Chương 165: Chapter 160 - The King’s Share

Alric stood in the rear yard waiting for a royal tax collector and trying not to think about the fact that he had cleaned the cellar before the king's people arrived. That felt guilty. That is not guilt, it is preparation. Playing with herbs isn't technically illegal, the alchemists guild just… takes an interest is all. Vale had sent notice to the palace yesterday. Separate books had been opened for the distillery.

The production runs had been counted, the casks marked, and the crown informed that there was now something worth taking ten percent of. Vale had sweated the entire time. Alric had expected Merenholt. At worst, he had expected Merenholt with three clerks, six cases of paper and Vale's day would be full of paperwork. The gate guard called from the front passage. A small, mounted party entered the yard a moment later.

Four crown guards came first, then a man on a dark chestnut horse that looked like it lived in such luxury that it could judge the pillow it slept on. Alric recognised the grey at the man's temples before he recognised the man properly. He had accompanied the king through the brewery, the other noble who said nothing. He had tasted the first brandy and said nothing, which Alric now understood had probably been work. They had never been formally introduced though. The household staff bowed.

Two maids curtsied near the passage. One of Alric's guards lowered himself with enough speed to show pride in his recent training.

"Please stand," Calvern said just as Alric was about to bow, he lifted one gloved hand while the horse shifted beneath him.

"I find all of that exhausting when it is done properly, and worse when it is not." Everyone rose with visible relief. Calvern swung down from the saddle without using a mounting block. He landed lightly, gathered the reins and passed them to one of his guards in a single movement. Alric couldn't hide his astonishment by how he had just executed that.

"M'lord," Alric said, bowing his head while clasping both hands behind his back.

"I expected Lord Merenholt."

"Merenholt knows taxes," Calvern said, pulling one glove free finger by finger as he looked across the yard.

"I know the brandy His Majesty tasted. I am Lord Calvern, I work closely with his majesty which is about all that matters."

"That makes sense, I am Alric, just Alric," Alric said, though his gaze had moved to the horse again. Calvern followed it.

"Do you know horses Alric?" Calvern asked, turning slightly and running one hand down the animal's neck.

"Uh… No, pretty much nothing," Alric said, looking over the broad chest, polished tack and the way the horse stood seemed to glare at the dust.

"I know it looks expensive."

"At least you can recognise quality," Calvern said, smiling as he rubbed the horse between the eyes.

"He is out of northern stock. Strong lungs, good feet, too clever though." Alric nodded as if that helped. The horse was excellent, that much was clear, but it was still one horse. Calvern had come to collect alcohol on it. Perhaps the crown had developed a cask saddle? Alric had seen stranger decisions from officials, though not many that involved balance at speed. Alric's gaze looked at what his brain considered 'the saddle bag space'. No cask straps or the line, he turned back to Calvern.

Calvern handed the second glove to the guard holding the reins, then turned back to Alric.

"Shall we see it?" Calvern asked, adjusting the cuff of his coat.

"Of course," Alric said, gesturing toward the rear passage and stepping aside. They crossed headquarters without ceremony. Calvern's guards remained near the cellar stairwell while one followed them down. The cellar door waited at the bottom; dark wood fitted into the old stone arch with Margaret's magical circle worked around the lock. Calvern stopped before it. Alric touched two fingers to the circle and fed in a thread of mana. The lock gripped, recognised him, then released the grip sensation.

Calvern leaned closer. He did not touch the circle. His eyes moved over the hinges, frame and surrounding stone.

"Who can open it?" Calvern asked, resting one hand against his belt.

"Only I can," Alric said, pulling the door partly open.

"Margaret can change that if I am present but, I am not sure why we would."

"Good," Calvern said, pressing one thumb against the edge of the frame before straightening.

"His Majesty worries about your security. This is the first answer I have seen that does not require more guards." Alric felt pleased by that. He opened the door fully. The cellar had been cleaned as far as Alric could manage, what was more important was any suspicious herb, still or equipment was currently in his item box. The suspicious smell currently was alcohol, for which he gotten a royal badge and figured he'd be forgiven.

In terms of alcohol inventory, it contained thirty-five casks of brandy, a port pipe, forty barrels of wine he was keeping, several barrels of distilled mineral water and a magical door. The first row of casks began beside the left wall. Two lines ran into the cellar, then a third crossed the back. Each cask had been marked with a run number, date and blend. Four smaller groups stood separately near the port pipes, cleanly spaced and marked with a star. Calvern stepped inside. He saw the first row and nodded once.

Then he saw where it ended. His pace slowed. Alric closed the door behind them. The magical lock settled with another thick click.

"These are the first blends," Alric said, moving to the nearest row and resting one hand on a cask.

"That row came from our first run, the still was not full that time. The second, third and fourth were blended later 'as runs' once we had enough to compare them properly." Calvern walked past him, counting without moving his lips.

"Wait, wait, wait, the casks are all brandy?" Calvern said, stopping near the end and placing one hand on the top of a cask. His eyes widened as he looked down the line of casks.

"Thirty-two ordinary," Alric said, pointing toward the separated group.

