Beers and Beards

The two weeks rushed by in a blur. The city rose in a fresh uproar with the return of Lady Barnes. She accused the Patriarch of Clan Blackbeard, the Duke of the North, as the culprit in her poisoning, and things got really noisy for a while. We were forced to batten down our hatches for a second time as angry dwarves took to the streets protesting the injustices oft enacted upon them by the high nobility. There were demands that Duke Blackbeard be given the same punishment as any other dwarf under the Ordinances while protests rose over the mistreatment of those living in Blackbeard held lands.

And right in the thick of it were Schist and Tourmaline. The two of them hit it off pretty well, and they were a powerful tag team. Schist had most of the local populace on his side, and he’d also co-opted Harmsson’s people while Tourmaline had surprising sway amongst the young nobility who didn’t have sticks up their asses.

Between the two of them, with Lady Barnes pushing from the top. The King and Council slowly began to bend. Changes were small at first, like allowing gnomes to hold positions in City Hall, but the snowball had begun rolling.

Not that we at the Thirsty Goat were really paying attention; we had too much to do.

Which brought us to beer testing day. And a surprise for me from Bran.

“Bran.” I choked, staring at the bowl in front of me with tears in my eyes. “Tell me this is what I think it is.”

“Aye, it’s my entry for the contest.” Bran said smugly. “Fried erdroots with beer gravy, ground sausages, and cheese curds. Yer pootangy thingy, or as I like to call it, Curdly Fries!”

I eyed him warily. “That’s it? Not ‘Bran’s Sloppy Weiner”?

Bran laughed, his belly heaving. “What would give you an idea like that!”