Chapter 7

  The morning after Dulric's people collected my inventory, I woke to find my alcove feeling strangely empty. No crates stacked against the walls. No bottles gleaming in lamplight. Just my workbench, my bedroll, and a coin purse that was considerably heavier than it had been yesterday.

  Eighty-four gold pieces. Minus the clan's ten percent tithe, leaving me with seventy-five gold and six silver. I sat on my stool and stared at the coins, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Three months ago, I'd been scraping together copper pieces from mining work. Now I held enough wealth to change everything.

  The question was: what came next? I couldn't keep brewing in my alcove, not at this scale. If I wanted to meet the demand Brakka had created, if I wanted to prove this wasn't just beginner's luck, I needed proper facilities. A workshop. Real equipment. Space to work.

  I pulled out my notebook and started writing.

  Business Expansion - Requirements

  Workshop space with proper ventilation

  Better equipment (current kit too small)

  Ingredient storage

  Estimated budget: 50 gold (keep 25 gold reserve)

  The reserve was important. I'd learned that much from my previous life. Never spend everything. Always keep a cushion for emergencies. But where did I even start looking for workshop space? Who sold professional brewing equipment? I needed expert advice.

  ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  I found Nadra in the fungus gardens that afternoon, tending to a bed of cave mushrooms.

  "Quick question," I said. "Where would someone go to buy proper brewing equipment? Not apprentice stuff, professional grade."

  She straightened, wiping her hands on her apron. "You're expandin' already? Mountain Fathers, that was fast."

  "Dulric bought everything. I've got capital now. Might as well use it."

  "Smart." She considered. "The Brewing Guild's your best bet. They've got suppliers, connections. Plus they rent workshop spaces to members at decent rates."

  "I'm not a member though."

  "So become one. Or at least talk to them. They're not going to bite a whelp's head off just for asking questions." She grinned. "Though they might charge you consultation fees."

  The Brewing Guild. I'd heard of it, obviously. Every craft had its guild. But I'd never had reason to visit before.

  "Where do I find them?"

  "Craftsmen's quarter, two levels up. Big archway with a mug carved above it. Can't miss it."

  The Brewing Guild occupied a vaulted chamber that smelled like a dozen different brews fermenting simultaneously. Workbenches lined the walls, dwarves of various ages testing samples and debating techniques. The atmosphere was less formal than I'd expected, more like a communal workshop than some exclusive club.

  A dwarf near the entrance looked up from his ledger. His beard was iron-grey, his apron stained with what looked like decades of brewing accidents.

  "Help you, lad?"

  "I'm looking for information about equipment and workshop space. Nadra from the gardens said the Guild might be able to point me in the right direction."

  "Ah, Nadra. Good lass, she is." He set down his quill. "I'm Borik. And you are?"

  "Gosdrunli. From Clan Durn-Kahl."

  Recognition flickered across his face. "Fire-Belch brewer?"

  Word really did travel impossibly fast in this mountain.

  "Aye."

  "Hah! Thought you'd be... well, older." He laughed, not unkindly. "Thirty years, from what I heard?"

  "That's right."

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "Blimey. I've got sourdough starters older than you." But he was grinning. "Come on then. Let me introduce you to Master Thorgar. He handles new affiliates."

  "Affiliates?"

  "Aye. Can't just join the Guild proper, not without years of apprenticeship. But we've got an affiliate programme. Lets aspiring brewers access our suppliers, rent workspace, attend some workshops. Think of it as... trial membership."

  He led me deeper into the hall. Several dwarves glanced up as we passed, their expressions curious rather than hostile. One elderly dwarf with a beard that nearly reached the floor called out.

  "That the whelp who made the fire ale?"

  "Aye!" Borik called back.

  "Good work, lad! My grandson tried it at the Western Hall. Nearly singed his eyebrows clean off!" I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or a complaint, but I nodded politely.

  Thorgar's office was a smaller chamber off the main hall, lined with shelves holding bottles and reference materials. The Guild Master himself was younger than I'd expected, maybe four hundred years old, his black beard streaked with silver.

  "Gosdrunli of Durn-Kahl," Borik announced. "The Fire-Belch brewer. Wants to talk about equipment and space."

  Thorgar looked up from the scroll he'd been reading. His eyes were sharp, assessing.

  "Sit," he said, gesturing to a stool. "Borik, thanks. I've got this."

  After Borik left, Thorgar leaned back in his chair. "So. Thirty years old and you've created something that's got half the kingdom talking. That's either brilliance or remarkable luck. Which is it?"

  "Probably some of both," I admitted. "I had good instruction in magical infusion from Elder Grimda. The rest was systematic testing."