"Three reserve." Calvern looked toward the three. Then he looked back along the cellar.

"How?" Calvern asked, turning slowly toward Alric with his hand still on the cask.

"Our new still works well and fast, we call the still Maggie," Alric said, giving a small shrug and a smile. Calvern stared at him. Alric waited.

"I will ask about Maggie shortly," Calvern said, lifting one finger before looking at the rows again.

"Is this already watered down for sale?"

"No," Alric said, shaking his head and walking to one of the distilled-water barrels.

"It is at aging-cask strength. I'm not aging it so I'm selling at cask strength. So, this isn't watered down." Calvern's knees did not buckle entirely but they seemed to be considering it. Calvern caught himself against the workbench with one hand and remained there, looking across the cellar.

"You are sitting on a bloody treasury man," Calvern said, spreading his fingers against the wood. Alric laughed.

"I keep getting told that," Alric said, folding his arms and leaning back against the water barrel.

"But no one ever gives me a number." If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Calvern remained braced for another moment. Then he pushed himself upright and looked at the nearest markings.

"A rough number," Calvern said, smoothing one hand down the front of his coat.

"Not a merchant's sealed assessment, I can tell you what I think a court would pay."

"Rough is better than frightened staring," Alric said, unfolding his arms and turning toward him.

"At cask strength, if it as good as what I tried in the brewery, five gold would be insulting," Calvern said, touching one finger to the nearest cask.

"Three and a half gold now, young as it is. If it ages the way it should, that would be my guess." Alric looked down the rows. Thirty casks became roughly forty after reduction and the angel's share. Even at what Calvern called insulting wasn't much, it was more money than the grapes but not by much.

"I expected more honestly," Alric said with a frown. Calvern noticed his eyes travelling down the rows.

"Per cask man." Calvern said, perplexed and squeezing the nearest cask. Oh.

"I uh... Need to run some numbers." Alric said, his eyes widened as it at sunk in. Calvern watched the understanding arrive and gave him no sympathy.

"The reserve will be higher, but I won't say till I taste it." Calvern said, turning toward the three separated casks.

"Which settles His Majesty's share rather neatly." Alric looked at him.

"No," Alric said, shaking his head once. Calvern stopped walking.

"No?" Calvern asked, lowering his hand from the first reserve cask.

"You can't take all four," Alric said, stepping between Calvern and the reserve without thinking about how that might look.

"The crown gets ten percent, not all of the best part."

"There are thirty ordinary casks and three reserve casks," Calvern said, spreading one hand toward the cellar while keeping his expression calm.

"You have arranged the calculation for me."

"By volume," Alric said, tapping one finger against his palm.

"Not by value." Calvern's eyes narrowed slightly.

"What makes them reserve?" Calvern asked, turning his body toward Alric and folding both hands behind his back.

"They are the best of the hearts," Alric said, glancing at the burned marks.

"Different runs each. Different wine blends going in. Some had more red, some more white. If you take the reserve, then I am not going to keep a reserve, I will just blend it to make the others a little better."

"You blended the others," Calvern said, tilting his head toward the thirty casks.

"Yes," Alric said, moving to the first ordinary row and resting his palm against the wood.

"The runs were all good, but different. Run two was heavier, run three had more white wine so it is brighter tasting, a little sourer, run four had more heat. Blending the normal brandies made a better and more consistent brandy." Calvern looked back at the reserve.

"And these?" Calvern asked, lifting his chin toward them.

"I didn't mix them," Alric said, rubbing at the side of his jaw.

"Why?" Calvern asked, taking one slow step closer.

"Because they're that good," Alric said, lowering his hand. Calvern waited. Alric knew the answer sounded too small. It was still the answer.

"They are already excellent," Alric said, he picked his words carefully trying not to mention how the brandies were good even to his modern sensibilities, he opened one hand toward the four casks.

"Properly excellent. They are different, but none of them need fixing. Mixing them might make another good brandy. It might also make a worse one."

"You do not know?" Calvern asked, raising one eyebrow while studying him.

"No," Alric said, giving a small shrug.

"That is why I'm not doing it with all of it. Don't mess with a great product." Calvern's expression changed by very little.

"You can identify that now?" Calvern asked, placing two fingers lightly against the first reserve cask.

"Before years in wood?"

"I can identify clean hearts and good flavour now," Alric said, moving closer to the cask.

"I can't tell you exactly what the wood will do in five years, but the barrel cannot invent good spirit. It can improve it. It can also ruin it." Calvern went still. Alric had seen him do that beside the king. The man became quieter rather than more alert.

"Noble distillers say reserve cannot be known until it has aged," Calvern said, rubbing his thumb finger around a star.

"That's not true," Alric said, frowning as he looked at the same mark.

"Not entirely. You may not know the result, but you should know which part of the run tastes better. Anyone making it should be tasting as it comes across." Calvern looked at him for a long moment.

"Either you know more about brandy than every estate distiller I have ever known," Calvern said, drawing his hand away from the cask, "or several men have been lying to me for most of my life." Alric considered that.

