Chapter 5

  Day ten arrived with the weight of expectation. I woke before the work bell, my mind already racing through the final steps. The secondary fermentation should be complete. The magical components fully integrated. The containment runes stable. Theory met practice today. I pushed through my curtain and made my way to the communal washing station, scrubbing sleep from my eyes. The corridors were still quiet, most of the clan not yet stirring. I preferred it this way. Less noise, less distraction, just me and the work ahead.

  Back in my alcove, I lit my lamp and examined the fermentation vessel. The warmth radiating from it had stabilised over the past three days, no longer the intense heat of freshly added embercaps, rather a steady, controlled temperature that suggested the magic had settled properly.

  I pulled out my notebook.

  Day 10: Bottling day. Vessel temperature stable. No visible issues with containment runes. Proceeding with bottling process.

  The ceramic jug felt almost alive in my hands as I carefully unsealed it. The smell hit me immediately. Sharp, peppery, with an underlying sweetness from the barley base and something else. Something that made my nose tingle and my eyes water slightly. Fire magic, properly bound. I had ten bottles prepared, each one cleaned and inscribed with preservation runes over the past week. Getting the brew from vessel to bottle without losing the magical properties would be the tricky part. Too much agitation and the containment could break. Too slow and the magic might begin to dissipate.

  I started with a small prayer to the Mountain Fathers, though I wasn't sure they listened to foundlings who brewed fire into ale. The first bottle filled smoothly. The liquid was darker than my dreamcap ale, deep amber with those orange highlights that seemed to shift in the lamplight. I could feel the warmth through the glass as I corked it, then traced a fresh preservation rune across the wax seal. The rune flared briefly, accepting the magic within.

  One down. I worked steadily through the rest. Each bottle received the same careful attention, the same precise sealing, the same runic preservation. By the time I sealed the tenth bottle, my hands were shaking slightly. Not from fear, from anticipation.

  Ten bottles of Fire-Belch Ale, arranged in a neat row on my workbench. Each one radiating gentle warmth, each one containing magic I'd bound with my own hands and knowledge from a life that shouldn't exist in this world. I sat back on my stool, staring at them. Nothing happened. No glowing text. No system interface. No confirmation of completion.

  I frowned. The dreamcap ale had triggered the system immediately upon sealing the final bottle. Why wasn't this working?

  "Maybe it needs testing first," I muttered, picking up one of the bottles. "Maybe completion means someone actually drinking it and proving the effect works."

  That made a twisted sort of sense. A brew wasn't truly complete until it fulfilled its purpose. The dreamcap ale had been simple enough. Standard intoxication plus mild magical effects. But this? This was supposed to make someone belch fire. Until that happened, until the mechanism proved functional, the system might not consider it finished.

  Which meant I needed Brakka.

  I found him in the Hall, already working through a bowl of morning porridge whilst arguing with another young miner about the proper depth for copper veins.

  "Brakka."

  He turned, saw my expression, and grinned wide enough to show all his teeth. "It's ready?"

  "Aye. If you're still willing."

  "Willing? I've been counting the days!" He shoved his bowl at his companion and bounded over. "Where? Your quarters? Should we get Elder Grimda to watch? What if something goes wrong?"

  "Slow down." I grabbed his shoulder before he could race off. "We do this careful. Small sips first. You stop immediately if anything feels wrong. And yes, we should probably have someone with healing knowledge nearby."

  His enthusiasm dimmed slightly. "You really think it could go that wrong?"

  "I think I've bound fire magic into a drinkable liquid using methods I invented based on theory and guesswork. I think caution is warranted."

  "Right. Caution. I can do caution." He paused. "After I try it though."

  I shook my head. Some things never changed. Brakka's enthusiasm was going to get him killed one day, hopefully not today.

  We found Elder Grimda in her workshop, a chamber filled with enchanting tools and half-finished projects. She looked up from a piece of stone she was carving runes into, her expression shifting from annoyance at the interruption to interest when she saw us.

