Chương 167: Chapter 162 - Royal Headache

The king's private lounge had four casks of brandy in it. They stood in a neat line before the couches, dark wood bound in iron, each one marked with the brewer's run numbers one through four and the fresh royal tax seal. The casks had numerous white marks on them as well as badly drawn crowns crossed out. Cask number three had circles drawn around the crown which others lacked. Calvern sat on one couch with an elbow resting against the arm and two fingers pressed into his temple. He was however giggling.

The king occupied the couch opposite him in much the same condition, but giggling a little harder. He had sunk low enough that the back of his head rested against the cushions. One hand covered his eyes. The other still held a light green glass. A jug of water and a measuring cup stood on the table between them. Beside those rested Calvern's glass, containing enough brandy to prove he had not finished it but had tried. They had tasted each cask once, that had been sensible.

The king had then wanted to know which one belonged in the royal cellar. They had tasted them again because there was a brief but serious argument. Calvern had preferred the second. The king had preferred the fourth. The first had then improved upon returning to it, which forced them to reconsider the whole thing. Numerous times. The third cask now bore the crown circles. Neither trusted the decision however and were attempting to rally. The lounge door opened.

The queen entered with one hand holding the edge of her skirt clear of the threshold. She took two steps inside, saw the casks, then looked at the king. Her eyes moved to Calvern.

"Who died?" the queen asked, stopping beside the door and tightening her hand around the cloth.

"No one," the king said, dragging his palm slowly down his face.

"The brewer has made us silly," Calvern said, pressing his fingers harder against his temple, he chuckled, so did the king.

"The brandy asks important questions," the king said, lifting the glass slightly before letting his arm fall back against the couch.

"The brewer has us flummoxed." The queen looked from one man to the other.

"You 'ave spent the afternoon drinking?" the queen asked, releasing her skirt and folding both hands at her waist.

"We have spent the afternoon assessing royal revenue," the king said, raising one finger from around the glass. Calvern looked at him, then the queen and nodded solemnly. The effect spoilt by more giggles. The king lowered the finger.

"There was some drinking, is the brewer after all." the king admitted, shifting deeper into the couch. The queen's gaze settled on the glass.

"That is his brandy?" she asked, she spoke slowly correcting her accent, stepping closer and leaning slightly toward it.

"Watered down, is ours now though, he made it though" the king said, extending the glass toward her while keeping his other hand against his forehead.

"Apparently, this is the proper drinking strength." The queen accepted the glass and sat beside him. She held it beneath her nose first, then glanced at Calvern. Calvern nodded once. She took a small sip, her back straightened and her eyebrows rose. The queen looked into the glass. She held it up to the window light, swirling it slowly, before taking a second sip. Her lips moved left and right.

"Oh," the queen said, lowering the glass to her lap while pressing her lips together.

"Yes," the king said, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead again. The queen tasted it once more. Her gaze dropped toward the casks. She looked at the first, then followed the row to the last. Her hand rose slowly.

"All four?" the queen asked, pointing toward them with the glass.

"All four," Calvern said, lowering his hand from his temple and resting it against the couch arm. She looked toward the chalk crown.

"You have already chosen one?" she asked, tilting the glass toward the mark.

"We believe so," the king said, opening one eye to look at the cask.

"Our confidence has waned, waned I say."

"The fourth was best on the second tasting," Calvern said, touching one finger to his temple again.

"The first improved when we returned to it, the brewers a tricksy one."

"The second did not become worse, mind you" the king said, turning his head toward Calvern and lifting the glassless hand from his forehead.

"You became distracted by the first."

"I was comparing them, for royal ashessment," Calvern said, sitting slightly straighter and gave serious look, slurring just a little.

"We need to go through them again," the king said, pointing toward the chalked cask. The queen looked between them. Then her gaze returned to the casks.

"Why did he… give us these?" the queen asked, lowering her pointing hand. Calvern looked at the four tax seals.

"They are the brewer's tax," Calvern said, he made a sweeping gesture with an open hand to the line of casks. The queen's eyes widened, her head tilted as she bent toward Calvern.

"Zees four casks are '''is tax?" she asked, her mouth remained open for a time.

"Zat iz ten percent?" the queen asked, her voice rising as she pointed sharply at the casks and losing control her accent completely. Both men winced while nodding.

"Please," the king said, raising one hand against the sound while squeezing his eyes shut.

"Yes," Calvern said, rubbing his temple with his thumb.

