Chương 64: Chapter 62 – Week 1

Alric was just approaching the warehouse when he turned to the adventurers.

"Alright, this is it. This building. I can't offer you beds, but I'm guessing you weren't expecting them?" he said. They shook their heads.

"There are two wells out back that also need to be protected," he added. The adventurers nodded. A cart rattled past behind them, iron-rimmed wheels scraping over stone, and one of the adventurers stepped aside to let it through. Alric nodded once more and turned back toward the front doors, still waiting on a proper locking bar. When he entered, all the staff were gathered inside. The adventurers moved past him and began glancing around the space, boots sounding hollow against the stone floor.

"Right, so these lot and a few more will be staying with us for a while," Alric said, gesturing as they peeled off toward the cellar wing, peering into corners and doorways. His gaze followed them. It caught on the broken steamer for a moment before he turned back to the staff. A thin hiss of cooling metal lingered near the boilers. Battery would have been at his magery job. Stephen was absent.

"Mister Alric, uh. Stephen left," Seren said.

"He didn't give a reason. Just said he didn't want to be part of this." Alric nodded. Stephen had been responsible for the oxen. They would not need them for a while.

"I see," he said simply.

"Well. Let's start with what's important right now. Lessa, you'll need to get your things and get situated, take Stephen's room. Jase you won't be working today or tomorrow." he said. Jase panicked and blurted it out.

"I can walk, Mister Alric. I can work," he said, worry plain on his face. No one spoke for a moment. Somewhere in the building, water dripped steadily into a bucket.

"No need for that. You'll be paid whether you work or not," Vale said. Both Lessa and Jase relaxed immediately, shoulders slumping. Alric nodded to reinforce it.

"We'll arrange messengers later to send word to your family. I want you to rest, but you should hear this first," Alric said, glancing toward the staff wing.

"Jory, I can offer you the cellar, or an adventurer can walk you home."

"Much obliged, Mister Alric. Me home ain't far. I'll take an adventurer," Jory said. Alric did not like the answer, but it was Jory's risk to take. It took some time, but Alric explained how they would be selling at cost to Denner and the Adventurers' Guild, and that a festival would be declared. As he spoke, steam crept along the rafters and condensed, dripping back down in slow, regular taps, as if the building itself were taking notes. Seren and Stromni both winced. The rest of the staff showed little reaction.

"Now, I know you don't want me doing labour, but I'm setting that rule aside," Alric said. Mara drew in a breath, but Alric raised a hand.

"This could drag on for months, maybe even a season. You all need breaks. That includes me. I can throw out bad beer, but being too tired leads to accidents." Mara sighed, then nodded.

"Well lad, I can get the roof frame up faster. I'll be able to," Stromni began. Alric shook his head.

"We're going to be running hard, Strom. That just adds another thing that could get someone hurt." Stromni frowned and looked down.

"I want you to build the third boiler instead. I'm worried about your safety as well. This way you get to stay in your forge," Alric said. Stromni blinked.

"Aye, I can do that, lad. Ya don't need ta worry about me. The taverns an inns won't mess with the smiths' guild," he said with a grin.

"Right now, we can't afford the magic stones," Alric said.

"But we're only selling at cost to the adventurers and Denner from the Three Barrels. Other independents still exist, so we'll make some coin." That earned nods from both Stromni and Vale.

"With that said," Alric continued, "we're only doing three beers. We keep it simple. The adventurers' brown ale, our normal ale, and stout. That's it. No experiments for a while." Hal and Mara nodded. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"And we're not watering anything down. We sell it good and strong. Running at cost keeps it cheap enough. If it doesn't feel like a festival, this won't work." Alric paused, scanning the room. The boiler ticked as it settled. No one spoke.

"They brought this fight to us. To our warehouse. To our people. We didn't choose it, and you need to remember that. We'll fight them through steam and boiler. Every cask is a soldier. We will not sell to guild members. No gifts. No favours. No exceptions. Any questions?" The staff shook their heads.

"Right then. Let's get started. I'll get water," Alric said, dismissing them as he headed toward the wells. A short while later, Mara approached Stromni, who was working at the broken steamer. He leaned into it, metal protesting as he shifted the weight.

"Master Dwarf," she said carefully, "can I ask how this is fighting?" She nodded toward the boilers, already heating. Stromni thought for a moment, wiping his hands on a rag stiff wi' old oil.

"Well lass, if ye could save a few coppers an drink better beer by walking a few streets, are ye staying at yer nearest tavern or walking over?"

"Oh, I'd walk. Every time," Mara said.

