Evenings in Huxin Town are always tranquil and gentle, with the afterglow of the setting sun spilling onto the lake, creating a layer of golden and red shimmering waves.
The city's most central area, the small island in the lake, is not large, but it appears solemn and orderly because of the presence of the lord's mansion.
The lord's manor was brightly lit at this moment, and servants moved between the corridors, setting out silver cutlery and crystal wine glasses one by one. The air was filled with the aroma of roasted venison and herb stew.
This was a banquet prepared for the returning travelers, not only for Helson, but also for the dwarf messenger who had accompanied him down the mountain.
On the long table in the center of the hall, a deep red velvet cloth was laid out, and silver candlesticks reflected the firelight onto the glass chandelier, creating a soft glow.
The table was laden with a sumptuous feast: a whole roasted leg of lamb, pheasant with rosemary and honey, a mountain of fresh mushrooms and cheese, and jam and mead in earthenware jars.
Servants carried steaming soup platters back and forth, as if the entire kitchen had been moved here.
Paul stood before the mansion gates, dressed in a dark suit, his expression gentle. Behind him stood several important officials: old Ford, white-haired yet vigorous; Hansel, who always wore a faint smile; two intelligence officers; the shrewd and capable Cecil; and standing beside him, Derson Plant.
Desen was thin, pale, with deep-set eyes that held a hint of barely perceptible fanaticism.
He was originally a member of the Arcane Order, who came to the Northwest Bay with his mentor, O'Donnell, intending to use mind magic to uncover Paul's secrets. However, the failed spell not only caused O'Donnell's mental breakdown but also completely changed Derson's fate—in that mental shock, he glimpsed fragments of knowledge from another world in Paul's mind, and was so awed by them that he worshipped Paul as a god.
He is now an analyst in the intelligence department. Although he is not often involved in operations, he is valued for his keen insight and his almost obsessive loyalty to Paul.
"They've arrived," Paul said softly. The servant's announcement rang out, and everyone looked into the distance.
The carriage stopped, and Helson got off first, followed closely by the dwarf envoy named Dain. They had returned to Laketown together the day before.
He was clad in dark gray leather armor, his beard was neatly trimmed, and his eyes and brows conveyed a sense of composure and alertness that seemed to come from the deep mountains.
Paul stepped forward and smiled slightly: "Welcome to the banquet."
Helson nodded in acknowledgment, while Dain bowed respectfully, his voice low but clear: "Thank you for your hospitality, Lord." His Aldor was still somewhat broken.
"Tonight, let us raise a glass to those who have returned." Paul gestured for them to come in; dinner is ready.
The banquet hall was filled with flickering candlelight and fragrant aromas.
Paul took his seat at the head of the table, gestured for the servants to bring wine, and with a slight smile, said to Dain:
"Having heard that dwarves enjoy drinking, we specially prepared a new kind of wine—unlike the sweet wines or fruit wines of the past, this is a strong spirit called Dragon's Breath."
"Oh, I'd like to see that!" Dain raised an eyebrow, his beard trembling slightly, revealing a hint of interest.
As the servants carried the silver tray into the hall, the air seemed to tremble.
Six servants slowly approached, carrying heavy earthenware jars and matching silver cups. The jars still retained the warmth of the winery's freshly made jars.
"This is a newly produced distilled spirit here," Paul said. "It is made from fermented malt that has been distilled multiple times. It's as strong as fire and as sharp as a knife."
The servants skillfully poured wine for each guest. The wine in Dain's silver cup was clear and almost colorless, yet it shimmered with a faint blue glow under the candlelight.
The moment the wine jar was opened, a strong and pure aroma of wine instantly filled the air, like waves of burning wheat or the intense heat of a wildfire just beginning to ignite.
Dain took a gentle sniff, and his whole body jolted.
His eyes widened, and then he couldn't help but mutter a dwarven phrase under his breath: "By the hammer... could it contain the power of wildfire?"
He looked up, his eyes gleaming with surprise and excitement: "This wine... is no ordinary wine, it has power."
Paul chuckled and raised his glass: "Then let's drink to strength."
Everyone raised their glasses, and Dain solemnly picked up his silver cup and drank the wine in one gulp.
The moment the liquor entered his throat, he froze, as if a volcano had been ignited within him, burning from his throat all the way to his chest.
A moment later, his beard trembled, and an almost sacred satisfaction appeared on his face.
"Fine wine!" He slammed the glass down on the table, his voice deep yet full of respect. "This wine deserves to be served at a banquet in Firefortress."
Paul and Helson exchanged a glance, both seeing a smile in each other's eyes.
It seems that Dragon's Breath has successfully captured the heart of a dwarf.
After a cup was finished, the atmosphere at the banquet gradually warmed up. Dain held his silver cup, gently swirling the colorless yet fiery liquid inside. His brow furrowed slightly, and he finally couldn't help but speak:
"My lord," he said with a hint of inquiry, "you just said this wine is distilled, a term I've never heard before. What does it mean?"
Paul smiled slightly, put down his wine glass, and looked at him with a relaxed and amused expression.
"Of course it can be explained." He nodded. "Distillation is a process of heating fermented wine to turn it into steam, and then cooling it back into liquid. This process can extract alcohol from the wine, making the final wine more concentrated than ordinary fermented wine."
Dain listened intently, his beard trembling slightly: "So...you turn the wine into vapor and then let it fall down? Like rain?"
"Pretty much," Paul nodded, "except this rain is full of fire."
Dain pondered for a moment, his eyes gleaming with interest: "Then... what kind of containers do you use for heating? How do you control the temperature? And—how do you determine when to stop distilling?"
He asked several questions in one breath, his tone clearly showing his thirst for knowledge.
Paul's smile remained gentle, but a hint of wariness appeared in his eyes.
He gently set down his glass, his tone still friendly, yet carrying a hint of undeniable authority:
"These questions involve the secrets of our Huxin Town winery's craftsmanship. I'd be happy to share the wine with you, but not all of its secrets."
He paused, then added, "Dwarves have always valued their forging techniques, and I think you can understand that."
Dain paused for a moment, then chuckled and nodded.
"Of course, I understand." He raised his glass, a hint of respect flashing in his eyes. "You must have your reasons for being able to brew such wine."
He tilted his head back and drank the wine in his glass, the fiery liquid reigniting his passion.