Fields of Ice

[Amaterasu]

"Y'know what you should do, Kushi? A sake bar!"

These words, uttered by one of the dwarves that had established themselves as Kushi's regulars - an amazingly old one who made small talk with Kushi whenever he came to pick up his order -, had left the young woman thinking. Her brewing hadn't been outstandingly profitable despite the amount of clients. Though she had been able to pay off her credit so far and was progressing towards a debt-free life every day the novelty of her sake had passed and few dwarven establishments were buying it, simply because there wasn't enough clients. The ones that still bought from her were mainly private customers buying for their own consumption or for parties that they hosted, which was enough to keep her afloat and pay off the debt, but it would be difficult getting anywhere far without a more profitable business.

That night she had not gotten much sleep, instead she had dreamt with open eyes, of being the host of a sake bar closer to the center of Dwarfholm, not in the cheap outskirts where few clients ever found their way to. The closer she came to the central areas or one of the major roads which were always getting huge loads of traffic, the more (and better) clients she would get. Unfortunately, setting up a bar was far from as easy as putting a counter up, sticking a sign outside and waiting for the customers to roll in. She needed a license to serve liquors, an area located somewhere better than this backstreet, a pair of employees and a more reliable source of materials. The dwarf-troll war had a notable impact on businesses that relied on imported goods, she had noticed. With a business as small as hers, a shipment that didn't get through was a huge loss. Twice had it happened already and she was lucky to have enough sake stored to pass the period between the follow-up trip, but it had put her late with a few payments. Not something she wanted to happen again.

The issue at hand was, once again, money. Her meager profits would need months, perhaps years before she reached the point where buying a vacant cave somewhere half-decent was within her realm of possibility, and then there was the matter of employees. How could she afford to pay them if she had no money?

It would seem that Lady Luck, Omni, fate or some other greater force had decided to provide... in a way that was both miraculous and tragic. Two days after the old dwarf who had told her about opening a sake bar had last come for his order, a well-dressed dwarf knocked at the door to her little abode.

"Miss Kushi? I am Urist McHarvansson. I am the lawyer in charge of Mr. McKovsson's Last Will."

Surprised, Kushi blinked but stepped aside. "... okay? Please come in, McHarvansson-san. I'm afraid that I only have chairs suited for human sizes, but..."

"That is okay, Miss. You may however want to sit down. I have news." He eyed her as she led him into her humble living room and pulled up a chair. "The name's McHarvansson, by the way. Not McHarvanssonsan."

"Oh? Oh, no no. That is a form of adressing you from my native country. I believe that here in Dwarfholm you use "Mister" or "Missis"."

"Mmmh... well, if you say so." The dwarf then produced a letter from the folds of his jacket. "I regret to inform you, first of all, that Mr. McKovsson has passed away yesterday, after heart failure." He handed the letter to Kushi. "Here is an invitation to the burial, should you wish to attend. But the main reason why I am here is regarding his last will." He pulled another letter out, this one larger. "Regrettably, Mr. McKovsson had very few ties to his family for reasons I shall not go into detail with. As a result of such he excluded all his family besides his wife from his will. Furthermore a number of friends are named. His wife has however passed away - we believe that the shock of discovering her husband's death is the cause -, and only three friends remain, among which what Mr. McKovsson has left behind is to be divided evenly."

Kushi frowned. "I am very sorry to hear that... I didn't know McKovsson-san all that well, he was a friendly man but we didn't speak much outside of when he came to pick up his order."

"Well, Mr. McKovsson seems to have thought differently. You are one of the three people listed in his Last Will. As such, his request is..." He cleared his throat and read: "'My earthly belongings are to be split between the three above named people, in even shares. However, only those who attend the burial ceremony are considered eligible. If one of the above named people is absent, my belongings are to be split between the two others. If only one is present, let them have everything. If none are present, auction the goods and donate the gains to the charity I name below.' I am entrusted by my client to supervise you and the other two individuals to note your presence or absence during the burial ceremony."

Kushi's head was spinning. "McKovsson-san really named me?" she asked.

"Only a single person named Kushi who is a human is registered in Dwarfholm. Your address also matches that which Mr. McKovsson named in his will. He also noted, just a moment... ah. He left this note: 'I hope that Miss Kushi puts her share of the inheritance towards spreading her beverages across the population of Dwarfholm', though we were not able to make sense of this. Perhaps you understand it?"

"I... believe so. The ceremony is noted in the letter you gave me, right?"

"Indeed."

"Thank you then, McHarvansson-san. I... if you would not mind, I need a little time to digest this, and to grieve for McKovsson-san's loss. I shall be present at the ceremony though, I assure."

"Certainly." He handed her another card. "If ever a question or issue pops up, please come to my office or contact me with this number." With that, the lawyer put the letter away and left. Kushi needed to sit down and opened a bottle of Thunder Brew to calm her spinning head.

How could she ever thank the old dwarf for this? She would have hugged him, thanked him endlessly, gifted him the best sake that she had... but he was gone. The only thing she could do to show her appreciation would be at the funeral.

She could only hope to find a seamstress that could make her a black dress until then.