Dear diary, it’s nice to finally start writing again after so long. I had to shelve you (sorry) at the request of mywyer, back during all that nonsense with Harmsson and his little Graveyard Rebellion.


    Since then a lot has changed! I’m a Lord now, a high muckity muck of the nth degree, and best buds with not one, but <i>two </i>Dukes! Which means nobody’sing after <i>my</i> diary anymore, no siree! Until they do, since apparently, high muckity muck is back on the menu these days.


    Just ask the ckbeards.


    What else has changed…


    I’m a Specialised Bartender now, of a sort. A <i>God’s </i>bartender in fact! I have the special job of telling Barck himself the texture of his bar. Is his bar tender? I don’t know yet, but I’ll take a munch and report in a week!


    And speaking of a week, I have a busy one, and an <i>important </i>one, which is why I’ve decided to write it down here. I want to have it all recorded in case, well, things don’t go ording to n. My Ability unlocks in seven days, and may bring wrath and ruin to the world.


    So, wish me luck, diary! Peter Roughtuff, over and out!


    <strong>17th day of the 1st Month, 8001: Monday – Imagine Dragons</strong>


    Day 1.


    Today I went and did battle with that most fearsome of dragons – the vicious, the horrible, the ankle-biting, foul-mouthed, rainbow-suited Whistlemop!


    My most dear frenemy, he who was first to screw me over in my new world (even if I didn’t find out immediately). We mostly chatted about the business we co-owned, though he was doing pretty much all the work these days. I was tapped out of business advice to give him, and he was buying up capital and expanding his ss empire at a rapid pace.


    Ourst few projects were various pieces of sswork beer paraphernalia. Pretty much anything that wasn’t quite technical enough for Copperpot to get his grubby mitts on. That included hydrometers, carboys, a bottle stick, and now a pressure release valve.


    There’ve been a few explosions and injuries amongst all the new craft brewers, and he and I decided (out of the goodness of our own hearts, of course!) to addbination pressure relief valves and carboys to our business empire.


    As the – ugh – Forefather of Brewing, I have a sense of responsibility for my new craft brewing brothers and sisters. There are a lot of pitfalls to brewing that aren’t obvious if you don’t have ess to the inte, like understanding what the various bad smells mean, or how to spot a good vs bad yeast, or knowing that letting beer ferment in a fully enclosed barrel or ss carboy can have explosive results.


    See one Annie Goldstone, per example.


    We also did our year-end financials, and let me tell you, there were a <i>lot</i> of zeros. All the gold from Jean Herder’s treasure was starting to feel like a drop in the bucket. Was this what billionaires felt like on earth?


    Whistlemop made some noises about buying out my stake in his business, and I told him I’d put some serious thought into it. He wanted full ownership because he and a certain [Butler] were now engaged to be married! Why, I remember when Bimbleberry first came to the Goat, trying to be our server. We’d chosen Kirk instead, but I’d connected her with Whistlemop, and now they were connected, <i>if you know what I mean</i>!


    Whistlemop hated that joke, by the way.


    For future reference, I still own amanding stake in <i>Whistlemop’s Emporium</i>, and n to keep it for at least the next few decades. I told Whistlemop that I’ll consider dropping down to a 15% stake after his future children help turn his business into one of the great gnomish oligarchical corporations.


    <strong>18th day of the 1st Month, 8001: Tuesdays’ Gone – Lynyrd Skynyrd</strong>


    Day 2. I went to the Duke of the North today and told him I was doing the thing! He asked what thing, and I made it clear that I would indeed be his patsy/ambassador for the elven brewing lessons.


    He said Huzzah!


    And he was more than willing to grant me my request that the Goat (and our people) be given ess to Kinshasa’s famous and vaunted teleportation square.


    I said Huzzah!


    Then I told him about my new Ability, and there were decidedly less Huzzahs.


    I now counted as a national asset, and depending on the results of my dungeon test, a weapon of mass destruction. It meant my security would need to be tighter, and that Awemedinand would need my Abilities examined by a [Statustician] before I’d be allowed in.


    He was, of course, overjoyed for me, and would being to the grand unveiling of my Ability at the ‘secure location’, which even <i>he</i> couldn’t tell me where it was. And, I couldn’t officially be the ambassador until it was all done.


    We spent the rest of our time discussing brewing and fishing. He hadn’t been to the brewery in quite a while, having passed most of his brewing duty to his new Master Brewer, a young dwarf by the name of Buck.


    I asked him to have Buck stop by the goat. Just so I could do the joke one day.


    We agreed to go fishingter this week, then parted ways.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Ah, parting is such sweet sorrow.


    <strong>19th day of the 1st Month, 8001: Wednesday Morning 3AM – Simon and Garfunkle </strong>


    Day 3. I spent today with the Duke of the West, the most illustrious and beatifical Iris Barnes.


    Or rather, I spent the day with my dear friend Tourmaline, and her mother invited herself along for the ride.


    My rtionship with the Duchess is an odd one to be sure. I get the distinct feeling that she’s trying to set me up with her daughter, but she feels indebted to me and doesn’t want to push it too hard. On top of that, I’m not interested, and Tourmaline is a bit too straightced to catch on.


    We mostly talked about politics, unfortunately. Duke Barnes is quite insistent that I be up to date on all thetest-di-dah. My lessons included the current high fashion – no longer the colour crimson, the current geopolitical survey – peaceful, and the state of the Citizen Councils popping up around Crack – fraught.


    Duke Schist must’ve been talking to her, because we also discussed elven dining etiquette andmon faux pas.


    For example – elves were consummate thrill seekers, because if they ‘died’, they could just <i>regrow</i>.


