Having heard about and done some research on Georgian amber wines and winemaking, I was inspired to write this. Ishval needed another industry to help them keep up with the modern world. What better than with a tradition that goes back for thousands of years.

I'm also bringing back one of my other OCs, Dr. Sebastian McNeese.

Wild Wine Pt 2

Old resentments lived long, dark, cloistered lives in Stanno's mind, and he released them only under extraordinary circumstances. He didn't make a habit of becoming any friendlier with Amestrians than he had to be. Rose had been a notable exception. With her, he had taken a great leap of faith, following a heart battered by past failures rather than a mercenary head. He had been greatly and, he had to admit, undeservedly rewarded. But he wasn't a gambling man and he seldom viewed interacting with other Amestrians as anything better than a short chance on long odds.

This was one of those rare, pleasant circumstances where the odds were in his favor, that is, an opportunity to get something for nothing. Stanno slid into a seat at his favorite tavern, which, as luck would have it, was also the favorite tavern of Dr. Sebastian McNeese, archeologist and Armstrong family in-law. Seb was sitting with a glass of beer, some shards of pottery, and a couple of open notebooks, one of which he was writing in.

"Just the fellow I want to see!" Stanno declared with his best charming grin, adding, "At least, I think so."

Seb looked up from his notebook with a raised eyebrow. "That sounds like damning with faint praise."

Stanno waved to the tavernkeeper. "My usual!" he called out before turning back to Seb with a slightly apologetic look. "What I meant was that I wasn't sure who to go to first, you or Saahad Bozidar."

Seb gave him a small, wry smile. "Well, if you're looking for spiritual guidance, I'm afraid you've come to the wrong person," he replied.

Stanno chuckled disarmingly, waving his hands. "No, no. My purpose is a little more…ah…academic. The thing is, I've come across something, and I need to do some research, but I'm not sure where to start."

"Ah." Seb set his pencil down and sat back. "Well, you said the magic word with 'research'. What is it you've come across?"

His smile growing with satisfaction at having his efforts justified, Stanno reached into a fold in his chuva and pulled out a small folded piece of cloth. He unwrapped it and set it on the table. Seb leaned forward and adjusted his reading glasses, intently studying what lay on the table before him. "What you have there," he pronounced after a moment, "is a grape." He took off his cheaters. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

The shine came off Stanno's charm and he scowled. Stupid, smug Ammy bastard. "I know it's a grape. I found it and a whole lot more besides out east in the foothills."

Seb perked up attentively. "Really?"

"I was just there were my boy yesterday, checking on my oaks. All this time I didn't even know there were grapes growing out there."

"How extraordinary!"

Stanno nodded in agreement. "I'll say. From what I could tell, they've just been growing wild. I'm not sure how long, though. The vines were all in a tangle." He leaned his forearms on the table. "See, I know that a long time ago, before the Great Earthquake, Ishvalans made wine. I don't know anything about how, just that it was stored in big clay jars."

"Amphorae," Seb corrected him. He picked up one of the pottery shards from his collection and held it up. "Or more specifically, as I've been told, k'vevri. As a matter of fact, we've unearthed what I believe is one of the very vessels in question."

It was all Stanno could do to not jump out of his seat. He calmly took a moment to acknowledge the tavern keeper, who had just brought him his order, a bottle of beer with a wedge of lime sticking out of its mouth, along with a halmi chaser. Turning his attention back to Seb, he pointed to the shard and asked, "Is that all that's left of it?"

"No, there were much larger pieces. It was split more or less in half. It had been buried in the cellar of a structure we've been working on in an eastern section of Old Ishval. There could easily be more." Seb turned a few pages of his notebook and turned it around so Stanno could see it.

On the page was a drawing of a sort of egg-shaped jar. Alongside the drawing was a line and the words 1.5 meters scribbled next to it. That was a big jar, very wide at the top and narrowing almost to a point at the bottom. Stanno frowned.

