Chương 69: Chapter 67 – Week 6

It was the last week now. Pavise had announced the festival would be ending this week. So this was it. The mood in the warehouse, however, was different. Steam drifted lazily from the boiler vents, thinner than usual, hanging near the ceiling before finding cracks to escape, as if it too had decided there was no point hurrying. Hal worked with Jory to complete boils, but the urgency was missing. People took breaks. They chatted more. No matter what they did now, it would not ferment in time for the festival.

From their point of view, it was over. Vale approached Alric.

"Here's the final list," he said, passing over a sheet of paper.

"Eighty-eight independents now want beer. Most of them are dockside." He stifled a yawn. A cask thudded into place nearby, the sound dull rather than sharp, as if the wood was tired of being involved in other people's ambitions. Alric nodded.

"So we're back to casks being the problem again. An independent needs them for a week, after all." He sounded amused as he passed the list back. Vale scowled.

"Still, this puts us back to very healthy margins," Vale said, re-checking the list.

"It does. We make roughly a silver per small cask. The Adventurers' Guild used to take twenty a week. That may change, but we're over a gold a week again." Alric nodded, and Vale matched him.

"Still, it's below what we can push out," Vale said, glancing toward the boilers. The boilers rumbled steadily, unhurried, like large animals who had discovered that urgency was something other people did to themselves.

"It is. We can do ninety a day, but that's us capped out. If that many are taking beer from us, we've no room for mistakes," Alric explained. Vale nodded again.

"Oi guv! Ya got a moment?" came a shout from outside. Alric glanced at Vale with a raised brow. Vale shrugged, and they both walked out. The yard smelled of damp wood and iron. A cart wheel creaked as it settled, a sound that suggested it had opinions about the work to come. Two of the carters had just pulled in. Both were sitting on the carts.

"Everything alright?" Alric asked as he approached. Both nodded.

"Aye, all goin' swell. We wanted ta ask if we can do a few extra trips an' take the last two days o' the week off." The carter stretched as he spoke, joints cracking.

"I don't mind," Alric said, "but aren't you pushing a bit hard? I don't want anyone collapsing."

"Well, guv, most o' the taverns are down by the docks." He gestured vaguely.

"No uphill, see? It's the Adventurers that's the trip. We all wanna go ta the festival." A gull shrieked overhead, then vanished toward the river, loudly announcing that it would not be participating in anyone's schedule.

"Ah." Alric paused.

"I don't want to take work away from you, but I can do the Adventurers' Guild drop. I'll use my item box. I'm going on the last day anyway." The carters nodded.

"Aye, guv, that'll be swell. We wanna see the other side o' the festival." Both smiled, shoulders slumping slightly, the way men did when the world briefly behaved as it ought. They stood to stretch.

"We'll let the others know. Best get the last load movin'. Pleasure as always, guv." One took hold of the handcart and leaned into it, wood complaining softly as it rolled, because wood always complained, and then it did the job anyway. Alric returned to the warehouse and caught Mara moving quickly. Water sloshed in a bucket she set down a fraction too hard, and the sound of it carried the small warning that people with energy were still dangerous, even when told not to be.

"Remember, we're slowing down. No hero stuff," he said. Mara smiled and deliberately eased her pace, the kind of obedience that suggested she was doing him a favour. Alric was surprised to see Battery coming out of the staff wing, stretching as well.

"Battery, this is rare," Alric said, not quite a question. Battery grinned.

"Got a day off, an' I don't need ta charge. Good day for spell castin', don't you think?"

"As good a day as any. You managing?" Alric asked. Battery nodded eagerly.

"Learnt a new spell. Wanna see?"

"Sure. Outside though?" Alric said, heading toward the doors. The doors stuck for a moment before opening with a scrape, as if the building itself wished to be asked politely.

"Alright, show me." Battery closed his eyes. Alric waited. Nothing happened. Battery whispered something under his breath. Alric waited. Nothing. Battery pushed his hand out. Alric waited. A breeze stirred dust at their feet, which made a small, determined effort to become involved in everything. Finally, a jet of water burst from Battery's hand.

"Oh wow. That's very useful. Can you make it thinner?" Alric asked, genuinely interested as he studied the spray.

"Uh… I can. Hold on." Battery shut his eyes again, grunting with the effort. As the jet narrowed, the pressure increased. Water hissed as it struck the packed earth, which accepted the insult with the patience of dirt that had seen worse.

