Opening Night

Jamie leaned over the cluttered workbench, using a piece of chalk to sketch crude diagrams on a scrap of parchment. He gestured as he explained his vision to Knall. Though not an expert, he conveyed the basics of brewing beer—the selection of grains, the fermentation process, and the importance of temperatures. Where his knowledge faltered, he trusted in Knall's alchemical expertise to fill the gaps.

"So, what do you think?" Jamie asked, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Do you believe you can figure it out?"

Knall stroked his fiery beard thoughtfully, his fingers absently tracing the beads woven into the braids. Behind his small spectacles, his keen eyes scanned the notes and sketches Jamie had provided. "From what you've described," he began, his voice a low rumble, "it won't be easy. Brewing without the usual staples—grapes or honey—using grains instead… It's unorthodox."

He paused, jotting down a few calculations in a weathered stack of papers. "But not impossible," he concluded with a hint of a smile. "In fact, you've piqued my curiosity about the flavor of this new concoction."

Jamie grinned broadly. "That's wonderful!"

"Hold on," Knall cautioned, raising a hand. "This endeavor will require significant resources—equipment, ingredients, time. Have you considered the cost?"

Jamie hesitated. "That's actually something I wanted to discuss. How much do you think it will cost to get everything up and running?"

Knall leaned back on his stool, his eyes drifting to the ceiling as he mentally tallied the expenses. "Hmm. Hard to say without seeing the space you plan to use. If you could show me the cellar of your tavern, I could get a better idea of the equipment sizes and quantities we'll need."

"Of course," Jamie agreed readily. "That makes sense. Shall we go now?"

Knall hopped down from his stool, landing with a solid thud despite his short stature. "No time like the present."

Thomas joined them at the door, and together, the trio set out toward the Lower Quarter. The sun bathed the city of Hafenstadt in golden light while they walked across cobbled streets bustling with activity. Merchants shouted their wares from colorful stalls, children darted through the crowds, and the air was filled with the mingled scents of fresh bread, sea salt, and exotic spices.

As they descended into the Lower Quarter, the atmosphere shifted. Buildings leaned more precariously, their facades aged and weathered. The streets narrowed, and the lively chatter of the upper markets gave way to hushed conversations and furtive glances.

At last, they arrived at Jamie's tavern. A creaking sign swung above the entrance—a faded image of an overweight pig and the words "The Fat Pig" barely legible beneath layers of peeling paint.

"Fat Pig, eh?" Knall mused, scratching his nose as he eyed the establishment. "You've chosen an… interesting place."

Jamie chuckled, making a mental note—once again—to find a carpenter who could craft a new sign reflecting the tavern's future identity. "Yes, it's not in the most prestigious part of town," he admitted, "but it's always bustling with patrons. There's a certain charm to it."

Knall raised an eyebrow. "If you say so."

They stepped inside, greeted by the familiar aroma of hot wine. The tavern was in a state of semi-readiness; Eliza and a few of the barmaids were already hard at work, scrubbing tables and sweeping floors in preparation for the evening rush.

Eliza gave a quick nod to Knall before swiftly returning to cleaning the tavern. Jamie observed her for a moment. She was naturally taking charge of the other girls, directing them with ease. It was clear she didn't need his assistance at the moment. Satisfied, he led Knall and Thomas straight to the back of the tavern, where they found the staircase leading down to the cellar.

Jamie had only ventured into the cellar once before, just after purchasing the establishment, to check if any valuable items remained. As he pushed open the heavy wooden door, he was once again confronted with the sight of the storage room in its neglected state.

The cellar lay in ruins. The stone walls were heavily worn, bearing the marks of long years without care. On one side, a thick layer of moss clung to the damp stones, a testament to Bones's neglect of this area over the past few years.

In days past, the cellar might have housed large barrels of mead or wine, but now, only a few scattered wooden planks and bent, rusted nails remained on the dirt floor. Shattered glass bottles were strewn about, their contents long since spilled and dried, leaving behind dark, sticky stains that marred the ground.

