Chapter 65

More Than One Hundred Thousand Points.

Dream Cutter Stone Shard Quest: 1/15,000 shards.

Hawkin

The pearlescent atmosphere of my Beyond the Cabin ethereal plane was beginning to bring me comfort. It was relaxing to visit.

I had decided that the plane would only be for storage. That’s all. I could store beer, all my master brews, and perhaps turn expanding landmarks into areas for gardening.

Gardening would need a large area, so I kicked off from the ground of sand and sumac leaves. I flew through the weave of oak and moss, leaving plenty of unused space behind. I flew beyond the last landmark and then poured a libation of my newest Chestnut Tree Landmark ale.

Spectral colored beer and foam spilled into empty air. With a slow flash, all the beer transmuted into the roots and trunks and branches of chestnut trees. Then I returned to the loghouse and put the master copy of the Chestnut Tree Landmark beside the others.

As I walked through the log house, I felt sand crunch beneath my boots. Sand that must have been brought in by Corylus’ dog. I used a simple cloth to sweep the sand out the door. I realized then that the dog’s paw prints were still in the sand. I followed them around and around, and even called for the dog. There was no answer. No howl. No panting, running ghost. I was curious about what happened to the ghost dog.

Before leaving my plane, I kicked off the ground once more and flew high above the log house so that I could take everything in. My plot looked like a spill of beach sand on a flowery meadow.

As I floated there, I sat cross legged and began forging ethereal ingredients. First, holy colored grain. Then ghost colored hops, unearthly colored yeast, and lastly, mystic colored water.

I spent an hour on each ingredient, earning a few levels in each skill. The time and focused attention to forging brought my Forge Ethereal Grain skill to level 871, my Forge Ethereal Hop skill to Level 790, my Forge Ethereal Yeast skill to level 640, and my Forge Ethereal Water skill to level 899.

I let each ingredient simply float in the air. The grains slowly spun in a ball that resembled a mess of dizzy bees. The yeast slowly twirled like dust in the wind. Hops spun in a pile, fluttering like little flaky wings on bumblebee shaped cones. The water formed an amorphous blob that seemed to want to flow somewhere. I found nothing wrong with storing my ingredients in mid air like that.

Seeing those abstract colors together made me want to brew another beer. I used mystic colored ethereal water; and silver rank, lesser legendary quality grain from Hiccup’s Silo #43; lesser legendary quality brewer’s yeast; and El Delta hops. At the end of fermentation, I used my Foam Cascade Silky Meringue sub skill. I’d brewed enough to fill several bottles.

I kept one open and poured a drop onto my Collector’s Journal.

[Ale by Brewery Hawkin.]

[Silver rank 32/100 Lesser Legendary.]

[Brewed with forged ethereal water, this beer contains one unknown flavor. The foam is thick and slips over the tongue like silk on skin. The foam can be eaten with a spoon. The beer is straw colored with stripes of an unknown color. The malt flavor is straightforward, pale, biscuity, and has a trace of cracked toffee. El Delta hops elevate the beer with esters of woodland herbs and the citrus of yellow kiwis.]

I drank and found the beer to be so very close to the Ale of the Vale of Ara. I saw no goddess. I saw no fields of summer flowers wet with dew. But I did enjoy the beer while gazing upon the massive fourrure flowers and the reaching chestnuts beyond the ball of oak.

I laughed aloud at the absurdity of having become a Planes Cutter Brewer. To have come so far with the aid of so many people and creatures I called friends. I was so very close to brewing something similar in quality to the beer that the Sons of Ara had shared with me. Brewing something like that was my destination.That, and golden chapter beers.

I wiped the silky meringue foam from my lips and gazed at the bottle of beer in my hands. Despite its citric kiwi kiss, despite its pillowy bodied malt that reminded me of spring days when the grass was still cold, despite the rustic grit of a farmhouse ale haze, and despite its wintry chill that could freeze a ray of amber sun, this good beer had no golden chapter.

Why not? Besides reaching gold rank, what will it take? What will it take!

After enjoying one of my simplest, yet delicious beers, I flew off into the pearlescent atmosphere of my plane and napped as I endlessly soared forth. The nap refreshed me and I later returned to my cabin well before evening.

Late afternoon was always a time when Boggo was active, so I descended to my cellar and asked for him. I sought out the entrances to blue bestie tunnels and I talked to each opening, hoping that if Boggo couldn’t hear me, some of his friends might, and they’d go fetch him.

I called and called his name. I asked for anyone else.

At last, I said, “Boggo. I know you deal with Thrush, but I was hoping we could trade for warm warm roots? I’ll brew beer for you. It would save a lot of goblin lives. Boggo?”

