly clear, and I was curious how he was managing. We were still using horrific jellyfish bits for our own clarification, and Annie and I really wanted to switch to something else.

But as we approached the final door, I had to ask for a reprieve. A quick glance out the window told me it was another of those terrifying rope bridges. And now that ‘Isabella’ was awake and paying attention and the bridge was swaying?

“Do ya mind ifn’ we wait a bit?” I asked, breathing hard. “The next building is ‘yer clarifyin’ right? And you don’t have anything special fer bottlin?”

Romero nodded. “Certainly nothing so fancy as your Nether Infused Bottling setup. Genius, that is. I wouldst truly appreciate it if you passed your builders on to me. Thankfully, mine students are able to do the bottling without activating [Copyright], but I’d like to give them other work to focus on.”

“It’s mostly tha brainchild of Richter, one of my employees, and a friend called Copperpot. They’d be happy to make one fer you. It’ll be expensive though.”

Romero gave a slight handwave that said that any elf over the age of four thousand was either beyond such simple cares as money, or had plunged themselves into a fire out of sheer embarrassment a thousand years prior.

“And what about clarifyin’?” I asked. “Yer red is crystal clear.”

Romero laughed. “Haha! Leave me some secrets, young dwarf! And besides, I’ve seen your beers. You already have a way to clarify! There’s no way that gravity alone is enough for those results.”

I sighed. “Yah, but I’m not tha biggest fan of the ingredients we use ta do it.”

Romero gave a small smirk. “I can give you a hint if you’d like.”

“I’ll take it!”

“First is, of course, to ensure any leftover yeast and sediment settles fully during maturation.”

I pulled my notebook out and began writing, allowing the queasy feeling in my stomach to settle. “We called those lees

“Yes, well, the lees are left behind when the wine is sent up to the next stage, which is another group of settling kegs. The wine stays there for a few days while I treat it with a special ingredient to clear up excess tannins and haze.”

“That’d be fining. I figured as much.” I blinked innocently, holding my notebook at the ready. “Special ingredient. Animal, mineral, or vegetable?”

“Ahah, all I’ll say is that it’s a rather rare mineral from a dungeon in the south. It took me several centuries to find the right ingredient that wouldn’t affect the balance or colour too poorly. Do with that what you will.”

I sucked on my pencil, considering. The most common fining agents for red wine were egg whites and casein, as well as a special volcanic clay called bentonite. Bentonite was especially popular because it worked well for both red and white wines, and helped stability, clarity, and excess tannin removal without over-fining or removing too much colour.

So. A dungeon in the south, eh? Time to ask Richter about volcanic dungeons in the south. My [Map] would do the rest.

“Do you filter?” I asked, jotting down a few more notes.

“Yes. Honestly, it’s the least impressive aspect of the process. Just some simple cotton cloth. Or, it used to be. Some local gnomish artisans came up with a finer material a few centuries ago, and I’ve been using those instead. I’m quite pleased with it. After that it’s straight to racking.”

On Earth, vitners used cotton for filtering, or linen if they couldn’t find any cotton. I knew a few winos who swore by unfiltered wine, but I hated the stuff.

I could feel my breathing evening out, and my heart had finally stopped hammering in my chest. “Alright, I think I’m ready ta head up. If ya could lead, Master Vintner!”

“Of course!” Romero peaked the door open, then paused. “But, I do prefer to keep the bottling area as clean as possible, so I’d appreciate it if you left your goat behind.”

I blinked. “My what?”

*Baaaaahhhh!!!* [Translated from Primma Donna Goat] “Blast, I’ve been made!”

Halfway down one of the aisles, sniffing at a keg and worrying at a pipe with her horn, was a large pure-white unigoat. She pranced up to blink at me with big innocent eyes, then bleated again. She nudged the door back the way we’d come, as though to say ‘I’m done now. Thanks for the tour. I can show myself out.’

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Penelope!?” I gawped. “What is she doin’ here.”

Romero frowned. “I assumed you’d brought her with?”

“Why would I bring a goat to a winery

“Why would I bring a dwarf to a winery?”

“Uh, because I wanted to…?”

“Indeed. Because I wanted to. You know how dwarves and goats are. Almost as bad as the elves and the trees some days. I say it’s because you both have beards. I figured you’d brought her along for emotional support, or as a pet. Like those tiny dogs that are becoming popular with certain young human ladies.”

