“Nigel, can you put me through to Gene, please?”
“What’s up, Allistor?” Gene’s voice came through a moment later.
“Hey, buddy! So… we have this goblin nest to wipe out…”
“And you want bombs.” Gene finished for him. “We’re working on it. I made them a priority as soon as I heard about the battle the other day. We’ve got two bombs just about done. Working on two more.”
“Just about done? Like, how many can you have for me if the fight happens at noon tomorrow?”
“Two for sure. Probably three.” Gene’s voice was thoughtful. “If we work all night, definitely three.”
“I’m sorry to ask this, but please work all night. The nest is in a giant power plant complex. I’d like to be able to turn the whole place into a crater, and not risk any lives.”
“Well, that changes things. We designed the previous bombs for pressure waves. More damage to soft bodies, less damage to buildings and such. If you just want to level the place, we might be able to use some conventional bombs. I think there are even a few bunker busters stored at Andrea’s place. I’ll reach out to her.”
“Great, thank you Gene. Let’s still bring along two of your bombs, just in case. If we can lure most of them out and pulp them into jelly first, then Harmon and his guys can grocery shop before we destroy the rest of it.”
“That’s just gross.” Gene replied before signing off.
*****
Dinner was a relatively quiet affair. A bunch of Remy’s holdouts sat interspersed with citizens, talking quietly about what they’d seen at the various properties, or asking questions. Some shed tears as they remembered lost family and friends.
Allistor’s table was filled with his advisors and analysts. He’d called a few of them together to update them on the visit from Master Daigath, the location of the goblin horde nest, and the plan for the next day. It was a casual conversation, and they mostly talked in between mouthfuls of deliciously seasoned steak, seared and served in sizzling butter with grilled vegetables and freshly baked rolls.
Droban the minotaur, who was actually sitting on the floor so that the table was at a workable height for him, was making deep-toned nom-nom noises as he ate. As the steaks were from the Cheyenne cattle herd, some mischievous part of Allistor couldn’t resist. “How’s the steak, Droban?”
“It is quite tasty, Allistor.” The deep voice rumbled back after Droban swallowed the mouthful he’d been chewing. “I especially like the white, crusty spice that lady Meg has applied to the meat.”
Allistor was confused for a moment, staring at his own steak until Amanda helped him out. “You mean, the salt?”
“I believe that is it, yes.” Droban nodded again.
Allistor’s jaw dropped. “You haven’t tasted salt before?”
Droban shook his head this time. “Not before arriving on Earth. But I have grown quite fond of it.”
“Well, don’t eat too much of it.” Amanda warned. “It is bad for your blood pressure.”
Allistor was barely listening. The fact that the minotaur hadn’t tasted salt before had knocked him ass over teakettle. It was so common on Earth that it never occurred to him that alien planets were not the same. Could it be that simple sodium chloride could be a marketable, even valuable commodity on the open market?
Down the table, Bjurstrom snorted. “Droban, I’m calling you Kaz from now on, big fella. FOR THE SALT!” He pumped a fist in the air, and the confused minotaur copied him after a moment’s hesitation.
Amanda gave the man a scowl, making it clear he should quit teasing the minotaur. Bjurstrom coughed and lowered his eyes, quickly cutting himself a piece of steak and shoving it into his mouth.
When the meal was over, Allistor did some quick traveling. He stopped at Luther’s Landing to visit with George and ask for a few bottles of the brandy the old man had salvaged from the wrecked military train. “Hey old man, I’ve missed your ugly mug! How’re things going here?” Allistor made a bit of small talk before getting right to the point. “I’m expecting a visit from an even older man in the morning. Master Daigath is a battlemage trainer and master crafter. I’m trying to convince him to come stay here for a while, and he’s a big fan of good brandy, according to Harmon. Can you spare a couple bottles?”
George snorted at his prince. “What? You think I’m that easy? You don’t come visit for months, then all of a sudden you come here tellin’ me how pretty I am cuz you want my prized happy juice?”
Allistor pretended to think it over. “Yep. You got it exactly right.”