  "The fire brew's ready then?"

  Word really did travel too fast in this clan.

  "Aye. Brakka volunteered to test it. I wanted someone with healing knowledge present in case things go wrong."

  "In case you burn his throat out, you mean." Grimda set down her carving tool and stood, joints popping. "Right then. Let's see if you've made something brilliant or something catastrophically stupid."

  We returned to my quarters, the three of us barely fitting in the cramped space. I retrieved one of the bottles from my workbench, holding it up to the lamplight.

  "This is Fire-Belch Ale. The theory is simple. Embercap powder provides the fire essence, pepperroot tincture acts as a catalyst triggered by stomach acid and carbonation, ashwillow bark binds everything together. The containment runes should hold the magic dormant until the triggering reaction occurs, then release it in a controlled fashion through the drinker's exhalation."

  "Controlled fashion," Grimda repeated. "Define controlled."

  "Small flames. Thirty seconds maximum. Harmless if done properly."

  "And if not done properly?"

  "Then Brakka's eyebrows join the last fool who tried fire brewing without proper containment."

  Brakka laughed. "My eyebrows are magnificent. Be a shame to lose them."

  I uncorked the bottle, and the smell filled my small alcove. Sharp, peppery, with that underlying tingle of bound magic. Grimda leaned closer, inhaling carefully.

  "The binding work feels solid," she said after a moment. "Can't speak to the ratios though. That's yer own madness."

  "Comforting." I poured a small measure into a wooden cup, perhaps two mouthfuls worth. "Start with this. Sip it slow. Pay attention to how it feels going down."

  Brakka took the cup with hands that barely trembled. His earlier enthusiasm had evolved into something more focused. He understood the stakes now, even if he wouldn't admit to being nervous.

  He raised the cup in a mock salute. "To mad brewers and magnificent eyebrows." Then he drank.

  The first sip went down smoothly. Brakka's eyes widened slightly.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "It's good. Really good. Bit of heat, sweet though, and the flavour..." He took another sip. "It's like drinking a campfire, the good parts though."

  I watched him carefully. No immediate adverse reactions. No choking, no pain, no signs of internal burning. He drained the cup and set it down, smacking his lips.

  "Well?" Grimda asked. "Feel anything unusual?"

  "Warm. Like I swallowed sunshine. And there's this tingly feeling in my chest, like something's building up." His eyes went wide. "Oh. Oh, I think I need to..."

  The belch started deep in his chest, audible even before it reached his throat. When it emerged, so did the flames.

  A small gout of orange fire erupted from Brakka's mouth, perhaps thirty centimetres long, bright and clean and unmistakably real. The flames lasted exactly the five seconds I'd calculated for a two-mouthful dose, hot enough that I felt the warmth on my face from across my tiny alcove.

  Then they stopped. Brakka stood there, eyes wide as plates, mouth hanging open.

  "I just breathed fire."

  "Aye," I managed, my own heart pounding.

  "I. Just. Breathed. FIRE!" He whooped, the sound echoing off stone walls. "That was incredible! Did you see it? Did you see the flames? I'm a dragon! I'm a bloody dragon!"

  Grimda was staring at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. "You actually did it. You mad little bastard, you actually did it."

  The world exploded into light.

  Words blazed across my vision, that same incomprehensible script that definitely wasn't dwarven.

  BREW ANALYSIS COMPLETE

  Fire-Belch Ale - Journeyman Quality

  Alcohol Content: 6.8%

  Magical Infusion: High

  Effects: Controlled pyrotechnic exhalation, duration scales with consumption, mild euphoria, warming sensation

  Market Value: 3 gold per bottle

  WARNING: Not suitable for children or those with respiratory conditions

  ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: First of Its Kind

  Created a completely original brew with no existing precedent

  Bonus Experience Awarded

  Brewing Experience Gained: 1500 XP

  LEVEL UP!

  Current Level: Apprentice Brewer (Level 3)

  Progress: 1700/5000 XP

  LEVEL UP!

