Beers and Beards: A Cozy Dwarf Tale
Book 4: Chapter 44: An Unexpected Party

The next day found me out of my shell once more at the Brewing School. Today I had the privilege of getting a front row seat to something I’d never thought I’d see.

Johnsson. Teaching.

Ever since the brewery had switched over to largely magic and enchantment based equipment, Johnsson had been feeling a bit left out. He’d never been big into studying, and going back to school was one of his nightmares, so getting Aaron’s Blessing had always been out of reach.

But holding the attention of an audience about a subject he knew well while he oozed Charisma? That was his bread and butter, and teaching was a perfectly viable route to getting Archis’s Blessing.

He twirled his moustache as he spoke, and not a few of the dwarves of both genders in the audience bit their lips in appreciation. Johnsson’s long braided hair was currently teal-tipped, with his beard in a Viking style with short sides and a braid down the center while his moustache was curled up in the sides in a more Dick Van Dyke style. He was a dwarf in his element here in elven lands, and he’d eschewed his fake-dress-armour style for something more local – a bluish gray sarong accented by a gold pauldron on his left shoulder, some silver bracers, with his armoured boots as the only nod to traditional dwarven attire.

I smiled as I watched him wind down on a lesson about yeasts. He even made sure to pitch my book, and I saw several students make notes – no doubt a reminder to buy it when they went home.

*sniff* It was beautiful.

“Good work!” I said, walking into the room after the last student – a blonde haired dwarfess with a chin strap beard – trailed out while making eyes at her teacher. “Y’know that it’s illegal fer a teacher ta seduce his students, right?”

Johnsson gave me a quirked eyebrow. “The youngest person here is sixty, and it isn’t like this is the Academy.”

“But what would Draconis think?” I cried, holding my wrist to my forehead and feigning faint. Johnsson and Draconis were still an *item*, though it was harder and harder to tell if it was serious or a friends with benefits situation.

To be fair, Draconis came with a six pack of impressive benefits.

Johnsson just grinned and elbowed me out of the way. “Shaaadup, Pete. How was your little date with Mirelda?”

“Wasn’t a date. She just wanted ta chat.” I sniffed.

“I was talking about your other date, at the castle. Have you had more than one date?” He continued, waggling his eyebrows at me.

“You mean the one overrun by monsters,” I grumbled. “Some date.”

“What do you mean, it’s all anyone was able to talk about for weeks now. That's a pretty impressive date!”

“Hey, now it’s your time ta shaddup.”

Johnsson smirked at his palpable hit as we arrived at the office gourd.

I swung it open, and blanked.

Standing in my gourd, looking around curiously, was an imposing and majestic helf.

And not just any helf. Master Romero.

“Ahhh, Master Roughtuff. If mine eyes do not deceive.” He adjusted his glasses and gave me a mirthful smile. “I do apologize for dropping in unannounced, but I had a space open up.”

“Come in!” I kept a stammer out, letting my high Charisma pull me through. “Johnsson will grab us some drinks.”

I pushed Johnsson out the door behind me as he muttered, “I will?”

“I would adore some of that lovely maple cider, if it pleases you.” Romero smiled. “It’s been a long time since I so enjoyed a new drink.”

I walked over to my desk and took a seat, gesturing to the chair across from me. “Please, take a seat. What brings ya to this humble pumkpin?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Romero sat somewhat like I imagined a spider would, bending each of his joints one at a time in a complex motion that was exhausting to watch.

“I came to invite you to the winery. I do hope you’ll accept.”

“Yes,” I snapped out, then asked more cautiously, “Whyyy? In our last meeting you sounded far too busy to show me around, let alone come visit in person.”

Romero looked around the office, his ancient eyes drinking everything in. “My supply of grapes has been severely disrupted by the recent stampede and I suddenly find myself with a surplus of time on my hands. I wish to be witness to your brewing school, and determine if what you’re doing here could aid in the training of mine own apprentices.”

“Of course. I’d be happy to show you around!” I smiled, then did my best to tamp down the edges. No need to look too eager, Pete!

After Johnsson arrived with our drinks, I ferried Romero around the grounds of the school. He considered the pumpkin couture to be quaint, but passable, spent a solid fifteen minutes in a lecture being run by Journeyman Juniper, then spent a solid hour pouring over our Nether Infused Bottling System. He was slow and methodical, touching every nut and bolt and staring at everything with his too-wide-apart eyes like he was trying to bore holes with them.

