Alric was reviewing his inventory before heading out again. He had eleven casks left. He would get another twenty-four tomorrow, the first day the big copper boiler would have completed a full cycle from boil to finished. They were truly churning beer now.

  He let out a sigh as he went over the figures again. The docks had taken longer than expected. He had spent a second day there trying to reach all the taverns, and two innkeepers had asked him to sell directly, recognising him somehow. He wasn’t sure how to take that, but for now, a sale was a sale, and the casks were still leaving the warehouse.

  After that, he had turned to the crafters’ quarter and found the taverns there more receptive to the straight lager. Other than the two inns at the docks, he had been avoiding inns altogether. They felt like a foreign market, one that operated on different assumptions and smiled more. He had no strategy for them. That was what he intended to fix. He was getting ready to see Berrin. Not to sell, but to talk.

  He moved through the warehouse. The staff were in a steady rhythm, and the influx of empty casks had them smiling as they worked through boil after boil. He wasn’t sure what to make of their enthusiasm. It felt a little unnatural to him, as if they were enjoying themselves on purpose.

  He stopped at what the staff were calling the magic shelf. Somehow, the beer tempered better there. He had no explanation for it. Perhaps it was the distance from the boiler, or a draft, or the shelf’s evident confidence in its own importance. Whatever the reason, he selected one of his best casks, intending it as a gift for Berrin. These were kept separate. He planned to give a few away, sparingly, and only to people who would not immediately ask for more.

  He passed through the kitchen, where several smaller casks were stored. They had ordered pears and plums when he had first been preparing for the cider push before the festival. They hadn’t made good booze, so Alric had pasteurised them and turned them into fruit juice instead. The staff usually ate the fruit or drank the juice with their meals, so none of it went to waste.

  He chose one of the sweeter casks and carried it through. Hal was setting up the grain teabags and gave him a nod, the sort that meant everything was under control unless proven otherwise. Alric powered the magic stones to start the process, charged the steamers, and then headed out.

  Only Seren waved as he left. She had moved her desk into the warehouse, presumably to take advantage of the heat from the boiler. The cats clustered around her desk as well.

  Outside, the sun was out, but heavy clouds pressed along the horizon. More snow tonight, most likely. He pulled his cloak tighter and set off.

  Walking through the city in the cold was its own experience. You learned quickly which roads were good and which were not, usually by falling over on them. It was common to help people back to their feet when they slipped, which happened often. Finding a hand could be an exercise when everyone was wrapped in thick cloaks and indignity.

  By the time he reached the gate, it was quieter than usual. He turned off the main road toward the White Dove Inn. He remembered being swamped by vendors when he had first arrived, but that was past. There were still vendors, though now they huddled around small fires and watched from a distance, shouting less and pointing more.

  Inside the inn, Ruth greeted him with her usual enthusiasm.

  “Welcome to the… Oh, it’s you, Alric. How you doing?” she asked, eyes wide.

  Alric lowered his hood and grinned.

  “I’m pretty good. You keeping warm?”

  “Well, yah. We have fires, you know. We also warm stones for the beds.” She said this as if it were obvious and slightly disappointing that it needed saying.

  “Doesn’t that make the bed hard in spots?” Alric asked. It sounded too close to camping for his taste.

  “Of course it does.” She looked at him as though this should not need explaining.

  Alric shrugged, deciding wisdom was not his forte.

  “Is your dad around?”

  “He is, but why do you never come visit me? You always want to talk about other stuff. Tell me about your girlfriend!” Her eyes sparkled.

  “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said, glancing sideways.

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  Ruth frowned, as if something didn’t quite add up.

  “I’ll go get Da. We’re not done though. We’re going to talk before you go, alright?” She hopped off the stool.

  Alric headed for the dining room, as that seemed to be the routine for meetings and, increasingly, interviews and probably interrogations.

  Berrin emerged from the staff room shortly thereafter. He seemed genuinely pleased to see Alric, which lifted his spirits more than the fire did.

  “Alric! Good to see you,” he said, extending a hand. Alric shook it eagerly before they both sat down.

  “And you, Berrin. Been keeping well?” Alric asked, immediately enjoying the atmosphere.

  “I’m doing alright. It’s getting cold fast though. You as well? Keeping warm?” Berrin said with a small shiver.

  Alric nodded, deciding that describing his warehouse as a winter sauna seemed imprudent.

  “I brought something for you. It’s from our gift stock, so the better stuff. We’ve got a shelf that somehow makes better beer. We don’t understand it, but it works.” He set the cask down nearby.

  Berrin startled, then laughed it off. Alric produced two tankards and poured generously before passing them over.

