Wheat beer, especially a hefeweizen, looks a little different from regular beer. To start, it’s usually a pale yellow, the colour of sun-baked straw, and has a scent reminiscent of crackers with citrus. Most ales are a slight amber brown, and relatively transparent, while unfiltered wheat beers, like hefeweizen, can be recognized by their signature wheat-protein haze.

The most common wheat-beers available in Canada are the ubiquitous German hefeweizen, and its cousin the Belgian witbier. Both are top fermenting with a mix of wheat and barley. Hefes use malted wheat, while wits are made without bothering to malt the wheat at all. This lends hefes a sweeter, more roasted flavour while wits taste a bit… doughier.

Hefes are actually regulated by several laws in their native Germany. There’s one law that says they must be top fermented, and several others related to allowable ingredients. The original hefes, also called weissbiers were originally illegal due to a law called the Reinheitsgebot. Reinheitsgebot means beer purity law - which is probably the most German thing I’ve ever heard of. It originated in the city of Munich in 1487 due to grain scarcity, but spread to most of Germany in 1516. The Reinheitsgebot required all German beer to be made of only barley, water, or hops. Yeast was added later, for obvious reasons.

Wheat was added to the Reinheitsgebot by royal decree later on to make hefes legal, but the law lasted relatively unaltered for over 500 years until it was modified by EU free-trade regulations. While the ingredients have changed slightly, and imported beers are allowed to be called ‘beer’, German breweries are still required to follow the Reinheitsgebot if they want to call their drink 'beer'.

I preferred hefes myself, but had been forced to make a Belgian witbier due to a lack of malted wheat. I’d found the flavour… passable, though I was still using the damnable disgusting gruit mix that went into our other beers. My one sip had been an experience, which meant I was actually kind of nervous as I poured Berry a drink straight from the tank.

Raspberrysyrup held it to her nose and sniffed it, gave a shrug, then drank slowly from the tankard of frothy yellow beer. She finished one mouthful and then swished a second around between her cheeks, her dimples popping out in turn. She took another sip and swallowed with a gulp then regarded the crowd.

“It… tastes like beer?” She said, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in. I’d been expecting a speech on the level of Richter’s first taste of bottle-conditioned beer, but that was perhaps too much to ask.

“That’s good, right?” Johnsson asked.

“I mean, I’m not really a beer drinker, so I couldn’t say.” Berry shrugged. “I don’t dislike it though, and I hate dwarven beer.”

“No wonder she gets along so well with Pete!” John quipped and the grumble chuckled.

Emma chimed in brightly. “If it isn’t terrible, that’s great! Most gnomes I’ve spoken to say beer tastes like cat piss!”

“You know, there’s a lot of genetics that goes into how each individual perceives tha taste of beer-” I began.

“No monologues!” Richter, Johnsson, and Aqua shouted as one. I pouted.

“Why would dey know what cat piss tastes like?” Richter muttered as everyone began asking questions at once.

“Would ya drink it again?” “What’s it taste like!?” “Do ya like it better than tea?” “Does it give yer tummy cramps?” “That’s just dwarves, ya ninny!” “What did you call me, Zirce?” “Awww, is all that time at tha beardy parlour hurting your hearing Johnsson?” “You could use a bit less time at the parlour yourself, frizzface!”

We ignored Johnsson and Zirce as they went at it. Aqua took me aside while Emma hummed and haa’d about whether sharing a tankard with Raspberrysyrup was worth the runs.

“Pete, I don’t know if we have the capacity to run a parallel distribution system right now.” Aqua said with concern.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Annie would know more, but I did just spend the last two years being her dwarfsbody. Let me put it this way, how many gnomes do you usually see in the brewpub?”

I began counting down on my fingers. “Well, there’s Beatbox. And Lemontwist. And that gnome with the brown mono-brow. And… that’s it. But we already know that gnomes don’t buy True Brew! With the right advertising, maybe we’ll be able to get them hooked on wheat beer!”

Aqua shook her head. “It’s not that simple. Even if you can convince them to start drinking wheat beer, they aren’t necessarily going to start visiting our stores. We have a dwarven clientele, full stop; we aren’t set up to distribute to gnomish establishments. We don’t know who they are, or the proper channels at all. Like I said though, you’ll need to talk to Annie.”

I frowned. “Ugh… so we don't just need an ad campaign and a good product, we also need a racial distributor?? I could try to put Whistlemop on it, but he’s busy enough.”Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Aqua nodded. “Okay, do you have any other ideas?”

“Maybe, but like you said, I’ll need to talk with Annie after her and Balin finish getting ideas.”

Aqua smiled. “Alright. And Pete? Thanks.”

I chuckled. “What for? It isn’t as though I got Raspberrysyup just for you!”

Aqua hesitated. “For… for everything. For making my job feel like a home again, and for bringing some light into my life. We were in a really dark place for a couple years there. I really appreciate it.”

"Awwww, you’re welcome Aqua! Come’ere!” I held out my arms wide. Aqua came in for the hug, and we stood there for a moment. Just a moment though, as we were forced to dodge Johnsson as Zirce chucked him across the room.

Aqua laughed, bright and cheerful, then went to go and peer pressure Emma into drinking the witbier. Kirk was already chugging his third mug.