Despite being below ground, a few small windows high on the walls allowed glimpses of the street outside. Sunlight penetrated through the grimy panes. From the ceiling hung rusted lanterns, appearing as if they might collapse at any moment, their weak and flickering glows doing little to dispel the shadows.

In one corner, an aged bench rested at an angle, one of its legs visibly broken. Rotten wooden crates and assorted debris littered the floor, adding to the overwhelming sense of decay.

"This is going to be a lot of work," Knall remarked as he took in the dismal scene. "First, we'll have to clean everything out, then reinforce the ceiling to keep it from caving in. We'll also need to shutter the windows—the light can ruin the stock, especially anything still fermenting."

Without waiting for any instructions from Jamie, the dwarf plunged into action, rapidly forming plans to transform the derelict storage room into a functional brewery. He beckoned Thomas over, directing him from one spot to another as they measured every inch of the cellar, Knall's enthusiasm undimmed by the daunting task ahead.

Watching Knall's proactive approach as the dwarf surveyed the dilapidated cellar, Jamie couldn't suppress a surge of admiration. The way he effortlessly translated vision into actionable plans was something Jamie deeply respected. 'I don't know how. But, I need to secure him on my team,' he thought decisively.

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Without a second thought, Jamie activated his unique ability, [Legends of the Future], hoping to glean more information about Knall that might aid in convincing him. The air before him shimmered subtly as ethereal words materialized.

"Knall the Alchemist, wise and small,

Loved blueberries most of all.

'In potions or pies, their magic's true,

A berry's worth more than the rarest brew!'"

Jamie blinked, reading the rhymed verse once more to ensure he hadn't missed any hidden meaning. From his shoulder, he heard the soft snicker of Jay, his ever-present companion.

"Well, that explains a lot," Jay mused, his tail flicking with amusement as he too took in the verse.

"Fucking useless," Jamie muttered under his breath. Though his ability had offered profound insights in the past, it seemed this time it only confirmed what he had already suspected: Knall had an affinity for blueberries. Not exactly the leverage he was hoping for.

With a resigned sigh, he let the vision fade and refocused on the present. For nearly an hour, Knall meticulously inspected the cellar, tapping walls with knuckles, measuring dimensions with a worn but reliable rope, and scrawling detailed notes in a leather-bound journal. Thomas assisted where he could, holding measuring ropes and jotting down numbers as the dwarf dictated.

At length, Knall approached Jamie, wiping a smudge of dust from his forehead. His eyes were sharp behind his small spectacles, reflecting both enthusiasm and gravity.

"This is going to be tricky and expensive," Knall admitted. "We'll need to clear out all this debris, reinforce the ceiling to prevent collapse, and seal off those windows to control the light and temperature. Ventilation will need to be addressed to handle the fermentation. For the repairs alone, I'll need one gold piece. Two additional gold pieces will cover the research and development of the specialized tools we'll require."

He paused, gauging Jamie's reaction. "I realize that's a significant investment," he continued. "Perhaps it's more than you bargained for. We could consider scaling back or postponing until—"

But Jamie was already reaching into his satchel. 'No investment comes without risk. If fortune favors the bold, let's be bold.' he thought to himself. Counting out three gleaming gold coins, he placed them firmly into Knall's palm.

"Will this suffice?" he asked, his tone unwavering.

Knall's eyes widened in surprise as he stared at the coins in his hand. Gold was not the type of coin handed over lightly. Beside him, Thomas appeared equally astonished at Jamie's readiness to fund the venture without hesitation.

"I… Yes, this will cover it," Knall stammered, recovering from his initial shock. "Are you certain about this?"

"Absolutely," Jamie affirmed. "I still have enough to keep us going for a while. Besides, this project is critical. When not working on the tavern's security, Thomas will assist you. We need to get this operation running as soon as possible."

A broad grin spread across Knall's face. The weight of uncertainty lifted, replaced by a burgeoning confidence fueled not just by gold, but by Jamie's evident faith in him. The dwarf gave a respectful bow, a hand over his heart.

