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Master Faucet, for one, was escorted from the room as a blubbering screaming mess. The other Master Brewers had looked away in a modicum of shame.

“You’ll have to excuse Master Faucet. Their brews haven’t been selling well recently, and you are partly to blame for that.” Master Monk sighed when the room was finally silent again. “I would expect him to try a Feud at some point.”

“I don’t think so.” Schist scoffed. “Faucet’s a coward.”

There were only eight Master Brewers left, Guildmaster Malt, Master Blunt, and Master Mcgrist among them. Most had various levels of bruising and torn clothing, and they all regarded us with serious eyes.

“*I* want a bloody Feud, and I’m no coward, Master Schist.” A greybearded dwarf with a copper helm growled. “But I want a full answer from that young dwarf first. What he means exactly by beer, and how he thinks that’s different from tha’ Sacred Brew! Spending on his answer I’ll demand a Feud right now. And damn tha rules - !” He snapped as Master Monk began to interrupt. “They’ve been breakin’ rules worse than a pack of moustachio’s at a hitball game. I can break one, Monk!”

The Guildmaster groaned and ran her hands through her beard. “Are you happy Schist? Look at this! I can barely keep order in my own damn Guild!”

Schist gave her an apologetic smile and held his palms out innocently. She growled in response and turned her baleful eyes on me. “You, Brewer Roughtuff! You can’t cause me much more of a headache, so how about you explain yourself.”

“Can I write on the board?” I asked, pointing to the chalkboard behind the table. She nodded and tossed me some chalk – a little too hard, it smarted when it hit my palm – and I walked over to the board. Annie remained behind and tried to look invisible.

When I made it up to the board, I turned to examine the Masters. I cleared my throat and did my best to look apologetic. “I want to start by saying I’ve been very impressed by Kinshasa’s Guild. I don’t know if you heard what happened in Minnova, but we really appreciate that there haven’t been any similar incidents in Kinshasa. And I want to apologize for all the hubbub that the contests have caused.”

There was angry muttering around the table. Master Monk nodded. “The contests aren’t your fault young brewer. And we heard from Guildmaster Malt about what happened. I suspect that you’ve been treated with a bit more care than otherwise, as our greybeards wished to prove not all Master Brewers were so bald-faced.”

I nodded, and began writing on the board. I drew a bog-standard loaf of bread, a muffin, a bun, and a long baguette style loaf.

When I was done, I addressed the room while pointing at the board. “What are these? Can anyone tell?”

There was some coughing and shuffling while they tried to determine it was a trick question. Master Blunt answered first. “It’s… bread?”

I nodded. “That’s correct. Would you all agree these are bread?”

There were general murmurs of agreement. Monk was giving me a ‘where are you going with this?’ look, so I pressed on.

“In fact, there are significantly more kinds of bread than are shown here. Now, can anyone tell me what bread and beer have in common?”

Blank looks. I wanted to sigh, but kept a straight face. “The ingredients of bread are cereal, such as wheat or erdroot, water, and yeast. Sound familiar?” I ticked the board with my chalk and waited for the lightbulb.

Schist was the first to get it. “That’s… the ingredients of tha Sacred Brew.”

“Those bastards stole our recipe!?” One of the remaining Master Brewers jumped to his feet, bellowing. “How dare they!? Where’s ma axe! I’ll go to tha’ nearest baker right now and - ”

Master Monk massaged her temples. “Sit down Master Adensite. Bread has been around much longer than the Sacred Brew.”

Master Adensite blinked. “But… then how?”

Master Malt laughed. “Hah! A couple drawings and the ingredients of bread, and the whole guild is struck speechless..”

“Not all of us,” the copper helmed Master Brewer said. “And not all of us are so ignorant of how it relates. The Ancestral Seed for bread is nothing like our own, Brewer Roughtuff. The ingredients may be similar, but that’s just semantics, like saying ‘swords and axes are tha same because they both are made of metal’”

I conceded the point. “But they are the same, in the general sense. They’re both weapons. And sourdough yeasts are often cultivated just like our own. Master - uh…”

“Master Feld. Aye, they are, me ma has one that she got from her ma. Been in the family so long it’s practically alive.”

“Yeast is - “ Schist began, grinning.

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“I KNOW IT’S ALIVE, SCHIST! GODS!” Master Feld roared, then gave me a baleful eye. “I see where yer goin’ lad, and I don’t like it. The Sacred Brew is not bread.”

“It’s not.” I conceded. “But, just as there are many breads, the possibility of many beers exist. And, in fact, did you know that Sacred Breads also exist?”

A dozen eyebrows furrowed. Master Blunt raised a questioning hand. “Is that true?”

I nodded.” Aye. I could get someone with [Truespeech] to check.”

“Just because he believes it…” Master Feld muttered.

Master Blunt shook his head. “Nah, makes sense. Farflung tribes and towns can have tha weirdest customs. Our own city practically worships salt. Sacred Bread isn’t too far off.”