I brewed beer for Boggo and the blue besties anyway. I filled at least a dozen hide waterskins with something light and easy-going. I left them by one of the tunnels that looked the most frequented.

“These are for you,” I said. “Help yourselves. Will you leave me some warm warm roots in a pile?”

I heard the door to my cabin open and close. Soft boots padded on the floorboards and scuffled down the earthen ramp.

“Hawkin?” Abigail said. “Are you down here?”

“Coming right up,” I said.

After one look back at the waterskins, I climbed up to my cabin. Abigail was just sitting herself down at the table. She’d brought two baskets filled with fruit. Oranges and figs. I sat across from her as she washed the fruit using her Brewer’s Bubble skill.

As she worked, I said, “welcome back.”

“Good to be back. I like the city, but It’s easy to get enough of it.”

I placed a bottle of my simple ale on the table. “This is my latest beer.”

We shared the beer.

“It’s good,” she said.

“No golden chapter,” I said.

“Of course not. That would be incredibly rare at your rank. The closer you get to gold, the higher your chances will be.”

“It’s all up to chance, then?”

“Experience and intention are the greatest factors in brewing a golden chapter, but I think chance has a part to play as well.”

“That’s all I want to do—brew a fantastic beer.”

“There are so many other marvelous things you can do as a gold rank brewer,” she said.”

She then spoke from her heart.

She ripped black figs apart as she told me how Slow Time attribute ales at gold rank can show you parts of the world that very few have ever seen before. She said she would one day take me beneath waterfalls that fell from so high, they must travel down from stars. Under the effects of a Slow Time attribute, waterfalls seem to melt. Water could be touched and drawn like curtains.

And if ever a part of me adored the sneakings of a rogue, I could drink Stealth attribute beers and explore the woodlands. Why? To walk amongst the elk, the moose, the deer. I could pass through their airy bleats and watch velvet drip like gore from their antlers. I could walk amongst the wildlife and see how they traveled. How they listened. How they loved. How they cared for their young.

And when I hit gold rank, I would be capable of strengthening my Mist Hidden wall. I could improve it and allow those deer and elk and moose and bear and all manner of creatures through. Only humans and monsters would be warded away.

“Don’t forget about improved Memory attribute ales,” Abigail said.

Those were ales that were imbued with extended memories. Memories that transported the user through the tale of a rough voice by campfire, through sea, through cliff sights, and through the beauty of foreign lands. Memories that were more than a glimpse. Memories that were stories. Stories that compelled one to understand people in new ways.

“There is no better way to walk in someone else’s shoes,” she said. “And when—if you fall in love one day, and you share a Telepathic attribute ale with your love… Well… Have you ever experienced telepathy with someone? Have you ever been so close with someone that you could share thoughts?”

I had trouble forming words. Abigail had gone on for at least an hour, illustrating the magic available at gold rank. I had been riveted all this time and had to catch up to her latest words before even thinking of a reply. I opened my mouth.

The birds spoke before me. The familiar call of blue jays mocked months of empty peace in my woods. Their caws became numerous. The sound was bittersweet. Life had returned to my woods. Thrush was gone.

Abigail and I rushed out of the cabin and stood amid her flowers to watch the blue jays raise a fuss in the skeletal trees beyond the Sheltering Bubble. Abigail’s chuckles fell soft and slow like the snow.

She turned to me and said, “What are you thinking?”

I cleared my throat. “Two things. Thrush is gone, and I want to brew golden chapter beers above all else. Those attributes sounded amazing, but I’d more so love to capture some of my favorite moments in life like golden chapters do. That’s what I want.”

“Rank up,” she said.

“I’m trying. It’s getting harder to level up.”

“I can help. If we brew collaboration beers together, that would go a long way in helping you reach gold. I can teach you all I know.”

“Is that asking too much from you?”

“I enjoy working with you. You’re easy to work with. I love beer too, you know. I’d love to share that love with you.”

“I enjoy working with you as well,” I said.

I’d come out to watch the blue jays. Now I was staring into Abigail’s sky eyes. She let me see them, only for a moment, before she smiled and said, “I should not forget to relay that Hiccup thanks you for the dungeon beer. And Corylus… Oh Hakwin, you’ve made Corylus very happy. I really appreciate that about you.”

“I’m glad,” I said. “I wonder if that’s why my Brewer’s Reputation jumped so much.”

“I had a feeling it would. Your beers are starting to become sought after. Especially your dungeon beers. How much did your reputation jump by?”

I checked my stat.

Brewer’s Reputation: 99,500.

“More than one hundred thousand points,” I said.

Abigail's jaw dropped. Her eyes widened.