  "Grimda, eh? She mentioned you when she was here last tenday." He pulled out a piece of parchment covered in notes. "Said you had a natural talent for containment runes. That the Fire-Belch work was some of the most elegant binding magic she'd seen in years."

  My heart skipped. Grimda had been talking me up?

  "She's generous with her praise."

  "She's not, actually. Grimda's many things, generous with praise isn't one of them." Thorgar set the parchment aside. "Which is why when she suggested we consider you for the affiliate programme, I took it seriously."

  "She suggested that?"

  "Yesterday. Came to our council meeting, gave a whole presentation on the technical merits of your work. Didn't focus on the novelty aspect, rather the craftsmanship. The precision." He smiled slightly. "She was very persuasive."

  I made a mental note to thank Grimda properly. Maybe buy her something nice. Though knowing her, she'd probably just grumble about wasted coin.

  "The affiliate programme," I said carefully. "What does it involve?"

  "Access to Guild suppliers at member rates. Option to rent workshop space at subsidized prices. Attendance at open workshops and technique sharing sessions. In exchange, you pay quarterly dues and agree to maintain Guild standards in your brewing."

  "How much?"

  "Two gold per quarter for dues. Workshop rental varies by size, anywhere from ten to thirty gold per year."

  I calculated quickly. Eight gold per year in dues, plus rental. That was manageable within my budget.

  "What about equipment?"

  "We've got suppliers who work exclusively with the Guild. Better prices than you'd find in the general markets, and they know their craft." Thorgar pulled out another scroll. "What's your budget?"

  "I can spend up to fifty gold on equipment and space. Need to keep a reserve."

  "Smart. Never spend everything." He nodded approvingly. "Fifty gold will get you set up nicely. Not massive commercial operation, but solid professional workspace. Let me make some introductions."

  Over the next hour, Thorgar walked me through the Guild's network of suppliers. Master Durnok for copper pots. Haldri for ceramic vessels. The barrel-wright Grimsson for aging casks.

  "Start with the essentials," Thorgar advised. "Three good pots in different sizes gives you flexibility. Six fermentation vessels lets you run multiple batches. Four barrels for aging. That's your foundation."

  "How much are we talking?"

  "Thirty-five gold for quality equipment, if you're careful. Durnok's got some excellent used pots from estates. Nothing wrong with them, just previous owners passed on. Good copper lasts centuries if properly maintained."

  "What about workspace?"

  "I've got a small unit opening up next tenday. Previous renter achieved master status and moved to a larger space. Twelve gold per year, includes water access and ventilation. It's compact, about four times the size of a standard alcove." Twelve gold per year. That left me with plenty of cushion.

  "When can I see it?"

  "Right now, if you want. It's two corridors over."

  The workshop was perfect. Not large, no. Not fancy. But clean, functional, with good air circulation and a stone trough for water. The walls were scarred from centuries of use, the workbenches worn smooth. It smelled faintly of old fermentation and stone dust.

  "Previous tenant was a traditional ale brewer," Thorgar said. "Worked here for eighty years before moving up. She kept it immaculate, so you're inheriting a good space." I walked the perimeter, already mentally arranging equipment. Pots here, fermentation vessels there, barrels in that corner for aging.

  "I'll take it."

  "Thought you might." Thorgar pulled out a contract. "First quarter's dues and first year's rent upfront. That's fourteen gold total. Then quarterly payments of two gold going forward." I counted out the coins while Thorgar filled in the contract details.

  "One more thing," he said as he signed the parchment. "As an affiliate, you're not bound by the same rules as full members. You can brew what you want, sell to who you want. But if you want to eventually achieve full membership, you'll need to complete the journeyman trials."

  "What do those involve?"

  "Three original recipes, demonstrated quality, technical interview with the council." He handed me the contract. "No rush though. Some brewers spend decades as affiliates before going for full membership. Others never bother. It's up to you." I tucked the contract into my pouch. "Thank you. For the help, and for taking a chance on someone so young."

  Thorgar waved a hand dismissively. "You've got Elder Grimda backing you, and she doesn't waste her time on fools. Plus, from what I've heard, your Fire-Belch work is genuinely innovative. The Guild needs fresh thinking. Too many of us get stuck brewing the same five recipes for centuries." He walked me back to the main hall, where Borik was organizing bottles.

  "He's official!" Thorgar announced. "Gosdrunli of Durn-Kahl, Guild affiliate."

  A smattering of applause from the nearby dwarves. The elderly one with the floor-length beard raised a mug. "Welcome, lad! Try not to burn the place down with your fire brews!"

  "I'll do my best," I called back.

  As I left the Guild hall, I felt lighter than I had in weeks. Not just because I'd secured workspace and equipment access, but because I'd been accepted. Not fully, not yet. But enough that it mattered.

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