Half laughing, half grumbling, George pulled three bottles from his inventory. The label read “Hennessy Cognac XO” and the liquid inside had a deep amber hue. Allistor picked up one of the bottles, the textured glass feeling good in his hand. It felt like quality to him, but he knew nothing at all about brandy, except that you sipped it from those funny shaped glasses, and it warmed your belly on cold days. “Is this good brandy?”
“Well, yes. It ain’t the fanciest in the world, but that’s a solid brand from France. They quit making it a few decades back, so it has become rare. I’m guessing some officer or smuggler was transporting their entire stash on that train. It’s a miracle they weren’t all smashed.” George started to reach for the bottles as if to take them back, then pulled his hand into his lap. “They’re pretty rare, now.”
“I appreciate your sacrifice, my friend. I’ll pass on your compliments to Master Daigath. Maybe he’ll reward you with a crafted weapon or something.”
The old man didn’t look impressed. Allistor shook the man’s hand and took his leave, stopping at the Citadel to find Michael. The man was in the smithy, working with some of the crystals that Nancy had grown using her magic. Allistor waited outside the private room Michael worked in until his friend sat up and took a deep breath.
“I was worried you were about to make something explode. Again.” Allistor teased.
“So was I.” Michael looked around, making sure nobody else had heard. “I’m working on figuring out the limits of how much enchantment magic a crystal will hold. I’ve pushed it too far a couple times, so far. FYI, don’t overfill a crystal. I’m still picking slivers out of my skin. Anyhow, what’s up, boss?”
“A lil birdy told me that you and Ramon figured out how to make apple brandy. Master Daigath apparently likes brandy. I thought I’d offer him a bottle or two of our home-grown stuff…”
“Ha! Only if you let me be there to see him taste it. I’d love to hear the opinion of a multi-thousand year old elf.” Michael pulled a couple sealed mason jars from his inventory. Looking at them as Allistor took them in hand, he spoke in a sheepish tone. “I’m afraid we don’t have any fancy bottles or even labels, yet. We’re basically still at the experimental moonshine stage of development.” His face brightened a bit. “Maybe Daigath would give us some suggestions?”
Allistor put the bottles into his ring. “Let’s convince him to stay, first. Maybe let him settle in a bit before you involve him in your shenanigans?” He patted Michael on the shoulder. “You coming with us tomorrow afternoon to take out the rest of the goblin horde?”
“Hell yes! Not all of us got a dozen or more levels just for inheriting a bunch of land. Some of us have to work for it!” Michael thumped his prince on the back. “I’ll be there with bells on.”
Taking his leave, Allistor went back outside. “Nigel, where are you storing the brandy from the goblin ship cargo?”
“Those crates were confiscated by Sam, sire. He claimed them for medicinal purposes. He is currently storing the remaining supply in the kitchen pantry at the Invictus tower.”
Crossing to the teleport pad, Allistor rolled his eyes. “Medicinal, my butt. Nigel, please ask Harmon to meet me in the tower’s top conference room in ten minutes. I’m going to go liberate some of Sam’s medicine and meet him there.”
“Of course, sire.”
Stepping off the pad at headquarters, Allistor went directly t
o the kitchen. It was mostly empty, the staff having just finished cleaning up after dinner. He found Meg there mixing some kind of dough. “Hiya, Meg. Is Sam around? And whatcha making, there?”
“Sam’s in the back, taking inventory. This is bread dough for tomorrow’s breakfast. If I mix it now and let it set overnight, I don’t have to get up quite so early.”
Allistor stepped close, leaned in, and gave the woman a quick peck on the cheek. Then he hurriedly jumped back, in case she felt inclined to bust his nose again. “Don’t get hostile! I just wanted to thank you for all your hard work.”
Meg pretended to wipe her cheek with her shoulder. “So you slobber on my face? You wanna properly thank me, give me a reward! Like… Yellowstone! I always wanted my own supervolcano.” She eyed him sideways as she continued to knead the dough.
“Ha! You want Yellowstone, it’s all yours, lady.” He realized that he really hadn’t done much to thank his core group for all they’d done over the past year. He’d given Ramon and Nancy their own Citadel on Governor’s island. And it occurred to him that this might have made a few of the others jealous, or made them feel unappreciated.
