CHAPTER 750: GARRETT NORDMARK GETS IT ALL DONE... AND IS REJECTED

Master Nordmark stated that anyone who had received the medicinal injection was prohibited from drinking alcohol to avoid any dangers.

Master Dunfrees, holding this decree high, ordered the tavern owner to remove all alcoholic beverages and commanded that no alcohol be supplied to the Mithril District from the base of the mountain. To ensure there were no leaks, he even sent the two bottles of wine he had in his own cabin back to Nevis City.

The dwarves complained loudly. Complaints aside, Master Dunfrees was surprised to find that they actually obeyed!

The primary reason was that most of the dwarves needing the injections were middle-aged and older, highly respected among the dwarves. For their safety, the other dwarves were willing to endure. After all, it was just seven days.

Yes, Garrett left enough medication for a week and trained Vigeland and Master Dunfrees in intramuscular injection methods: how to disinfect, draw the medication, select the injection site, and administer the injection. This was easy enough for any spellcaster to learn.

Then Garrett left, promising to return in seven days. During those seven days, the Mithril District dwarves were completely banned from alcohol!

Of course, considering the increasing heat and the heavy forging tasks, Master Dunfrees specifically applied to the council to open unlimited supplies of soda water—

They couldn’t let anyone die of heatstroke, could they? Even though the dwarves were as tough as rocks, even rocks would crack if baked too much!

Garrett arrived on time after seven days. He examined each patient thoroughly, performing physical exams, auscultations, sputum cultures, chest X-rays, and even a CT scan.

Of course, the CT results had to be taken back for MOSS to process, but the other test results already indicated significant improvement in their conditions.

"Look, the bacterial culture results show that the bacteria in your bodies have significantly decreased," Garrett happily pointed out to the patients. "A few more days of medication to consolidate the treatment, and you should be fine. Naturally, the mines and living areas need thorough disinfection—you wouldn’t want to get reinfected after recovery, right?"

"So, can we drink alcohol again in a few days?!"

The dwarves were more concerned about this. Garrett’s face darkened. "No."

"No?!"

"No. Not only is it not allowed during this period, but there will be no large supplies of beer for the next two years." Garrett raised a finger to stop the dwarves from asking further questions and continued slowly, "A great famine is coming. The council has already issued orders prohibiting the use of grain for brewing. If you want to drink, it will have to be fruit wine or imported beer—"

"But we’re not used to fruit wine!" someone shouted below. "And beer is expensive! The prices in the city have doubled recently!"

Garrett knew this. The council had significantly reduced import tariffs on alcohol but greatly increased commercial taxes.

As a result, combined with large merchants hoarding stock to sell at high prices next year, alcohol on the market was bound to be both expensive and scarce.

"There’s nothing that can be done. Given the current situation, the council will undoubtedly cut down beer supplies drastically and won’t provide it freely." ṝА𐌽ỔβЕṥ

"What the..."

Grumbles and complaints rose from the crowd.

Vigeland and several middle-aged dwarves were fine, but Garrett overheard two young dwarves at the back of the crowd whispering to each other, "But we’re guests... Shouldn’t they supply us with enough beer if they invite us to work here?"

Garrett: "..."

Why do you think I can’t see you just because you’re bowing your heads?

I’m so much taller than you! If everyone is standing, I can see from the first row to the last without even standing on tiptoe!

He tried not to look at the young dwarves, focusing instead on the two oldest dwarven elders at the front of the crowd. Especially Master Sion, the veteran miner who could judge the temperature of lava and accurately extract raw mithril ore:

"Old man, the great famine is imminent." He sighed lightly, "I can guarantee the accuracy of this information. Over a month ago, during a meditation advancement, I sensed distant changes. Simultaneously, the legendary mage of the council’s divination department received an omen."

Seeing that besides the two dwarven elders, the others were somewhat indifferent, Garrett decided to reveal more explosive news:

"The changes I sensed were confirmed by the council, who activated the Star Dome Grand Magic Array twice to gather related information. My teacher asked our dragon friends to verify it far away, and it’s been confirmed without a doubt."

The dwarves’ expressions turned serious. Master Dunfrees, standing beside Garrett, looked at him in surprise, hesitant to speak:

So there was so much behind this? The Star Dome activated twice? Legendary mages? Even involving dragons?

Ahhh, I know nothing! Sigh, being of a lower rank really means having no rights. For people like legendary disciples, this information is casually shared, but for someone like me, who just does the work on the sidelines, I’ll probably only hear about it once the famine finally arrives...