"I don't know their process," Alric said, spreading both hands upward with an awkward shrug. Calvern said nothing, he smoothed the front of his coat again in contemplative silence. Alric suspected something important had just happened, though he did not know whether it involved brandy, taxes or nobles discovering that mystery was useful when speaking to the king's people. Calvern looked at the reserve casks once more.

"I will taste them," Calvern said, gesturing toward the casks with two fingers. Alric drew two dark green glasses from his item box, then a small measuring cup. He opened the first reserve cask and took only a little. The scent came out at once, deeper fruit and warmth held close together. He added distilled mineral water in careful amounts, stirred, then tasted first. The brandy flavour exploded across his tongue.

A darker fruit ran over his tongue from the heavier red-wine run, clean through the middle and warm at the end. He swallowed and let out a little sigh. Still good. Very good. Alric lowered the glass and looked toward the stairwell. Calvern noticed him looking at the stairs, "What are you looking for?" Calvern asked, taking the other glass and holding it beneath his nose.

"Uh… Do you want me to let your tasters in?" Alric asked, glancing once more at the closed door.

"Last time the cup passed through half the royal household before it reached you."

"I am not the king," Calvern said, turning the glass slowly between his fingers.

"And you drank first."

"That was also true last time, while you do that I just want to check some numbers." Alric said, leaning on the workbench. Calvern's mouth moved slightly and he nodded. He took a small sip and closed his eyes. He remained that way for several breaths, then took another, smaller sip before opening them. In the silence, Alric pulled out paper and charcoal from his item box and began doing math.

A wagonload of grapes was roughly a ton and a half by his best guestimate, a wagon load had cost him four large silver, he reduced to that to forty silver and worked it out. The final value for the ordinary brandy came to twenty-five times the material value. His eyes widened, a two thousand five hundred precent markup roughly.

"This is better than the one at the brewery," Calvern said, lowering the glass to his chest and pressing his lips together.

"Uh… Yes," Alric said, nodding as he left the paper behind, he resealed the cask.

"That was from a smaller still so less careful cuts than what we can get out of Maggie." Alric opened the second reserve. This one came from a run using more white wine. The scent was brighter and lifted more quickly from the glass. He reduced it with the same care and handed it over after tasting. Calvern drank. His eyebrows rose before he could stop them.

"Different, but also excellent, five gold per cask I'd say," Calvern said, holding the glass at arm's length and turning it, "I don't consider myself easily surprised but…" Calvern said, he trailed off not finding the words he wanted, he lowered the glass and looking between the two casks.

"And mixing them?"

"When I tried with small amounts, it just softened them," Alric said, crossing his arms. Calvern nodded slowly.

"Four ordinary casks will be set aside now," Calvern said, placing the glass carefully on the bench.

"The crown will also receive one tenth of the reserve when you release it. It may be best for his majesty to come select it."

"One tenth," Alric said, holding up one finger.

"Not the whole reserve."

"One tenth," Calvern said, giving him a firm nod.

"His Majesty will complain."

"He took half my port," Alric said, looking toward the two great pipes.

"He will mention that as proof of your generosity," Calvern said, following his gaze while the corner of his mouth lifted.

"That is not how I remember it," Alric said, rubbing one hand over his face. Calvern turned back to the thirty casks.

"How many runs made this?" Calvern asked, clasping both hands behind his back again.

"A few," Alric said, looking toward the floor. Calvern waited. Alric recognised the technique. Vale used it too. Perhaps stillness was something clerks and intelligence officers learned in the same dark room.

"More than four now," Alric said after a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Maggie takes ten barrels of wine when we run her full." Calvern's head turned and his eyes widening.

"Ten barrels?" Calvern said, his hands separating behind his back.

"Roughly," Alric said, giving him a cautious nod.

"What is Maggie?" Calvern asked, stepping closer.

"The still," Alric said, pointing vaguely in the direction of the river.

"At the distillery." Calvern stared at him.

"How large?" Calvern asked, lowering his voice while one hand settled against his belt.

"Uhm… Large, she takes ten barrels of wine like I said," Alric said, with a shrug and a wave, "People don't realise this but it is easier to manage and run a bigger still than a small one. You get better precision, better runs." he finished with a open hand facing upward gesture. Calvern did not brace himself this time. He simply looked back at the casks, then at Alric, then toward the ceiling as though the city might become clearer if considered through stone.

"The copper you were ordering," Calvern said, lifting one hand and pointing at Alric.

"Yes?" Alric said, nodding once.

"You ordered enough copper to finish the brewery?" Calvern said, rubbing two fingers slowly against his temple.

"I saw the empty stone emplacements."

"We did finish them," Alric said, shifting away from the bench.

"Those boilers came from a copperworks outside the city, although they are the distillery now, Maggie was built here." Calvern's hand stopped moving. For a moment, he looked offended by the arrangement of facts.

"The orders were separate?" Calvern said, lowering his hand and staring at nothing.

"Yes," Alric said, clasping his hands behind his back. Calvern looked at him. Alric tried a small smile. It did not improve anything.

"Take me to Maggie," Calvern said, giving Alric a dead pan look. Alric had the uncomfortable feeling Lord Calvern was about to understand why Vale had needed to sit down after meeting Maggie.