"Aye. You an half the city. Taverns sit empty. Their beer turns. Maybe they brew more but sell less. Maybe they sell it anyway ta stay open, make folk sick, an those folk never come back." The steamer shifted with a dull scrape as Stromni braced it. Mara nodded, seeing it clearly.

"So they either waste beer or lose their own trade," she said. Stromni shrugged.

"We'll see how it plays out. Depends how long he keeps it up. But here's the thing. The bastard could do this forever, an only he could. He'll make less coin, sure. But they'll lose far more. It's cutthroat."

"I see," Mara said quietly.

"I had no idea."

"Aye. Alric's going for the throat," Stromni said. Meanwhile, Pavise stood outside the Adventurers' Guild with his clerk and Gil the barman. The street was half-blocked by stacked barrels, and the sound of sawing carried from inside. Pavise was in an excellent mood, which on a man of his size suggested that several laws of common sense had quietly stepped aside.

"Right. The cider festival taught us some hard lessons. This might be worse. Might be better," Pavise said.

"I want a fighting ring there." He pointed to the corner where the road met an alley.

"Get a frame up by tomorrow. Hay on the floor, thick. Guards drag fighters into the alley once they drop. Make sure a cart can get in. Only rule is no weapons." His clerk scribbled furiously, ink blotting where the quill paused.

"Benches along the walls. Build more bars out of barrels. No food. Clear the tavern floor and pull the chairs. We need space for casks." Gil nodded, already turning back toward the door.

"And put some barrels here. Proper bookies this time. Raise it a bit. If someone wins a string of fights, I might step in myself," Pavise said, grinning.

"We're working late tonight. We announce tomorrow." Behind him, benches scraped over stone, walls were scrubbed raw, and barrels thudded into place. The following day, the Tavern Keepers' Guild master leaned back from his desk. A stack of unopened letters sat untouched at one corner. There had been no response from the brewer. The attack had been two nights ago. He had expected at least a letter.

"Boss?" a voice said from the doorway. He looked up. The man there stood half in, half out, hand still on the doorframe.

"Er, boss. I've got news. It's not good." The guild master gestured for him to continue.

"The guards are saying we and the innkeepers tried to start a fire in the warehouses."

"What?" The guild master stood, chair legs scraping sharply behind him.

"There's been a rumour since that night," the man said quickly.

"But the guards are saying the same thing." The guild master shook his head.

"The brewer's setting us up. Make sure word gets out that it was the innkeepers." The man nodded, then hesitated.

"Boss, they're saying the brewer's a mage. Put the fire out with a well. And the adventurers are declaring a festival. Selling beer cheap."

"Bah. Adventurers will drink anything. He can't keep it up," the guild master said, waving a hand.

"Start the rumour that it was the innkeepers. Or the brewer." He sat back down. The chair creaked under his weight, sounding tired of being involved in these decisions. It was troubling, but it would pass. The city always forgot. The guard captain let out a deep sigh.

"So, someone set a fire but we caught no one?" the captain asked looking at the ceiling.

"Aye Cap, people there thought it were the guilds, innkeepers en taverns, but we didn't catch no one." the sergeant explained avoiding eye contact.

"we goin door ta door, see what comes out." The pair were currently in an office in the old fort, the guards used this area for administration and training. Currently it overlooked a city that wasn't burning.

"But we may get nothing." the captain said letting out a deep breath "What's the brewer doing?"

"Went ta the adventurers we heard, gonna host a festival." he said gesturing to the papers. The captain frowned and pulled the form toward him, it was a notice from the adventurers that they would be hosting a festival but better organised than before.

"Well, just the guilds and no proof. All we can do is back this, so, make sure every lad knows we think they started it. If we can't catch em, we hurt em. We owe the brewer but we can't be seen helping, so we do this much at least." The captain said now staring at the paper.

"More patrols in the warehouse district cap?" The sergeant asked, which got a nod. It was the second day since the festival had been announced. Alric stood with Vale as a carter ran in, breathless, boots slipping slightly on damp stone.

"That's the last of it, Mister Alric," the man said, dropping to a bench. Both carters were exhausted. Both were grinning. Alric glanced at Vale.

"That's ninety five casks to the adventurers. Denner sold eleven. It's only day two."

"It will slow down," Alric said with a shrug.

"We've still got extra stock. If that buffer drops, let them know. They'll need to adjust. Next week we start sending to independents again." He turned to the carters.

"You need water? A drink?" They shook their heads, still catching their breath. Alric and Vale headed back inside. Those brief exchanges were the extent of Alric's time outdoors. Behind them, the two carters leaned against the wall, laughing.

"Still can't believe a priest won day one in the ring," one said.

"Aye. Smiled the whole time. Then the big guild master jumped in. One punch. Dropped him," the other said. They cackled. Steam rose behind the warehouse.