Chapter 87 – The Brew Beyond the Kingdom: The Dwarven Crown’s Secret Yearning “This elixir... it sings,” rumbled King Bronzegrip, sovereign of the Emberdeep Holds, his jeweled fingers trembling as he lifted a strangely smooth bottle crafted in foreign lands. The golden froth glistened like liquid treasure beneath the enchanted torchlight. A chorus of gasps and hurried protests erupted from the stone-carved council table. “Your Majesty!” cried one of his rune-marked advisors. “Such contraband sullies the honor of our clan-brewers! This swill is forbidden! It is not of dwarven make!” King Bronzegrip’s eyes widened as if struck by a hammer of memory. He coughed—a clumsy, theatrical fit—then hastily corrected himself. “Ahem. Yes, indeed. Ahem. That’s precisely what I meant to declare—this foreign draught is a peril to our sacred brew-halls. Utterly forbidden... vile stuff…” But the lie curdled in his throat. The taste still danced on his tongue, wicked and wondrous. He, the paragon