Fields of Ice

[Amaterasu]

Kushi had never been someone fanatic about her beliefs, as just about everyone from Kamiki village was. She followed the teachings of Shintoism, of course, but she did not force these teachings on others nor did she believe that those following a different belief – or indeed, none at all - would be thrown into the Underworld for eternal torment, or suffer a similar punishment. As such, Mack and the other dwarves gathered around the flame did not hear her as she spoke a short mantra, a prayer wishing these souls a safe journey to wherever they were headed to. Valhalla, Mack had said, a paradise free of the torments of the world they had lived in. Who knows? Perhaps dwarves went to a different place than humans did. But in the event that they didn’t, she discretely prayed for them, so as not to annoy the other dwarves.

“So... what’s next?” she asked as the main part of the ceremony came to an end. The other dwarves were bidding their farewells to the last spirits to depart, others brought torches to hand out to the people. At each campfire, one dwarf lit a torch and the others grouped around him or her. Mack and Kushi did the same. Then the groups began to leave, in a weird mixture of ceremoniously slow steps and jittery-ness of someone excited about something that was about to happen.

“Now’s where we eat an’ drink in the memory o’ those tha’ moved on. They get t’dine in Valhalla, an’ we join ‘em in spirit.”

“... You’re holding a funeral meal.” She saw her suspicions confirmed when they stepped into an adjacent cavern with several stone tables that each were some twenty meters long. More than enough to seat all the dwarves that had come to the event. There were knives, forks and plates on the tables and enormous fires in the middle of the room on which dwarves with chef hats and aprons were roasting meat. Kushi wondered what sort of animals they were: each carcass was three times as large as a cow’s, it needed two dwarves to turn the spitroast it was on and even they were aching from the effort. The back of the room had about two kegs with labels on them detailing their contents, and each was so large that Kushi wondered how the dwarves had brought it into the room. Upright, they were more than three times as tall as a dwarf. And they were going to drink all that?

“Guess ya could call it tha’ way. Bu’ see, the seats are special.” Indeed, several of the seats on the benches or chairs had black blankets on them. The groups that had arrived before them did not sit there. “See, they’re where we hav’ tha spirits sit. This place’s how Valhalla looks, an’...”

“I understand. It’s a curious concept but I can see the meaning behind it.” She waited for the torch-carrier of their group to put their torch in a brazier, then they took their seats at the table that was in front of said brazier. Kushi drew a good bit of laughter when she tried to sit on a dwarf-sized chair, until she took the pillow off and instead knelt on it, which also put her head at the same level as that of the dwarves so she stuck out a little less – literally and figuratively. “What’s that big animal that’s roasting over at the big fire anyway?”

“Oh, tha’s… hold on.” He had a concerned look on his face and stood up to better see some ongoings near one of the large kegs. One dwarf was holding a pint glass and gesticulating with it to one of the dwarves that wore an apron. “Ah’m gettin’ a bad feelin’…”

“Shall we go see?” she asked and stood up. Mack followed suit. Other dwarves were already on their way too, forming a tiny crowd.

“... then tha’ means tha’ all this beer’s the same. Undrinkable”, the dwarf with the pint glass was saying.

“But one keg’s not enough to serve everyone!”

“Tha’s true, but it don’t change that this beer can’t be served.” The dwarves that listened to these words looked very unhappy. One keg was far less than two, and while two kegs were more than enough to serve the small army of dwarves that was sieging the tables for food and drink, the same could not be said for one keg.

“Tha’ means… we’re missin’ about a third o’ the amount tha’ we predicted we’d need”, the one in the apron said. “We’ll have ta ration things.”

Kushi turned to Mack. “That’s bad news…”

He just shrugged, looking rather calm about the situation. “Ain’t the firs’ incident t’happen fer the Valhalla feast. Ain’t gon’ be the last either. T’happens jus’ about every year. Once we ate bread an’ drunk water.”

“Hmm, but there must be something we can… wait, it’s just the beer that is bad, right?”

Mack stroked his beard. He looked at Kushi, then after a moment smiled as he realized her plan. “Aye.”

“Well, we may not have beer, but our reserves…” She approached the dwarf in the apron. “I apologize for the intrusion, but it seems that there are some issues with the beer?”

“Issues? A damn wee catastrophe, is what there is!” the dwarf replied while eyeing Kushi over. “Tha keg’s made outta fresh pinewood… the resin wasn’ even dry when som’ mudhead filled it. Tha whole load’s ruined!”

“Well, I could help perhaps… it’s not much, but I have some sake that I could get.”

“Sake? What sorta beer’s that?”

“A fine-tastin’ one fer damn sure”, Mack intervened. “An’ we’d part with it fer a good price… what do ya say fer a price o’… wha’ do we have, Kushi? Three or four barrels?”

“Three barrels of matured sake of, uh… 13 gallons each, plus a small barrel of Thunder Brew of about a quarter gallon.”

“Mmm…” Mack nodded and turned back to the dwarf wearing the apron. “Let’s say, ten silver bobs apiece, an’ another twelve fer the Brew.”

“Ah’ll see about the barrels. Ah want ta taste ‘fore buyin’ em. An’ about that small barrel, twelve bobs fer one’s too high.”