I couldn’t keep from staring at Penelope. How was she here? How had I not noticed?? And it wasn’t the first time either. She’d been turning up in the darndest places recently. Like that time in the sewers with the duck. And the ondol. And Bran said she kept getting into the kitchen.

“Why couldn’t I see her?” I asked, turning to age and wisdom. “How did you see her??”

“My Perception is quite high. And I’d assumed it was an enchantment to keep your guard and/or emotional support goat close. There are enchantments that can replicate certain Abilities, albeit not well and with a steep core cost. What I saw looked almost identical to the [Nothingness] Ability. I was going to ask who made it, actually. Was she… not enchanted?” Romero bent to take a closer look. Penelope shied away from him, then tried to bite his sarong.

*Baaaaahh!!!* [Translated from Primma Donna Goat] “Zounds! Assist me, squire! This odd fellow is intruding upon mine royal personage!”

I continued staring in mute shock as Penelope danced about, trying to stay out of Romero’s reach, while he tried to examine every inch of her.

Every inch of her unenchanted self.

Gods.

This sounded like Gods.

“I think…” I began hesitantly, then continued, “I think that the tour is done, and me’n ma goat need ta go home.”

But Romero didn’t hear me. He had Penelope cornered and was staring her down. “Fascinating…. I think she’s trying to use an Ability on me.”

*MEEEEHEEEEE!!!* [Translated from Primma Donna Goat] “SQUIRE!!!”

—

Four hours of wrangling an increasingly pissed off Penelope later, and we finally managed to get her locked in the dining room of the Thirsty Goat’s clan hall.

“Ah! She’s vanished again!” Aqua shouted, running to hold her back to the door.

“I see her. She’s behind you, Balin!” I pointed out the freaking ninja goat, and she made a run at the door, but Johnsson managed to get in the way, pushing her back towards the back wall.

*Blehhhheggghhh!!!!!* [Translated from Primma Donna Goat] “Varlets! You promised me wine for my acquiescence! Treachery!”

Annie turned back to the [Statustician] we’d hired from Kinshasa, Urist McStatus. He’d cost a pretty penny both for the rush job and his silence. “And you’re sure. There’s no way that’s wrong?”

“Brewer Goldstone, this is by far the most interesting thing I’ve seen in centuries. If you weren’t paying me so much I would be running screaming to the University this instant!” The jolly old dwarf said with gusto. He was a real friar tuck character, with a big belly, a plain brown robe, and a long scruffy beard. He clearly held comfort over style. “I still can’t believe it meself! A goat! With a Title!”

*MAAAAAAHHH!!!!!* [Translated from Primma Donna Goat] “You dare touch a lady in such a way!? You cad!!!”

Johnsson screamed. “Argh, me beard!”

I wanted to just crawl into my cave and cry. Yes, that’s right. Our Penelope was quite possibly the world’s only Titled goat. A Titled [Socialite] to be precise, with Blessings from Barck and Yearn.

Typical.

“She has at the minimum [Nothingness], [Regeneration], [Soothe Emotions], and [Improved Communication].” McStatus gushed. “Has it struck anyone else that it feels like you can actually understand her bleats? She was just demanding a treat, right?”

“You mean you feel like she’s talkin’ and you can hear words?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought that was just my overactive imagination.”

“No, that’s definitely your imagination,” Aqua grumbled sardonically. “But I have noticed that I always seem to know what she wants. I thought it was just because I was more perceptive as a [Hypnotist].”

McStatus shook his head, his beard wagging like a dog’s tail. “Nope! That’s [Improved Communication]. Means that you can better understand folk’s meaning, even if you don’t speak their language. Works on body language, unspoken glances, stuff like that. Both ways, too!”

I snorted. “My Gods. Can it even tell when a lady is flirtin’ at you with her eyes? That woulda been a Godsend when I was younger.”

McStatus looked thoughtful. “Erm. Aye? Mebbe?”

There was a knock at the door, and we all shouted at once. “Don’t open the door!”

Penelope bleated in victory, then rushed forward as the door swung open, knocking Aqua aside. But as she reached it, she slowed, then stopped, sniffed the air, and gave a curious bleat.

“What’s all this then?” A familiar voice asked. “Penelope? What’s got your horn all in a twist?”

And with that, a familiar giant stepped through the door, ducking his head to make it under the lintel.

Jeremiah Goldstone. Arrived from Minnova at last.