<h4>Book 2: Chapter 18: Negotiations</h4>


    Balin and I sat in anticipatory silence as Copperpot took a sip from the bottle on the table. He swirled the witbier around in his mouth for a moment, like a sommelier appreciating a particrly fine vintage of wine. He’d agreed that our n was sound, but wanted to have a “taste of the goods” first.


    He swallowed and nodded, then frowned, then quirked an eyebrow. An entire symphony of expressions crossed his face until itnded on perturbed.


    Uh oh.


    “It’s… good.” Copperpot said, and Balin and I sighed in relief. Copperpot held up a finger in response. “BUT.”


    Balin wiped sweat from his brow. “That sounds like a big but."


    “I don’t like big buts, I cannae lie,” I muttered.


    Copperpot swirled the drink around in the bottle and stared through it. The ss shed yellow and purple as the golden liquid inside spun inzy circles. “It’s good, and I could see some of my people growing fond of it. But it’s <i>just</i> good.”


    I groaned, but Balin looked confused.


    “What’s tha problem, then?” Balin asked. “I’ve never heard of a gnome outside of Beatbox or a few others say tha Sacred Brew was anythin’ but cat-piss. ‘Fine’ is a big improvement!”


    “It’s not goin'' to be worth tha big pile of trouble thates with it.” I exined, drumming my fingers on my beard.


    “Yes. I do like the vour, and the fizz is very fun, but a gnomish brewing subsidiary would have a massive target on it for any… shall we call them disaffecteds. If we''re going to support you, it would need to be for something <i>incredible</i>. This is good,” Copperpot indicated the bottle, which he’d ced back on the coffee table, “but not <i>amazing</i>.”


    “Ah.” Balin deted. “Aw.”


    I smiled at my brother. He was just so <i>innocent</i> in some matters, while being more worldly than me in others. Well, that’s why teamwork makes the dream-work. I turned to Copperpot and crossed my arms. “Let’s skip a few steps and go straight to tha negotiation. What do ya want?”


    Copperpot smiled sunnily. “I knew you’d understand.”


    I scoffed. “I spend half my days with a gnome who’s one step short from a used carriage salesman.”


    Copperpotughed. “That’s an interesting expression.”


    “I just made it up, but full disclosure - we’re in a pretty big hurry, Copperpot. We need ta get this <i>done </i>in three weeks if we’re gonna make our deadline.”


    Copperpot raised an eyebrow. “You’re not supposed to reveal your hand like that in negotiations, Pete.”


    I shook my head. “Our re-entry to the Brewers Guild and our chance at winning tha local Octamillenial Brewing Contest is contingent on this deal. If we don’t have some proven results in that time-frame, the entire exercise is pointless. And this has the potential to be <i>big</i> money - you have more to lose if ya walk away than we do. I can always find someone else and do thister, but winning that contest could open up tha Kinshasa market for us <i>and any subsidiaries</i>.” I stressed thest bit with a widening of my eyes.


    Copperpot slumped back on the couch. “Ah, I see.” He spun the propeller on his beanie and narrowed his eyes, thinking.


    “I don’t.” Balin said, his eyes imploring.


    “A short timeline puts us on the back foot in negotiations,” I said. “But disclosing it like this means Copperpot needs to decide <i>today.</i> It’s a high pressure sales tactic, like ‘limited time offer’ or ‘one chance only’. It puts the pressure on Copperpot, even though <i>we</i> are technically the ones with a crunch.”


    Copperpot looked me up and down and gave a wry smile. “I’ve never heard those phrases, but I understand the gist of them. You realize that tactics like that are considered rude?”


    I made a ‘perish the thought’ gesture. “Like I said, full disclosure. I want you to know what’s at stake here. You''re our first choice, not our <i>only </i>choice.”


    Copperpot stared at the bottle sitting demurely on his coffee table. So much trouble contained in such an unassuming package.


    “The first gnomish beerpany, and the eye of the King,” he muttered.


    We sat in silence for a while and gave him time to think. Balin fidgeted in obvious nervousness, but I was cool as a cucumber.


    Lies, I was sweating like a pig. This was my best bet, and if it didn’t work I probably didn’t have <i>time</i> toe up with anything else. It may have just been gold on the table for Copperpot, but my <i>soul</i> was possibly on the line here. I decided to sweeten the pot while the iron was hot.


    “Raspberrysyrup is on board with our business, and will be, shall we say, <i>aggressively drinking</i> our product.”


    Copperpot looked at me with surprise. “Really? How did you manage that?”


    “We’re acquainted,” I said, and gave my best ‘dwarf of mystery’ smile.


    “She’s been <i>very</i> good for race rtions.” Copperpot mused, then his gaze firmed.


    “Fine, I’m on board, but on <i>one condition</i>.” He pointed at the beer on the table, and his tone grew dramatic. “You need to bring me a better brew, one worthy of the risk.”


    Oh Copperpot, don’t throw me in that briar patch! I had <i>several</i> ideas for gnomish brews sitting in my office right now. Some from before the witbier, and some from just yesterday. Copperpot didn’t need to know that, so I did my best to look unsure and told a little [White Lie]. “I don’t know about that, Copperpot, this brew was the result of careful study and months of research. I’m not sure I cane up with something in such a short time.”


    Copperpot pointed at me. “If you can, it proves you’re worth investing in. You’re the dwarf that invented Boomdust, and that Ass-ster. I’m not partnering with the Thirsty Goat, I’m partnering with <i>YOU</i>. But only if you can show me this isn’t all just a fluke.”


