n

n

n

"Sir?

"

n

"Hm?

" Krow blinked.

n

"It has been three minutes. You must lay out your verdict or move to the next cask.

"

nThe woman placed a new drinking cup in front of him, lifting the empty one into a tray held by an assistant.

nShe started to fill it to the brim.

nKrow was beginning to think this tradition was a test of how functionally drunk a person could get. He was on the ninth cask already, and his head swirled like a kaleidoscope in a whirlpool.

nThe dwarvir at the table eyed him with a slightly impressed expression.

nMajor Intoxication, warned his status, like it had been doing since the fifth cask.

nHis HP started to slowly tick down by increments of -1 point per second.

nAnd this was only the pregame.

nHow did people survive this festival?

nDid the Zushkenari have extra livers he didn't know about?

nHe wouldn't be surprised if the dwarvir race did, actually.

nHe took up the pen and copied the words on the appraisal frame to the paper.

nGedruk Tearoot Liquor

nQuality: B-Uncommon

nA distilled beverage made from the fermented root mash of the Gedruk Tea-vine, which grows symbiotically on the antspider willow tree in the deep jungles of Rombe territory.

nThis variant contains Bloodstripe Lavender flowers and the buds of the poisonous Ballfern. Distilled 50 years ago, during the Ten-fort Wars in the south of the continent, judging frm the hints of Sweet Valerian in the aftertaste.

nKrow put down the pen, grasped the handles of the drinking cup, and guzzled it down like water.

nHe carefully put down the cup – the table looked like it was slightly undulating. Who enchanted a table like that? Useless.

nThe liquor burned; it felt like it exploded an inferno in his gut.

nWhat the hell Norge, even this was programmed in?

nYou and your creative team sure had a lot of free time…

nTomb Liquor

nQuality: EUnique

nA distillation made from high-quality grain, though an acquired taste. The name was coined from fist being discovered in the ancient underground mausoleums of Galbrane. The differing composition of soil and rock, as well as the air of the tombs, cause no two types of Tomb Liquor to be the same.

nThis variant has the 'bloody' taste of liquor entombed in the redhill area of northern Galbrane. The cool and refreshing fragrance of the liquor indicated it was exhumed from a royal tomb, the distinctive scent being imparted by the rimestone wood from the Glacewoods that traditionally encase the corpses of the Galbrane ruling family.

nThe gentle earthy smoothness and the amount of 'fire' it stokes in the belly indicates an entombing of at least 600 years, but not more than 800.

nKrow put down the pen. The world swayed gently as he did so.

nThe paper was immediately snatched up by the dwarvir. Several other overseers of this festival tradition crowded behind him and read over his shoulders.

nThe dwarvir smiled, satisfied.

"As expected. There are many interesting participants this year.

"

nParticipants?

nThe woman straightened, professional smile gaining a tinge of genuineness.

"Welcome aboard, sir.

"

nKrow beamed at them.

"I thank you for the invitation. I don't suppose we can start from the first cask all over again?

"

nThe cost of any one of the ten casks of booze was out of his price range at the moment, but since they were just giving it away for free…

nThe dwarvir's laugh boomed across the docks.

"You are not the first to ask.

"

n

"But the first to be indulged?

"

nThe dwarvir chuckled. He answered with one word:

"No.

"

nTsk.

n

"You wound me. I cannot even go and drown my sorrows.

" Krow sighed. After drinking high-end booze, who'd want to drink with cheap alcohol after?

nHe pressed his fingers against his forehead. Turning on his heel, he strode up the ramp.

nOn deck, he paused.

nShaded lamps glowed a warm yellow-orange all over the ship, as they hung from the rails and the rigging. With the slight mist that had rolled in with the falling of night, the soft glowing created an almost dreamlike atmosphere.

nSeveral minstrels lounged around the deck, strumming songs. Krow recognized the song – it was fairly popular on the music sites and will be for the next year too. It had been rearranged to strings and woodwinds, then slowed down.

nPlayer Bards then, not minstrels.

nKrow stumbled as the ship moved under him.

"Whoa, was that me or the ocean?

"

nSeveral of the people around chuckled.

n

"You get used to it,

" said one.

nKrow grinned at them.

"Hope so, because if I don't it's going to be a miserable trip.

