Chapter 7

Warmer

Birch grew in abundance where the northern wall of the Mist Hidden attribute met the eastern wall. The birch trees were tall and swayed as much as grass did in the wind. The wind wasn't gentle either. It was quick and cold.

Abigail’s form anchored her navy cloak. Strands of her long hair curled in the wind. Her eyes held concern when she turned them to me after we broke camp in the morning.

“That’s all you’re wearing?” She said.

I looked down at my wool sweater and said, “I’ll be warmer in an hour or so during our walk.”

“I’ve got an extra cloak. Would you like it?”

“I’ll be alright for now,” I said. “I’ll let you know if I get too cold.”

She shook her head. I smiled. We followed the Mist Hidden wall eastward. There was no trail there. There was still evidence of Barnacle-eyes and I having passed through, but Abigail and I veered from the wall to enjoy the thicker parts of the wilderness.

When the sun was nearly overhead, we drank some Drunk Defiance attribute beers. Then I began brewing more oatmeal crisp ales with a focus on my Foam Cascade skill. Brewing while hiking slowed us down, but Abigail stopped to collect flowers anyway. We tried each beer after fermentation. Abigail gave me pointers on what to improve and how to improve it. Most of her advice had to do with time and temperature.

At lunch time, we stopped for a cold breakfast. We’d reached the end of the expanse of birch. The next part of our trek would be through cottonwoods and rocky terrain. It was the perfect place to brew another Brewer’s Portal attribute beer.

Then we spent a day on the ethereal plane, transported barrels to the brewery by my cabin, and portaled back to the frontier of our trek.

“I’m sorry if this isn’t the type of adventure you’re used to,” I said.

“It’s actually my favorite kind of adventure,” Abigail said.

“Except I haven’t really been helping you figure out why you’re here.”

“It’s clear you’re on a different path than any Brewer I’ve ever met. You’ve got access to ethereal planes and that might be just what makes the difference.”

“I can’t be the only one with skills pertaining to ethereal planes.”

“But maybe one of the only Brewers,” Abigail said.

“I guess we’ll see what’s to come,” I said. “Dellia wants me to brew dungeon core beers at some point. I think she wants me to sell them at taverns and inns.”

“Is that possible?”

“I don’t see why she’d lead me on. Her idea is to have people portal to ethereal dungeons by drinking my beer.”

Abigail was silent for a moment. Thoughtful. Then she said, “Do you realize what that would mean? You’d be one of the most sought after brewer’s in the world.”

“There’s more,” I said. “She mentioned that people could build homes, mansions, even kingdoms on ethereal planes. My beers would be like a key and door to those places.”

Abigail wanted to know more. So did I, because I knew nothing more than what I’d told her. We could only guess at what else the road had in store.

The terrain was too rocky for me to focus on brewing as we continued eastward. We struggled between butting winds and jutting rocks and snagging roots. Our cheeks were red from the cold wind.

“How much experience have you gained today?” Abigail said.

“I reached level twenty-one Respectable on my last oatmeal crisp ale,” I said. “It’s awesome that you can taste the difference. Foam Cascade is now at level seventeen.”

“Have you thought some more about our collaboration beer?”

“Well I love the idea of brewing a pumpkin beer. Coolship fermentation would be cool. Or a strong ale.”

“How about an imperial stout or a winter warmer?”

“Winter warmer. That sounds interesting.”

I had some knowledge on the winter warmer style from skill books and leveling up. I’d never brewed one before, but knew the style to range from a deep red, to a true black. Some Brewers used spices. Others relied on the natural characteristics of the malt they used.

“A pumpkin winter warmer,” Abigail said. “Sounds quite nice, doesn’t it?”

“Let’s do it,” I said. “I’m game.”

“We’ll work on it when we return to your brewery.”

We were at least a few weeks from returning home. To my home, at least. Abigail didn’t quite fit in yet. The shelter I’d built for her was a less than modest shack. Barnacle-eyes’ shed was smaller, but built better. What I’d built for Abigail had been a quick construction.

“I’d like to work on your shack a little bit,” I said. “Close some of the gaps in the walls. Secure the roof a bit better. Put an actual door on there. Some windows too.”

“You still don’t mind that I’ll be staying here?” Abigail said.

“To be honest, I like that you’re here, but for a selfish reason. If you can help me brew better beers, I’m happy to have you here.”

“I can respect that,” she said. “I wouldn’t mind living a bit more comfortably while I’m here. I don’t want you to do all the work though. I’d love to help.”

“We’ll put a cot together for you. I’ll build some shelves for you if you’d like.”

“Would you mind if I bought a stove to put in my cabin?”

“I don’t have an extra one.”

“You forget I can portal to Lavenfauvish, purchase a stove, and return with it.”

“Ah,” I said. “Yes, of course. I did forget that. If that will make your stay here more comfortable, go for it.”

“Thank you,” she said. “It will make the coming nights more bearable.”

The coming nights were going to get cold. The chill of the evening was evidence of that. When Abigail pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, I offered her one of my old ales.

“It’s bronze rank,” I said and blushed.

“You want me to try one of your bronze rank ales?”

“It’s a hoppy ale brewed with warm-warm root. Try it.”

She chuckled and agreed to try a sip. One sip.

I handed her one of the waterskins of warm-warm beer from my inventory. She plucked the cork off and hesitantly brought the neck up to drink. She grimaced with the first sip. Then her eyes widened. Her face went red.

“Holy shit,” she said. “This is amazing. The effect, not the beer—no offense.”

“None taken,” I said. “I’ll be making a ton of warm-warm beer this fall and winter. We could work on some together. How does that sound?”

Abigail’s eyes lit up against the dusk that stained the trees. Her smile was just as bright. She chuckled with the sound of a skipping stone.

“I’d love that,” she said.