Copperpot and I decided to retire for our little chat as soon as the wrestling demonstration started. As much as I really, really, wanted to try doing an arm-bar on my current favourite luchadorf, I did have responsibilities to take care of first.

We left Richter and Johnsson attempting to tag-team the charismatic red-headed dynamo while Kirk filled in for a corner post.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” Copperpot said, as we made our way out. “You seemed quite taken with that Draconic fellow.”

“Draconic fellow?” I replied, bemused. “You don’t follow wrestlin’, do ya. That was Dwarf Draconis, one of tha most famous wrestlers in Minnova. And he likes our beer!”

“Well, that’s certainly impressive, but he’s no Raspberry Syrup!”

I rolled my eyes at his obvious jibe. “Berry’s well known, but she still isn’t professional-wrestler famous.”

“Ah, well. I’m more of a fan of the golem arena myself. How did he end up at the party tonight? You lot seemed just as surprised as me!”

I grinned. “We were surprised. It was all Johnsson. I took him aside and he said that he used some of the ‘make friends and influence people’ budget we gave him to buy some backstage wrestling tickets. He brought all the wrestlers kegs of Barista Brew, and Draconis now swears by it before every match.”

Copperpot laughed. “Better Barista Brew than Assblaster!”

“Heh, tha new and improved Dwarf Draconis! He shoots fire from both ends!”

We both guffawed at the image, though mine was tinged with strain at the thought of what was coming. This was going to be a difficult conversation.

As we shut ourselves in the study, I pulled a bottle out of my pocket and showed it to Copperpot.

“What’s that?”

“Some of the non-sour gose.”

“Hah!” He chuckled. “I knew it! You’d never let a goat decide your fate!”

“Eh, yes and no. We’re only going to sell the other one, but I am curious.” I took a swig, and nearly spat it out. It tasted pretty much exactly as I’d expected – like overly salty beer. It was acrid and tingly, had the consistency of sea water, and left me desperate for something to take the aftertaste away.

Copperpot watched as I spat the small sip out. “That bad?”

I nodded, pulling a keg of Barista Brew from its place of honor on the lintel. “Seems our trust in the little Princess isn't misplaced.”

Copperpot nabbed the fluffiest chair in the room and pulled it up in front of the fire while I grabbed a simple stool; I wanted to be on top of my game tonight.

“Well Pete,” Copperpot mused, as I poured the drinks. “Things are certainly moving. We released Pink Brew to great acclaim the other week, and Berry’s been having a lot of fun with the costuming for her advertising. I don’t think I’ve seen so much pink chiffon since my daughter was twenty! Ha ha!”

I couldn’t help but smile at the mental image of my own little Sammy dressed up like a ballerina and screeching, ‘LOOK AT ME, DADDY!’

“Aye, children are a blessin’. Here.” I passed over his glass and he took it with thanks, taking a sip with a sigh of pleasure.

“We almost sold out of our first run of Pink Brew,” he continued. “I finagled the ratios a bit, and we found that leaving it to ferment for a few extra days gives a better flavour.”

“Mhm.” At least someone liked the umqombothi. I was going to wait a couple months then try making some Liquid Gold or even gose with sorghum extract and see how it tasted. Right now the general mood around the brewery was pretty anti-sorghum, which… was quite similar to Earth come to think of it. I'd need to explore rice as an avenue too. “How’s the cleanup after each brew?”

“It’s horrid. But Pete,” Copperpot leaned in, “that gose is going to be an even bigger hit, especially if we splice it with some wheat malt. It was delicious.”

I raised an eyebrow. He was becoming a craft brewer through and through. I felt a pang of pride. “You think it’ll be that popular? We hope so, obviously…”

“The salt really made it; especially in a city like Kinshasa. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but everything is salty in this bloody city.”

I pursed my lips. “We had an inkling, yes. It isn’t just the salt though. This brew uses our new Goldstone Bitters, and that has to be playing a part in it.”

Copperpot’s eyes glittered. “As a subsidiary of the Thirsty Goat, will we be getting access to the new bittering agent?”

I waved a hand dismissively. “Obviously.”