“This is a fascinating piece of technology. I do think it can be used for my own wine without changing the flavour,” he eventually said. “Though it strikes me as dangerous.

“It can be. But most machinery is.” I nodded. “And it should let the wine last longer on the shelf.”

“Your teaching methods are quite similar to the academy,” he continued, running his hands over some of the piping. “Which are passable. But this setup is what truly interests me. Tell me, doth it not remove much of the heart from the brewing process?”

I patted the boil kettle beside me. “I’d say tha heart comes from buildin’ this in tha’ first place. And it gives me more time for experimentin’ with the actual brewin’ side of things. Tha mash and the boil and the bottin’ take the most time, but are the least fun. I get more time fer everything else in return. Gettin’ the flavour profile just right, and playin’ with fun adjuncts, and whatnot.”

Romero slowly nodded. “I could possibly do something similar with my wine. Perhaps if I am the one that activates it, it would bypass Barck’s bothersome Ability? And a machine that did most of the steps could serve as a teaching aid for when I finally rest within the soil.”

I felt a surge of affection for a kindred soul in Barck enmity, then hesitated. “And, uh, is that likely to be soon?”

Romero shrugged. “It will come to pass when the seasons dictate.”

Talking to the old elf felt like trying to puzzle out a fortune cookie sometimes. To be fair, Romero had to be at least 8000 years old, and I couldn’t even fathom what living that long did to the mind.

“What does that even look like fer an elf?” I asked, curiously. “Gettin’ old, I mean.”

Romero glanced at me through lowered spectacles. “Old elves are as rare as young elves, but one of my oldest journeymen is reaching the end of his uprooting. He will be able to answer your question.”

“Oh, uh,” I decided to change the subject, gesturing at the apparatus. “What are ‘yer final thoughts on the setup?”

“It could use some improvements for efficiency.”

I immediately pulled out my notebook. “Do tell?”

He pointed at a spot between the mash tun and the brew kettle. “By using a T-junction at this point, you’re introducing pressure loss. An arc junction would provide the same services at a negligible price increase, but would result in approximately 3% less pressure loss. The reduction in impact pressure would also improve the flavour of the wine by a similar percentage ”

I wrote furiously as he continued to nitpick small details, covering everything from our enchantments to the types of metal we were using.

“Barcks beard, you seem ta know just about everything!” I couldn’t help gushing.

Romero sighed. “It comes with age. A tall tree gathers much moss.”

When he was done covering nearly every bit and bolt, he gave a firm nod. “I appreciate how much this cost. You had no reason to use glass for everything, but did so for your students. Admirable.”

I scratched the back of my neck. “D’awww, t’weren’t nothin’.”

“But it was.” Romero gave me a deep curtsy, lifting the long front of his sarong. “As a fellow Master, I thank you for what you have done to further our craft.”

I awkwardly gave a return bow over a closed fist. “Thankee fer yer advice, too. I’m sure Richter and Copperpot will appreciate it. They’re tha two what helped me build all this.”

Romero gave one of his lizardlike nods, and we returned to my office. Morning had come and gone, and we were well into afternoon, but I wasn’t feeling anything other than anticipation.

When we were seated again, I asked, “Ya mentioned a chance ta visit the winery? Is that still on tha table?”

“Of course, ‘twas half the reason I did visit this day.” Romero practically glowed with pleasure. “Now that you have shown me yours, I must dutifully show you mine.”

I blinked. Started to speak. Then shut my mouth with a *click*.

“I’d love to…” I finally said, hesitantly. “When?”

“Having looked about, you do not seem overly busy. Would this afternoon be acceptable?”

“Yes.” I immediately jumped to my feet. Then I lowered myself back into my chair, slowly. “ I mean, I would be honoured, Master Romero.”

Romero’s eyes crinkled. “Do you need time to get your affairs in order, or would you prefer to go now?”

“I’m free. Let’s go right now.”

I grabbed Johnsson as we made our way out, explaining the situation and dumping the entire day's work directly into his lap. He swore vengeance, but I didn’t care.

I was finally headed to THE Winery!