"You won't regret this," he vowed. "I'll begin the preparations immediately."

As they made their way back upstairs, the ambient light in the tavern had shifted. The sun was dipping low, casting warm hues through the windows.

"Thomas, could you accompany Knall back to his workshop?" Jamie suggested. "We'll need to start preparing the tavern for tonight."

"Of course," Thomas agreed, though a hint of concern lingered in his eyes. He glanced at Knall, remembering the recent attempt on the dwarf's life. "Are you feeling up to the walk?" he asked.

Knall waved off the concern with a hearty chuckle. "Ha! It'll take more than a little poison to slow me down. Besides, we've got work to do."

Jamie watched them depart, a contemplative expression settling on his features. 'I can only hope Thorgrimm doesn't decide to target him again,' he thought grimly.

'I can't assign Thomas to protect him at all times—not yet, at least,' he mused. Resources were thin, and they were venturing into dangerous territory by challenging the established order of the Lower Quarter. 'It's time to start expanding our territory and building our team.'

Eliza approached Jamie's side, her hands wiping the last traces of dust from her apron. "Shall we open?" she asked, her eyes reflecting a mixture of anticipation and readiness.

"Let's start," Jamie replied with confidence, a subtle smile playing on his lips.

As they swung open the heavy wooden doors of the tavern, the familiar faces of long-time patrons began to filter in. The Fat Pig came alive with the usual clamor—laughter, clinking mugs, and the hum of conversations weaving through the smoky air. The evening unfolded much as it often did, with nothing out of the ordinary disrupting the flow. Customers, wandering bards, and even a few off-duty soldiers came and went over the next several hours.

Thomas stationed himself near the bar, his vigilant gaze sweeping the room. Ever watchful, he kept an eye on the proceedings, ensuring that the night's revelries remained peaceful. Occasionally, a patron who had indulged in one too many drinks would attempt to lay an unwelcome hand on one of the serving girls or stir up trouble among the other guests. Thomas was quick to intervene, escorting the offenders out with firm resolve.

"I'll never set foot in this place again!"

"I've never been treated so poorly!"

"It was just a joke!"

Grumbles and protests followed each ejection, but the Fat Pig's rules were unwavering. Respect was expected, and those who couldn't abide by it were shown the door.

As the moon ascended to its zenith, casting silvery beams through the tavern's windows, the chatter began to quiet. It was time for Jamie to take the stage. A hush fell over the room as he settled onto the stool, fiddle in hand, the glow of the hearth casting a warm light upon him. Many patrons had come specifically for this moment, eager to hear the bard whose reputation seemed to grow with each passing day.

The first notes flowed from his fingertips, a melody both haunting and uplifting. The crowd listened in rapt attention, entranced by the music that seemed to weave magic in the very air.

"He's better every time I hear him. How is that possible?" murmured one patron to his companion.

"Just yesterday, he didn't know this song. Incredible," whispered another, shaking his head in astonishment.

Such whispers circulated among the audience. Jamie's ability to learn and perform new songs with remarkable speed was nothing short of extraordinary. In truth, his talent was augmented by memories of melodies from another world—a repertoire he drew upon to captivate his listeners in this one.

When his performance drew to a close, a round of heartfelt applause filled the tavern. Jamie offered a gracious bow before stepping down from the stage. The crowd had thinned; many had departed for the night, while others slumped over tables, lost to their cups.

Most of the serving girls had also taken their leave, their duties done, leaving only Eliza and a few others tidying up.

"Thomas," Jamie called, beckoning the weary guard to join him. "They'll handle closing up for the night."

Thomas approached, dark circles under his eyes betraying his exhaustion. It had been two relentless days filled with work and little sleep—nearly forty-eight hours on his feet.

"What's next?" he asked, his voice edged with fatigue yet laced with loyalty.

Jamie regarded him with a steady gaze. "We have one last task for the day," he explained. "It's time to scope out our target."

[author]

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