    Also, no belching to signify enjoyment of meals, or using hands to eat meat. The elves used <i>chopsticks</i> of all things. The Duke was quite pleased by how ‘quickly I adapted’ to using two skinny sticks to eat smi and pickles. As a once-upon-a-time sushi <i>fiend</i>, it was old hat.


    When Tourmaline and I were able to get words in edgewise, we talked about her newest alchemical discoveries. Since she was no longerpletely absorbed with healing her mother, she’d been putting her efforts into something rather interesting – yeast.


    With the advent of craft brewing, she wanted to get her name on the books as the inventor of the next multi-generational batch of Ancestral Seed. She had a room full of test yeasts bubbling away, and she had hopes that the Thirsty Goat would test them in some of our brews.


    I had to deny her, and instead set about connecting her with a few up-ander craft brewers with too much time on their hands. What she needed was lots of small batches, and the Goat was well past that point.


    Thest item of discussion was a concerning one – the increase in monster attacks.


    One of the South Erden dwarven city-states had been ransacked by orcish tribes stampeding from a nearby dungeon. Orcs were dumb animals in this world, which made their sudden organization and use of tactics a serious concern amongst the high nobility.


    On that happy note we parted with promises to meet again, possibly in Awemedinand.


    I am noting here, for posterity, that <i>she</i> asked toe visit <i>me</i> in the elven Kingdom. I did not kidnap her or n to sweep her away to a far offnd to elope, no matter how much her mother looked wistful at the thought.


    <strong>20th day of the 1st Month, 8001: Thursday’s Child – David Bowie</strong>


    Even God needs a day of rest, and mine was today.


    Day 4, Fishin’.


    Me and the boys went and caught ourselves a passel of snapper today. Just me, Balin, Schist, Schist’s Guards, and Ironbellows. We talked about life, the universe, and nothing.


    @@novelbin@@


    I caught two cave trout!


    It was a right good time, at least until the monsters attacked.


    A whole swarm of meter tall bipedal canine-molerat-like creatures burst from the canyon walls next to the docks and began grabbing every fish, folk, or finger they could get their little paws on. They’d tunneled out of the dungeon and directly to the docks, bypassing all the usual security and excavating a nearly mile-long tunnel that was <i>full</i> of the little buggers.


    Later, Balin told me they were called Kobolds, denizens of Deepcore’s Stone Forest. They dug through stone and sand with their elongated front teeth and were more annoying than dangerous. They kept to small family units and survived on refuse from Deepcore’s Sandsea.


    That wasn’t the case today, there were <i>scads</i> of ‘em! They fought with frightful efficiency, attacking when it was advantageous and falling back when they were injured. They seemed most interested in the fishing equipment, preferring to steal bait and tackle when they could’ve instead smashed some <i>bait and tackle</i>.


    Thankfully between Balin and Duke Schist’s guards we were able to hold them off long enough for the army to reinforce us and drive them back.


    Then the [Mattershapers] arrived and mmed the tunnel shut, locking them inside. When the army was ready, they opened the tunnel back up and stormed in to find… nothing. The kobolds had retreated all the way back to Deepcore.


    It was all decidedly un-monsterly ording to Balin, who was shaken by the ordeal. Surprisingly, there weren’t any deaths other than a few Kobolds.


    I’m very d that we turned the Thirsty Goat into a veritable fortress over the past year.


    On that note, if the key to the panic room has been lost or misced, the spare is in the third cleft from the right in my hidden alcove.


    <strong>21st day of the 1st Month, 8001: Friday – Reba ck</strong>


    Day 5. Who can forget the feeling of a Friday, of leaving school or work and getting the weekend off?


    Who can forget the awful songs it spawned?


    Not me! In a world with 8 days, and no day or night, and hard work resulting in literal gifts from the Gods, weekends aren’t really a thing.


    Which made meeting with a professor at the end of my long week especially excruciating. At least Copperpot was congenial as always, and served me up a real smorgasbord as we chatted.


    We didn’t talk about tech, surprisingly enough. With my [Remembrance] Ability gone, and his brewing industry fully geared up, we didn’t have much engineering to discuss. What else I could share beyond brewing was general at best, and I wasn’tfortable teaching concepts like nuclear energy with a literal Einstein.


    Instead we talked about beer. Sours, mostly. The local gnomish poption was going <i>nuts</i> over it, and it even outsold some of Pot Corporation''s most popr teasst month.


    He was very sorry to lose me to Awemedinand, and made me promise not to sell or give away any of my tech there.


    I mean, I’ll try, but no promises.


    <strong>22nd day of the 1st Month, 8001: Saturday’s Child – The Monkees</strong>


    Day 6. Taxes! Come get your taxes! It’s the start of the year, and it’s tax time once more.


    This time Duke Barne’s <i>personal</i> auditor came to audit our ounts on ount of the treasure. She was quick and fastidious, and very polite with the shakedown. She left quite a bit heavier, and left me a lot lighter.


    Annie cried.


    <strong>23rd day of the 1st Month, 8001: Never on a Sunday – The Chordettes</strong>


    Day 7. I slept in today. I’m a Godsdamn millionaire and my one day of rest this week was ruined by rat-things.


    So, I sleep. In my bed, in my alcove, in the sauna, in the hot spring, in the library, on the floor. Wherever. Tomorrow is the big day, and I need to save my energy.


    At least, that’s what I told Aqua when she found me sleeping on the dining room table.


    <strong>24th day of the 1st Month, 8001: D–Day</strong>


    Today’s the big day. Let’s go see how much I lucked out or messed up.