Dream Life - 498 Lesson 38

I asked my brother Theophilus and others for the future at the Sorel Spring Camp. They didn’t tell me clearly about my secrets or my relationship with the gods and Luna, but what Luna has to do with it makes me smell.

Theo has been explained to me too, and at the end of the day he says, “I feel like I can handle it”.

This will also allow some response to the ploy of the godless (Vanitas).

I could have taken it a little slower, but I’m also concerned about the distillery, so I’ll leave the land behind.

Before I left, I went to greet Reeva Sorrell, chief of the Sorrel tribe.

“My brothers will take care of you, thank you”

“Leave it to me. I like these guys, too. Besides, you brought us hope. Thank you, but it’s beautiful.”

That’s how he smiles and makes a hell of a suggestion.

“Why don’t you take the horse? That’s all it’s worth. You brought me information.”

“This one is more annoying…”

Frog horses are also important strategic supplies, and I can only shy away because I think this one will be more annoying.

But Leeva didn’t ask, “If we don’t give him anything here, he’ll be accused of being stingy by the rest of his family,” and after about five minutes of questioning, he ended up getting our number of horses.

“There’s a genealogy of black horses who liked you before.”

The horse I got seven years ago, the “Obsidian”, is feeling better in my home village of Rasmore. He looks like he’s about fifteen years old as a horse, and he should now be relaxed and herded as a stallion.

“You won’t get a famous horse like that,” he said.

“I can’t sell anywhere because I’m with him and he’s so temperamental. If you like it, it’s better this way.”

A huge black horse was eating grass, like the end-of-the-century champion on board, similar to the Obsidian, as he headed to the grazing land.

No. When I approach him, he slowly walks over here after staring at him for a few seconds with his eyes that make him see this one.

“Do you want to come with me,” he said, hissing bluntly.

“That sounds really compatible with that bloody horse. The nomads tell me to give it up, but no one likes it.”

Leeva is half impressed and half frightened to see how it went.

Liddy and the others find the horse and put on the horse. When I was ready to leave, I stood before Theo and the others.

“Then I asked for it. Well, the premise is if he comes.”

Theo replies to my words, “I’m not sure, but I’ll try my best.”

“But if you don’t know when we’re coming, we might as well be out of here.”

My sister Seraphine is not interested in the coming of Archrite or the war between the Caerm Empire and the Holy King of Lukes.

“You might have something to wait for.”

“Is that a good thing?” and lean his neck.

“Mr. Arklight is said to be the successor to Hamish Markat, the head of the Mercenary Corps of Markat. I also talk to my only daughter’s son-in-law. You think I’d let a man like that go to a dangerous place on his own?

To the words, “Does that mean Mr. Hamish might come!” and eat.

“I don’t know,” he teases.

“In the Periclitle offensive, we are rushing far from the King’s Capital of the Kingdom of Lax (Fonce), and the Demonic Pursuit Squad was dominated by the Marcut Mercenaries (Red Arms). Then isn’t it normal to think that we’re still acting together this time?”

With that said, Serra’s expression turns into something full of temper.

“Theo, I’ll wait here! Because you’re definitely going to have Mr. Hamish put on an archery!

I’ll put in a follow up that I said too much momentum.

“Don’t expect too much. It’s just an unfounded prediction.”

This is right, and I find it hard to think that the most famous mercenary regiment in the Kingdom of Lax will enter an empire that is an enemy nation, albeit during the truce.

A mercenary regiment that is a member of the mercenary guild, a neutral position, but has also gained the alias “Red Arms” in the fight against the Empire, and I don’t think the Imperial Government will allow it to enter the country.

I just don’t know, but I think we should act together.

“Either way, don’t bother Mr. Leeva and the others,” he says, leaving.

It was decided to ride just before we left, but it is just a horse trained by the people of the meadows and can be ridden without any discomfort.

On the contrary, are you happy to be able to run freely, so much so that you don’t squeeze the reins, that the horse you borrowed in the Adventurer’s Guild didn’t put people on it more, but your breath rose.

It settles in about an hour and then relaxes on through the sea of grass.

“Did you decide on the child’s name?,” asked Liddy on a stunning white horse.

