Molten fire.
That was the first word that came to Ludwig's mind the moment the sweet roasted fruits taste faded away.
From his throat, to his intestine, the ale burned its way down to its final destination. His body also went up in temperature, beads of sweat wet his entire body like he had been standing in the rain.
Ludwig put the tankard down with one hand, his other hand gripping on the stone counter. The burns lingered for a few seconds more, but then new taste brushed his tastebuds. Smoky, refreshing, and woody.
By the time the burns completely fade away, his mouth and throat was dry. He felt his body become lighter, his mind too, it had become clearer.
"Marvelous." The dwarven woman behind the counter clapped her hands with power, eyes crinkled while her mouth curled upwards. "You savor the taste rather than overpowering it with your mana. Welcome to the Stonebrew Store, what can we help you with?"
Ludwig let out a long hot breath, the taste of the alcohol still present on that breath. But when he was about to make a sound, his throat refused to comply. Itchiness assaulted his neck, it was dry, like a land without a rain for a year straight.
As he let out several severe dry coughs, the dwarven woman laughed. Taking the tankard he had put down, she stormed towards the left side of the area. Using her fingers to flick the tap, her hand which held the mug tilted it into an angle.
Once the tankard stood straight beneath the tap, she walked back to the counter, hands stretched towards Ludiwg. "Drink this."
However, rather than moving his hand to take the metal mug offered to him, Ludwig just looked at the dwarven right in the eye.
"Don't worry." She chuckled. "This one is our ale. The previous one is our Moltenheart Reserve whiskey."
Now it makes sense. Ludwig said to himself. As expected from the top of the line brewer clan. Their second test was nothing ordinary. Using their most priced brew for a test was one thing. But who in their right mind poured a whiskey into a tankard? Wasn't it something that was enjoyed on the rock?
Ludwig took the tankard hanging in the air with his hand and chucked it down to his throat. No cheers for mother mountain were needed anymore since it was his second mug here.
Just like the dwarven woman said, no initial attack pricking his throat. At the same time, there's also no fruity flavour entertaining his tastebuds.
Replacing them was a strong yet subtle taste of smokey malt. It brushed against his tongue, filling his mouth with a homey feeling. Once they faded, mineral tones popped up like a mini surprise—the specialty of the Blackforge.
Like a barren ground welcoming the rain, Ludwig's body took everything it could without spilling even a drop. His body loosened and became warm, as if a cozy blanket had been put round him.
Ludwig let out a throaty noise as soon as he parted ways with the tankard. After swiping the foam leftover above his lips, he opened his mouth. "This is the brew from the Blackforge I am familiar with. That previous one is just too strong."
"That's a surprise." The dwarven woman said. "Not many humans bought our ale."
Ludwig shrugged and pulled his smirk onto his face. "I don't get it from humans. I get it from a dwarf."
"That made more sense." The woman beamed. "Can I take that you are here to buy our Ale?"
"That's part of the reason." Ludwig chuckled, but then, his voice took a serious turn. "The other reason I am here is to meet Bromnir."
The dwarven's eyes went sharp as soon as he finished his words. Her crossed arms unfurled, one landing on the hammer she stored in her waist while the other one went into her back. "What business do you have with Elder Bromnir?"
"Relax." Ludwig's tone became brighter again, his goal had been fulfilled. "Just tell him this: 'The guy he promised for the Obsidian Crown had come to collect it.'"
The atmosphere shifted in an instant as the words fell.
The dwarven woman pulled the hammer from its holster and lowered her stance in a fluid movement, then she growled. "How did you know about our Obsidian Crown?"
Ludwig sighed. "Becaue Bromnir told me about it. Can we stop now? Just tell him that and you'll know I meant no harm."
The dwarven woman didn't move. However Ludwig could see in her eyes that her thoughts were racing. Silence and the hum of the rune around the shop descended into them, but before long, it was pierced.
"Wait here." She growled before walking away. "Don't think about doing anything stupid."
"I wouldn't dare." Ludwig chuckled. Though inside, he was sure even if all of the dwarven warriors came to stop him, they wouldn't be able to do so. Not in a straight fight of course—numbers still stood for something even for someone like him. However, if he decided to run away. No one would even be able to catch a glimpse of his clothes.
As Ludwig tapped the wooden flor with her toes, the door behind the counter opened again. The dwarven woman from earlier walked in. But unlike her fierce demeanour when he stepped into the room, her hammer had been sheathed again, and rather than challenging, her body was moving with shame and carefulness.
"I-I'm sorry about my rudeness, Sir." Words came out of her mouth in pieces.
"It's fine. It's only natural since someone just popped out in your shop looking for one of your elders and saying about your secret out loud." Ludwig waved his hand. Judging from how contrasting her personality became, it seemed like Bromnir had opened his mouth and said something useless again.
"T-thank you for understanding, Sir." The dwarven woman said. "Please follow me, my grandfather told me to bring you to his quarter."
"Huh?" Ludwig let out a sound full of confusion, his eyes scanning through her face, looking for resemblance to Bromnir. "Which one are you? Sigrid or Astrid?"
"I am Astrid Blackforge, Sir." She answered.