Mack laughed. “A more’n fair price fer the strongest booze tha’ll ever get on yer tongue. Ye’d knock a Fur-Selkie straight out with a thimbleful.”

The dwarf still looked unconvinced. “Aright… nine silver bobs fer the small barrel then, and it’d better be good.”

“Eleven?”

“Ten, an’ that’s my last word.”

“Deal.” Mack reached out and grabbed the dwarf’s arm, while the other one did the same thing. “An’ we’ll need t’borrow a few lads an’ a cart t’ bring everythin’ over.”

“That works, bu’ before ye load it on one o’ them’s gonna taste it.” He turned away and yelled two names into the room, which were swiftly answered by two dwarves that came over from the kitchen area. They were quickly filled in on the situation and one of them, the younger by the looks of it, rushed off to get a transport cart. Mack directed them through Dwarfholm’s streets to the storage room entrance of the bar and opened the door.

Once there, the three sake barrels were brought out and Kushi popped the lid off of one whilst Mack got a ladle from the back room. “Go easy on it”, he told the dwarf that he handed it to, grinning. “It’s a little strong.”

“Fer some milk-drinker maybe”, the other one scoffed and filled the ladle. “Lessee here.” He sipped, let it roll over his tongue like a conoisseur, then swallowed and took another sip without comment. Then another, and the ladle was empty. “This ain’t beer”, he remarked with a dreamy look in his eyes, much like the one Mack had had when getting his first taste of sake.

“O’ course not. Didn’ ya listen when we said tha’ it’s sake?”

“It’s made with rice instead of barley or wheat”, Kushi explained.

“Mmmh… it ain’t half-bad, ah’ll admit. Let’s load it on.”

Mack and Kushi smiled at each other knowing that they’d won as they put the lid back on and fixated it as best as they could, then helped the other two dwarves with the heavy barrels and the Thunder Brew one. Returning to the hall took a while and by the time they arrived the festivities had already started, but that worked to their advantage: the beer of the remaining barrel was starting to run out already. Kushi collected the payment for the barrels and accompaigned Mack back to their seats.

“You could’ve let me handle the price negotiations”, Kushi noted as they grabbed their plates and got in line for some bread and meat.

“No offense, Kushi, but yer no dwarf. We wouldna fetched a good price with ye doin’ the talkin’. Tha sad truth is tha’ us dwarves are a withdrawn bunch, an’ not always welcomin’ of strangers.”

“I never noticed you or any other dwarf being hostile to me.”

“It ain’t that black an’ white. We do tradin’ an’ such with outsiders, an’ non-dwarves can stay in Dwarfholm. Trade’s good for everyone so we ain’t hostile. Bu’ that doesn’ mean that there ain’t… mmmh, subtler racism. Everyone who ain’t a dwarf we eye with some skepticism, even when we don’ realize it ourselves. An’ with money it leads to a dwarf demandin’ more or offerin’ less to a non-dwarf, an’ bein’ less open to hagglin’... oh! Can ah hav’ some extra sauce fer this one?”

When he stepped out of the line with a slab of meat on his plate and Kushi stepped up to a dwarf wielding a large knife, who cut her a ration off the roasting carcass as he had done for Mack and the others. Both took a slice of bread to go with it and returned to their seats. “I guess that’s another pointer that we need fixed prices in the bar”, Kushi said as they sat down. “No haggling.”

“Jus’ like in human cities, eh? Yer not worried ‘bout drivin’ the customers off by pullin’ something not-dwarfish like that?”

“Do we really want dwarves that narrow-minded in a bar that specializes on non-dwarfish drinks?”

“Mmm. Ye got a point. So, y’think tha’ our wee publicity stunt’s gonna work out?”

As if having waited for those precise words a pair of dwarves on the neighboring table asked what they had been served. Because they were slightly drunk they raised their voice enough to be heard even in the noisy hall. It was only two voices initially but very soon dwarves started to wonder what this new drink was. A few culturally well-versed ones noted it to be sake and this was soon confirmed by the organizers. Many hated the drink and loudly demanded “proper” drinks instead, but just as many enjoyed this interesting new flavor. The Thunder Brew resulted in an even greater reaction with a group bursting out in laughter as a dwarf mistook it for regular sake and coughed for a minute straight after downing the glass in one shot. After that the moods calmed a bit and the party continued, dwarves held short speeches in memory of the deceased and the whole banquet turned into a party as even the hard-drinking dwarves started to get drunk. It lasted long into the night.

Kushi had no memory of how she had gotten home, let alone into her bed, when she woke up the next day and found it to be nearing noon. Mack, who was already downstairs in the bar and watering the koji when she came rushing downstairs, had a laughing fit when he saw her hungover grimace.

“Ah’m sorry, Kushi, but… ah, Bruenor’s beard, yer face…” Mack apologized between his giggles.

“Don’t mention it… did you notice though? There seems to be more activity on the streets today.”

“Ah guess tha’ they heard where the sake’s comin’ from, eh?” News had spreaded quickly, it would appear. Mack had casually mentioned the bar to a few people at the table, the two dwarves that had helped them transporting the barrels had done the same, and now those who had liked the taste, curious to know where this strange new drink was coming from, had come here to see.

