Book 3: Chapter 77: Lapis
And somehow, everything went to plan.
Of course, said plan required me to spend nearly every waking moment in the brewroom using [Rapid Aging] and casting [Barley to Bacon]. So it was a shit plan.
Why did the shit plans always go to plan? Why couldn’t my plan to spend a relaxing year brewing and having fun go to plan, huh? Care to share Barckie boy?
It was almost as bad as poor Bran, who discovered what exactly happens when you drop something like Poutine on an unsuspecting populace.
A packed house every night. That’s what.
At least I got a point of Dexterity out of it from drawing sigils all day.
All told when the drinking contest arrived a few weeks later, it was practically a relief. All our hard work from the past two years had come down to this.
Annie was dressed in her finest dress armor as she laid out instructions in rapid fire. “Aqua! Get that sign wrapped up! Richter, make sure Kirk and Penelope didn’t leave anything behind, Johnsson, has Rumbob left yet?”
“Aye!” “Yup!” “He left an hour ago!”