"Hardly," Jamie quipped, a grin spreading across his face. "You still need to taste our first batch of beer. Come on!"

  With the sun already dipping low in the sky, Jamie and Thomas began their leisurely stroll back toward the tavern.

  Julie, Thomas's bright-eyed daughter, walked between them, her small hand nestled securely in her father's. Above them, Jay—the dumb cat—hovered playfully. He weaved through the air with effortless grace, occasionally darting ahead only to circle back.

  The southern entrance of Hafenstadt was alive with activity, even as the day waned. Traders and merchants bustled about, their carts laden with goods both exotic and mundane. The well-kept houses lining the main avenue stood proudly, their facades freshly painted in cheerful colors after the last Monster Rush. The avenue itself split ahead, one path leading toward the lively marina where ships bobbed gently against the docks, the other winding toward the majestic Arcane Tower, its spire piercing the sky like a sentinel watching over the city.

  Yet, unlike the crowds of townsfolk drawn to the bustling heart of Hafenstadt, Jamie and Thomas chose a less-trodden path. They turned onto narrower side streets, where cobblestones were worn smooth by years of footsteps. In the labyrinth of alleyways leading to the Lower Quarter, the city revealed a different face, grittier, poorer, and less amicable.

  As they crossed into the Lower Quarter, the architecture shifted subtly. Instead of well-maintained buildings, there were cramped houses and roofs that looked like they could collapse at any moment. The sounds of the now-distant market gave way to the hushed conversations in the narrow streets.

  Nestled on the street dividing the two neighborhoods stood the Golden Fiddle, an establishment that at least tried to emulate warmth and welcome. The heavy wooden doors were propped open, golden light spilling onto the street alongside the murmur of conversation and clatter of preparations. A handful of tavern girls moved about inside, arranging chairs and wiping down tables in anticipation of the night's patrons.

  "How are things shaping up, Eliza?" Jamie called out as he stepped inside. The interior was inviting. A space filled with polished wooden tables, a long bar gleaming under the soft glow of magic lanterns, and the comforting aroma of spiced food and wine.

  Eliza looked up from behind the bar, her hair pulled back in a practical braid. Her eyes met Jamie's. "Everything's ready," she reported with a confident smile. "We've set aside the barrels we'll be tapping tonight."

  "Excellent," Jamie replied, satisfaction evident in his tone.

  Without missing a beat, he ducked behind the bar to retrieve two sturdy wooden tankards. With a nod to Thomas, he led the way toward the cellar door.

  They descended the narrow staircase into the tavern's cellar. The cool subterranean air greeted them, carrying the rich scents of fermenting grains and aging wood. Though it was not yet perfect, the cellar bore the marks of diligent care. Where once the walls had crumbled and the beams threatened to collapse, now stood reinforced columns and freshly plastered surfaces.

  Twelve large barrels stood prominently; two were dedicated to experimental recipes, while the remaining housed batches ready for consumption. Jamie approached one of the barrels with beer ready for consumption, his fingers tracing the sigil they had chosen to represent their brew, a golden fiddle etched into the oak. "Here it is," he announced, a note of pride in his voice.

  He positioned a mug beneath the tap, pulling the handle with practiced ease. A stream of golden liquid poured forth, the rich ale cascading into the tankard and forming a creamy head of foam at the top. The air filled with the aroma of toasted barley and a hint of apple.

  Filling the second mug, Jamie handed it to Thomas. "Give it a try," he urged.

  Jay hovered a few feet above them, his ethereal form gliding effortlessly through the air as he eyed the mugs intently. "What a pity... in this form, I can't taste anything," he grumbled.

  Meanwhile, Julie watched her father with wide-eyed curiosity as he lifted the heavy mug to his lips. Her small hands clutched the table's edge.

  Thomas took a deep draught, the amber liquid cascading over his tongue. He wiped his mouth with the worn sleeve of his coat.

  For a moment, his face twisted into a grimace as the bitterness of the brew settled on his palate. "It's... strange," he commented, his brow furrowing in contemplation. Yet, he didn't stop there. He raised the mug once more, taking a second gulp, then a third and fourth, each sip more assured than the last until the vessel was drained.

  "How confusing," Thomas mused aloud, peering into the empty mug as if it might offer some explanation.

  "What is it?" Jamie inquired, leaning casually against a stout oak barrel.

  "I'm certain that at first, I didn't like it much," Thomas began, his voice thoughtful. "The taste is quite different from wine or mead. But the more I drank, the better it became. And I don't feel as inebriated as with other drinks."

  Jamie nodded, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "That's exactly what we're aiming for. The nobles won't care for it; they expect their drinks to be strong and overpowering. But with this, you need to give it time and let the flavors grow on you. That's why we'll start with a special promotion tonight; It will be free to those who come."

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  "Free?!" Thomas echoed, his eyes widening in disbelief. "But won't that be expensive?"

  "Not so much," Jamie reassured him. He ran a hand over the curved side of a barrel, the wood smooth beneath his fingers. "A beer barrel costs far less than any other drink, especially since we're brewing it ourselves. It cuts down the costs significantly."

  Perched on Jamie's shoulder, Jay flicked his tail, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Interesting," he purred.

  "But... what if they don't like it?" Thomas asked, concern etching lines across his forehead.