“I didn’t expect our success to happen this fast. It puts us in kind of a pickle though…”

“We don’ have any sake left t’ sell, eh?”

“Exactly. We’ll have to break out the dwarven drinks when we open for business today. It’ll take at least four days before the next batch of sake is ready.”

“Mmm. That ain’t ideal. People won’t be rememberin’ us that well by then.”

“Nothing we can do about that. But hey, we got things going at least!” She did the best smile that she could muster in her current state.

“Aye. Bu’ tha’ was only the first step. Now we gotta keep it up if we want ta make the Barrels of Thunder bar a place t’ remember.”

Kushi rolled up her sleeves and walked past Mack towards the back of the room, to prepare a few more trays. “Don’t worry about it. I want this to succeed as much as you do.”

[Dr. McNinja]

Mack rubbed his eyes, sighing deeply.

“Ahm tellin’ ye,” he explained for the sixth time, “We sold all o’it on Thunder Nigh’.”

The geezer in front of him blinked twice.

“Ah dinnae understand.”

Mack sunk his head into his palms. Kushi was nowhere to be seen, to his dismay. So he was left alone to deal with the impatient dwarves who had heard tales of this magical new “sacky” drink that this neighborhood had enjoyed on Thunder Night.

“We only got the crap misbrews,” Mack lied.

“Ah want tha’, then,” the old dwarf nodded resolutely.

“Nae!” Mack groaned. “Ahm tellin’ ye to buzz off, ol’ man. We ain’t open.”

Mack, ignoring the old dwarf’s protests, hurriedly ushered him out of the door. He slammed the door, latching the lock a little harder than he later felt comfortable with. Ignoring the pounding on his door, he waddled his way up the stairs. To a human, these steps were more of a bumpy ramp, but Mack struggled to climb the steep staircase.

When he got to the attic, his jaw dropped.

“LASS!” Mack hollered, “Wha’ are ye doin’?”

Kushi was presently seated in a stool, showing another dwarf where they kept their supply of yeast and koji. The dwarf was wearing slacks, his leather coat slung over his shoulder. He was rubbing his beard, nodding along as he listened to Kushi’s explanation.

Mack knew this dwarf. The whole town did.

“Ho, Mack!” Urist McHermanson laughed, “How ye doin’, mah boy?”

“The name,” Mack fumed, “is Mr. McMicksson. What are you doing here, McHermansson?”

“Yer lovely landlady was jus’ showin’ me how she made tha’ amazin’ brew,” Mr. McHermansson protested.

Kushi frowned, standing. “McMicksson-san, show McHermansson-san some respect, please.”

“Och! Please, lass,” Urist chuckled, “Jus’ call me Urist.”

Kushi nodded, her face not registering how much trouble their unborn bar was in. Mack screamed in frustration. Kushi recoiled. Urist did not react. Kushi should have suspected him noticing how used to this reaction McHermansson seemed.

“Git ou’, McHermansson. Ye ain’t wan’d here.”

“Surely, McMicksson-sa-”

“Jus’ trus’ me on this, lass,” Mack snarled, “Ah said BOLT!”

Urist rolled his eyes. “Ah ain’t done nothin’, Mack-”

Mack reached behind a crate, where his axe was laying. “Are ye daft or summin’, ye wee SHITE?!”

Kushi knew when a man was seconds away from swinging their blade. The same cues screamed from Mack’s arms when Urist raised both hands in defense.

“Awrigh’!” McHermansson spat, “Awrigh’. Ah git ye. Ahm leavin’.”

He gave a gentlemanly bow to Kushi. “Ahm sorry fer that racket, yer husbin is jes’ soo-”

“Ye got troll-tusk in yer ears, arsepiece?!” Mack screamed, “OUT OF MAH BAR.”

Urist quickly stumbled down the stairs. He tried to appear as if he was in no rush, but everybody involved knew he was running with his tail between his legs. Mack hissed through his teeth after Urist, then set the axe behind the crate.

“Dishonorable wanker,” he grumbled.

Kushi was frozen in place, her eyes bewildered.

“Sorry, lass,” Mack groaned, realizing what he had done in front of the poor girl, “Ah’ll explain-”

“I beg your pardon,” Kushi trembled, “I think we should speak much longer after your frenzy is over.”

Kushi stormed down the stairs. Mack rolled his eyes.

“Jus’ ask!” Mack shouted after her, “Ask anyone abou’ Urist McHermansson!”

***

When Kushi got to the Silverbeards’ Market, she did indeed ask someone about Urist McHermansson. Kushi found it was a good place to find information, now that the other female merchants had accepted her into their group. Truly, they found the new resident human to be fascinating, and they included her in all of their gossiping. Lena McThorkelsson was especially happy to answer any and all questions Kushi had, so Lena was usually a welcome presence. Usually, Kushi was reluctant to meet them, even avoiding going to Silverbeards’ sometimes. But this time, it was worth the unwelcome attention.

“Och, look at ye!” Mara McOllison called out, “Ye figh’in’ wit’ yer dwarf?”

“He’s not my dwarf,” Kushi muttered, “but something like that, yes.”