"Those four are ten percent of the ordinary brandy." The queen lowered her arm. She looked at the glass in her hand, then at the four casks again. Her shoulders dropped as she leaned back into the couch.

"How?" the queen asked, pressing two fingers against her own forehead. Calvern had expected the question, but it did not make it easier to answer.

"He has a still," Calvern said, resting both hands on his knees. The queen waited.

"He described it as large," Calvern continued, lifting one hand to indicate height before deciding the gesture was very funny, he started giggling.

"Lord Calvern, how large?" the king asked, giggling again, he turned his head toward him, he pressed his lips together to not laugh.

"I told you," Calvern said, lowering his hand and looking across at him.

"It would not fit in this room." This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. The king looked around the lounge. It was not a small room. Two couches, several chairs, the long table and four casks occupied only part of it. A private dinner could be held there without moving anything except, perhaps, the brandy now blocking the centre, which the king would consider unfortunate.

"Not standing upright, not on its side either I think." Calvern added, rubbing one hand across his jaw. The queen's fingers stopped against her forehead.

"It is zat large?" she asked, sitting forward and gripping the glass with both hands.

"They rebuilt much of the building around it," Calvern said, spreading both hands before him.

"It takes ten barrels of wine to fill." The king closed his eyes again.

"And these are from how many runs?" the queen asked, turning the glass between her palms.

"Four," Calvern said, leaning back into the couch.

"They stopped because they want to build another wall, with a window, inside." He started giggling at the last again. The king gave a low sound that was somewhere between a scoff and another giggle.

"His cellar had thirty-two ordinary casks and three reserve casks," Calvern said, lifting three fingers at the final number.

"These four are from the ordinary stock." The queen turned her head.

"Reserve?" she asked, lowering the glass and narrowing her eyes.

"The best portion of the runs," Calvern said, closing his raised fingers.

"He separated it before blending the ordinary brandy. Each reserve cask is different." The king's hand came away from his face.

"He kept those? He didn't hand those…" the king asked, sitting upright for the first time.

"He kept nine tenths of them," Calvern said, smoothing one palm down the front of his coat.

"The crown receives one tenth when he releases the reserve." The king stared at him.

"The brewer objected," Calvern added, settling his hand back onto his knee.

"To taxation?" the queen asked, lifting one eyebrow while looking at him.

"To me taking all three reserve casks as the crown's ten percent," Calvern said, tilting his head slightly.

"He became quite firm." The queen's mouth twitched.

"He was correct." she said, lifting the glass for another sip. The king looked toward her.

"That is easy to say while drinking my tax," he said, gesturing toward the glass in her hand. The queen swallowed and held the glass closer to herself.

"It is ours," she said, placing one hand over the rim. The king looked at Calvern. Calvern chose not to enter the matter.

"Surely this still is dangerous," the queen said, turning back to him and resting the glass against her knee.

"That size, full of spirit, inside the city?"

"That was my first concern," Calvern said, bringing both hands together.

"There is no furnace. It uses heating stones."

"No flame?" the king asked, lifting his head slightly.

"None," Calvern said, shaking his head. Calvern began explaining the many safety features, heating stones, no interior doors, the only door a sliding door to the river, a drain opened with a hammer, drainage channels heading to the river. Both royals listened without interruption.

"That sounds unusually careful," the king said after a silence stretched, lowering his hand from his forehead. The queen looked into the brandy. Calvern followed her gaze.

"Most importantly," Calvern said, gesturing toward her glass, "there is that." The queen raised her eyes.

"Do either of you believe a man who makes brandy like this, does not know how to build a still?" Calvern asked, opening one hand toward the four casks. The king looked at a chalk mark, trying to remember when they made it.

"No," he said, rubbing his thumb slowly across the couch arm. The queen sat back. For several breaths, no one spoke. The fire made a quiet sound in the hearth. Somewhere beyond the lounge, a servant crossed the passage and continued past the door.

"The distillery is not finished?" the queen asked, breaking the silence as she ran one finger around the rim of the glass.

"No," Calvern said, shaking his head.

"And this is what he has produced while testing it?" she asked, pointing toward the casks again.

"Yes," Calvern said, pressing his lips together. The king however couldn't take it and began laughing, Calvern smiled but then watching the king started laughing too. The queen placed two fingers against her forehead. After the two men settled, the king gave a tired nod.

"He has paid us a small fortune," the king said, spreading one hand toward the casks, "and somehow it feels like bad news."

"He intends to make whisky through winter," Calvern said, leaning his head back against the couch. The king's hand stopped moving. The queen closed her eyes.

