Alcohol

“We've used it all up.”

Irene was a bit surprised.

“Y-Yes, Your Grace,”

Fido wiped his drenched forehead and continued,

“But please do not worry, Your Grace. As per our usual routine, traveling merchants will pass by in a couple of days.”

“We will trade for more salt then...”

“Trade for salt?”

Irene looked at the fruit and roasted meat on the wooden cart.

This kobold tribe mainly relied on dried fruit to trade with those traveling merchants.

But with so much fruit being eaten by the two of them every day, how much fruit could possibly be left to dry?

Noticing Irene's gaze, Fido hurriedly explained,

“Your Grace, Your Grace, please do not worry!”

“The dried fruit for trade is all saved from the tribe's own rations! The portion offered to both Your Graces will absolutely not be reduced!”

“That's more like it,”

Daviel said,

“Hurry it up. I can't stomach roasted meat without salt.” As he spoke, he stuffed a large piece of roasted meat into his mouth.

A crisp clinking sound suddenly echoed through the entire lair.

At that moment, everyone's gaze was drawn over.

A small pile of gold coins had appeared out of air in front of Fido.

Daviel, who hadn't even swallowed his mouthful of roasted meat, widened his eyes at the sight.

He stared at Irene in utter disbelief. He wanted to speak, but the roasted meat in his mouth choked him, sending him into a coughing fit.

Fido also looked at Irene in great surprise.

Several space gems floated in front of him.

Clearly, these gold coins had been poured out of the space gems by the black dragon before him.

“Take these and buy more salt. Also, commission those traveling merchants to collect all kinds of magic books for me.”

Irene said calmly, using Mage Hand to return the space gems to a corner of the lair.

“Th-This... This is...”

Fido, the old kobold, stared with wide eyes. This was the first time he had ever seen so many gold coins.

For this impoverished kobold tribe, which couldn't even scrape together half a gold coin if they pooled everything,

the shock of seeing so many gold coins was no different from a dirt-poor family on Earth suddenly stumbling upon a mountain of gold.

“Is this really alright... Your Grace?”

Old tears welled up in Fido's eyes. With these gold coins, perhaps his tribesmen would no longer have to starve themselves to make dried fruit.

Lately, many of his people had already collapsed from hunger.

“Cough, cough, cough! Pfft!”

Daviel frantically clawed out the steak stuck in his throat and roared,

“No! I don't agree!”

As a purebred evil dragon who loved money as much as his own life,

taking gold coins from him was more painful than taking his life.

However, his protest was destined to be useless.

Irene ignored him completely.

She simply went on instructing Fido on what kinds of magic books to commission the merchants to buy.

Then, amidst their profuse gratitude, praises, and kowtows, she chased the kobolds out of the lair.

Compared to cold gold coins, this rather unconventional little dragon girl preferred delicious food and magical knowledge that could improve her own strength.

To her, only by possessing great power could one possess more wealth.

Without power, no matter how much wealth one had, it would only end up in someone else's pockets.

Daviel could only watch helplessly as the kobolds disappeared into the pitch-black tunnel with the gold coins. He shrunk his neck in resignation.

Meekly, he chose to bury his head back in his food.

...

Ten minutes later.

The familiar creaking sound once again echoed through the underwater dragon's lair.

Daviel, who was taking a post-meal nap, opened one of his dragon eyes.

Irene, who had been testing spell effects, also stopped casting and looked toward the tunnel entrance.

Before long, a familiar figure emerged from the tunnel.

It was Fido.

Behind him was the wooden cart they had pulled away earlier.

Only this time, the cart was no longer loaded with fruit and roasted meat, but with wooden barrels sealed with corks.

A thick layer of dust had settled on the barrels, making them look quite old.

“Your Grace,”

Fido stepped forward and bowed respectfully to each of the two black dragons.

“Geezer, what is it now?”

Daviel spoke first. He was clearly still harboring some resentment over having his gold coins taken away.

After stealing a glance at Irene, Fido pointed to the wooden barrels on the cart and began to introduce them:

“This is some alcohol, offered to both Your Graces.”

After saying this, he directed the cart-pushing kobolds to unload the barrels of alcohol from the wooden cart.

“Alcohol?”

Irene was a bit surprised. She hadn't expected such an impoverished tribe to possess such a luxury.

One had to know that in this otherworldly realm, alcohol was not as common as it had been in her previous life.

In this world, alcohol was considered a type of potion.

The origin of this potion could no longer be traced.

The most reliable theory recorded in the Draconic Inheritance was that in ancient times, a potion apprentice had made it by mistake.

He found that this potion tasted rather unique, so he tried making a batch to sell.

To his surprise, it quickly took the entire continent by storm.

However, that potion apprentice later vanished mysteriously.

Over the countless years that followed, some potion makers successfully replicated this potion.

Though the flavors differed.

After countless years of refinement, it eventually evolved into the various types and flavors of alcohol available today.

And the potion makers who specialized in brewing this peculiar potion were known as mixologists.

Compared to ordinary potion makers, mixologists held a far more noble status.

Some famous mixologists who possessed exclusive recipes even amassed countless wealth, standing at the very pinnacle of the continent.

Because the production cost of potions was generally high,

alcohol was extremely expensive on this otherworldly continent.

Most people could only afford watered-down alcohol.

Irene did a rough calculation. Even if these barrels of alcohol were of the lowest grade with the most water added,

they would still be worth a fortune.

“It seems this kobold tribe isn't as poor as they look on the surface, if they can afford so much alcohol,”

Irene couldn't help but think to herself.

Grabbing a barrel of alcohol and popping the cork with Mage Hand, Irene tried taking a sip.

Immediately, her eyes narrowed.

A rich aroma exploded in her mouth.

Irene looked down at the barrel clutched in her claw.

This taste...

It didn't seem watered down at all; instead, it felt like raw potion concentrate.

Her gaze shifted to the barrels being unloaded from the cart, her expression gradually turning serious.

If all these barrels of alcohol were of this quality, they would be worth at least a hundred gold coins.

Snatching the barrel that Daviel had just uncorked out of his hands, Irene called out to Fido and the others who were about to leave.

“Where did you get this alcohol?”

Fido stopped in his tracks and turned around, looking up at the black behemoth.

Noticing the unfriendly look in Irene's eyes, he grew visibly nervous. He carefully formulated his words before speaking:

“Your Grace... th-this... this was passed down from our ancestors...”

Fearing that Irene might fly into a rage, he hurriedly added,

“We didn't mean to hide it from Your Grace. These barrels were originally buried underground, and we only dig them up for our annual ancestral worship.”

“...Because... because... we didn't have enough dried fruit this year... we dug them up early... We originally planned to trade them for salt when the merchants arrived...”