Benjamin Ashwood (30 page)

Saala
frowned, “I’m not sure what I do is just like what you do.  But if you say so,
I’ll go along with it.”

“Right,”
continued Rhys.  “So what do you want first?  The bawdiest boudoir, the
sweetest singing minstrel, the brightest wine, the coldest ale?  The City isn’t
cheap, you may quickly run out of money, but you’ll never run out of things to
do.”

With
a little nudging from Saala, Rhys was persuaded to show them some comfortable
beds before he took off to make his report to the Sanctuary.  He picked an airy
looking plain stone building ringed by arched windows.  It was a few blocks
down from his apartment and he knew the owner so he said he could get them a
better rate than they’d find elsewhere.  It was small and simple compared to
some of the places they’d stayed on the journey, but it was a good sight better
than the bushes and rocks they’d slept next to.  Even the discounted rate gave Ben
pause, but Rhys assured them that it was a better deal than they’d find
elsewhere.

That
evening, bathed and refreshed, Ben, Renfro and Saala sat in the common room to
dine and to plan.  Now that they had finally made it to the end of their
journey, they had to answer the question of what came next.  Ben and Renfro
were committed to starting a brewery as neither had any other marketable skills
and Saala had graciously agreed to assist.  With Amelie safely ensconced in the
Sanctuary and no further instructions, he was free to help until he got called
away.

“Location,
equipment, supply of materials and customers.  Those are the four problems
we’ll need to solve,” started Ben.

“I
can help with the customers I guess,” said Renfro.  “I don’t know too much
about the other things.  With the Guild in Fabrizo, one of my roles was sizing
marks.  This can’t be too different, can it?”

“Sadly,
it’s probably not,” smiled Saala.  “If you tell me what you need Ben, I might
be able to help with a location.  Showing the Blademaster sigil occasionally
has some perks – people tend to be a little easier in negotiations.”

“Ok,
that leaves the equipment and materials to me.  Once we get the location and
that lined up, we can start brewing.”

The
next two weeks were a blur of activity getting the brewery set up.  They
received a message from Amelie and Meghan that their first two free days were
cancelled for extra classes, so the men focused on the business.  In that time,
Saala was able to find a suitable location, Ben got the equipment and materials
and Renfro scouted some potential customers.  No one wanted to commit without
tasting the beer, as Ben suspected would happen, but they’d found some people
unhappy with their current supplier.

They
accomplished a lot in two weeks thought Ben as he surveyed the dimly lit room. 
The location Saala found was a large cellar under one of the towers.  It was
crisscrossed with heavy arches and supports and in some places the ceiling only
cleared Ben’s head by a hand.  But it had room to grow into, it had accessible
water in large supply and they could afford it.  There was poor lighting and
the owners of the tower didn’t need it for storage, so they’d been able to pick
it up quickly and cheap by City standards.

Ben
walked by the rack of 20 sturdy kegs where the first batch was fermenting.  He
had poured nearly all of his resources into these kegs.  He found simple usable
equipment but splurged on high quality ingredients.  He hoped it was worth it. 
Within two weeks, he’d bottle a small amount to shop around to local taverns. 
When they had a buyer, they’d wheel the entire keg – or hopefully kegs – over. 
In the meantime, he didn’t have much to do.

While
he was still surveying their work, he heard a squeak near the entrance to the
cellar and turned to see Saala shutting the heavy doors.

“You
might want to get in the habit of keeping these shut,” he called out.  “The
City isn’t nearly as lawless as Fabrizo and some other places, but there are
still people who you don’t want coming in here.”

“Good
point,” replied Ben.  “I guess I’m used to Farview still.  It wasn’t much of a
concern there.”

“You’re
not in Farview anymore.  Speaking of which, since you’ve got some downtime, I
saw these at the market and picked them up.”  Saala tossed Ben a long object
and when he caught it he saw it was a practice sword.  It had nearly the same
heft as his long sword but it appeared to be a bundle of long reeds.