I took a deep breath. Alright, I just had to find a distributor, then create an advertising campaign with the city’s only celebrity and convince the entire gnomish population to drink my new beer. Finally, I needed to win the local competition for best local brewery, and then go to the capital where I needed to beat a literal God in a bet to win my soul.

No pressure.

I looked up to the sky. Barck, wherever you’re watching, I hope you’re enjoying the show. Ya big jerk.

—

Somewhere else.

On the side of a cliff there stood a white stone gazebo. Mist fell from a great waterfall that stretched beneath it, vanishing into the clouds below. A black mountain rose up behind it, seeming to touch the sky. A circular marble table sat in the centre of the gazebo, and a group of seven cloaked figures sat around it in ornate wooden chairs.

They were in the middle of a heated discussion as they watched the movement of eight porcelain figurines upon a board in the middle of the table.

Midna, Human Goddess of communication and spirit, moaned as her piece made another wrong move. “Noooo! Why would you do that!? Do the thing!! The thing I told you about!!!” She pulled at slightly stringy black hair. She moved to grab a figurine of a human woman holding a book, but a scaled hand smacked her fingers away.

“Don’t micromanage your Chosen, Midna,” Solen, Draconic God of freedom and chaos said firmly. “I don’t need another complication like Barck’s.”

“Easy for you to say!” Midna hissed. “Your Chosen is in the middle of winning his little war!”

Solen’s smug smile was wiped clean as Archis, the Human God of knowledge and magic chuckled at his side.

“And yet he’s still behind my pink princess. The reason you keep losing the Great Game, Solen, is because there just aren’t enough dragons to impact the board. Maybe try something else next time.” Archis’s tone was almost mocking, but not quite.

Solen’s eyes glittered dangerously as he spoke. “There are plenty enough to affect the Game.” As he spoke, his piece moved across the board. Down upon the Erd, a draconic lineage over ten millennia old was snuffed out in that instant.

Every God at the table stiffened at that.

“You’d better not be planning what I think you’re thinking!.” Aaron, the Beastfolk God of aether and exchange complained. His ears, each similar to the tufts of an owl, twitched in displeasure. “I like my Chosen this round. He’s at a huge disadvantage but isn’t falling behind at all!” He glanced covetously at a figurine of a large male beastman in broken chains.

“It doesn’t matter. The dragons are sufficiently separated, and adequately hobbled. They're a non-issue. Let Solen play with them as he likes.” Lunara snapped. The Elven Goddess of law and order stared at her piece with pride. “Mine is doing very well, it’s everything I could have hoped for.”

The assembled Gods turned to look as well. A porcelain figure of a dwarf carrying a Shepherd’s crook moved confidently across the board. Down below on Erd, a corrupt dwarven nobleman discovered that tormenting the servants responsible for bringing him dinner was a fatal mistake.

“I know he’s yours, Lunara, but I got to him first! I like him, and he’s been getting me a lot of new souls!” Yearn, Goddess of relationships and nether said. She was languishing in the form of a human maiden, though her age flickered between twenty and two hundred.

“Maybe focus more on your own Chosen, Yearn. I don’t even understand what he’s doing anymore.” Archis said, looking more closely at a figurine of a human holding a whip. “He made one or two quick moves and then stopped completely.”

“He’s doing something.” Solen muttered. “He’s accruing Karma faster than any other Chosen, but not influencing anyone. Has anyone focused on him lately?”

Lunara waved a hand nonchalantly. “I always follow Yearn’s work. He was in and out of a few dungeons for a while. But she’s blocked our view of him.”

Solen turned a steely gaze on Yearn, who shrugged.

“I used his Karma,” she said. “The Game allows it.”

Solen blinked. “He had that much already!?”

“Barck’s has more, not that he can use it.” She grinned maliciously, her face shifting mercurially into the crocodilian smile of a dragon.

“Speaking of Barck’s Chosen, I see that he’s moving in tandem with yours, Archis.” Tiara, the Gnomish Goddess of matter and possessions observed brightly. “I have high hopes for when they reach my own Chosen. I think he’ll be able to take full advantage of their skills.”

“It remains to be seen if that’s the case,” Archis remarked. “It is entirely possible that Peter and Rasperrysyrup never leave the nation of Crack. Not that it really matters; her music magic will spread far and wide even without her direct control.” He shook his head. “Though I don't see ‘Beer’ traveling much beyond the dwarven lands, I suspect Barck doesn’t care. He’s already gotten more than he wanted.”

Everyone looked out the side of the gazebo, to a bluff where a certain Dwarven God of spark and innovation had been spending his days drinking and laughing.

“He’s going to be insufferable if he wins this,” Aaron remarked, idly tapping the marble table with a single extended claw.

“I’m not worried.” Lunara remarked, her eyes still glued to the board. “I have little doubt that my Chosen will… deal with it. He really, really, wants to win.” Her eyes sparkled and spun, twin galaxies set against the midnight sun of her complexion.

As the Gods watched, the figurines of a small gnomess and a tankard wielding dwarf slowly moved directly into the path of Lunara’s chosen. The Gods grew quiet and watched, as they always watched and would continue to watch into the hereafter.

The Game was just getting interesting.