"That's genuinely useful," Alric said.

"Come over here, quick." He moved to one of the walls. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Battery cancelled the spell, blinked, then followed.

"Stand here. Cast at this." Alric gestured to the space between the stones. Battery nodded and cast again. It took time, but eventually the jet sprayed into the cracks. Dirt ran in thin streams across the stone floor, surrendering like an enemy that had never expected to face organised water. Alric smiled as it washed free, the water cutting like a high-pressure hose.

"That's fantastic. Can you hold it? Could you clean the wall with it?"

"Uh… I guess so?" Battery said, uncertain.

"Alright then. Let's do the inside first." Alric turned back toward the warehouse, energy returning to his step with the alarming brightness of a man who had just found a new way to make someone else work harder. Some time later, Battery muttered to himself that he would never show Alric another spell. Alric was watching Battery cleaning the walls, beaming happily, when Seren approached.

"Mister Alric, we got two letters from the guilds. The taverns and inns." She held them out to him. The water continued to hiss against stone as Alric took them, because the world was never kind enough to pause for paperwork. Alric's good mood vanished as he broke the seals and read. Both letters were overly polite, every word carefully chosen. They requested mediation. He handed them back.

"I know you sometimes adjust my phrasing, but I need you to be very specific this time. I will never sell to anyone in those two guilds." He shrugged. Seren nodded, smiling. She sent the replies quietly, without embellishment, which was the kind of restraint that made letters feel like weapons. The sound slammed into him like a wall. Heat rolled out first, then noise. Hundreds of voices pressed together, laughter tearing loose into shouting, boots hammering stone in uneven rhythms.

Smoke and spilled beer clung low to the ground. Something crashed to the left and was immediately drowned out by approval, because whatever it had been, it was not as important as the fact that it had happened loudly. Alric didn't walk into the festival. The festival opened around him. The adventurers moved first. Not fast. Not aggressive. Just forward. Leather creaked. Steel flashed in torchlight. A shoulder turned sideways too late and was gently but firmly redirected.

A knot of drinkers broke apart without anyone quite realising why. Someone started to jeer, saw the guards, and swallowed it halfway through, as if the thought had suddenly become expensive. Stromni let out a low, appreciative sound.

"Hells," he muttered.

"That's a proper entrance, that is." Inside the yard, the noise rebounded from stone walls, louder and tighter. A chant rose from the pit, raw and rhythmic, punctuated by a wet crack and a roar of approval. Somewhere a cask blew its seal, beer sloshing across the stones to wild cheers, which was the sort of tragedy everyone could agree was worth applauding. Alric felt hands on his shoulders, not restraining, not guiding. Claiming space. Pavise appeared out of the crush with a grin too wide to be accidental.

He seized Alric's arm like a prize and hauled him forward before he could object.

"There!" Pavise bellowed, his voice cutting clean and hard through the din.

"There he is! Make room!" The adventurers stopped. The crowd didn't go quiet. It shifted. Noise folded inward, eyes snapping toward the same point. Faces flushed, expectant, suddenly attentive. The chant from the pit faltered, then resumed, louder for the interruption. Alric stood in the open, torchlight hot on his face, Pavise gripping his arm like an anchor. For the first time all day, no one was pushing. The weight of it settled on him all at once. Not danger. Not triumph.

Just the unmistakable pressure of being the reason the noise existed at all. Pavise laughed but never relented his grip. He dragged Alric to an upturned barrel and, before he could protest, hooked a hand under each arm.

"Up you go," Pavise said, lifting him onto the barrel.

"Citizens! Your quiet hero has arrived! The man who made all of this possible! He made all your beer, it's the brewer!" The response was a roar. The ground seemed to vibrate beneath Alric's boots. He felt himself fold inward under the weight of it, like a man being asked to carry a crowd with his shoulders. As quickly as it started, it stopped. Eyes watched him, waiting, with the patient confidence of people who believed this was about to be entertaining.

"Uh…" he began.

"Um. I'm glad to be here. No wait. My staff. They made this possible. Give a cheer for them." The sound returned, deafening. Alric shook his head, trying to clear his hearing, and failing, because noise like this did not leave once invited in. He pointed at them like an accusation.

"I might be their boss, but nearly all of this beer comes from our head brewers. Mara and Hal!" Another roar. Pavise had already moved, lifting Hal above the crowd. Laughter followed as Hal was passed along, someone pressing a beer into his hand. Hal tried awkwardly to drink while lying on his back, laughing at the whole thing, as if he had been promoted to furniture.

