Chapter 31: The Art of Brewing

The room, with its doors and windows tightly shut, was thick with the scent of alcohol, and the bubbling sound of boiling liquid filled the air.

"It's coming out! It's coming out!" Gavin exclaimed, watching the amber liquid flow from the copper still.

Samwell stayed calm, though his eyes were fixed on the spout, captivated by a process he'd witnessed countless times in his past life.

As the liquid continued to flow, Gavin couldn't hold back any longer. "My lord, may I taste it?"

"Go ahead."

Receiving permission, Gavin quickly took a small cup, filled it with the freshly distilled liquid, and eagerly took a sip. Within seconds, his eyes squeezed shut, his face contorted, and he trembled before succumbing to a fit of coughing.

"Cough… cough… My lord, that's some strong stuff!"

Samwell poured himself a small measure, raised it to his nose, inhaled, and took a sip. The intense flavor exploded in his mouth like a surge of fire, igniting every taste bud.

Though the freshly distilled spirit was harsh, lacking the nuanced aroma he sought, Samwell burst into laughter. This raw liquor was exactly what he'd been aiming for.

With blending and aging in oak, this potent spirit would absorb the wood's aroma and develop complex flavors, creating the unique essence of brandy. He was certain this taste would win over the nobility of Westeros and become a staple at their banquets, a coveted treasure in their cellars.

Satisfied with the result, Samwell turned to Gavin. "Has Buso's son joined the guard yet?"

"Yes, my lord. I handled it personally."

"Good."

Gavin looked slightly hesitant, then admitted, "I, um… slipped someone else into the guard as well…"

"Who?" Samwell's expression was unreadable.

"A wildling named Ucha… from Fang Village." Gavin looked increasingly uneasy.

"From Fang Village?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Tell me, why did you bring him in?" In truth, Samwell wasn't upset.

After all, Gavin had been his squire and was now the territory's steward—Samwell's trusted right hand. Some privileges were only natural. Besides, Gavin had chosen to tell him outright.

"Well, he has a sister named Una… she's been very kind to me. She even gave me a pair of fur gloves…"

Samwell smiled knowingly. "Seems you've taken a liking to this young lady?"

Relieved, Gavin nodded. "Thank you, my lord."

"Good! Pick a day, and I'll conduct the wedding ceremony myself."

"Thank you, my lord!"

"After you're married, Una can oversee this distillery."

"Yes, my lord!" Gavin immediately understood. "I'll make sure she keeps everything strictly confidential."

With limited trusted people around, Samwell had to make do by enlisting Gavin's soon-to-be wife for the task.

"For ingredients, we'll need mountain grapes. Have the villagers gather wild ones for now, but we should start planning a larger-scale vineyard. I doubt you have the knowledge for that?"

Gavin shook his head.

"Then consult the wildlings; some may have experience. Actually…" Samwell reconsidered. "Forget it. I'd better teach them myself."

"Thank you for going through the trouble, my lord."

Samwell waved it off. "Gather the women who've recently married in from the wildling villages. I'll teach them to cultivate mountain grapes and manage the harvesting, pressing, and fermentation. For distillation, Una will handle it for now, and we'll assign her more assistants as we grow. As for aging, I'll have some oak barrels made by the coopers, and you can assign people to manage the storage."

After laying out the instructions, Samwell added, "Also, make sure different people handle each stage, and try to keep blood relatives in separate steps."

"Yes, my lord." Gavin noted everything down, though he wasn't sure why Samwell wanted this arrangement.

"This minimizes the chances of anyone fully understanding the entire process," Samwell explained briefly.

Not that he expected anyone to replicate brandy production easily. The process, though it seemed straightforward, was filled with subtle nuances—tiny adjustments that required years of experience to get right. The uninitiated would stumble through endless trial and error.

Furthermore, Samwell still held the key component: the distillery design. He wasn't about to let Buso, the blacksmith, leave the estate anytime soon.

Sensing Samwell's caution, Gavin suggested, "My lord, about the blacksmith—if he goes back to Highgarden in a year…"

"Don't worry. He's not leaving," Samwell assured him with a grin. "In fact, everyone who came to Eagle's Rest will remain my people."

"But Highgarden's Lord Martyn might not agree…"

"Oh, he will. I'll make him an offer he can't refuse."

Gavin scratched his head, sensing his lord's plan but wisely chose not to ask further.

Instead, Samwell continued, "In three days, I'll be heading to Arbor Island. Until then, you'll handle day-to-day operations here."

"Yes, my lord," Gavin replied, sounding a bit anxious. Though he was now the estate's steward, he was used to following orders and was unnerved by the thought of managing alone.

"Don't worry," Samwell reassured him with a smile. "Just keep things as they are. If any issues come up, wait for my return."

"Yes, my lord." Gavin paused, then added, "But what if the wildlings attack while you're away? I'm worried that…"

"Then make sure word gets out that I'm leaving."

"Wait, what?" Gavin blinked, then slowly understood. "My lord, you're not really leaving—this is a lure for any wildlings planning to attack?"

"Exactly. If they're smart, they'll stay put. But if they're reckless enough to try, I'll take the opportunity to finish this matter for good."

Gavin let out a sigh of relief. "Understood. I'll make sure the news spreads."

Samwell added, "Actually the reason im going to Arbor Isle is that, we're running low on supplies, and with more villagers arriving, we need a steady source of provisions."

Nodding, Gavin realized, "So you're planning to bring supplies in by sea from the Arbor?"

"Yes. Being in the Red Mountains, land transport is costly. Sea routes will be much more practical."

In fact, Samwell had a secondary motive for visiting Arbor island: to have a conversation with its lord, Earl Paxtor. Olenna Tyrell's smuggling plan would undoubtedly have involved Paxtor's ships and sailors.

Samwell had no need for pirates now, but he was interested in discussing an investment deal with Paxtor.

Plus, Arbor Isle, true to it's name, is the most famous wine region in Westeros, a perfect stage for the debut of brandy.

(End of Chapter)