“Heave-ho! Heave-ho...”
Inside the dim wine cellar,
simple wall lamps made of animal fat cast a faint glow, illuminating the sweat-drenched faces of the burly kobold men.
Beneath their feet were glass tubs shaped like bathtubs.
To the rhythm of their heavy chants, the plump, juicy grapes inside the tubs were ruthlessly crushed to pieces.
Amidst the splashing of purple juice, even the air became thick and sweet.
Watching these muscular dragonborn kobolds, Fido couldn't help but marvel once again at his Grace's wisdom.
Keeping these heavily dragonized youngsters hidden in the underground cellar to brew wine not only prevented the exposure of the two Graces and the brewing method,
but also trained the physical fitness of these young ones.
Just look at those sturdy thighs covered in black scales; they could probably run faster than the swiftest wind camels in the wasteland.
His gaze shifted to the stacked glass barrels on the other side of the cellar.
Some contained wine that had already finished fermenting.
Others were still in the process of fermentation.
In the past, unless these fruits were dried, traveling merchants wouldn't even look at them.
According to them, after a bumpy journey out of the God-Forsaken Land, the fruits would have rotted beyond recognition.
Even if they were dried, the price offered by the merchants was extremely low.
Yet now, these worthless fruits, crushed and fermented using the method taught by Her Grace, had transformed into a liquor she called red wine.
“It's magical. No matter how many times I examine it, there are no magical fluctuations at all. How on earth is this done?”
Fido couldn't help but mutter.
“Perhaps this is the boundless wisdom of Her Grace.”
Scratching the slightly itchy scales on his head, he continued his patrol in the dim cellar.
If any of the young ones made a mistake in the process, he would correct them immediately,
preventing the final product from turning into a pile of smelly water instead of red wine.
Rhythmic footsteps echoed through the noisy cellar. Fido no longer needed to use a cane.
After becoming a dragonborn, he had not only regained his youth but had also luckily become a noble Draconic Sorcerer.
This also led to his extraordinary adoration of Irene.
If placed in a church, he would be a textbook fanatic.
If it weren't for the current shortage of labor in the tribe, this reborn kobold would have wanted to erect a majestic statue for his great Grace.
“Chief! Chief!”
Even in the noisy cellar, the sharp cries were piercingly loud.
A flurry of hurried footsteps followed.
In the passage leading to the outside world, a young kobold came stumbling in.
Not paying attention, he crashed head-on into a passing dragonborn kobold.
The powerful recoil knocked him to the ground.
The solid chest gave the young kobold the illusion of hitting a brick wall.
Shaking his head, he looked up at the dragonborn kobold, who stood a full two meters tall.
Although it wasn't the first time he had seen one, it still shocked him deeply.
He couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret in his heart.
If only he were a bit stronger, perhaps he could have been chosen to become a member of the Black Knights.
“Dart, are you okay?”
The dragonborn kobold said in a muffled voice, extending a hand to pull him up.
“N-no, I'm fine.”
The young kobold named Dart said. Catching sight of Fido hurrying over after hearing the commotion, he quickly reported:
“Chief, the traveling merchant is here.”
“Oh? Back so soon.”
Fido first scanned the cellar, then after a moment's thought, said to Dart:
“Go call a few clansmen down to carry up the watered-down red wine. Make sure you don't grab the wrong ones.”
“Okay, I'll go right away.” Dart turned and ran back into the deep passage.
Once Dart was far enough, Fido unhurriedly gave a few final instructions to the dragonborn kobolds in the cellar.
Then, he walked into the passage step by step.
The moment he stepped into the passage, his body rapidly hunched over.
Using Polymorph, he transformed back into his former self—a thin, scrawny old kobold.
...
On the plaza of the Iron Tooth Tribe.
A caravan of dozens of people was surrounded by kobolds, led by none other than Magricius.
The reason he brought so many people this time wasn't for revenge, but to stock up on goods.
After trying to sell wine for the strange mixologist a few times, he was surprised to find that even though he only got a ten percent profit,
it was actually more than what he used to make.
Furthermore, this wine was much easier to sell than those dried fruits.
In fact, most of the time, before even reaching the Eastern Kingdoms,
the wine would already be bought out by those alcohol-loving, big-bearded dwarves while passing through the Dwarven Empire.
Especially the new type of red wine recently brewed by the mixologist; it was exceptionally popular.
Almost every time a shipment arrived, it would be snatched up instantly.
A merchant's mind is always sharp.
Sensing a massive business opportunity, Magricius went all in. He simply sold off all his belongings, borrowed a large sum of money, and assembled over a dozen carriages.
He planned to specialize in traveling back and forth to sell the liquor.
Thus, after explaining his purpose and handing over ninety percent of the profits from the last sale, Magricius rubbed his hands in anticipation.
He waited for these filthy kobolds to bring out those lovely wine barrels.
At this moment, he was actually still a bit afraid.
Not because he was afraid of that little loli-like mixologist jumping out to choke his neck again.
Although this mixologist's temper wasn't very good, so what?
As long as there was money to be made!
If the pay was high enough, let alone almost choking him to death—
even if she really choked him to death, he would rise as an undead just to shout:
“Great choke!”
What Magricius was truly afraid of was the mysterious mixologist suddenly disappearing.
If that happened, the caravan he spent all his assets to assemble would go down the drain.
That would be more painful than killing him directly.
Fortunately, after a short wait, the old kobold appeared.
Under his arrangements, jars of glass were quickly carried out.
Through the transparent glass, one could see the pale red wine inside.
“Oh! My dear Chief, these are truly exquisite creations.”
Seeing the goods, Magricius's smile was brighter than a blooming chrysanthemum. He hurriedly called his caravan members to load the wine jars onto the carriages.
During the process, he kept instructing them to be careful, deeply afraid of breaking these delicate, fragile items.
Fortunately, after trading these past few days, he had grown accustomed to these unique glass jars.
The caravan always kept a Black Iron Rank mage on hand.
After draining all of this mage's mana to continuously cast a Cushioning Spell on all the glass jars to reduce any impact, Magricius finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Seeing that all the carriages were filled with the transparent glass wine jars, the slick traveling merchant did not rush to leave.
Instead, he walked up to Fido and carefully retrieved a crystal from his storage ring.
He waved it in front of Fido's eyes.
This was the very crystal he had “taken” from the old kobold during his first visit to the tribe.
Seeing the crystal, unpleasant memories were dredged up for Fido, and his expression instantly turned extremely sour.
Ignoring Fido's complicated gaze, Magricius smiled and said:
“My dear Chief, I happened to find this crystal on my way here.”
“I figured you must have lost it, so I brought it back for you.”
“I hope you can put in a good word for me in front of the esteemed mixologist.”
“As you can see, I have prepared so many carriages. For the task of selling wine for Her Grace, one traveling merchant like me is more than enough...”
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