Ash 10, 121
The sun was beginning to rise over Zaichaer, as Franky watched the team of four Mortallen carry an absolutely enormous barrel of Imperial Brown Ale along the Copper Cut. He gestured over to the spot he'd reserved, overlooking the cliffs, giving a gorgeous view of the homes below. The Mortallen all worked in unison, grunting loudly as they moved the barrel into place, standing it on its end, standing just as tall as any of them. Franky stepped over, offering up the four pouches of coins for hiring them. "Thanks guys, you comin' by after you finish work?" There were several noncommitted grunts and shrugs, as they took their payments and left.
Franky already had a table set up next to the road, a barrel chained to a stone next to the chair by it, and several crates of cheap, wooden flagons. He'd already been telling his regulars about this kick off event of Vintusvarm, one of his favorite of the Imperial traditions. He looked up at the mountain of a barrel, seeing Vintusvarm etched into huge letters on its front, facing the road and smiled. Today was going to be fun.
An Ork couple was walking by, when they stopped at the sight of the massive barrel. They whispered to each other, looked at Franky. Then they walked over, the man smiling. "I take it that's yours?"
Franky grinned, leaning against the table, "Mine? Not just mine. It's yours now. You've looked upon the Keg of Vintusvarm and now you're beholden to it just like myself."
The woman looked skeptical, "What do you mean?"
"Tradition says that all who look upon the Keg of Vintusvarm must ensure that its contents are drunk before night falls. If its not emptied and drunk before then, all who looked upon it will have bad luck for the rest of the season."
The ork man was grinning, not believing it, but his partner was clearly the superstitious one of them and it showed on her face. "But... that's so much. There's no way it can be done. You've doomed us."
Franky's smile only broadened, "I was raised in a small village in the Imperium, only a few hundred people or so. And every year, without fail, my village finished the Keg of Vintusvarm. I know the people of the Knob can do it too." Then he gestured to the wooden flagons on the table, "If everyone does their part."
The woman looked genuinely concerned, the man just chuckling to himself in disbelief but playing along with what he thought was silly, "How much for a flagon?"
"A silver."
She grabbed two from her coin purse, handing them to Franky, grabbing the flagons, "Come on hun, a drink before work could be fun."
"What's the brew, mate?"
"Imperial Brown Ale."
"Ayyy, that's some good shit, ain't had that in ages."
The couple moved towards the keg, turning the tap to pour their drinks. Franky pushed the silver coins through the slit of the tightly sealed barrel that was chained to the rock. He listened to them clattered and looked forward to hearing the sound of it being filled to the brim. As the next person approached, he flashed them a smile, and continued to work the early morning customers, wondering if Millie would come by. It was optional, she could choose to work this, or try to work the tavern on her own for the day. Franky knew he needed to get more staff, but Millie was doing a fine job so far. Plus, the more good faith he got in the community, the more hires he could get.
For now, he sipped at his own flagon, poured earlier. Franky always did enjoy taking the first drink from one of his kegs. He almost always did so. And Imperial Brown Ale reminded him of those long nights at home, around the cooking fire outside his house with his wife. Another sip made him think he should send some letters back home. His kids would be missing him, despite being busy with all of their kids.
Another sip and Franky saw his wife's eyes, the same beautiful color of the ale. Another sip, and he saw them close for the last time, again. Another sip, and he blinked away the tears, putting on the smile as a crew of goblin builders approached, inquiring.
Vintusvarm had been brought to Zaichaer and now it had officially begun.
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