“Hey, Meg… you know I owe you and Sam everything, right? You’ve saved my life several times, fed our people every day, even when I surprised you with hundreds or thousands of new mouths to feed. You are the backbone of Invictus, and my family. Anything you guys want, I’m happy to give you. Just ask.”
Meg stopped what she was doing, wiping her hands on her apron as she turned toward him. “We’ve been happy to pitch in, boy. We opened the diner because both of us loved to cook, and to socialize with our neighbors. Sam and me, we both love you like a son. When the time comes, we might ask for our own place off in the woods somewhere.” She paused, a grin forming. “A really big, fancy place. With a whole staff to take care of us.”
“Ha! You got it. Just say the word. In fact, I could make that happen here in the city right now. Pick a building, or a penthouse, or whatever, and it’s yours. I’ll find somebody to clean and cook for you…” Allistor stopped when Meg’s smile turned to a frown and she reached for a nearby rolling pin. “Or just clean for you. My bad!” He started backing up, hands in front of him. Then he turned and dashed for the back. “Hey, Sam! You back here somewhere?”
He didn’t hear Meg mumble, “Silly brat.” or see her angry frown turn back to a gentle smile. Or notice the tear that ran down one cheek, which turned into a glob of flour when she wiped at it with the back of her hand before returning to her work.
Sam called out from behind some shelves in a huge walk-in pantry. Allistor hadn’t been in this room since claiming the tower. It was huge. At least thirty feet square with floor to ceiling shelves along the outside walls, and more in rows that ran front to back. “In here, boy. Got the munchies?”
Allistor located the man in a back corner, writing on a clipboard. “Nope. I’m here to reclaim some of that medicinal goblin brandy you confiscated, old man.”
Sam looked over one shoulder, his eyes narrowing. “If you’re lookin’ to get drunk, that ain’t what you need, boy. That brandy’s for sippin’, not gulpin’.” Allistor noticed the man took a couple steps to the side as he spoke, positioning himself between Allistor and a small stack of crates against the back wall.
“Ha! I don’t intend to do more than sip, you old hoarder. Harmon says Master Daigath likes brandy. I’m rounding up as many different samples as I can. If you want to join us upstairs, Harmon and I were going to do a little tasting to decide which one to offer as a welcome gift.”
Sam immediately relaxed. “Why didn’t you just say so!” He turned his back to Allistor, reached into the top crate, and removed two bottles. “What else are we tasting?”
The two of them headed up to the conference room, where Harmon joined them almost immediately. He held two bottles in each hand, the different shades of liquid making it clear there were at least two different brands. “I brought along a few suggestions from my own private stock.” He set the four bottles on the table.
Sam set his two bottles next to them, while Allistor pulled his collection from his ring. As soon as he set the two mason jars down, Harmon scooped one up, sniffing at it. “What is this?”
“Homemade apple brandy. Michael and Ramon figured out how to distill it from apples that Nancy grew at the Warren.” He watched as the orcanin unsealed the lid and sniffed at it again. “I haven’t tasted it myself, and I have no idea whether it’s any good.”
Harmon produced a box from his inventory and set it next to the bottles. When he opened it, Allistor and Sam saw that it was filled with small shot-sized glasses with rounded bottoms and wide mouths. “We shall soon see.” Harmon commented as he took three of the glasses and poured small quantities of the homemade concoction into them. Passing them to Sam and Allistor, he added, “It has a pleasant odor. Lighter color, and clearer than one might expect.”
All three took an initial sip. Allistor definitely tasted the apple, along with a few other elements he couldn’t quite place. He’d never understood people who could sip a glass of wine and call out things like “Oaky, with a hint of citrus, toffee, and cinnamon.” But he liked the pleasant, warm, gentle burning in his belly after he swallowed.
“Damn, it’s better than I expected.” Sam commented before taking a second sip.
“Indeed. This is quite promising, for an experiment.” Harmon agreed. “And I rather suspect that Master Daigath will appreciate its home-grown origins.” Finishing the sample, Harmon resealed the jar before pulling out three fresh glasses. “Let us try one of Earth’s more established offerings.” He reached for the nearest bottle of Hennessy and opened it, smiling as the scent of the amber liquid reached him. “Ahhh, yes.” He poured samples into the three clean glasses and passed them out.
