Beers and Beards: A Cozy Dwarf Tale

Book 4: Chapter 29: Stampede Breakfast

I spent the next few weeks tapping trees, squishing apples, and passing as much work off as possible to the brewing students. We kept Manny’s glassflies on watch, but the sap setup wasn’t ever attacked again. Whatever had done it either knew we were watching, or just wasn’t interested in the buckets anymore.

Lady Laurelstone was a great help, getting ahold of the [Alchemists] I needed for the safety checks on the syrup.

There was a slight complication, as we learned from the guild clerk in the Liminal Inn that we wouldn’t be able to sell or distribute dungeon goods without running them through the guild first.

Surprise! More paperwork!

At least the [Alchemist] we’d hired, an elderly gelf, was able to handle most of it.

I strongly suspected that Laurelstone was passing off everything I was doing to the King, and that was fine by me. I wanted him excited and curious about what I was doing here. This was an excellent opportunity to prove that I was worth sucking up to, rather than the other way ‘round. So far none of what I’d made was in much demand with the elves, but maple syrup could change that.

My plans went beyond the syrup though, as I had something special planned!

Something primal, a historic part of Canadiana.

A Stampede Breakfast!

My family must’ve gone to that most wondrous celebration at least a dozen times over the years. I’d maybe been a bit too into the Caesars, while Sammy had been obsessed with the incredible bouncy castles and mazes. I had to admit, the giant inflatable caterpillar had always been a treat.

Caroline’s favourite though, had always been mutton busting. I had to admit that watching a bunch of small children get thrown off the backs of sheep/sheeps was amusing. Especially when half-hammered on Caesars.

My first thought was that gnomes being tossed off unigoats would be equally amusing, but as it turned out, finding a bunch of gnomes that wanted to be tossed off of unigoats was decidedly more difficult. While I was busting my brain trying to figure out a solution, one of my beastfolk students got wind of what I was doing and offered an alternative.

Which was how I ended up with nearly one hundred horses trotting through the Liminal Inn and out into Cascadia.

Which got the embassy of the Allied Plains Tribes got involved.

And then Duke Schist got wind of it.

And then the adventurer’s guild wanted a piece.

And then things got out of hand…

—

“Okay, Pete. I admit it, I missed this.” Mirelda sighed, her mouth full of pancake. “Ugh, it’s so good. Do you know how happy I was that I finally had my waistline down, and now you’ve gone and ruined it.”

I was barely able to hear her over the roar of the crowd. I jumped, my head whipping around to see if it was another Kegger attack or just someone being kicked in the nards by a horse again. When I was sure it wasn’t another fire requiring my immediate attention, I turned my attention back to her.

“It’s not my fault Bran’s able to make anything and everything taste so delicious!” I protested.

“Nope, definitely your fault.” Berry muttered, as she stuffed another piece of bacon into her mouth. “By the Gods, this is amazing. I could cry. Jo? I’m gonna cry.”

Joseph spoke around a mouthful of syrup. “This can’t be healthy. Cavolo, why did I die before this was invented!”

I closed my eyes with pleasure as I felt the tang of the maple syrup fill my mouth. Ahhh, maple syrup, I did so love you. And no, the discount dan, fake ‘butter style syrups’ didn’t even come close to the taste of real maple syrup.

There was a reason that maple syrup heists were a thing in Canada. The stuff was just that good.

“I still can’t believe that this is a dungeon,” Mirelda marveled as she looked out over the hills and forests of Cascadia. “Or that we’re having breakfastin it. Aren’t dungeons supposed to be dangerous?”

“Mature dungeons are.” I offered, finishing off my own pancakes and staring longingly at the long line in the distance. The clientele was mostly elves, gnomes, and beastfolk, which tracked to what I knew about the various species tastebuds’. “But there still isn’t much wildlife in Cascadia. And this ain’t exactly normal circumstances.”

“Aye.” Balin said, coming up alongside us. “There’s gotta be more adventurers than I’ve ever seen in one place in a dungeon before. I’m amazed you got tha guild to agree to this, Pete.”

I grunted, mostly in remembered agony. “Ugh, It was a total pain. I think tha hardest part about this job is all tha bloody paperwork. And even then, they only agreed thanks ta you and Raptor’s Respite grantin’ ‘em yer monster research notes. Thanks, by tha way, I know those’re valuable.”