"

nHe glanced at his status. There was no 'Seasickness' notice, so he was in the clear.

nNow, the pressing question, where was his room?

nThe papers Sigram gave him only mentioned he had the seventh starboard passenger cabin. Where were those on a sailing ship?

n

"Marses…

"

n

"This way.

" The Reeve shouldered a path to the rear of the ship. He took a flight of stairs, then a corridor.

"Which one is yours?

"

n

"Seventh starboard.

"

nMarses entered another corridor and then gestured down the row of doors.

"These are the starboard upper deck cabins.

"

nKrow counted to the seventh, then pressed the included token on the door handle. The door opened.

nThe cabin was crammed with a desk and chair, a bed, a wardrobe, a stuffed sofa, and a bank of overhead cabinets.

nThere was a tiny bathroom, with the entrance nearly concealed by the wardrobe. There was a single circular window that let moonlight in.

nCozy. He liked it.

n

"What exactly goes on in a liquor festival?

" Krow gave voice to something he'd been wondering since he'd been asked to rate the ten casks of alcohol outside the ship.

n

"A week of drinking and games, generally.

"

n

"And this ship?

"

n

"Have you ever heard of the Lancras family of Duryndon?

"

n

"…Lancras wine?

"

nMarses chuckled.

"Of course the draculkar knows the wine.

"

nKrow shrugged. Lancras wine was cheap, strong, and delicious. It became the drink of choice for many of the transmigrated players in western Marfall.

n

"They also make beer and spirits,

" Marses continued.

"Every year on the liquor festival, they put up an auction and a contest. The auction offers a chance at rare casks and the contest prize is a recipe. They're a family that has been making alcoholic beverages for centuries, have perfected many recipes and techniques. The auction and contest are well-attended.

"

nKrow peered at him through the haze of intoxication.

"Did you…enter me in some strange drinking contest?

"

n

"Places on this ship cannot be bought with money or simple influence.

"

nWhat?

nHe was too drunk to engage his brain tonight.

nHe waited for the vargvir to explain, but Marses only smiled blandly at him.

nKrow huffed, reached into his inventory for a General Antidote.

"I was hoping to be drunk as can be tonight. That's gone, Marses. Gone.

"

nThe potion slashed his drunkenness by half.

n

"Possibly being too drunk on a ship this competitive isn't a good idea.

"

nWith partially restored mental clarity, Krow grasped the warning.

nOh.

nHe smiled gratefully at the Reeve.

"Thanks for looking out for me.

"

nEvery passenger on the ship likely had passed the liquor identification test outside.

nIf it got out that Krow had bypassed the trial, he'd be challenged left and right for the whole voyage.

nNo thanks.

n

"I didn't expect you to drink through all the casks. Most people are allowed past the testing area after the sixth, you realize.

"

n

"And turn down all the free drinks? High quality liquor, Marses.

"

nThe Reeve let out a laughing sigh.

"To be young again.

"

nA single loud bell sounded in the night outside the cabin window.

nHe patted Krow on the shoulder.

"The ship is readying. This is where I leave you.

"

nKrow walked out and watched him debark.

nAround him, various people were calling goodbyes to friends or family.

nThe ship moved away from its berth.

nTvarglad had been his favorite city to visit in another life.

nIt had been full of energy, when most other cities and towns diminished to shells of themselves during the wars.

nHe'd never expected that his choice of race meant that Tvarglad, which formerly welcomed him enthusiastically within its walls, would greet him with cool politeness when they met again.

nGah.

nHe'd planned on sourcing much of his enchanting knowledge and material from Tvarglad.

nHe'd have to consider other plans now.

nThe libraries of the Gate-cities were overflowing with books accumulated over millenia, for example. But they weren't specialized libraries.

nHunting down good enchanter books for his Grimoire in those massive libraries would require work.

nMaybe after the Gauntlet…

nHe'd have more time then.

nThe ship grew more distant from the docks, and the people on deck started to disperse.

nIt had been a bittersweet experience, seeing Tvarglad again.

nEven if he hadn't seen much of his old haunts, that was probably for the best.

nHe made a note to never go to Baraldore if he could help it.

nMost of the quests he knew there were generic battle-quests anyway.

nKrow watched the lights of the great city of Tvarglad grow dimmer and softer, until the bulk of the city was obscured behind mist and the dark headland.

n