"It looks like it could easily tip over," he remarked. He pointed to the jar's massive shoulders. "The center of gravity is all up here."

"Well, they're not tableware. As I said, this pot was stored underground. Aerugan amphorae come to an actual point, the main purpose of which was to be able to have it rest in sand, since they were large and meant for storage." Seb handed over the shard of pottery he's been holding. "Another reason is so that sediments in whatever liquid you're storing would float to the bottom. That makes it very useful for wine making."

Stanno took the piece of pottery and turned it over in his hands. It was typical Ishvalan red clay. He brought it up to his nose briefly. It just smelled earthy. He rubbed the inside curve with his thumb. It felt very slightly slicker than the outer side.

"Beeswax," Seb offered. "Another local product."

Stanno nodded thoughtfully. To be sure, it was interesting to be holding something that was at least a millennium old. His interest, however, lay elsewhere. He examined the drawing again. "Anything else you can tell me?"

Seb smiled a little. "May I infer from your questions that your interest is actually more than just academic?"

Stanno hesitated just a little. He intended to pump as much information out of the good doctor without surrendering much of his own. "Possibly."

Seb chuckled. "Sounds like a very elaborate class project. Do you know anything about making wine?"

Well, the man wasn't stupid, after all. It would be easy enough to guess. "That's where the research comes in." Stanno handed the pottery shard back. "I thought I'd pick your brains before I moved on to Saahad Bozidar. I thought there might have been some sort of written record amongst all those books they found. Unless, of course," he added, "you've found something yourself."

Seb smiled and took a drink from his beer. He took a little too long to answer, as far as Stanno was concerned. The carpenter resisted the urge to drum his fingers impatiently. Seb cleared his throat softly and laced his fingers together. "As a matter of fact," he said finally, "we did come across a thick tome—most fortunately, the ancient monks were quite assiduous in the preservation of their culture—that appears to illustrate the art of winemaking in some detail."

Stanno nodded, sitting back and focusing on his own beer for a moment, carefully squeezing in the juice from the lime wedge before stuffing it into the bottle. Taking a drink from it, he savored the flavor as his mind began to whirl with glee. He set the bottle down. "Is that a fact?"

"That is a fact."

"And where might this ancient tome be now?" Stanno asked.

"In the care of the priests of the Great Temple in Gunja," Seb replied. "They're copying it out in both Old and Modern Ishvalan, the one for posterity and the other for general edification. So it won't be our good Head Cleric you want to talk to, it'll be Saahad Mazur, the librarian." He smiled indulgently. "There's no need to be coy about it, old fellow. If this is something you're honestly planning on doing, I'd be really interested in how it turns out. Not just whether some thousand-year-old instructions stand the test of time, but whether you actually manage to produce something drinkable." His smile grew and he looked off into the distance. "I could publish a paper on it."

Stanno frowned a little. Having anyone—an Amestrian on top of that—poking their nose into his own private idea, or worse, profiting off his labor, was exactly what he wanted to avoid. "Or I could write one."

Seb spread his hands. "Or you could," he conceded easily. "You need to make sure to record the process carefully. No academic journal is going to take you seriously if you're half-assed about your documentation."

"Oh, don't you worry about my documentation," Stanno assured him. He took his beer again and sat back, allowing himself a satisfied grin. So far, so good. Suddenly feeling magnanimous, he called over to the tavern keeper. "Hai, Mehlek! Put the good doctor's drink on my tab!"

Seb raised his bottle. "Thanks!"

"Thank you!" Stanno replied.

Seb gave a shrug. "I'm all for the pursuit of knowledge, not to mention a good glass of wine. Let's see if the fruit of your labor can compete with a good Aerugan vintage."

Maybe it was Stanno's naturally suspicious nature, but he thought he detected a hint of skepticism in Dr. McNeese's remark. Stanno took another pull from his beer then knocked back his glass of halmi. Go ahead and doubt, he thought. We'll see how smug you are after I'm finished.