"They have help though. Give it up for Henry. Lessa. Jory and Jase." Alric found his footing now. He smiled at his staff, who looked as awkward as he felt, which was to say they looked like people who had never planned to be seen in this quantity.

"Someone has to oversee such wild and reckless people. Seren and Vale." The crowd roared again. Seren gave a small curtsy. Vale bowed, as if the noise was a proper greeting and not an assault.

"And lastly, without these, we'd never have gotten it to you. Give it up for the carters!" This was the loudest cheer yet. Fists rose as the carters lifted their arms. Others joined in. Alric noticed how many hands were bruised, and how many people cheered as if bruises were simply part of doing a job properly.

"And that's it. Have a good time and drink too much beer." The response was a wall of sound. Pavise reappeared as if summoned, moving through the crowd with quiet inevitability. He pressed a tankard into Alric's hand. Alric grinned and took a deep swig, earning another roar, and it occurred to him that if he took no drink at all he might never leave. Alric looked for somewhere to climb down.

"You heard him! Drink hard! Fight dirty for the last day!" Pavise bellowed, just as Alric managed to awkwardly dismount. He hadn't caught his breath before Pavise seized his wrist again and dragged him through the crowd, gesturing for the staff to follow. Beer sloshed everywhere as they moved, sacrificed to the floor in the name of speed. As he was pulled inside, a chant rolled after them.

"Volunteer! Volunteer!" Pavise led him into a side lounge.

"This is usually the ladies' section," he said, waving at the windows overlooking the pit.

"Today it's for guests. Your staff'll be along." He grinned and vanished, which was a Pavise technique for leaving behind both responsibility and explanation. Stromni arrived moments later, giving the room a quiet nod before moving to the windows. Alric joined him. The chant continued.

"Volunteer! Volunteer!" To Alric's shock, one of the carters vaulted the fence and grinned as he landed. The roar was immediate, as if the crowd had been waiting all day for something sensible.

"We have a carter, folks! First timer! An' here comes his challenger. Looks like a carpenter!" A man was shoved toward the pit, unsteady, and pushed inside. He glared at the carter.

"This one won't last long 'gainst the carter," Stromni said, laughing. He was right. Three punches later it was over, which was the sort of efficiency the warehouse would have respected. Alric stared, quietly horrified.

"They been doin' this six weeks?" he asked, pointing. Stromni nodded, smug.

"Ya expected what from adventurers, lad?" Guards dragged the downed fighter out through an alley where a cart waited. The motion was practiced and quick, as if someone had written it down and then removed the part where anyone stopped to feel bad about it.

"I don't know," Alric said finally.

"Guess it fits."

"Aye, lad. It's you who never quite does," Stromni said, smiling, and somehow it was not unkind. The rest of the staff arrived. Hal and Henry claimed a window as the chant rose again. Gil arrived with a tray of bitters. They thanked him as he grinned and left. Alric took a breath, looking over his people, pride tightening unexpectedly in his chest, and the thought that if he ever said any of this aloud he would regret it instantly. Nearby, a group of female adventurers whispered, glancing toward Alric.

Mara noticed and met Seren's eye. Seren nodded, took Lessa by the elbow, and drew her closer. Lessa protested faintly, then stopped. The adventurers watched a moment longer and drifted away. Mara nodded. Seren returned it, as if this was simply another task that had needed doing. It was sunset when they finally left. The sky burned orange over the rooftops as Alric lay sprawled across the back of a cask cart. Every time he had tried to move or speak, someone had pressed more beer into his hands.

Eventually, the beer won, which was only fair, given how hard they had worked. Mara lay beside him with even less dignity. At least she wasn't snoring. The adventurers had been impressed with how she downed drinks and had taken that as a challenge, the way people did when they met someone who was good at something unwise. Lessa sat on the handcart, watching them with an amused smile. Behind the cart, Henry and Hal walked arm in arm, attempting to sing two different songs at once.

It only made them laugh harder, and neither song seemed to mind being mistreated. Stromni walked beside the cart, deeply amused. The adventurers hired to protect Alric moved ahead, clearing the way, because even at the end of the day someone had to keep order, and it might as well be people with swords.

"Heavy load this," a carter said to Stromni with a wide grin. His jaw was bruised darkly. Stromni laughed. Shadows stretched long as they shuffled toward the warehouse district. ---- END OF BOOK ONE ----