"You don't look like Bromnir at all." He chuckled. "Good thing by the way."
"Thank you, Sir." She said as she walked through the door. After crossing through the door, Ludwig entered a spacious hall full of barrels. He walked through so many rows before another door waited for him.
The moment she opened that door, a staircase could be seen. But rather than stairs to the second floor, it's spiralling downwards.
He followed Astrid, and once he passed through the door, a huge stone door with a Hammer striking an anvil engravings on each side could be seen.
"We welcome the Trickster of Time." The guards on both sides of the door lowered their knees to the ground and put one of their hands in front of their heart.
Ludwig flinched before he bit into his own teeth hard. That old dwarf! The Bromnir he knew was a drunkard, alcohol aficionado, and a damn good smith. He was never a mischievous guy like this. Was it his way to pay back for all the pranks he put him through?
As Ludwig's mind tried to think why he did it, the grand door in front of him opened with a rumble. What was revealed inside was a huge room with a huge chandelier hanging on the ceiling.
Across from the door, several dwarves sat behind a long table made out of black rock. Tankards sat still in front of each of them. Behind, a few barrels of different colours were lining up on the wall.
As Ludwig walked through the room and arrived in front of the table, all but one dwarves stood to their feet.
"It's the Blackforge's honour to be visited by the Trickster of Time himself." One of the dwarfs—the one with long black hair that had streaks of silver—boomed.
Rather than looking at them and acknowledging their greeting, Ludwig's eyes landed on the only dwarf who didn't stand up—the dwarf who sat in the middle of the table.
The silence lingered for a second, then the dwarf sighed. "It's not my idea, okay?"
"I have my own fair share of visiting nobles, kings, and emperors. Just by looking at how you are seated in the middle, you should be the current patriarch of the Blackforge Clan. So how could it not be your idea?" Ludwig said in a voice that was devoid of any fluctuation.
"Because…" Bromnir sighed. "Even though they made me the patriarch, I don't do anything related to the clan. It's all Thrain's doing."
Ludwig's eyes looked towards the dwarf who had opened his mouth earlier. But without even him had to ask,
"That is indeed the case, Sir Ludwig." The Dwarf gave him the answer to his question. "It's my idea to welcome you like this. I'm sorry if it was not to your taste."
"It's fine." Ludwig waved his hands around, his tone deflated considerably. "But there should be no next time, yeah?"
"Understand, Sir." Thrain answered before he pointed at an empty seat across Bromnir. "Please take a seat, Sir."
Ludwig pulled the stone chair before plopping his body into it. Soon after, a dwarven man walked towards him and put golden tankards in front of him.
The liquid inside was clear and aromaless. Without his ability to sense mana, he would certainly think the Blackforge had suddenly become a sober clan.
The dwarfs across the table took their tankards and held it high, Ludwig followed their examples. After tipping the first tip into the ground. They shouted. "For the Anvil and the Barrels."
"For the Anvil and the Barrels." Ludwig murmured before putting the edge of the tankard into his mouth.
Ludwig had heard from Bromnir that dwarven drinks for royalty and nobles were always strong. It packed enough punch to send a weak person to sleep in one sip. However, as the liquid wet his mouth, no searing pain or unbearable heat assaulted him.
The initial taste was mellow, hint of fruits, dark toffee, and smoked oak. It was like a warm embrace in stormy night, comforting.
But just as Ludwig thought it was one of those creations that transcend the culture of their crafters, a dwarven punch landed their strength on his palate. Smoky hearthfire, charred stone, and a mineral bite like mountain air arrived with no knocking. They lingered, playing with his tongue until he ranked everything on the tankard.
Once he parted ways with it, a warming aftertaste of volcanic honey and blackened wood made their appearance, leaving him with no choice but to feel empty.
He felt numerous gazes at that moment, and when he looked up, he saw that every dwarf across from him was having their eyes on him.
"I don't want to use this word because nothing is perfect in this world." Ludwig started, his voice was low and filled with lingering emotions. "But that, that was a perfection. I never felt this empty after a drink."
Some of the dwarves hummed when he said so, in the meantime, some of the dwarves just nodded their heads, probably in understanding.
"That's a mug of the brew I promised you." Bromnir said at that moment, her posture was slack, eyes cloudy.
Ludwig felt his eyes were pulled upwards. "That's the Obsidian Crown?"
"It is." He laughed. "Good isn't it?"
"Too good in fact." Ludwig's face turned from surprise to regret. "Seems like I have to drink it slowly."
"Indeed." Bromnir nodded. "But thanks to you coming here, I can drink it in one chug after so many years!" His laughter echoed after saying that.
Ludwig let out a smile, his body moving back until his back met the backrest behind him. Then, he opened his mouth. "Seems like it's my turn? To thank you guys for giving me such an honour, let me repay it."
The moment he waved his hands, foods of all different kinds appeared on the table. However, no greens could be seen anywhere. The dishes all consisted of meat of different kinds.
The dwarves looked around, mouth almost touching the ground.
"Hahahahaha! That's what I'm talking about! Bring more ale! It's time for a party!" Bromnir shouted, rumbling the room.
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