  Alric watched as Berrin sipped. The lager was properly tempered and had a clean snap to it. No spitting, he noted.

  “Ooh. This is something else. A bit strong though. You really favour strong drink.” Berrin smiled. “I’ll take this with pleasure. Cheers.” They bumped tankards and drank.

  After a pause, Berrin spoke again. “Bit like your cider at the adventurers’ guild, eh?” he said casually.

  Alric blinked. Berrin leaned forward at once.

  “I knew it! Those rumours were lies. It was your cider!”

  Alric glanced aside, then nodded. There was no point denying it.

  “How did you know?” he asked.

  Berrin shrugged. “If something new turns up involving drink, you’re always in the middle of it. I tried that cider myself. It was damn good.” He grinned, pleased with himself.

  “It was meant to stay quiet,” Alric said with a shrug. “But I doubt that will last. I’m selling beer all over the city now.”

  “Alric, why do you never sell any beer to me?” Berrin asked, frowning.

  Alric paused. “It was a respect thing. I didn’t want to step on your toes. You showed me your brewery, remember? I took that seriously.”

  Berrin considered this, then nodded. “Still, as much as I like this,” he said, tapping the lager cask, “I’d like to buy some. Properly, as a client.”

  Alric smiled. “I’ve got standard lager, not as good as that. I also have some stout and ale left. Want to try them?”

  Berrin nodded.

  Alric stood and produced two casks, pouring a small measure of each.

  “I like the darker one,” Berrin said after tasting. “Better for the cold months. What do you charge?”

  “Two silver for the beer. If we don’t swap casks, the cask itself is three silver. That’s what I pay for them.”

  “Can I take two?”

  Alric nodded and used his item box to set the gift cask and two stout casks aside. Berrin looked them over, satisfied.

  “I did want to ask you something,” Alric said as he sat again. “I’ve been dealing mostly with taverns. I don’t really know how to approach inns. I was hoping you could tell me what I might be missing.”

  Berrin was quiet for a moment. “It’s rough right now, if I’m honest. A lot of inns are in the left side of the ledge after the festival. Inns have rooms, and most were full, so we’re managing. Taverns were hit harder, but anyone who bought heavily in apples didn’t sell much cider.”

  “That’s not on you, Alric,” he continued. “The adventurers took over the festival. Anyone sitting on cider stock will see it turn soon. I made some myself, but not much. I don’t compete. This is a family inn. People come back for how they’re treated, not just the drink. Those who pushed hard on booze took a heavy hit.”

  He shook his head. “A friend of mine at the Three Barrels was hit badly. Wagon loads of apples he couldn’t move.”

  Alric winced inwardly.

  Seeing his expression, Berrin waved a hand. “Not your fault. They gambled on apples and lost. If anything, the adventurers earned it.”

  Alric shrugged at that. It was a bit late to do anything about it now. Berrin lifted his tankard and drained it.

  “I should get these put away. Monica and Ruth wanted to talk to you,” he said, sounding sceptical.

  “Not sure what that’s about. I do have some fruit juice as a gift for your family, though. I’ll give it to Monica, as thanks for introducing me to a staff member,” Alric added.

  Berrin nodded, then started to giggle.

  “Oh, you should go see them. Best to get it over with,” he said with a snort, gesturing toward reception.

  Alric felt the hairs on his neck rise. He nodded to Berrin before standing and heading over, suddenly cautious.

  “Alric. So good to see you. Still single, I see?” Monica said with an icy smile.

  “Uh… yes?” He glanced sideways. “I brought you something. It’s sweetened pear juice for the family.” He set a small cask on the counter.

  “Oh, we’ll accept that gladly. But Alric, you’re an idiot.” Her smile faded at once. “I know you employ women without blinking, but if I introduce another, it’s not as staff.” She crossed her arms and looked away. Ruth mimic the gesture with careful seriousness.

  It struck him then. She had introduced Seren as a potential partner.

  Alric deflated slightly, then remembered how useful Seren was and pressed on.

  “I’m too young for that. Also, Seren is doing great. She works hard and…” He trailed off under Monica’s stare.

  “I’m too young for that,” he repeated. He crossed his arms as well, then realised they were hidden beneath his cloak. He opened it and repeated the gesture properly, which made Ruth giggle. Monica struggled to keep a straight face.

  “Fine. But just so you know, Berrin and I were married younger than you. It feels like you have time, then suddenly you don’t. Don’t wait too long.” She wagged a finger at him.

  Alric snorted. “If I change my mind, I’ll let you know.”

  Monica nodded.

  Shortly after, Alric was on his way back to the warehouse, eager to discuss what he had learned with the staff and work out a strategy. He made a note to try to find the Three Barrels if he could. The least he could do was offer them a discount.