“It’s
weighted in the center to give you the real feel of a sword but the reeds will
soften a blow.  I’m thinking it’s going to leave a wicked welt, but that’s better
than a cut or broken bone.  I want you to get real practice without that play
armor they used in Whitehall.  It limits your range of motion and unless you’re
marching to a battle, you won’t be wearing full armor anyway.”

Ben
swished the practice sword around a few times to get a feel for it.  The weight
felt familiar but it was thicker than a real sword so there was more air
resistance.

“Looks
like you’re ready,” grinned Saala before lunging at Ben with his own practice
sword.

Ben
was caught off guard but managed to dance back before Saala landed a blow.  The
next two bells they fought in the dim cellar.  The low ceilings and arches kept
getting in Ben’s way and he felt like he was nearly back at step one.  Over and
over again Saala struck him and he found himself constantly on the defensive.

“The
next two weeks,” said Saala, “you’ll spend mornings with me and afternoons
we’ll both be with Rhys.  I convinced that scoundrel to continue teaching us
the Ohms.”

Ben
hoped Saala’s talking would distract him, so he ducked low and advanced with a
spinning attack he’d invented to use on the men at arms at Whitehall.  Saala
smiled and deflected the first strike then glided out of reach.

“Good
thinking,” he continued, “that was the perfect time to get aggressive.  Any time
your opponent gives you an opening, use it.”  Saala kept giving pointers as
they fought.  How he had any breath to speak was beyond Ben, who was panting
and wheezing from the exertion.

After
another bell, Saala stepped on an empty sack causing his foot to slip and Ben
saw an opening.  He quickly swung an overhead attack before Saala could reset
but nearly lost his sword when it smacked into one of the low hanging arches. 
Saala chuckled and instantly reacted.  He poked his own sword into Ben’s stomach,
just hard enough to send him crashing to the ground.

“You
got very close that time,” Saala said with a short bow.

Ben
grunted from the floor.

“The
next two weeks, we’ll take the time to find and practice in new terrain.  I can
see we spent too long in flat open fields.”  Saala reached a hand down, “get
up, Rhys will be here soon.”

“Where’s
Renfro?” asked Rhys that afternoon.

“I’m
not really sure,” replied Ben.  “He said he has some things to do.  I think
he’s trying to come up with another option if the brewery doesn’t work out.”

“He
should be,” nodded Rhys.  “He’s living on Amelie’s gold and your skill making
ale.  Not a bad life, but it always pays to have a backup plan.  That being
said, you should keep an eye on him.  The Guild in Fabrizo is dangerous, but in
some ways they made it safer for someone like him.  The Guild gets away with
their petty theft and doesn’t rock the apple cart for the major merchants so
they are tolerated.  There’s no guild here and no protection.  He gets caught
doing something he shouldn’t and it could be off with his head.”

Ben
gulped, “I don’t think he’d take up thieving again.  I think he’s looking for
honest work.”

“Maybe
he is,” shrugged Rhys.  “But once you’ve had a taste of easy money, it’s hard
to turn it down the next time.”

Later
that evening over dinner, Ben asked Renfro about it.

“Oh,
I was down by the docks,” Renfro explained.  “I had to learn to fish in
Fabrizo.  It was the only way I ate some days before the Guild took me in.  I
figure with this big of a river there’s got to be fishing around here too.  I
was looking into it.”

“Any
luck?” inquired Ben.

“Not
so far.”  Renfro sat back.  “There’s some old folk scattered around the water
front, but from what I could tell, it’s more of a past time than a profession. 
I went down to the docks where Reinhold’s boat is and couldn’t get in there. 
There are some guards and they say it’s all private vessels.  You have to prove
you’ve bought passage on one to get in.  I’ll keep at it though.  Like I said,
it’s a big river and there’s got to be fish.”

“Good,”
said Ben.  He was satisfied with Renfro’s answer and didn’t think there was any
reason to bring up Rhys’ suspicion.