“I haven’t decided yet,” but somehow I feel like I’m going to have the same name.

“Still, I got it. Is that good? Well, I’d rather have a big horse.”

Beatrice’s horse has beautiful deer hair and is as big as my black horse.

“I think it’s a waste to me,” Sharon said, a blue-haired horse who looks black-haired.

“But you were just right to get back to the village from here. If you’re going through Fortis, it’s tough to borrow a guild horse.”

Mel’s horse has brown chestnut hair, sparkling.

She’s right, Fortis has two rugged beatrices, especially in the case of the big Beatrice, so much so that she’ll need a spare horse that she’s going to be home sooner than planned thanks to the horse she got this time.

Go north with that talk.

This time, we were aiming for the central major city of Netherton at the shortest distance, but the horses were doing well and stepped over a hundred and a half kilometres in just one day.

You could have gone straight into Netherton, but it’s still before noon and we’re going for a distillery along the Vaughn River.

The Vaughn River is a tributary of the Nether River and runs about two kilometers from Netherton, right on horses.

If you stop by the Blacksmith Guild, you dare bypass Netherton because the Dwarves could be noisy and big time.

Even when it comes to meadow areas, the catchments of the Nether and Vaughn rivers are wooded and slightly different from the rest of the region.

The area is a barn zone in the central region, where many villages make corn for wheat and feed. Even when it comes to barn zones, there is more rye and so on than wheat and barley, as this is generally lean land, except for the narrow land along the basin.

As we proceeded with the horse, the countryside saw a splendid brick building that was not commensurate.

Black smoke is coming out of the big chimney. Behind the building with the chimney was a small forest, where there was also a brick warehouse. The workers were carrying barrels into the warehouse.

We ride a brilliant frog horse and pull a spare horse. We seem to be heterogeneous and the workers are pointing their fingers and talking.

As we approached the distillery, a big man with a disappointing mustache appeared.

He had a strange look at first, but soon he noticed us and lowered his head with a pepper.

“Welcome aboard. I’ve heard from the Branch Manager.”

The big man was Bertram, head of the distillery in Netherton.

When I get off the horse, a worker who was nearby tries to take the reins, but the black horse doesn’t like it and squeals his nose.

“Is that the previous horse? I feel a little young for that…”

Bertram and I are also familiar with the Obsidian issue because we are traveling together from Netherton. Also, since I live in the meadow area, I think I saw the horse and figured out the difference.

The worker guides me to the stables. He connected outside without going inside, gave instructions to feed the leaves and water before heading to the distillery.

“I asked Carl, but he seems to be struggling. Do you know what caused this?

Bertram bows his head sorry when he gives the name of blacksmith guild manager Carl Krutz.

“I think the new wine (Newpot) itself is well made, but I’m not sure if the flavor is good…”

Here, corn is the main ingredient of distilled liquor corn whiskey. Corn whiskey is what Kentucky in the United States calls “bourbon,” but naturally there was no such liquor in this world and he said he wasn’t confident in the taste.

“Let me see the taste. It’s both Newpot and mature.”

That’s how I get into the distillery.

Once inside, the nostrils are tickled with a sweet, yet fragrant, complex fragrance along with a musty enthusiasm.

Bertram takes the clear liquid from the distiller (pot stills), the new pot, into a glass for tasting and gives it to me.

The artisans looked at me with a worrying look on their face. They also train in the village of Rasmore, because they know me.

Kick them out of consciousness and check the glass in the light. There is no turbidity in the liquid in the glass and the distillation itself is a passing score.

Keep your mouth on the glass.

The distinctive aroma of corn whiskey spreads to the mouth.

Just distilled, but delicious enough corn whiskey.

“I think it’s great corn whiskey, but what’s the problem?

Bertram opens his eyes to my words.

“It’s really not sweet. It feels too light to put me to sleep…”

Apparently, he was too aware of Scotch to go for a similar taste.

Don’t point that out, head to the vault.

Fresh oak barrels lined up and filled with the unique aroma of oak barrels.

Bertram selects one of the barrels and pulls the plug at the top by stabbing in and pulling through the spiral tool. The bourbon aroma spread with the sound of pong.