His mind was in turmoil. Beside him, Garrett’s statement had reached its conclusion:

"Combining the information from the Grand Magic Array and the dragon verification, the divination mages collectively calculated that next year will see a devastating famine."

The dwarves breathed heavily. Dozens of them crowded into the room, their heavy breathing sounding like bellows. Master Sion stepped forward:

"We were only informed that the council was preparing for a famine... Is it really this severe?"

"Extremely severe." Sigh, the council must have sent specialists to communicate with the Dwarven Court about this. But in a small settlement like this, the information probably wasn’t as detailed. No wonder they were clamoring for beer:

"The preparations the council is making now are based on the assumption of a complete grain failure next year. Currently, the priests of the God of Nature are working day and night to expedite food production, and the council is trying its best to supply them with mental energy potions. Precious grains can’t be used for brewing in large quantities anymore!"

The dwarves looked at each other. Even the young dwarves working here were at least seventy or eighty years old, having personally experienced multiple famines. But a complete grain failure next year?

This famine would be much larger in scale than any they had experienced before!

"Master, everyone." Garrett took a deep breath, "I think you all know how much grain is consumed in brewing, right?"

"Of course, we know." Old Sion nodded steadily, "A barrel of beer, weighing 40 pounds, enough for ten dwarves to drink in a day, requires ten pounds of barley."

You know that?

Garrett looked at him in surprise. Behind Old Sion, a dwarf whose name Garrett couldn’t recall whispered:

"Master Sion is our best brewer here. The beer he brews is famous in the Royal Court and among the seven tribes!"

Garrett: "..."

Alright... In this age dominated by handicrafts, it’s normal for long-lived dwarves to have hobbies like this...

"And if a dwarf doesn’t do heavy work and eats sparingly, one pound of barley a day is enough for a day." Master Sion turned to the back, his gaze stern as he scanned all the dwarves present:

"Everyone, the grain for the Dwarven Kingdom has always been imported from the council. In the face of disaster, even if the council is willing to take care of its allies, it may not have the capacity to do so. Besides, we must also restrain ourselves and not squander their assistance."

He was the best smelter in the mines and the highest-ranking warrior. Even the dwarven spellcasters had received his guidance. When he raised his voice to speak, everyone below nodded in agreement, not daring to disagree.

The old dwarf continued speaking in a low, authoritative voice, each word striking the walls of the room like a hammer, almost creating the feeling of leaving a dent with each strike:

"In the face of famine, if we drink one day less, it saves a day’s worth of food for our comrades. Spread the word: from today onwards..."

Garrett quickly gave Master Dunfrees a look. Master Dunfrees immediately stepped forward:

"The council will not cut off the daily drinking supply for our dwarf friends, but it will be reduced. Given the current situation, we can only supply one-tenth of the previous amount. And of course, soda water will be continuously supplied so that no one faints from the heat in the mines!"

"Good." Master Sion nodded heavily:

"Everyone’s drinking will be reduced to one-tenth of what it was."

"Yes."

"Yes!"

The dwarves answered in unison. On the side, Master Dunfrees, who had been standing all along, looked at Garrett with admiration.

Is it really settled?

It’s really settled!

The difficulty that tormented him, making him feel like he was on the verge of death, was solved by Garrett with a few trips and a few words!

—But then again, only a mage like Garrett, who had a good relationship with the dwarves, could make them believe his words without first doubting them;

Only a healer like Garrett, who introduced new medication and enforced a week-long alcohol ban, could make the dwarves initially get used to the idea that "temporarily giving up alcohol isn’t so bad";

Only a legendary disciple like Garrett could obtain the highest and most accurate information, making the dwarves realize the seriousness of the situation and cooperate obediently...

Garrett let out a deep breath. These dwarves were hot-tempered, stubborn, and truly looked down on you when they did. But once they promised something, they would definitely do it without

fail. Smiling, he walked out:

"The times are tough, and I ask everyone to endure for a while. Once the famine passes and the new batch of barley is harvested, I’ll definitely invite everyone to drink to your heart’s content!"

"Yeah, right, the little mage can’t even drink!" Vigeland laughed out loud. The dwarves, who had just been solemn, burst into laughter, talking all at once:

"That’s right, the little mage can barely handle half a glass of wine, he can’t drink our beer at all!"

"Just let the big guy drink for you! It’s fine! We don’t mind!"

"Little mage, when will you grow big enough to at least lift an iron shield?"

Garrett: "..."

Who says I can’t lift it!

When I advanced to a Level Five priest, my body was cleansed by the world’s will. At the very least, I can definitely lift an iron shield now!

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