“Wha’ happened?” Lena scowled, her round face riddled with concern. The ever-familiar faces of the ladies were filled with glee as they huddled around Kushi.

“Well...” Kushi hesitated, “Who is Urist McHermansson?”

The ladies’ reaction was phenomenal. All six of the dwarves recoiled, as if the very name was a repugnant smell. One of them hissed through their teeth, an action which Kushi had seen Mack perform earlier.

“Pardon me, what does that mean?” Kushi asked Pio, the lady who did it, “The hissing, I mean. What does that mean?”

“We dwarves do tha’ whene’er we see someone dishonorable.”

Kushi blinked. “McHermansson-san is dishonorable?”

“He’s a righ’ weasel, he is,” Brissel snapped.

“Shut it, Brissel,” Lena snapped back, “Dinnae scare the girlie off.”

Brissel looked apologetically at Kushi. Kushi smiled politely and glanced at Lena. “What did he do?”

“Sabotage markets he thinks will do well,” Lena replied bitterly, “He dinnae do it fer the bobs, he does it fer fun.”

“He’s go’ some sorta vendetta against shops,” Maxine chortled.

“Or against good times at all!” laughed Mara.

“Did ye hear what he done to the Thunder Nigh’ ale by yer campfires?” Pio whispered.

Kushi recalled the poor state of the barrels that night. Barely, but she did. She nodded slightly. “That was his work?”

“We dinnae ken yet,” Lena admitted, “Bu’ Pio thinks so.”

“Ahm sure of it, Lena,” Pio whispered, “He did the same thin’ to us on mah firs’ Thunder Nigh’.”

Ideas formed in Kushi’s mind. This oddly antagonistic McHermansson character had sabotaged the Thunder Night beverages, according to Pio. Which lead to Kushi and Mack serving their reserves. It was an overall good night, Kushi vaguely recalled. If McHermansson-san truly did hate despise such...

“Yes,” Kushi whispered, though unsure why, as there were so few people who weren’t involved in the conversation, “That’s how we made our debut, so to speak.”

“Och, yer in his sights now, lass,” Lena suddenly looked very concerned. “Hold it, did tha’ rascal talk to ye?”

“I invited him in,” Kushi answered, realizing her mistake, “I showed him how we made our sake.”

The dwarven ladies gasped.

“Nae, nae, nae!” Lena snapped in her maternal fashion, “Ye dinNAE let Urist McHermansson into yer shop!”

“Specially nae THA’ shop,” Pio joked, “Ye see the missus o’ tha’ lad?”

The ladies groaned in solidarity. Kushi nodded, her steps suddenly very rushed.

“I need to go see what he did,” Kushi bowed hurriedly, running back to the Barrels of Thunder.

When she returned, she saw a different and unexpected, yet still unwelcome sight.

Mack was speaking with a human in a thick fur coat. The man carried a briefcase. That would explain the presence of the toboggan outside with the dwarves and the snowdogs. The two were sitting at one of the nearby tables of the empty tavern. Kushi stared at Mack expectantly.

“Thar’s the lass,” Mack jovially chirped, jumping to his feet and pulling Kushi over to the table, “She owns the tub, f’we’re bein’ honest.”

“It’s a pleasure,” the man greeted in a tone that made the hairs on Kushi’s arm recoil, “My name is Richard Pence. I’m here to discuss the purchase of this property.”

“No,” Kushi instinctively said. Mack’s face fell.

“Ah know, ah know,” Mack said, “Ah could nae- but just listen.”

Richard Pence used his fingertips to slide a piece of paper in Kushi’s direction. It was written in a script she did not understand.

“I represent Frozen Mugs Affiliated. We’re a Coruscant-based beer brewer. We’ve been looking for opportunities in the Frozen Fields, given how such a huge number of our clientele come from this Verse. Our people here heard word of what you did during-”

“I can’t read this,” Kushi said.

“Ah,” Richard Pence smiled unhappily, “You don’t need to worry too much about what it says. It’s just a standard contract.”

“I apologize, Pence-san, but I’m not signing this until I know what it says,” Kushi said.

“Just Pence, and please,” Richard Pence said, agitated, “Just call me Richard.”

“Very well, Richard,” Kushi replied, her voice laden with ice, “I’m not signing this until I know what it says.”

“Just that you agree to be a part of the Frozen Mugs family,” Richard smiled, his teeth’s uncanny whiteness that would push a pacifist into pulling them out, “In return for uh, well. Substantial compensation.”

Kushi raised an eyebrow. “What does it mean to be a part of the Frozen Mugs family?”

“Oh, it’s mostly benefits,” Richard Pence’s eyebrows curled in mock reassurance. “You would receive financial support, as well as some consulting from our senior brewers.”

“In return...?”

“Just allowing us to be involved in the process is valuable enough,” Richard Pence smirked.

“You mentioned the ‘purchase’ of my property.”

Richard Pence twitched and held out a pen. “Yes, it’s all in the contract.”

Kushi pursed her lips. “I have come to a decision.”

“But I haven’t given you any figures.”

“Because she accepts?” Mack hopefully asked.

“I decline your offer,” Kushi said firmly.