  Current Level: Apprentice Brewer (Level 4)

  Progress: 2700/10000 XP

  LEVEL UP!

  Current Level: Journeyman Brewer (Level 5)

  Progress: 4200/25000 XP

  RANK ADVANCEMENT: Apprentice → Journeyman

  New Ability Unlocked: Ingredient Analysis

  You may now focus on any brewing ingredient to receive detailed information about its properties, potential applications, and optimal combinations.

  The text hung there, burning against my vision whilst Brakka continued celebrating and Grimda continued staring. Fifteen hundred experience points. Three level ups. A rank advancement. A new ability.

  And a market value of three gold per bottle.

  I had ten bottles.

  Thirty gold.

  That was enough to... Mountain Fathers, that was enough to do almost anything. Buy better equipment. Secure proper workshop space. Maybe even start building a reputation beyond Clan Durn-Kahl.

  The text faded, leaving me blinking spots from my vision.

  "Gosdrunli?" Grimda's voice cut through my daze. "You alright, boy? Look like you've seen a ghost."

  "I'm fine. Just... processing."

  "Processing what? That you've created something completely new? That every young fool in the kingdom is going to want to try this?" She picked up one of the remaining bottles, examining it closely. "This is marketable. Really marketable. And dangerous enough that people'll pay premium for the experience."

  "Three gold per bottle," I said without thinking.

  Both of them stared at me.

  "Three gold?" Brakka's voice cracked slightly. "You think someone'll pay three gold for a bottle of this?"

  "I think they'll pay more." Grimda set the bottle down carefully. "I think you've got no idea what you're sitting on, boy. This goes beyond skilled brewing. Every tavern from here to the capital would stock this if they could get it."

  She was right, I realised. The system had valued it at three gold, that was probably the baseline. Wholesale. What would a tavern charge for a single mug? What would nobles pay for the novelty?

  "I need to talk to Dulric," I said. "He's due back in... how long?"

  "Thirty-five days, give or take," Grimda said. "Depends on the weather and what deals he strikes in the southern clans. You've got time though."

  I pulled out my notebook, mind already racing through calculations.

  Fire-Belch Ale - First Successful Batch

  10 bottles completed

  Effect confirmed: 2 mouthfuls = 5 seconds of flame (approx. 30cm)

  Test subject: Brakka (survived with eyebrows intact)

  Market value: 3 gold minimum per bottle

  Days until Dulric returns: ~35

  Current inventory:

  - Fire-Belch Ale: 10 bottles (30 gold value)

  - Dreamcap Ale (various): 24 bottles (29 gold value)

  Total potential: 59 gold

  Time available: Could brew 2-3 more Fire-Belch batches before Dulric returns

  I looked up at Grimda. "How much trouble am I going to get from the Elders for this?"

  "Trouble?" She laughed, the sound harsh but not unkind. "Boy, you just created something that could bring serious coin into the clan. The Elders are going to throw you a feast, not trouble."

  "Even though I'm leaving in ninety years?"

  "Ninety years is a long time to profit from your work. And who knows? Maybe you'll decide to stay." She moved towards the curtain, pausing to look back. "Get ready for Dulric, lad. This is going to change things."

  She left, her amber beads clicking down the corridor.

  Brakka was still grinning like a fool, occasionally burping small puffs of flame that made him giggle. The effect was wearing off though, each subsequent belch producing less fire until finally they stopped altogether.

  "That was the best thing I've ever drunk," he said seriously. "I'd pay three gold for that experience. Maybe more."

  "You're not paying anything. You risked your throat for me."

  "Aye, and it was worth it." He clapped me on the shoulder. "You're going to be famous, Gosdrunli. The foundling brewer who taught dwarves to breathe fire. That's a legacy worth having."

  He left still grinning, probably to tell everyone in the Hall about his newfound dragon powers. I sat alone in my alcove, surrounded by nine remaining bottles of Fire-Belch Ale and one empty that had changed everything.