Copperpot leaned back into his chair and took a sip of beer. “The theme for the contest is to ‘Brew the most valuable brew’, correct? You’re going for a patriotism and ‘expensive spice’ route, I’m guessing? That may work, and the drink is tasty enough that some people will vote for you no matter what.”

I groaned. “Aye, that’s going to be tha biggest issue. This current format really, really, benefits the home team. There’s no real pressure to vote fer tha theme over just what tastes best, or is tha most popular. Riverside Brewery is almost guaranteed ta win every round they’re in, and we aren’t looking forward to comin’ up against ‘em.”

“Well, hopefully that’ll be in the finals!”

I knocked on wood and glowered at him. “We don’t use language like that in the Thirsty Goat anymore.”

Copperpot gave me a look, then rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for that old superstitious nonsense.”This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“How superstitious it is or isn’t is immaterial when tha Gods are always watchin’ and like to test us.” I quoted.

“Bah. They’re not always –” Copperpot started, then stopped. He stared at me and seemed lost in thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Well, maybe there’s some truth to it. I still think it’s a load of goat manure, though.”

Uh huh. I settled onto my stool and aimed for nonchalant, letting [Friend:Gnomes] activate. I felt my voice come out just a little smoother and calmer than usual.

“Copperpot, I wanted to talk to you because I’ve been doing a little history reading. Our competitor for this round is the Herder clan, and the name Lucky Jean Herder has come up a couple times. Have you ever heard of him? Apparently he was friends with your ancestor.”

“Yes. I’ve heard of him. He’s quite famous in my clan, actually. Family history is a required course for all Pots. We have extensive records that are constantly being upkept. I should show you around the family library here in Kinshasa sometimes, it’s quite the place!”

That tore it. He almost definitely knew I was a Catalyst, and probably had information retaining to the Great Game too.

Time to set the trap. “What do the Pots say about him? And other gnomes for that matter. I’ve only heard about him from the dwarven perspective.”

Copperpot dropped into the cadence of the university professor he was. “Lucky Jean Herder was not only important to gnomes, as the first pioneer of the East, but to the Pots in particular. You’re correct that he was friends with our family’s founder, Teapot. This was just a few millennia after Crack had been settled, and gnomes were still second class citizens. The gnomish oligarchies had joined the dwarven kingdoms a scant few centuries earlier, and the Ordinances were still quite dwarf specific. When the laws all say ‘dwarves’ it makes it difficult to fight for your rights as a ‘gnome’.”

I leaned forward, listening seriously. This was actually genuinely interesting. I held up a hand, and Copperpot nodded to me. “Yes, Student Roughtuff?”

“Ahem, Engineering Professor Copperpot, why did the gnomes join the dwarven kingdoms in the first place?”

“The answer to that is complicated, and worthy of its own lesson. The two major gnomish countries of the day were Gnomehome in the Northern Mountains and Dujin in South Erden. Dujin still exists after a fashion, though it has more recently split into many city-states. Most of the gnomes living in Crack are descended from Gnomehomian refugees.”

“What happened?”

“Suffice it to say that Gnomehome disintegrated over a combination of outside pressures, constant wars with the northern dwarven Kingdoms over mining rights, and a devastating natural disaster. You can ask Richter to add it to your history lessons. Those who came to Crack sought a place that was wild and untamed, without the population and political pressure."

I pulled out one of my notebooks and started writing. Copperpot nodded appreciatively, and continued the impromptu history lesson. It wasn’t why I’d called him here, but I wasn’t going to turn down private lessons from one of the most celebrated teachers in Minnova!

“Originally, the Pots were simple marketeers in Kinshasa with the family epithet of ‘Hawker’. They sold ingredients imported from Dujin with the help of a Specialised Southerner. At the time, tea was only really common in Dujin. Teapot, though he was named Woodhawker at the time, experimented with several different blends until he struck upon our first major tea. Do you know what it was, student Roughtuff?”

I pantomimed seriously thinking, and answered, “Gnomish Breakfast, sir?”