Two
weeks later, it was time to find out if they could sell their ale.  Despite
Renfro’s prospecting, Ben thought Rhys had given them the best shot and that’s
where he wanted to start.  Rhys swung by for ‘a small taste’ and several mugs
later had convinced Ben he needed to sell to the Flying Swan Inn.  It had a
small number of rooms and a large tavern with a reputation for quality.

“Tell
em it’s a foreign style and produced in small batches,” advised Rhys, “they eat
that stuff up here.  Tell the owner Mathias that I sent you.  Doesn’t matter if
it’s any good, although I will say, this is very good.”  He took a sip.  “Maybe
I should have another, just to be sure.”

The
next morning, Ben and Renfro stood in the near empty common room of the Flying
Swan and asked to see the proprietor.

“No
solicitations,” barked a gruff serving man.  “The manager only sees vendors
once a week on Newday.  And we already have plenty of ale and only serve the
highest quality product.  You’re wasting your time here young fellas.”

Ben
and Renfro looked at each other nervously.

“Well,
thank you for your time,” sighed Renfro.  To Ben he added, “might as well try
the Gnarly Dog next.”

Ben
saw the wicked smirk the serving man gave when Renfro mentioned the Gnarly Dog
and he knew that would be a dead end as well.

“Hold
on,” Ben broke in.  “We know the owner Mathias.  Can we see him instead of the
manager?”

The
serving man blinked, “well, why didn’t you say so.  Normally he doesn’t bother
with this kind of thing, but if you really do know him…  What did you say your
name was?”

“Uh,
Rhys,” replied Ben.

Moments
later a hairy, burly looking man emerged from the back.  Ben immediately began
checking escape routes because the man moved like a swordsman and those scar
and muscle sheathed arms didn’t come from wiping tavern tables.

“Ho,”
he boomed, “I didn’t think I’d find Rhys out here hawking ales.  That man is
solely on the other side of the transaction.”

“Sorry
sir,” muttered a nervous Ben, “Master Rhys had directed us to this Inn and I
couldn’t think of another way to avoid getting kicked out of here.”

“If
you know Rhys well enough to drop his name and you aren’t face down in the
river, then I suppose you’re worth my time,” the man answered.  “Let me see
what you’ve got.”

Half
a bell later, Ben and Renfro walked out of the Flying Swan Inn with an order
for five kegs and five more kegs in a week.  After that, Mathias told them
they’d see if the patrons drank it and go from there.  Ben felt buoyant though,
when they mentioned they had 20 kegs of stock, Mathias suggested they ramp up
production immediately. 

Mathias
kept all of their sample bottles to pass around to his staff for tasting.  Ben
thought that they didn’t need any more samples though, at five kegs a week,
they’d need to start brewing now just to keep up with that order.

Three
months in The City and the brewery business was going well.  In the last week
alone they’d sold 20 kegs to Mathias and several more to individuals.  Mathias started
offering a premium if they kept him as their only public customer.  Ben was
happy to keep their product exclusive for the time being and make fatter
margins but Renfro was pushing for expansion and wanted to capitalize on the
excitement people had for something different.

“I
don’t know what to tell you about that,” Rhys drawled.  They were meeting him
at the Flying Swan Inn and were enjoying some of their product.  “It depends on
what you want to do I suppose.  You expand, that means adding employees and a
whole lotta headaches.  Might get the notice of some of the big guys and
competition in The City isn’t always friendly.  Of course, if you plan to
settle down here and make a life out of this, then maybe it’s worth it to build
a serious business.”

Ben
shrugged.  “That’s just it, I don’t know what I want to do.  Things haven’t
worked out so far like we planned and I don’t know if I want to stay here.”

“What
do you mean you don’t want to stay here!” interjected Renfro but Ben ignored
him.

“Give
it some time,” said Rhys.  “The Sanctuary is always like this, secrets and more
secrets.  They’ll let you in when it’s time.”

“We’ve
been here three months and I haven’t even gotten to see them!  They’ve barely
written.  How do we even know they’re ok?”