“It was worth it fer this.” Balin grinned. “Didja see that horse kick that giant with the funny white facepaint in the nards!?“

Everyone shared a sensible chuckle. I had several people working as rodeo clowns, though they weren’t really necessary since we weren’t using bulls. But they entertained the moustachios and were traditional to rodeos. Tales of the incident would likely be making the rounds with the bards. Thankfully the volunteer [Healers] on hand had kept it to a humorous anecdote instead of anything worse.

We’d converted one of the few wide flat areas from a vineyard into a large paddock, and then added stage seating and stables. The horses brought in from the Allied Tribes embassy were all huge dappled things, like a cross between a mustang and a clydesdale. They were a favourite of the plains tribes and human kingdoms, who used them to travel the wide open spaces in the center of the continent.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The tribes and kingdoms had their own horse-riding traditions, and many of them were on display today. I had to say, God granted Abilities allowed for some damn impressive trick riding.

My favourite thus far had been a collection of a dozen bangle and bikini-clad beastladies who’d managed to fit ten to a single horse, then made towering geometric shapes while they’d ridden around the ring. The giants from the free cities had tried to one up them with a humorous ‘reverse rodeo’, where a trio of giants played something akin to pool chicken, but with unigoats on their backs.

In total, I estimated there to be a couple thousand people inside the dungeon, a number only made possible due to a combination of the low monster numbers, a solid perimeter of experienced adventurers, and Barck’s promise to keep the inn monster free. If something the adventurers couldn’t fight off showed up, like a massive pack of Beers, or Gods forbid, the Goooose, we could just retreat to the inn.

“Since we’re all here, you wanted to talk about something, Pete?” Mirelda asked.

“Aye, I – “ I began, before I was suddenly interrupted.

“Ambassador Roughtuff!” A voice called from my elbow.

I glanced over in irritation, but smiled when I saw who was approaching, a small entourage in tow. Lord Failith of the Allied Tribes had returned to Tree a few months back, and had been instrumental in pulling this rodeo off. His volunteer staff were even now helping pile pancakes and Maple Syrup on plates, freeing up Clan Goldstone to dwarf the pub. Even though the pancakes were free – a stampede tradition – we still had to get our gold back somewhere!

“Hello Ambassador,” I waved cheerily. “Are you enjoyin’ tha show?”

“Enjhoying it!?” He crowed in his icelandic accent, “This has beehn a tremendous success! I’ve nehver seehn so much interest in our cuhlture from the distractable elves behfore! Ahnd so many powerful dwarves in attendance as well! Truly Peyter, this was worth brihnging all those horses.”

I nodded, sparing a glance for the parade of beatfolk following after the ambassador. They were an eclectic mix, giving off the aura of clerks, bodyguards, refugees, or in the case of one scar-faced and steeley-eyed ruffian – soldiers.

The ruffian saw me staring and stared right back. His gaze was sharp, almost accusing, and I found myself turning away, if only to avoid the burning rage behind those eyes.

I waved the collection of Chosen away, and gave my full attention to the beastfolk Ambassador. Berry gave me a rude gesture, and Jo made me promise to meet with all of them in the Inn when I was done.

“I’m sorry for intehrrupting, but I must soon retuhrn to the Embassy,” Lord Falith said, giving me a small bow. “I have things that muhst be prepared for the Spring Ball.”

“Of course, and thank you again for your help!” I replied. “I’m sorry you can’t stay.”

“It was ouhr pleasure. I’m just pleased to see so many have come.”

“And the maple syrup is sellin’ as well as I’d hoped. We should probably increase the price, actually; we’re gonna run out,” I complained to the elderly beastfolk.

“You’ll just need to increase production!” He also had a plate piled tall with syrupy pancakes, and he took a joyful bite. The syrup got into the long fur around his lips, and he laughed. “Though it ismessy, and sticky!”

I felt at the syrup encrusting my own luxurious moustache and nodded in empathetic agreement.

“You reahlly must share the recipe for these cake things!” He continued, shoveling more pancakes into his mouth.

“Fer all the help you gave ta make this rodeo possible, I’m happy to provide it.” I said, pulling a piece of paper out with [Paper Pusher] with a twirl.