“Even when, let’s say, four thousand dwarven silvers are on the line?”

Mack gasped. “FOUR HUN’NED GOLD?”

Before the dwarf could swoon, Kushi stood up and gestured towards the door. “My answer remains the same.”

Mack stood up, tugging on Kushi’s shirt desperately. Kushi looked at him, eyes unblinking and cold.

“Bu’ lass, four hun’ned gold, tha’s... tha’s more than wha’s e’er passed my hands.”

“Yes, it is a good business deal,” Kushi warned him, “One that McHermansson-san would approve of.”

Mack flinched at the name, turning to Richard Pence, who was suddenly becoming very hopeful.

“Yes, indeed, ma’am,” Richard Pence nodded, “You should listen to the reasonable approach from this... McHermansson-son.”

Mack, glancing at Kushi, grit his teeth and clenched his fists. Kushi could see this was very difficult for him.

“N-nae, lad,” he managed to stutter, “E’en though the-the f-four hun’ned goooo...”

Kushi kicked his heel gently and hissed, “Stay strong, McMicksson-san.”

“...ooold is righ’ temptin’ an’ all,” Mack continued, “Nae. The Barrels of the Thunder ain’t fer sale.”

“Do you two truly think it wise to make enemies of Frozen Mugs?” Richard Pence chuckled, “We can crush the competition like flies. It’s easier to join us.”

“If I recall correctly,” Kushi smirked, “You’ll need to catch the flies first.”

Richard Pence’s face turned into a snarl, before he turned and slammed the door shut behind him. The pair could hear him muttering, “Try to do business with a bitch...”

Mack, upon hearing the words, looked ready to maul the man from the inside out. Kushi snatched his shoulder.

“Let’s not make actual enemies of Frozen Mugs, shall we?” Kushi warned.

Unsettled, Mack shook his shoulder free and somehow sagged his entire body.

“Still, lass,” he mourned, “Four hun’ned gold.”

Kushi shrugged. “McMicksson-san, would four hundred gold buy a good friend?”

Mack looked up at her. “Ah ken the point yer making, but aye. Ye probably could.”

Kushi chuckled, then sighed. “I’m sorry for not trusting you earlier.”

“Ah bet ye are,” Mack chuckled, “McHermansson done messed up half the trays.”

Kushi gasped. “But he wasn’t even here for more than five minutes!”

“Magic, he is,” Mack whimsically commented, “Evil magic, but still magic. Lucky us, ah salvaged what I could. Ye should probably take a look.”

“And while I’m at it, I think I’ll go hide your axe,” Kushi said playfully, “just in case we get any rowdy customers and you decide to attack them.”

As Kushi climbed the stairs, Mack sniffed unhappily.

“Wha’ever,” he muttered, “got a spare war-pick laying aroun’ somewhere.”

[Amaterasu]

After what Mack and Kushi took to calling the “Sabotage incident” and the subsequent attempt of Frozen Mugs of absorbing them, the hill that the Barrels of Thunder had to climb was a little steep, but they made it.

Kushi placed greater trust in Mack with each passing day as the dwarf’s knowledge of the culture around Dwarfholm and his relationships with its inhabitants got them out of hairy situations over and over. On the other hand, Mack understood that the fresh, independant outlook of Kushi on the situation was equally important to the bar, and he questioned her a little less often. Like two halves forming one whole, they would have sunk the ship that was the sake bar in a few days had they been alone, but together they not only managed to keep it afloat, but also improved it with slow and steady steps.

Days after the sabotage Mack submitted a list of dwarves that were banned from the Barrels of Thunder and Kushi accepted with little fuss. McHermansson was on top of the list, and with him were various dwarves of similar disposition, several unsavory individuals known for getting into fights when drunk and smashing up the places they visited, a handful of dwarves who were forbidden from drinking by law and a few with drinking problems who put in letters to all bars in Dwarfholm requesting that they be refused service if their will lost against their body. Enforcing that list would not be as easy as putting it up, of course, especially due to the lack of a bouncer, but Kushi did her best to memorize the mugshots - or, lacking those, charcoal drawings - of the dwarves in question. They acquired a pair of crossbows to keep behind the counter in case of emergencies, and that was that.

Kushi needed next to no convincing from Mack that McHermansson would be the last non-employee who got to visit their brewing area. She understood that letting anyone into the back was a great risk to their business because of potential saboteurs, whether they did it for fun or to eliminate competitors. There may even be goons hired by Frozen Mugs Affiliated coming - after having rejected their offer, neither of them thought that this was the last that they’d heard from them. What was almost as risky as sabotage was that people might try to copy the recipes. There was no such thing as patents for brewing methods in Dwarfholm, so if their secrets got spilled they would have no legal defense because “intellectual property”. Mack told Kushi a few horror stories, and like a kid scared straight by its parents with stories of murderers and kidnappers she took to keeping the brewing secrets far closer to her heart. They began to state that allowing patrons in the back would violate their “Health Code” and threw out more than one dwarf who tried to sneak behind the bar.

