Hello My dear crazy readers...
ENJOY....
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Inside, the temperature had risen twenty degrees, a massive fire roared in the newly reinforced hearth, and two smaller braziers burned near the drying racks.
To the fifteen men huddled inside, stripped down to their tunics, it was the warmest they had been since the last Long Summer, but thwarmth didn't fill a belly.
"It's cruel, is what it is," Hake muttered, stirring the massive vat of greyish sludge with a wooden paddle the size of an oar. "Look at it, It's thick and steaming, smells like porridge."
"It's not porridge," Jon said from his perch on a crate, checking the temperature of the mash with a finger.
"It's potatoes," the brute next to Hake grumbled, eyeing the vat with tragic longing. "Perfectly good taters and we mashed 'em. And then we let 'em sit here until they bubbled like a witch's cauldron."
"If you eat that," Jon said, not looking up, "you will spend the next three days shitting your soul out through your boots, that bubbling isn't cooking. It's fermentation, the yeast is eating the sugar and pissing out alcohol."
The brute recoiled, looking at the mash with sudden horror. "Pissing? You put piss in the soup?"
Jon sighed, rubbing his temples. Explaining microbiology to medieval thugs is next level Impossibility.
"It's a figure of speech. Just keep stirring, if it sticks to the bottom and burns, the whole batch tastes like charcoal."
He jumped down and walked over to the corner where Kegg and Tobias were arguing over a monstrosity of metal, the Copper Still was finished. It was made from scavenged church roofing, beaten flat and riveted together by a blacksmith who had asked far too many questions.
It looked like a giant, blackened onion with a long, swan like neck that curled down into a barrel of cold river water.
"It leaks," Tobias the glassblower whined, pointing to a seam near the neck. "Steam is coming out, If the pressure builds up....."
"It won't explode," Jon promised, though he took a step back just in case. "Kegg, seal it."
"With what?" the carpenter barked.
"I don't have solder!"
"Flouropaste....right you don't know.," Jon said. At their blank stares, he elaborated. "Make a dough, flour and water, make it thick and plaster it over the cracks. When the heat hits it, it'll bake hard and seal the steam in."
Kegg looked at him like he had grown a second head. "You want me to bake bread on the devil's kettle?"
"Just do it."
Thirty minutes later, the contraption was humming and the fire beneath the copper belly was roaring, and the distinctive thump-hiss of boiling liquid echoed inside the metal beast.
The room went silent, the men stopped stirring. Even Duncan, who was sharpening his axe by the door, stood up and walked over. They watched the copper coil that spiraled through the water barrel.
"What are we waiting for?" Duncan asked, crossing his massive arms. "A god?"
A single, clear drop formed at the lip of the copper pipe. It hung there for a second, catching the light of the fire, looking like a diamond.
Drip.....
It fell into the clay jug below.
"Water?" Hake asked, disappointed.
"All that wood, all those taters... for water?"
He reached out with a tin cup.
"Let's see if it's at least hot."
"Don't!" Jon's hand shot out, slapping the cup away.
The liquid splashed onto the floor near the fire.
A ghostly blue flame erupted from the stone, dancing violently for a second before vanishing.
The men gasped, stumbling back, Hake turned pale, clutching his chest.
"Sorcery!" Goran yelled, reaching for a club.
"Science!" Jon shouted back, stepping between them and the still.
"Listen to me! The first part, the first cup that comes out is poison, It's something called methanol. It will make you go blind and will kill you before you hit the floor."
He pointed to the blue flame, which was still flickering faintly on the stone.
"See that? That's the devil leaving the spirit. We throw the first cup away.....Always."
The men stared at the dripping pipe with newfound terror and respect, they weren't just making a drink, they were wrangling fire.
Jon waited and watched the flow.
He dipped a finger in, tasted it, and spat it out immediately.
"Still poison," he muttered.
He waited another ten minutes, the smell changed.
"Now," Jon said softly.
He swapped the jug for a clean glass jar, one of the few Tobias had managed to blow without cracking.
The liquid ran clear..... Crystal clear.
It looked exactly like water from a mountain spring.
Jon let it fill an inch and lifted the jar. He swirled it, the oils clung to the glass, weeping down slowly.
He looked at Duncan.
"You're the biggest," Jon said, handing him the jar. "If it kills you, at least you'll make a nice rug."
Duncan snorted, taking the jar and sniffed it. "Smells like... nothing, maybe a little sweet."
"Drink."
Duncan shrugged.
He was a mercenary; he had drunk swamp water, horse blood, and ale that tasted like piss. He tipped the jar back and took a massive swig.
He froze and his eyes bulged. He gagged, clutching his throat.
The men watched in horror and Goran even started to pray.
Then, Duncan slammed the jar down on the table. He coughed, a deep, rattling sound that shook his beard and wheezed and then, a massive grin split his scarred face.
"By the Gods," Duncan rasped, his voice sounding like gravel sliding down a mountain. "It's... it's like swallowing a torch. But...."
He rubbed his stomach.
"It's warm, It's burning right here, I can feel my toes again."
He looked at the jar with reverence as if looking at his wife.
"Give me another."
"Easy, big man," Jon laughed, taking the jar back. "This isn't ale, you don't chug it...you sip it. This is stronger than strongwine. Three cups of this, and you'll wake up in Dorne without your pants."
He poured a small amount into a thimble-sized cup and passed it to Hake.
"Try it."
Hake took it gingerly,he sipped and coughed, then he smiled.
"It's clean," Hake whispered.
"It doesn't taste like bog water or barley. It just tastes like....cold fire."
"Exactly," Jon said.
In a world where clean water was a luxury and alcohol was usually brown and chunky, this was a miracle.
[System Alert: Crafting Complete]
[Item Created: Distilled Spirit (Potato Base)]
[Quality: S (for this era)]
[Please Name Your Creation]
Jon looked at the liquid.
"We need something special," Jon announced to the room. " we don't call it 'fire water', that sounds like something a wildling drinks."
He tapped the glass.
"It burns when it hits your lips, but it warms you in the long night. It's a lover that treats you rough but keeps you safe."
He looked at Duncan.
"We call it Winter's Kiss."
Duncan nodded slowly. "Winter's Kiss, I like it.....Sounds expensive."
"It will be," Jon promised.
"Get the bottles, Tobias, we have work to do."
As the men scrambled to help, no longer complaining about the smell or the hunger, energized by the magic water, Jon stood back and watched.
He took a small sip from the jar himself. The burn was familiar, it tasted like his drinks he had.
He corked the bottle.
"Duncan," Jon said.
"Aye?"
"Put a guard on the still. If anyone drinks the Heads .... the poison part, you toss them in the river. Understood?"
"Understood, boss."
Jon smiled.
Authors Note:-
It's a bonus chapter.
Next chapter will be a small smut.... We have to give to all right....
So let's goo..... support with power stones and give reviews.
Also still mad about my Hollywood novel being blocked.