Pour it into a glass and it has a beautiful amber color.

“It’s three years old. I think the distillation itself is done well…”

Liddy and the others are turning the glass too.

When I smelled the fragrance, it came with a distinctive aroma and a sweet smell of oak barrels.

I’m concerned about Bertram’s gaze, but keep mouthing slowly.

(Not bad…… no, pretty good corn whiskey. If you divide it with soda, it must be delicious……)

I slowly flush it down my throat thinking about it.

When I finished vacating the glass, Bertram whispered, “What do you think……”

“Perfect. If you can smell so much at this young age, you can’t help but look forward to eight or twelve years. I have no idea what the problem is.”

Bertram gives a surprise look, but immediately moisturizes his eyes.

“Dear Zacharias, you admitted it… Ugh…”

The other craftsmen are holding their eyes to see if they were equally impressed.

To avoid talking about it, I asked Liddy and the others what they thought.

“I can’t say anything because I don’t like Scotch originally, but I don’t hate this scent”

Mel nods loudly at Liddy’s thoughts.

“It’s a little tough, but I’m just like Mr. Lydia. You like it better than Pete’s.”

Sharon said, “I’m a little bad at it. I’m sorry,” he says. I wouldn’t have a choice because I don’t like distilled liquor originally.

The last remaining Beatrice,

“That’s not bad. I like brandy, but I think it’s a habit to smell it.”

It was generally well received.

When Bertram listens where he calms down,

“You said the blacksmiths smell too different from Scotch…”

“If I said that, even Brandy and Calvato (…) S would be completely different”

Scotch uses malt as a raw material, and brandy is made of grapes, and apples for carbatos. By the way, Calvatos is not a misrepresentation of “Calvados,” it’s about Apple Brandy, which takes Calvert’s name.

“Parents say brandy doesn’t bother me because it tastes completely different from the original, but if corn beer is a raw material, it would be a little closer to Scotch… Still, I’m not drinking it…”

“By the way, is that just corn? Are the other ingredients not mixed?

“I do mixing (vatting), but I’m not sure what it will taste like…”

Apparently they were battling at 100 percent corn.

Corn alone can be delicious whiskey, but bourbon should contain more than fifty-first percent corn.

By the way, a typical of whiskey made from a combination of raw materials other than malt is grain whiskey, which is fermented and distilled by mixing corn, rye and barley.

I’ve been telling you about this since I was in the village, but it seems I feared failure.

“Is there a Scotch here?,” he said.

“I’m making it if it’s a small amount. I’ve only aged it for about two years.”

“Bring me both Scotch and Corn. I want to make sure.”

Bertram headed for the barrel to fly. I immediately brought two glasses.

One is corn whiskey from an earlier triennium. The other was a slightly thin two-year scotch, or malt whiskey.

When I checked the scotch, it was still rough but well done.

Mix those two together one by one, checking the aroma.

When I mouthed it when I mixed it up to about half the time, it tasted closer to the young bourbon. It shouldn’t be the way it was supposed to be made, but this is good enough.

“Try this. Perhaps this is what the Dwarves want.”

Bertram mouths the dreaded glass.

“This is…” he said, opening his eyes.

“Just corn doesn’t taste good enough. It may change if you put him to sleep for a decade or so, but in his youth, the scent of barrels and the scent of corn wins too much. Add Scotch flavor to it and you can add more flavor without losing the corn.”

“I’ve tried a lot, too, but I don’t know which one to use anymore. I didn’t say which one to ask my parents…”

It was caused by the inability to set the direction due to the fact that it was the first booze.

You’d know if you drank bourbon like me, but it’s hard to decide what flavor to make with the ingredients you use for the first time.

The same thing is going to happen in Phyllobisher’s lamb, but I’m telling you it’s going to be sweet originally, and I guess I wasn’t lost for a minute when he said I could drink it even if I was young.

“The liquor is well done enough now, but you can try everything and make the only liquor you have here. If you’re really in trouble, sometimes you can pack it in a bottle and send it to me, and I can tell you what I think.”

“Thank you,” Bertram said, bowing his head greatly, before beginning to talk to the craftsmen about his next brewing.