One morning Mack came in early to find Kushi burning several parchments with kanji on them with a candle. He flew into a panic until she explained to him that she was not, in fact, burning their bookkeeping documentation, but the recipes of advanced sake brewing. “I’ll keep them in my head and teach you from mouth to ear when the time is right”, she said. “These recipes are the trump card of our bar and an heirloom from my family of sake brewers perfected through generations. If we lost them I would never forgive myself.”

“Aye, well ah get tha’, bu’ do ye hav’ta burn ‘em in ‘ere? The burnin’ ink’s smokin’ up the whole room!”

That day, Kushi learned what a dwarven chimney was.

A month after the sabotage incident, they found their brewing rooms to be infested with cockroaches and fruit flies who thrived in the warm, moist environment. Fortunately for them they had not spreaded too far yet and they could save most of their products, but it set them back greatly nonetheless since their fermenting equipment needed to be washed thoroughly and the whole room had to be treated by exterminators, which in turn meant that it could not be used for a while. Their reserves dwindled quickly and would have dried up had Mack not found a cheap space to rent in the lower levels of Dwarfholm, where they were able to set up Koji palettes until the bar was usable again.

However, the exterminators that they hired to clean out the room gathered up shards of several “vases”, as they described them, and corks. They brought them to Mack explaining that they thought they might be important, and Kushi found that they had traces of cockroach droppings on the inside. Putting the shards together they found that there were four spherical pots with tiny air holes and a hole at the top which the cork fit in perfectly. Biological grenades full of insects, so to speak. “Another saboteur”, concluded Kushi. “Whoever it was must have good access to the outside world… cockroaches aren’t common in the Fields.”

“Ye think it mighta been the Frozen Mugs?” asked Mack. “Ah swear ta…”

“Maybe, but we have no proof. Plus, the infestation work was done sloppily. The insects haven’t been spreaded around. Whoever threw these grenades has thrown them against the front and not lobbed them into the darker corners. If it was a competitor, they’ve hired pretty cheap goons to do this.”

“When they hear tha’ we’re doin’ fine, they’ll try again.”

“We should do something about it… but our budget won’t cover a nightguard.”

“Mmmh… ah’ve got me an idea. Bu’ it ain’t gonna be cheap.” The dwarf went on to explain that there were professional seal engravers in Dwarfholm, a profession that mixed aspects from sculptors and mages. Seals converted the lingering magic in the air to energy and could be used for just about anything, from simple utilities like creating flames for cooking, to military usage such as enhancing a sword’s sharpness or durability. It would be easy to create barriers that only allowed certain people to pass. The problem is, seals weren’t cheap. Commissioning a professional to engrave quality seals, even less so.

“I think we can’t really save on costs right now. We can pay them back over time, and once the debt is paid off the engravings will stay for a long time.”

“Aye. Only need t’be controlled once every five years or so.”

“Then we’ll have to plan that into our budget, one way or another.”

It was indeed an expensive job, but the magic seals that the engraver placed over the course of a few days and with great care effectively turned the brewing and storage rooms into a vault with magic barriers impassable to all but the two of them. It was more than worth the cost. The cut that their budget took, however, forced them to continue running the shop with two people instead of hiring a waiter or two, as Kushi had hoped to do that year. That plan was out the window for the time being.

In terms of clientele, the bar quickly built up to be an “insider tip”, with several regulars and small numbers of random visitors coming in to check things out. Because of the hits they had taken to their production after the Thunder Night they had not managed to rocket their way up into the big leagues of Dwarfholm’s service businesses as the many clients they could not serve because of insufficient stocks did not give it a second chance. But thanks to their loyal patrons and the occasional high-class dwarf who ordered a special delivery they had more than enough business to keep themselves afloat even though they paid off the debt to the engraver, and still ran a small profit after all the deductions. Kushi foresaw a raise for Mack and perhaps an expansion of the facilities in a few years’ time.


Then, it happened.

It was early in the morning, before the Barrels of Thunder opened, and Kushi was just in the process of controlling Mack’s latest batch of koji, closely eyeing the fermentation process.

“The progress on this one is very nice, you’re just saving a little too much on the liquid. Here, you can see how…”

Her lecture was interrupted by loud knocks on the door. Both looked up.

“Do you think that’s some patron coming early?”

“Nah. They wouln’ knock this hard. ‘sides, most o’ our regulars are workin’.” He eyeballed the cupboard near the entrance to the seal-protected room where they kept some additional crossbows in.

“Let’s see who it is”, Kushi said then.

“Jes’ don’ open the door.”

“I know.”

The dwarf had recently installed one of those rectangular peepholes in the door with a glass pane that could be blocked from inside with a sliding iron bolt, for security purposes. Things had yet to get violent enough that a full-on home defense was required, but Mack trusted Dwarfholm’s inhabitants very little - he had lived here all his life and thus knew how bad the ‘bad’ dwarves really could get. Kushi squatted, slid the bolt aside and peeked through the glass pane. Two dwarves in uniforms were standing there, both wearing light armor and the standard-issue weaponry for guardsmen. Having heard the metal sliding aside, they looked at the peephole.

“Good morning, officers”, Kushi greeted them through the door. “I apologize but we’re not open yet.”

