The two traveled to the thick forests of the Mt. Foog region, there were several small towns in the area, one of which was called Dunshun.

This town had three different taverns and was mostly inhabited by Trolls and Ratmen, or Ratwomen, depending on how they identified themselves.

Rumfus sold the ale cheap to the tavern owners, he wasn’t in it for the money, he barely even made a profit.

For that reason, King Rumfy’s Spice became the main ale of choice in Dunshun.

Folks were soon coming from out of town just so they could have a taste, with that, Rumfus started making deals with and delivering to tavern owners in Ruckfoot and Stonewitt, two other towns in the Mt. Foog region.

With more taverns ordering more and more ale, Rumfus and Cetrid were starting to not be able to keep up with the demand.

Rumfus decided he and Cetrid would need to upgrade their ale brewing contraption.

Trouble was brewing elsewhere in Langstay, though, because after some time of King Rumfy’s Spice making its rounds, a bookkeeper in Blander-Dar, the Dwarven homeland’s capital, started to notice a decline in their ale sales in the Mt. Foog region.

Humdumson, the Dwarf in charge of reviewing orders and fulfilling shipments of ale sat in his office, sifting through a mess of parchments when one caught his eye.

The parchment listed the 10 towns in the Mt. Foog region and the number of barrels of ale they were ordering, he read down the list.

“Bardly… 42, Dunshun… 3, Furgleton… 26, Mootersom… 28, Quicklep… 33, Ruckfoot… 4, Serpendimon… 18, Stonewitt… 1, Whinsip… 44, Wishton… 27.”

Humdumson adjusted his glasses, opened one of the drawers of his desk and brought out a map.

He ran his finger across the map until his finger found Mt. Foog, he quickly realized that the three towns with the smallest orders were all in close proximity to each other.

“They’re all shitholes, probably killing each other… but then again…”

Humdumson had suspicions that there might be something going on, but didn’t want to blow things out of proportion over a little order discrepancy.

He spoke with Andul, a Dwarf who was interested in the whole Brew Wizard issue.

The Dwarves wanted to investigate the issue more, but the Nine Nations denied them the support and resources since the envoy never returned and there was no solid evidence proving there really was a Brew Wizard in the first place other than the word of a village drunk.

In time many Dwarfs had put the idea of an opposing ale operation to rest, forgetting about it almost completely.

Andul, however, did not forget.

It wasn’t much to go off of, even still, he made his way to Dunshun to ask some questions about the lack of orders, but more importantly to him, to look for the one labeled as the Brew Wizard.

Rumfus and Cetrid had finally finished the modifications to the auto brew contraption.

It now was so large that it required a ladder to get to the top to put their ingredients in, even for Rumfus.

With these modifications, they could supply ale to all the town's in the Mt. Foog region.

Rumfus was proud of the mini ale empire he and Cetrid had formed.

However, he couldn't help missing the freedom and joy of adventuring.

He thought to himself that maybe one day he'd go on a few more adventures when everything was stable and set up.

While Rumfus reminisced on past adventures, Cetrid approached him with a stack of parchments.

"Sir Rumfus? Sir?

I've heard talks that… uh… a tavern in Wishton might want to start selling our ale."

Rumfus wipes a year from his eye as he turns towards Cetrid.

"Hmm… excellent, I shall head there immediately!"

Rumfus walks over to a table and grabs his rucksack.

Cetrid nervously looks up at Rumfus.

"Oh… uh… do you think that maybe I could go this time?

I get terribly frightened and… uh… lonely here all by myself."

Rumfus pats Cetrid's head in encouragement.

"My dear Cetrid, you, unfortunately, lack the charisma to pull something like this off.

Mitsy and I will bring a sample barrel to Wishton and we will be back on the morrow!"

Cetrid hands the stack of parchments to Rumfus.

"Oh… uh… alright… sir…"

Rumfus takes the parchments and puts them into his rucksack.

“What’s the name of this tavern?”

Cetrid looks over a parchment that he had written on, the scribbles that were written down are practically unreadable, but he seems to read it just fine.

“Uh… the Grog Bog, I believe.”

Rumfus puts the rucksack on and walks over to a barrel of ale.

“Hmm… interesting, make sure the ale keeps brewing and that nothing goes wrong, Cetrid.”

Cetrid smiles and gives Rumfus a thumbs up before going over to the auto brew contraption.

Rumfus brings the barrel over to a ladder that leads up out of their base, he lifts the barrel and carries it with one arm as he climbs the ladder.

Upon the surface, the trap door style hatch to the base swings open, Rumfus is greeted to the lush forests surrounding Mt. Foog once again.

He pushes the barrel up then climbs out, then walks over to a conspicuous looking mound and grabs it.

Rumfus pulls at it and it reveals his empty cart, save for an animal harness and some rope.

Rumfus puts his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice.

“Mitsy! Come here, boy!”

After a moment, through one of the bushes, an animal’s head sticks out.

“Brrr.”

The animal was Mitsy, Rumfus’ cart puller and travel companion.

Mitsy was large and bulky, had a thick, white hide with big black splotches, long, semi-wavy horns, a short tail, and big beep, dark blue eyes.

Rumfus took the harness and rope out of the cart and loaded the barrel into it, then covered the barrel with the tarp.

He puts the harness over Mitsy’s head and fixes the ropes to it and the cart.

Rumfus smacks Mitsy’s butt, then the two were off to Wishton.

The sun had set moments before Rumfus and Mitsy made it to Wishton, outside the town was an unimaginative sign that said “Wishton - Insert Wish Joke Here”.

Rumfus found the Grog Bog, he left Mitsy with the cart as he went inside to make sure the location was right.

He went up and leaned on the bar, behind it was a Ratman wiping an ale mug with a rag.

“Rumfus.”

The Ratman looked Rumfus up and down.

“Tedly.”

Tedly was very short and had dark brown fur, much like the majority of civilized Ratmen, his clothes’ color was dark and dull, and he wore a dried out mustard-colored apron.

The mustard apron was a staple of all good tavern owners in Langstay.

“I heard talks that you might want to start selling a different spice here in your tavern.”

Tedly looked inquisitively at Rumfus.

“I think you might have heard right, friend.”

Rumfus gets up and starts to walk towards the door.

“Before any talks of business, though.”

He walked passed the patrons, who were now quietly whispering to each other, and went out the door.

A few moments later the door is kicked open, then Rumfus walked in with the barrel on his shoulder and slams it down on the bar.

“Everybody, drink up, this one’s on King Rumfy!”

Everyone in the tavern cheers as Tedly starts pouring out ale for everyone.

Many of the patrons had tried it before but had to go far out of town to enjoy a mug.

The others that were trying it for the first time were instantly hooked.

Everyone was pleading to Tedly that he start selling King Rumfy’s Spice, at the offered price, how could he say no?

The business was booming and continued to expand, it seemed that no one could get enough of their now locally famous ale.

Many days had passed when trouble had finally shown up in Dunshun.