The next morning, as the sun began to bleed over the horizon, the first of the night watchmen trudged into the tavern. They were gray-faced and hollow-eyed. Elara poured the first draft.
Their latest project was their most ambitious: The Midnight Vigil . It was designed for the night watchmen who guarded the city walls—a brew that provided the clarity of a hawk without the jittery edge of raw magic. brewers
Silas, a man whose beard smelled perpetually of roasted barley and ozone, finally squinted through his spectacles. "A little lightning in the throat builds character, Elara. But fine. Bring me the dried star-anise." The next morning, as the sun began to