“We’re here on duty, lass”, one of the dwarves said. In the past Kushi might have thought him to be speaking rudely, but after the time spent in Dwarfholm she knew that the grunting was a completely normal way of dwarves to speak. He produced a badge that he held in front of the opening for her to see. “We’re here on behalf o’ ‘is majesty.”

“Just a moment.” She pulled back. “Mack, two of his majesty’s men are at the door.”

“Wha’? Lemme speak to ‘em”, the dwarf said with a frown and stepped closer. Kushi got aside and he stood before the door. Of course, he did not need to squat. “Fine mornin’ to ye, officers. What can we do fer ye?”

“We’ve got some letters fer ye ta hang on yer blackboard. Ye don’ have a mailbox so we knocked.”

Mack’s face shifted. Suddenly he was beaming with pride. “Oh! O’ course! Please come in.” He pulled the security bolts back and opened the door. The two dwarves walked in and looked around. One of them eyeballed Kushi with a mixture of distaste and interest, like one would eye an exotic but hideous animal. “Would ye like ta take a seat?” Mack asked.

“Nay. We’re jes’ here ta leave these” the dwarf that had mostly remained silent so far said as he pulled out a stack of papers and put them on the nearest table. His colleague did the same, though his stack was a little smaller. Kushi took the top sheet of the former and turned it over. A mugshot stared at her out of ink-printed eyes, with some text beneath it and a sum at the bottom. A WANTED poster. By the time she looked up the two officers were already on their way back out.

“Kushi, ye know wha’ this means, don’t ye?” Mack asked gleefully.

“Uh… that we have to put these up?”

“Tha’ we’re gettin’ the attention o’ the royal police. They don’ bother with small places, it ain’t worth the paper. Nobody visitin’, y’know.”

“So that means… we’re past that threshold and now they consider us big enough to deserve their attention?”

“Tha’s it. It’s like…” He thought for a moment. “Like an official stamp o’ approval sayin’ that we’re not one o’ the underdogs anymore now.”

“Well, that sounds great. And what are these?” She took the top letter of the second stack, the smaller one, and flipped it over to read. “Hmm… this one’s not a wanted poster. It’s... “ She skimmed over the text. “... it’s a reward offering for slaying mutated Roaches in the Dwarfholm sewers and bringing back proof.”

“Aye. An offer ta adventurers. Ah’ve seen ‘em hangin’ around other pubs an’ bars before.”

“Well, this is great! Hopefully this will attract some adventurers and bounty hunters on top of the regular patrons.”

The dwarf nodded eagerly. “We’re finally gettin’ things off the ground fer real.”

Kushi chuckled and closed the door again, then pushed the bolts into place. “Well, we should hang them up! But after that it’s right back to the brewing lesson.”

“Speakin’ o’ which, wouldn’ usin’ less water concentrate the taste?” asked Mack while grabbing both stacks of paper.

“The taste is already fairly concentrated. If you put in too little water too much of it might evaporate, which messes with the fermenting process. And sake is meant to be a finer, less intense taste.”

“Hmmh. Ah wonder wha’ a real strong sake would taste like.”

“Do you? Well… I might be able to oblige.” With a broad grin Kushi walked behind the counter and produced a red barrel. “Remember this?”

“Tha’ drink ye’ve been tellin’ me ta keep me hands off of fer the past month or so?”

“I was saving it for a big occasion. I figured we might as well break it out today! Eight Purification Sake, the strongest I can brew!” She laughed as she placed two small sake cups on the counter and opened the barrel. As the lid popped off a potent intoxicating smell filled the room. Mack’s eyes widened.

“Lass, ah… wha’s in that barrel? Ah’m a sturdy drinker, bu’ this…”

“It’s every bit as potent as it smells, my friend”, said Kushi proudly. “Normally it’s best enjoyed diluted with water, but I doubt that you’re having any of that.”

Mack laughed. “Ah’m sure ah’ll regret this t’morrow, but give me the pure stuff.”

Kushi obliged. For herself though, she only dripped a few droplets into her cup and filled the rest with water. Then she pushed the cup forward to Mack, who had taken a seat on a bar stool, both took their cups and raised them. “Bottoms up!” they spoke, and drank.

The next moment the dwarf’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. He had meant to leave the sake in his mouth to savor the taste but now saw himself forced to swallow before he spat it back out. Even so he coughed until his face was red. “B-bruenor’s beard”, he exclaimed once he caught himself, “ah feel like a wee lad ‘avin’ me first ale!”

Kushi shuddered as she swallowed. Even though her drink was heavily diluted it burnt going down her throat. “Oof… it’s good though, isn’t it. It’s distilled with the same method as the Thunder Brew, but refined eightfold and blessed by the kami. According to the legend told in my home country, the warrior Nagi used this sake to intoxicate the demon serpent Orochi. It was weakened enough that it could be sealed away. My family traces its origins back to the brewer who made that sake. Well, that’s the legend anyway.”

Mack grinned. “Yer tongue’s way loosened when yer tipsy, y’know.”

“Same goes for you, Mack!” laughed Kushi and refilled their cups. This time diluted for the both of them. They drank, and Kushi felt her cheeks redden.

“I ain’t drunk yet!” protested Mack. “Not even yer miracle-sake’s that strong.”