“Yes, correct. The Hawkers started selling cups of Gnomish Breakfast at their stall and it became massively popular. Teapot changed his name, thus starting the ‘Pot’ ancestral line, and opened the first tea shop in Kinshasa. He invented Darjeeling and several other popular blends during the next few decades. It was around then that he met Lucky Jean when the explorer stumbled across his shop while looking for coffee. He was one of the few dwarves who drank it at the time, you see. The two argued and came to blows the first time they met, but they eventually became good friends, though they still bickered. They could often be heard shouting at each other long into the night.” Copperpot snickered at the thought.

“Because they came from the rival countries of Britain and France. Is that right, Professor?” I said nonchalantly, continuing to write in my notebook.

“Yes, correct. Now, when Lucky Jean first discovered Greentree dungeon, he brought back samples of several different dungeon plants. He gave some to Teapot, who made the now world famous Lord Grey using them. Lord Grey was the tea that catapulted the Pot family into prominence as it sold extremely well within Dujin and the human lands….”

He trailed off, realizing what he’d said.

We stared at each other in silence for a solid minute. Copperpot was smart. He knew, he knew I knew, he knew I knew he knew. Thankfully, he didn’t bother to insult my intelligence or damage our relationship further with avoidance and lies.

“So you know,” he said, flatly.

“Yes. I know. The question is, how long have you known? Was it from when we first met? Was any of this,” I snapped my notebook shut and gestured between us, “real?”

Copperpot sighed and sunk down in his chair, the large dwarven seat practically enveloping him. “I'd like to think some of it was."

"That's not exactly an answer, Engineering Professor Copperpot."

Copperpot flinched at my scathingly formal use of his Title. "No, it isn't, is it? If it helps, I didn’t suspect anything until much later. It was actually Berry that gave it all away; she’s not exactly subtle.”

“Slaggit!” I held my face in my hands. “I was worried about that.”

“Yes. If there are any other powerful families with Chosen ancestors or who know of the Chosen Catalysts, they’re likely already watching her. It’s one of the reasons I’ve been doing my best to keep you at arm's length from her. Is it the Gods’ Great Game, by the way? I was never quite certain.”

“Yes.” I growled. “Some GAME.”

“As an [Engineer] and scientist, I can appreciate the purpose,” Copperpot said wryly. “Even if I dislike the need. But Peter, I assure you that my decision to support your gnomish brewing idea and use Boomdust had nothing to do with it. I’d just assumed you were a smart, if odd, dwarf.”

“Gee, thanks.” I rolled my eyes, and Copperpot chuckled.

“Trust me, in engineering, odd is normal. But, It did influence the decision to send me along to Kinshasa; the board wanted me to keep an eye on you. And let me tell you, all that rigamarole in Minnova would've been much simplier if the company had realized you were a Chosen at the time.”

We each drank our beers in silence for a while, Copperpot draining his in several gulps before pouring himself a fresh pint. Eventually, I was the one that spoke first. “So, what now?”

Copperpot hesitated. “Ah, friends?”

I shook my head. “I’m not sure I’m ready to jump right back to something as close as friends. You should’ve told me you knew. You deliberately kept it from me because, from what I can tell, you wanted to profit off of our friendship without me realizing. As a businessman, I can accept that, but after everything… I’d kind of thought we were more.”

“... Does Whistlemop know?”

I shook my head, and Copperpot winced. “I’d guessed that he already knew. I was miffed that you’d told him but not me, actually.”

“No. Our relationship is fully built on mutual corporate interest an’ dirty secrets. I don’t think either of us considers tha other a ‘friend’, our history isn’t really compatible with that. We certainly never fought for our lives together – multiple times.”

“Then why – “

“The only reason I hadn’t told you yet was because I wasn't sure if you'd put the Pot Corporation first, and didn’t want to put you in that position. Seems I was right. And speaking of telling, you’re going to need to tell Berry about this. Tomorrow. You owe it to her, and I think she’s going to be really, really, hurt.”

Copperpot actually looked distraught, and this time it was my turn to sigh.

“But I am willing to give you a second chance. Time heals all wounds, and apparently I have a lot of it,” I finished.

“So… business partners?”

I held out a hand for a gnomish handshake. “Business partners.”

We shook hands, then sat in silence watching the fire as the muffled sounds of screaming and suplexes echoed through the manor.