  "You didn't love it at first, did you?" Jamie countered gently. "Others will have the same experience. The first sip might not win them over, but as they continue, they'll start to appreciate it more."

  Thomas considered this, his gaze drifting to his daughter, who was still watching intently. "I suppose you're right," he conceded. "It grows on you."

  "Exactly," Jamie affirmed. "Trust me on this."

  "Alright, then." Thomas nodded decisively. "I'll take Julie home and be back shortly. If we're offering free drinks, we'll need to double our security."

  "Good point," Jamie agreed.

  Thomas left his tankard upstairs and swiftly departed the tavern, disappearing into the evening. Left alone, Jamie stood behind the polished oak counter, his fingers tapping rhythmically as he waited for the first patrons to arrive.

  Today would be special. Because of that, as the first bards arrived, he pulled them aside and explained that he would need some time to make a few announcements. It wouldn’t take up their time; if anything, it might even improve the coins they would earn today.

  As twilight deepened, the tavern doors swung open, admitting the first trickle of customers. Laughter and murmured conversations filled the air. Jamie took a deep breath, smoothed his clothes, and made his way to the front of the small stage nestled against the far wall.

  "Good evening, everyone!" he called out, his voice carrying over the growing hum of the crowd. Faces turned toward him—some familiar, others new—eyes reflecting curiosity and anticipation. "Thank you all for helping us support and improve the Golden Fiddle!"

  A ripple of excitement coursed through the room. Some patrons cheered heartily, raising their mugs in salute; others whistled or drummed their fists against the sturdy wooden tables, the sound like distant thunder rolling through the cozy space.

  Jamie responded with a genuine and charismatic smile, something only a bard could pull off. "I won't trouble you with dull details. Instead, to celebrate this occasion, I'd like to offer you all a drink!"

  An audible gasp echoed, followed by delighted exclamations. "Finally, some good news!" a man near the hearth laughed, his cheeks flushed.

  "Must be some kind of trick," another patron muttered skeptically, peering into his empty mug.

  "The last owner would've never done such a thing," an old man remarked, his eyes narrowed with suspicion yet twinkling with intrigue.

  Jamie raised a placating hand. "This is no trick," he assured them. "Tonight, we'll be serving a new beverage called beer." He let the unfamiliar word linger in the air. "Simply ask any of the ladies, and they'll serve it to you, free of charge. We have four barrels brimming with it, so drink your fill while it lasts!"

  With that, he lifted his own tankard, filled to the brim with a golden, frothy liquid. He took a long, appreciative swig, savoring the rich taste before lowering the mug. "To your health!" he toasted.

  The room erupted into applause and cheers. As Jamie stepped down from the stage, a surge of patrons made their way to the bar and the serving girls circulating the room. One by one, wooden mugs were filled with the brew. Curious eyes examined the unfamiliar drink before tentative sips were taken.

  At first, many winced at the bitter edge or raised their eyebrows at the flavor of barley with hints of apple. But as the evening progressed, and the bards struck up lively tunes that set toes tapping and hearts lightening, the beer seemed to evolve on their tongues. Each subsequent mug tasted better than the last, the initial bitterness giving way to a satisfying richness that paired perfectly with the jubilant atmosphere.

  What began as an ordinary night swiftly transformed into a loud celebration. Word of the free beer spread beyond the tavern walls. Those who stepped outside for a breath of fresh air or to share a smoke whispered to the passersby about the unprecedented generosity within. Soon, a crowd gathered at the entrance, eager faces peering in, noses catching the scent of ale and roasted meats.

  It wasn't long before the tavern reached capacity. The air inside grew warm, filled with laughter, song, and mugs clinking. Outside, a line formed, a rarity for the Golden Fiddle, with people waiting patiently, and some not so patiently, for a chance to join the revelry.

  Thomas found himself patrolling both inside and outside the tavern. Tall and imposing, he guided in newcomers and gently escorted out those who'd had one too many and could no longer stand upright. More than once, he intercepted a wayward drunk attempting to relieve himself against the tavern's stone walls. With a firm hand, he steered them toward more appropriate facilities.

  Finally, as the moon reached its zenith, the crowd began to thin. But the impact of that evening lingered long after the last patron had stumbled home.

  Little did they know, that night was merely the beginning of an avalanche. The following evening, even without the lure of free drinks, the Golden Fiddle was again crowded. Word had spread like wildfire through the town. People came from everywhere, drawn by tales of a new, delightful beverage that was both delicious and affordable.

  They approached the bar with cautious optimism, coins clutched in hand. Many expected the beer to be priced on par with wine or perhaps the cherished mead. When they discovered it cost merely half the price of wine, their eyes widened with surprise and delight.

  "Are you certain that's the price?" a farmer asked, his rough fingers sliding the coins across the counter.

  "Indeed it is," Jamie replied. "Enjoy."

  The Golden Fiddle became the heartbeat of the Lower Quarter’s nightlife. Each evening stretched longer than the last, filled with music, dance, and the clamor of satisfied patrons.

  Throughout the week, the fame of the Golden Fiddle spread quickly, not only in the Lower Quarter but also in the Commercial Quarter, to the point of becoming a problem for other tavern keepers.

  Just as Jamie had expected, one fine morning, they finally received the long-awaited question.

  "Excuse me, but I must ask; where might one purchase a barrel of this beverage?"

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