Peter Roughtuff’s Cascadian Buttermilk Pancakes Recipe

1 egg

1 1/2 cups flour

2 Tablespoons maple syrup

1 Teaspoon baking soda

1 Teaspoon baking powder

1/4 Teaspoon of salt

1 1/4 cups of buttermilk

2 1/2 Tablespoons butter

2 Teaspoon Vanilla Extract

1/2 Teaspoon Cinnamon

Instructions:

1. Whisk the baking soda, powder, cinnamon, flour and salt in a large bowl.
2. Whisk the Vanilla Extract, butter, milk, eggs, and syrup in another bowl.
3. Combine the two bowls and whisk until uniform.
4. Preheat a pan until hot with oil.
5. Pour batter until size appropriate.
6. Flip pancake when solid bubbles form and fry until brown.
7. Cover with butter and maple syrup to taste.

The ambassador took the paper with a trill of cheer, and put it into his pocket.

“Thank you for this, Lord Peyter. I’ll be sure to share it with the chef at the embassy! Perhaps we can have you for breahkfast in a way you are accustomed to.”

“My pleasure, Lord Failith. Is there anythin’ else I can do fer you?”

The ambassador nodded, turning to give me a better view of his entourage. We had to pause as there was another swell of cheering and laughter. “These are some of my countryfolk, newly arrived from thee plains. They are to aid me in my attempts to entreat aid from the King.”

I frowned. “Ah. The war isn’t going well?”

He shook his head. “The war is all but lost. The allied tribes are disorganized, and even now flee eastwahrds towards Grandia and the free cities. It’s an ordered retreat, as they pull their families and herds with them, but it is a retreat nonetheless. Those smaller tribes that are unable to keep up are lehft behind, for the human vuhltures to collect.” His tone was bitter, and filled with grief.

I felt a shiver down my spine. I’d spent a lot of time with the beastfolk during the prep for this rodeo, and the thought of them being rounded up like literal animals and enslaved made red crowd the edge of my vision.

The scarred beastfolk cleared his throat, and asked, in a deep baritone with the same lilt as Falith, “Is thees the one you spoke of, Lord Falith.”

Lord Falith nodded, and gestured at him. “This is Marco. He recently led a slave rebellion in the Eastern Kingdoms. He killed their Duhke and fled, harried by their knights, but managed to save over a thousand souls from slavery. Aaron be praised.”

Marco’s eyes glittered. His voice was gruff, and spiteful. “I owe Aaron nothing. Thee God is a bastard. What God of Freehdom allows for a race to be so chained? Or allows for Titles like [Slaver] to exist? It is abominable – ”

Lord Falith said sharply, “Marco! I told you not to – “

Marco held up his wrist, and I realized with shock that all the fur was missing around his wrists, where ragged scars from manacles stood out in sharp relief. One of his horns was broken, and part of his left ear was missing. He glowered at me. “While you play with your toys and your sugars and your brews, my people are dyhing as slaves.”

“I’m… sorry,” I said, softly. I didn’t know what else to say.

He scoffed. “Your sorry means nothing to me. You sup here with our enemies, sharing with them food and drink.”

“Marco!” Lord Falith protested. “Lord Roughtuff has been incredibly gracious –”

The beastfolk slashed his arm down, cutting the ambassador off. “No, Lord Falith. There is nothing more to see here. I will instead seek the wisdom of the Elf Khing. When we regain our [Shamans], we will drive the humans back and retake freedom with ouhr own paws! We will not depend on foolish ones like this beardfolk!”

With that, he stormed past us, heading back into the Inn.

“I apologize, Lord Roughtuff, I didn’t know he was going to do that,” Lord Falith stammered. “I wihll have him return and beg your forgiveness.”

I shook my head. “No. He’s dealing with enough, I think. I won’t hold you, Ambassador. You look like you have a lot to do.”

“Yes, yes.” He said, bowing his head as he hurried away, his uncomfortable looking entourage in tow. “Gods be with you, Lord Roughtuff.”

I watched them go, my heart heavy. The crowd roared in approval again, but this time…

I just wasn’t into it.

I trudged into the Inn a while later; I had some Chosen to chat with.