"The brewer bought thirty-four wagonloads of grain," Calvern continued, looking toward the ceiling.

"A whole grain warehouse, he believes they will run through it all over winter." The king remained silent. Calvern lowered his gaze, "I asked him not to run the still on local grain, he agreed, but reluctantly." The king looked at him for a long moment, both the king and queen released deep breaths, their shoulders sagged.

"Calvern, may your ancestors bless you for that." Then he turned toward the chalked cask.

"Go and buy the reserve," the king said, pointing weakly toward Calvern. Calvern sat upright.

"No," Calvern said, smoothing both hands over his knees. The king's head turned.

"No?" the king asked, lifting one eyebrow.

"You were too slow," Calvern said, folding his hands together.

"I am buying one. You can buy the rest." The queen looked between them. The king considered Calvern with the faint concentration of a man deciding whether rank was worth using. It passed.

"Fine," the king said, letting his hand fall against the couch arm.

"You earned that much for sparing us a grain riot."

"I have only tasted two," Calvern said, lifting two fingers toward him. The king's eyes narrowed.

"There are three?" he asked, pointing at Calvern with a stiff finger.

"There are three," Calvern said, lowering his fingers and inclining his head. The king pressed his palm over his face. Calvern looked toward the casks again.

"Can we release some of the better aging casks and barrels from the royal cellars?" Calvern asked, turning his shoulders toward the king.

"I hope to trade some proper barrels and casks to lower the price." He tapped the nearest cask. The king looked down at where he was tapping his hand.

"Do it. Not the best ones though but certainly we have better than this. He will need to go to the hill dwarves to do better," the king said reaching forward and rubbing the nearest cask. Calvern nodded, knowing he would need speak to the cellar master personally. Otherwise, Alric would receive six casks that had survived a flood, a fire, three sieges and a border skirmish. That could wait until tomorrow, same with his suspicions to noble distillers.

"There was one other matter," Calvern said. The king was leaning back on the couch, did not open his eyes. He simply made a continue speaking gesture.

"Nothing dangerous," Calvern said, straightening slightly.

"He informed me in advance." The king opened one eye.

"That is unusually generous of him," the king said, lowering his hand.

"He is opening a tailor," Calvern said, glancing toward the queen again. The king closed his eye again.

"I do not care," he said, relaxing into the cushions.

"Mostly women's clothing," Calvern added, he avoided eye contact with the queen. The queen's mouth dropped open. Calvern watched the reaction with some satisfaction. It was unfair, but the day had offered him very little else.

"Women's clothing?" the queen asked, sitting upright so quickly that the brandy moved against the edge of the glass.

"Yes," Calvern said, inclining his head.

"The brewer is a business partner to a tailor, they will specialize in women's clothing." The queen stared at him.

"I was going to speak to him," she said, lowering the glass slowly into her lap, "The supports, other trends, I was going to ask where the ideas came from." Calvern remembered Alric standing beside Maggie and looking confused that a women's tailor might require further explanation.

"He has a vested interest in not telling me anything now," she said, pulling her lips forward into another pout. Calvern diverted his gaze too late, his hand slapped against his mouth. The king heard the noise, opened his eyes and glanced across at the queen. The king broke laughing long and deeply. The pout grew; she directed at it at both of them.

"That's twice… he's done that… to you…" The king said between laughs, Calvern wasn't facing her, his hand still covered his mouth, but his shoulders shook furiously. The queen's pout slowly faded, the two men slowly recovered.

"What happens if we give this man land?" she asked, turning the glass between both palms. The king opened his eyes. He did not answer immediately. Calvern watched him look at the four casks. The king's gaze stayed there for several breaths before looking at the queen.

"He could rise as a rival power," the king said, bringing both hands together over his stomach.

"Everything he touches becomes coin."

"He would control his own grain," the queen said, leaning forward slightly.

"He does not seem to want power."

"That may make it worse," the king said, turning toward her and spreading one hand.

"A man seeking power can be watched, controlled." Calvern looked down at his hands. The king's concern was reasonable. More reasonable after seeing the distillery than it had been that morning. Still, something about it bothered him. Alric already possessed influence. It moved through taverns, merchants, workers, guards, clothing, copper and grain. None of it was tied to land. None of it carried the obligations land created.

"What do you think?" the queen asked, turning toward Calvern and lifting her chin. Calvern raised his gaze.

"I do not believe giving him land is necessarily a bad idea, it creates responsibility." Calvern said, resting both palms against his knees. The king looked at him. Then he blinked rapidly.