    Balin looked like he was about to say something so I stomped on his foot as covertly as possible.


    “You drive a hard bargain. I might be able toe up with something, but it’ll take a couple days. What will we do in the meantime? If you onlye on board after I’m done, we’ll run out of time.”


    Copperpot stood up and brushed some cookie crumbs off his robe. “I’ll get the ball rolling on the assumption that you’ll seed. We have a warehouse that should serve our needs, and I''ll send over a contract tomorrow.”


    I held up a hand. “You’ll need to talk with Annie about it. She’s much morefortable with Guild business, and said there will be a lot of non-disclosure agreements and some magical-binding oaths involved.”


    Copperpot rolled his eyes. “Those will increase my risk, you know.”


    “Buuuut, first gnomish brewer?” I said with a smile.


    Copperpot rubbed the back of his neck. “I hope you understand how explosive your words are Pete… which suits you, I suppose. You’ve left me with a lot to do, and little time, so please excuse me if I don’t see you out.” He pointed at the door which creaked open, and the Buttler walked in and stood at attention. Had he been listening in? No, it was probably [Anticipate Needs].


    In a few more minutes, Balin and I stepped out of the front gate and started back to the Thirsty Goat. There was a *Bing!* as we crossed the threshold, and I absentmindedly hit ‘Yes’ on the quest that followed.


    <strong>New Quest: Gnomebody to Love Pete</strong><strong></strong>


    <i>Own the first Gnomish Brewery!</i>


    <i>Completed: 0/1 Breweries</i>


    <i>Rewards: [Friend: Gnomes]</i>


    <strong>Do you ept?</strong>


    <i>Yes / No</i>


    Balin released his Golden Armour to avoid gathering a crowd. “What now, Pete?”


    “Now we leave the rest to Annie. Hopefully she’ll be able to handle the Guild.”


    Balin smiled. “Ma Annie can handle anythin’.”


    I looked his way, then nced down and smirked. “Oh CAN she?”


    Oof, dungeon delving had <i>really</i> improved Balin’s ability to hit a moving target.


    —


    Annie smiled up at the brown robed apprentice as he put a mug of ale down in front of her. Then she sneezed.


    “Excuse me.” She said, politely wiping her nose on her sleeve. “I guess someone’s talking about me.”


    “No no, it can get a bit dusty down here. I should have the apprentices start dusting at least once a week.” The dwarf across from her said. He was grey-haired, in an immacte set of ck [Brewer] armour. He had a set of incrediblyrge mutton-chops and a pair of piercing ck eyes. Master Brewer Boulder Stusk was one of the few Dwarves Annie was positive woulde around to her side eventually. He was a traditionalist, but also a realist, and a Dwarf of impable honour. He’d also known her from when she was still knee-high to a unigoat, and she’d spent her first few decades calling him Uncle Boulder, and Master Brewer Stusk after that.


    Which was likely why he frowned and continued. “Goldstone, I do wish to apologize about the entire fiasco with your father. I admit that I was so blinded by my fears that I did not see the real harm I was causing to you and Jeremiah. I am very, deeply sorry, and ashamed of my actions.” He bowed deep in his chair, a in wooden backed affair in his office deep below Stusk Brewery.


    Annie crossed her legs, and shifted her gown to sit morefortably around her thick leather boots. She’d found herself dressing up a bit more since her engagement to Balin. Why, she’d spent an <i>Ungodsly </i>amount of gold on herst shopping trip with Aqua. She had to admit that this dress in particr, with its billowing white sleeves and gold thread looked quite fetching on her, though Balin had said it looked more fetching <i>off</i> her. She coughed and got her mind back on topic.


    “No Master Brewer, you were all quite masterfully manipted by Browning. I don’t hold you responsible at all.”


    Which was a polite fiction. She did <i>indeed </i>hold them responsible, and was even now considering frying up some mutton-chops. But giving him an out was the first step to repairing <i>this</i> particr bridge. If she held him to the fire he’d burn to a crisp and then she’d never get anything out of him.


    Stusk shook his head. “That’s very kind young Annie, but I do owe your n something.”


    Annie noted the ‘Young Annie’ and shifted her tone to match his more familial attitude. “Oh Uncle Boulder, I don’t want you to fall to Yearn over it. What’s past is past, and the guilty party was suitably punished.”


    Stusk took a drink of his own ale and looked far off into a distance only he could see. “How… how is Jeremiah?”


    Annie’s voice grew a bit sharp, the thought of her Father’s betrayal cutting more thoroughly than any axe. That edge had dulled over the past few months, but it would likely never go away. “We’re working things out, but he still isn’t quite the same. How is Auntie Margerie? And the boys?”


    Stusk focused back on Annie and smiled. “She’s doing quite well. She was just asking after you, actually.”


    Annie led the old Brewer through some happy chatter about family and ns and the burdens of owning a Brewery. Stusk Brewery was quite a bitrger than the Thirsty Goat and served thousands more dwarves. The Brewery’s architecture was in line with what was usually called <i>Mine Deco</i>, with long twisting tunnels dug into the stone. This made for a somewhat drafty conversation.


    Eventually Stusk harrumphed and came to the point. “It''s been nice catching up, but I assume you asked for this meeting for a reason, Annie?”


    Annie smiled sweetly andunched into her pitch. “Well, Uncle Boulder, I grew up hearing stories of the Brewer’s Guild and it always meant so much to me…”


    Within the first minute Stusk was nodding along. By the end, he was openly weeping.


    Annie left Stusk Brewery with a promise of support. One down, four more to go. She really hoped Pete was pulling his weight!