  Footsteps approached. Heavy, deliberate, the kind that came from six centuries of walking stone corridors.

  "Heard my apprentice made somethin' that turns dwarves into dragons."

  Thorek filled my doorway, his grey beard freshly braided, his expression unreadable.

  "Not dragons. Just... fire-breathing."

  "Close enough." He stepped inside, eyeing the bottles. "Brakka's tellin' everyone in the Hall. Won't shut up about it. Half the clan thinks he's mad, other half wants to try it themselves."

  I said nothing. Thorek picked up one of the bottles, holding it to the light with surprising gentleness for his thick fingers.

  "You never belonged in the mines, boy. We both knew it." He set the bottle down. "Didn't stop me from tryin' to teach you proper though. Thought maybe you'd find your way to stone eventually, given enough time."

  "I'm sorry I disappointed you."

  "Disappointed?" Thorek snorted. "Boy, I'm six hundred and twelve years old. I've trained forty-seven apprentices in my time. You know how many became master miners?"

  I shook my head.

  "Thirty-two. Good dwarves, all of them. Competent. Reliable. Not a spark of brilliance among 'em." He tapped the Fire-Belch bottle. "You know how many created somethin' entirely new?"

  "None?"

  "None." His expression softened, just slightly. "You're not a miner, Gosdrunli. Never will be. But you're a brewer. A damn good one, from what I'm hearin'. That's worth more than swingin' a pickaxe with proper form."

  The words hit harder than I'd expected. I'd spent three years thinking Thorek merely tolerated me, counting down until I left.

  "I'll still finish my mining obligations until I'm a hundred-twenty."

  "Aye, you will. Contract's a contract." He moved toward the door, pausing at the curtain. "But maybe I'll stop complainin' about your shite form. Seems pointless now."

  "Thorek?"

  He glanced back.

  "Thank you. For teaching me anyway."

  "Hmph. Don't get sentimental on me, boy. Makes my beard itch." But there was something almost like a smile tugging at his mouth as he left.

  I sat in the silence after he'd gone, feeling something settle in my chest. Not quite acceptance. Not quite belonging. But maybe the beginning of both. The system was real. It levelled. It provided new abilities. And it had just confirmed that I'd created something worth thirty gold at minimum. I pulled the copper ring out from beneath my shirt, holding it in the lamplight. Whoever had left me at those gates thirty years ago, whatever they'd expected me to become, I doubted it was this. A brewer with a crafting system and fire magic in bottles. I tucked the ring back and opened my notebook to a fresh page. Time to see what this new ability could do.

  I picked up one of the remaining embercaps I'd saved, focusing on it the way the system description suggested.

  Text flickered across my vision.

  INGREDIENT ANALYSIS

  Common Embercap (Dried)

  Primary Property: Fire essence (moderate)

  Secondary Properties: Warming, digestive aid

  Magical Affinity: High

  Best Used In: Heating potions, fire-aligned brews, winter tonics

  Pairs Well With: Pepperroot, ashwillow, cinnamon bark, honey

  Warning: Excessive consumption may cause fever

  The information settled into my mind like I'd always known it. I could feel the potential in the mushroom, sense how it would interact with other ingredients. This was going to change everything. I spent the next hour testing the ability on the ingredients I had left. The bitterleaf revealed unexpected synergies with cooling herbs. The sweetroot suggested combinations I'd never considered. Even the barley showed subtle variations in starch content that affected fermentation.

  By the time I finished, my head ached from processing so much information, but I had ideas. New recipes. Improvements to existing formulas. The work bell rang for midday meal, but I barely heard it.

  Thirty-five days until Dulric returned. Thirty-five days to prepare. I had inventory worth nearly sixty gold if I could sell it all. I had a system that rewarded innovation and improvement. I had abilities that let me understand ingredients at a level no other brewer could match. And I had fire in bottles.

  Time to see how far I could go.

  A/N

  Chapter 6-7 is out on patreon friends to check out.