“Well… We should cut ourselves off before that changes, then. Still got a store to run, don’t we.” And though Mack looked at the barrel with great desire, he agreed. It was swiftly sealed and put away to a safe place. Kushi just poured herself a glass of water to clear her head and make the ground wobble around less, when a “DING” sound from the back room drew her attention.

“What was that?”

“Yer Communicator, ain’t it?”

“Oh! Oh, right. I almost forgot I had that… who would be contacting me at this time?” She walked through the rune-barrier and opened the cupboard that she kept her belongings in while in the bar. Though she barely ever used her Communicator she always had it with her, on the off chance that Amaterasu sent her something one day. As a result it was right there, under her casual clothing, with a red light blinking.

“Hm… the message is from someone else though”, she thought aloud.

“What’s it say? Maybe the sender’s tellin’ ye their name.”

“It’s written in kanji, so the translation might be a bit odd… Greetings Kushi, it’s Fiara writing! Amaterasu handed me your number so I could message you about this because it’s important that you know. I hope you’re doing well over in Dwarfholm, sorry that we’ve not been in touch, we were focused entirely on our journey. Speaking of which, she doesn’t mention what that resulted in. I wonder if they succeeded.

We’ll come to visit you in Dwarfholm soon, but we can’t stay for too long. I can’t really cover everything in writing but we’ll start an enormous project. There’s an evil in the Omniverse greater even than Orochi and we’re going to need to prepare for its coming if we’re to stand a chance.”

“An evil greater than Orochi?” asked Mack. “Tha’ same Orochi tha’ ye jus’ mentioned? Ah thought it was a beast o’legend.”

“Yes, well… he was unsealed shortly before Amaterasu’s arrival in Nippon, and she slew him. It’s a bit of a long story. But an evil greater than this snake? What sort of monstrosity could that be?”

“Ah’ll be frank, there’s a bunch o’ evils in the Omniverse, an’ some o’ them are pretty damn scary. Funny, there’s even one tha’s gotten sealed away years ago.”

“Fiara doesn’t go into detail either… anyway, reading on. We’re staying in a town near the gates to the Fields right now while we sort out some stuff but we’ll be coming to visit soon. Can’t give you a better timeline because Amaterasu is out doing some stuff and we need to traverse the Fields first, but I don’t think we’ll need more than 2-3 weeks.

A lot of stuff happened, we’re eager to share everything with you and hear how you did for yourself too! Best wishes, Fiara.”

“Two ta three weeks, eh? Ah’d say it’d be good if ye could book some rooms fer ‘em, Dwarfholm’s gonna be busy”, said Mack. Kushi however reread the message with a serious face.

“We need to talk”, she then said.

“Oh?”

“Let’s take a seat.” She let him lead the way back to the empty main room and sat down opposite of him. “Those two to three weeks… we’ll need them for me to wrap things up here. I’ll be leaving with Ammy.”

“Wha’? Why? Leavin’ all of a sudden, wha’s gotten into ye?”

“Remember what I just told you about the Purification Sake? About how it was used to weaken a great demon and how it’s a brew passed down through my family line?”

“Yeah…”

“If Amaterasu aims to confront an even greater evil than the snake, I must come to her aid. I don’t know if my sake will be of any aid, but while there’s the possibility…”

Mack cut her off by slamming his fist onto the table. “Then give ‘er somethin’ ta take along or somethin’! Ye can’t leave everythin’ behind jes’ like that! Wha’ about the Barrels of Thunder? We’re jes’ gettin’ it off the ground!”

“Mack…”

“Nay! Lemme finish, lass. This story ‘bout some snake gettin’ drunk on sake, tha’s a damn legend! Wha’ sorta evil would be dumb enough ta get drunk an’ let some warrior hero… wha’ was it, sealed? Tha’s jes’ a fairytale! An’ Amaterasu, she’s a Prime, ain’t she? She could jes’ summon it herself!”

As Mack tiraded away, his tongue loosened by not just the sake but his anger, Kushi listened. But he was not done yet: “Wha’ we, some simple mortal secondaries, can do doesn’ hold up ta a Prime’s powers. Sure, a handful o’ warriors could be a good aid ta one o’them, bu’ yer no warrior as far as ah know!”

“I’m not.”

“See! Ah’m not gonna say that ye should behave like… like a woman or somethin’.” As he said this he made an erratic motion with his hand. Dwarven women were far more empowered than in Camelot, where the human belief that women ‘belonged in the kitchen and with the children’ was very strong. “Bu’ the battlefield ain’t no place fer a sake brewer!”

There was one more point that he had not spoken, but Kushi could tell. He was yet early in his sake-brewing career and had a lot left to learn. Without a guiding hand he would not be able to accomplish that goal, let alone learn the advanced techniques that Kushi had yet to share with him simply because the time wasn’t right yet.

Kushi waited until Mack’s tirade died down. “Let me explain, Mack McMicksson… this is not just a matter of practicality to me, but one of honor. And besides… you’d be welcome to come along when the time comes. I do not intend you on leaving behind.”

“Bu’ the bar…”

“... will thrive, just not under our guidance. Allow me to explain.”