“To be precise, it’s a specific kind of bread.” I drew a bagel on the board. That wasn’t quite correct, but I had no real way of drawing communion bread. Or any other sacred bread for that matter. And bagels were sacred to me, especially with bacon and eggs and bernaise sauce. Gods, I needed to ask Bran to make me a BLT.

“Why’s it sacred?” Feld asked, pulling out his own notebook and copying my sketch.

“‘Cause it’s holey.” I deadpanned. Across the room Annie slapped her forehead.

Master Malt chuckled, then laughed out loud. He was soon joined by the rest of the assembly, except for Master Monk, who was staring daggers at me. I smiled sheepishly at the Guild Mistress and shrugged. “Sacred Bread is called that because it’s used in religious ceremonies, or only at specific times or by specific people. There’s no real reason for it. Just about anything can be sacred if you attach the right connotations to it. What I’m proposing is that what makes Sacred Brew sacred isn’t that it’s beer, it’s that it’s sacred. So why can’t we make other beers and just… not call them sacred?”

One of the Master Brewers sat bolt upright, like he’d been shocked. “Oy! I get it! It’s like that Gods bedamned dance you do, Mcgrist!” He stood to his feet and tried to do a weird kicking two-step that ended with a twist.

“It’s not bedamned, you blighter.” Master Mcgrist snapped back. “It’s been passed down for generations in me family. It’s a dance ta keep away bad luck. And stop tryin’ to copy it, it’s… special.” His voice grew introspective and he bit his lip.

“Sacred?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Aye.” Mcgrist frowned. “DAMN, I think I get what he’s sellin’, and I don’t like it.”

I pushed. “But other people can dance? They just aren’t supposed to do your dance.”

Master Monk sighed, loudly. “Does anyone not get it, yet?”

One hand went up, from a heretofore silent Master Brewer, who looked around sheepishly then slowly dropped her hand.

“Fine.” Master Monk twitched her head back to my seat. “You’ve made your point. Go back, Brewer Roughtuff.”

I strode valiantly to stand next to Annie, who muttered, “It’s holy??” under her breath. I gave her a wink and she rolled her eyes.

Master Monk tapped her fingers in the following silence, considering. The assembled Master Brewers scribbled notes, examined the board, shared looks, and gave me the occasional glower.

Finally, Master Monk spoke. “I think we need to deliberate. Master Schist, if you could please take these two outside, and make sure they don’t start any Feuds in the short time it takes us to come to a decision?”

“No guarantees.” Schist grinned, ushering Annie and I out.

When the door closed behind us, he leaned back against it with a *whoof* of exhaled air. “GODS! I wish you’d warned me you were going to do that.”

I shrugged. “Sorry, we hadn’t really planned for it to happen this way, now just seemed the best moment to pitch it.”

“Aye, it probably is. Maria’s stern and harder than granite, but she’s fair, and she’ll seriously consider your proposal. If you’d tried that with the last Guildmaster, he’d have eaten you alive then tossed what remained to the shalesharks.” Schist grumbled.

“Sounds familiar.” Annie muttered.

“Hows our chances?” I asked.

Schist considered. “I’d say fifty, fifty. Maria was right, everything has been a mess since the start of these contests. This may be the only time what you’re proposing could work, Pete. Feld seems to be coming around to your side, and that’ll help. He’s straight-laced and conservative as they come without bein’ rock-headed. The bellwethers will follow him.”

We cooled our heels as journeyman and apprentice brewers ran to and fro. Annie took to kicking a wall and washing her hands with nervous energy while Schist tapped his feet impatiently.

I activated [Pete’s Miniature Remembrance] and pulled out one of my old beer journals. Might as well use the time productively.

After an interminable amount of time, we were called back into the room by Master Monk.

Everyone had identical serious expressions, and I felt my heart jump to my stomach. I gave Malt a curious look, but his face remained stoney.

“Master Schist, Brewer Roughtuff, and Brewer Goldstone.” Master Monk announced loudly, with no preamble. Annie jumped. “This quorum of the Master’s has decided. You are henceforth banned from brewing the Sacred Brew for the next century. That includes any Breweries you work for or are affiliated with.”

Annie slumped, and Schist sighed. I stifled tears. All that hard work for nothing.

But Monk wasn’t done. “Additionally, you are required to provide the guild with any specific recipes and techniques used in the creation of any illicit brews created by your breweries thus far.”

I frowned. Why did they need that, unless…

Master Monk’s voice switched to the cadence of someone making an important announcement. As she spoke, I felt the accumulated stresses of the past few years drain away into bubbling joy.

“The Guild has decided that from this point forward, ‘Sacred Brew’ is to be a protected designation for the recipes and techniques passed down by the First Brewer. Only approved Guild brewers will be permitted to craft it, and the Ancestral Seed and exact formulas for True Brew and Light Brew shall remain proprietary. However, the combination of water, malt, and yeast, henceforth called beer, will no longer be the purview of the Guild. Anyone selling such must still be required to meet certain Guild – ”

I barely heard a word she said after that as my soaring heart beat a drum of victory that drowned out anything else.

I’d finally done it, what I’d sworn to do that first month here in Erd.

Beer was FREE!