Again, Allistor’s first sip made him believe he was born with defective taste buds. While he enjoyed the taste, he couldn’t pick out any specific flavors. And again, the best part was the warmth in his belly.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ bout!” Sam thumped one hand on the table. “Good ol’ Hennesy. Can’t go wrong with this.”
“Yes, this is quite agreeable.” Harmon took a second sip, finishing the sample. “I’d like to purchase a few of these for my own cellar, if that’s possible.”
Allistor nodded. “I’ll let George know. He’s got a small supply that he scavenged. But he guards them like each bottle is one of his grandchildren. I practically had to mug him for these two. So be prepared to pay dearly!”
Both Harmon and Sam chuckled as the merchant produced three more glasses, and began to pour the goblin brandy. “For such offensive little beings, the goblins make more than passable brandy.” He handed glasses to both humans before sipping from his own.
Aware that his opinion here meant nothing, Allistor simply enjoyed the flavor and the burn, which he was feeling less and less with each sip. The goblin brandy had a little more of what he would call bite to it, a slightly harsher flavor than the others he’d tried.
Sam seemed to agree. “Got a lil kick when it first touches yer tongue. But I like it!”
Harmon grinned, revealing the full length of his tusks and lower teeth. “It’s made from a fruit similar to Earth’s pears, distilled using a digestive enzyme from a large insect that is also a delicacy among the goblins.”
Allistor felt slightly green, though he could not see his own face. Sam gulped once, looking uncertain for a moment, then grinned. “Hell, I’ve eaten my share of bugs when I had to. This stuff’s still tasty!”
Allistor didn’t finish off that sample. He slid it aside next to his empty glasses as Harmon poured the next. “This is my second favorite. It is called “Firebelly”, and if you cannot guess from the name, is a dwarven contribution.” He passed them out. “I must warn you, this one has a significantly sharper flavor, and a longer burn, as its name implies.” He raised his glass in a salute before taking in the entire sample.”
Allistor took
his first sip, and immediately his mouth lit up. For the first time he thought he tasted cinnamon, some kind of pepper, and maybe honey?. But that was all he got before his tongue began to tingle, and his eyes started watering. He swallowed the small quantity of liquid, which did indeed burn quite enthusiastically all the way down his gullet.
“Really good.” He rasped, thumping his chest.
“Hell yeah!” Sam had downed the entire sample, not wanting to be outdone by the large orcanin. He was thumping his own chest, then wheezed slightly. “I need to get me some of this. Maybe a bottle for Meg’s birthday. She’d love this.”
Harmon chuckled, producing a few items from his inventory. “For this next one, I wish your palettes to be fully cleansed. I would not contaminate your first experience with my favorite brandy, with aftertaste from lesser vintages.” The orcanin produced a knife and a wedge of something that looked and smelled like cheese. Taking three thin slices, he placed them onto thin wafers, and motioned for the humans to take one. Allistor slipped his into his mouth, and closed his eyes as a smoky flavor made even his defective taste buds take notice. The cheese was soft, yet firm, a counter-texture to the crispy and tasteless cracker-like thing.
Harmon poured them each a glass of water from the pitcher in the middle of the table. Once all three had washed down the food, he began to pour the final brandy. “This is made from a rare fruit, cultivated by druids on the planet Octia.” He handed Sam and Allistor their glasses, but didn’t lift his own. His attention was laser focused on Allistor’s face.
Allistor raised his glass, and immediately noticed a spicy, flowery scent before taking a sip. Colors burst across his tongue! That was the only way he could describe it. This was what he’d imagined LSD would be like. He could actually taste colors. The flowery scent disappeared, and the spice was enhanced by a sweetness that reminded him of strawberry and possibly honeydew. When he reluctantly swallowed, there was minimal burn in his throat. The liquid went down smoothly, and the warmth spread beyond his belly all the way to his fingers and toes.”
Shadow Sun Progression: Shadow Sun Book Four Page 13
