I was so happy and excited about the reviews for the last chapter and some comments on AO3 for it (CinderDraria, how does it feel to hold my heart in your hands? You have filled me with sunshine), that I decided to post this chapter early! Don't worry, the regular update will still occur as planned. I'm aiming to update this fic on the first Friday of every month, btw.

Special thanks to orangana for pointing out the bit about the treasure digging from the last chapter lmao.

"I have to wonder…" Mystogan slurred to his drinking companion, gesturing with his borrowed tankard for emphasis, "…if it's even legit-it-hic-mate. I mean… I wrote… Mystogan. That's… not even my real name!"

Was it a good idea to spill his guts to Cana? Probably not. But after the day he'd just had so far, there was a lot that Mystogan needed to get off his chest. And Cana was locked in the storage room with him, guzzling free wine straight from the barrel, by the barrel. She had always been rather smart. She knew the deal. So here he was, bare-faced and in full-blown retreat from the well-wishes of his fellow guild members, commiserating to the only person that had treated him semi-decently thus far that day and drinking way too much wine. Because that's what you were supposed to do when you'd had a bad day, right? Drink too much wine and bitch to your friends? Okay, so Mystogan had no close friends, but again Cana was locked in the room with him drinking on the guild's dime so at the very least she had a willing ear to bend. So long as the wine didn't run out, anyway.

…Wait, none of it was Macao's toilet wine, was it?

He eyed his drink doubtfully as Cana hummed under her breath in thought. "Don't think it'll stop the Council," she stated bluntly. "I mean… Goldmine's a guild master too, right? That can't be his real name. For that matter, is it a first name? A last name?" She scrunched up her nose. "Either way, I'm pretty sure the Council doesn't care what's written on the paper so long as it's your signature."

Swirling the liquid in his glass, Mystogan grunted. "Wonderful." The brunette made good points. Even his second doppelganger in Earthland only had one known name and he occupied a spot on the Magic Freaking Council. And just how in Earthland had that happened anyway? Did Mystogan have a twin on Edolas that he had never met? It wasn't a question he wanted to think about right now.

The wine, though. That was a problem he could handle right now. The stuff in his tankard didn't look any different from regular wine to him. Would he even be able to taste the difference? ...What if the wine had been toilet wine all along? What if Makarov had kept overhead costs down by switching to Macao and Wakaba's specialty guild toilet brew years ago? It's not like Mystogan would have known – he'd only recently come of drinking age for Fiore after all. The only wine he'd ever had was here, at the guild, and just the once prior to today. He hadn't liked it much, then or now. Although the tingling sensation in his skull was starting to become rather pleasant, so he could see how it would be popular. But just how much bacteria had he consumed unwittingly, even in just the last hour?!

"Are you gonna drink that or get revenge on it for killing your pet dog?" Cana inquired, peering at her new guild master. "Cause if it's the latter, give it to me. I'll enact your revenge by putting it in my belly."

"Cana. I have a very important question to ask you." The blue-haired man looked up from his tankard and fixed his strong stare on his newfound best friend and drinking buddy.

The woman squirmed under his gaze. Mystogan really was rather handsome, after all, and she had meant it when she told him his face was to her liking. "What is it?" she asked.

"…Is this… toilet wine. Please. I need to know."

She blinked slowly as she took a minute to process what he was telling her. "…You can do that?" she whispered back at him, feeling fireworks going off in her skull. "Dude. Why did I not think of that? This is… this is a game changer. I had no idea you could make it from the toilets. And here I've been, purchasing and swindling it from men in bars all this time, like an absolute moron. How do you make toilet wine?" Cana held up her hand to her chin, deep into mental calculations. "And how much can a single toilet produce, how quickly… and how many toilets would you need to turn a profit on it…?"

Mystogan should have kept his mouth shut. This wasn't the path to curbing it – it had been only two seconds and Cana was already looking to franchise the operation.

"Cana." He met her gaze and held it, speaking in as firm a tone as his buzzed state would allow him to. "I should not have to say this. But do not make wine out of the guild toilets."

"Guild toilets," she repeated, a spark Mystogan didn't much care for alighting in her eyes. Cana aimed her pointer finger at him, clicked her tongue, and winked. "Gotcha."

"What you do with your own toilet is none of my business," Mystogan informed her. He recognized a losing fight when he saw it. Now that Cana's eyes had been opened to this whole new world of possibility, there was no force on Earthland that could stop her. She was a force of nature. There was no controlling a force of nature. You just endured it and got out of its way.

Cana snapped her fingers, a grin spreading across her face. "I hear you loud and clear, Guild Master. Any hypothetical alcohol brewing will not occur in the guild's toilets."

"How about not on the guild premises at all?"

That set her to grumbling, but she soon nodded. "You drive a hard bargain, but alright."

A small victory, but a victory nonetheless. "Now if only the Erza problem would be so easy to deal with." Or any of his multitude of other problems, but especially that one. A mountain? Seriously? Those don't just grow back. Usually. Wait, could they? They couldn't in Edolas, but Earthland had a megaton of magic just floating through the air. Mystogan had seen weirder things since coming to Earthland. Honestly a mountain re-growing magically wasn't that far out there?

Then again, if it was that easy, Makarov wouldn't have quit over it.

"Afraid you're on your own there," Cana sagely offered her two cents, having already been filled in on the situation and having already had a good laugh at Mystogan's expense over it (lasting a good two minutes straight – Mystogan had been terrified for a bit that she wasn't getting enough oxygen to her brain during the fit). "I wish I could say I was surprised, but I'm not, really." She shrugged and took another chug of wine. "It was bound to happen someday."

Unfortunate, but probably the truth. The members of Fairy Tail were rather well known for causing widespread destruction and chaos. Unintentionally, but the results were still the same whether it was born of malicious intent or carelessness. Mystogan was something of an outlier in that regard, since he wanted to leave as little impact on Earthland as possible and did his utmost to keep himself hidden. After all, he technically didn't belong here. He was someone's doppelganger, from another world. And not just anyone, either – two people! A cultist-slaver and a member of the! Magic! Freaking! Council!

And now he was thinking about that theoretical twin back on Edolas again. Dammit.

Cana watched him with deep amusement. "Your face just went through quite the journey. You know… I may not be as reliable as Mira, but you're welcome to ask me for help too. I promise I won't even charge all that much for the priveldge." She paused. "Pirledge. Pervledge! Wait, no." After a moment she shook her head. "You know what I mean."

Mystogan considered her offer, then stared straight through her, his soul having long since vacated the premises. "Do mountains grow back?"

Oh boy. She was not drunk enough for that question.

"…You're not normally a heavy drinker, are you?" she asked. "I think it's time to cut you off." She gently removed his tankard from his grasp and downed it in one go so he couldn't reclaim it.

"You did not answer my question." He hiccupped, suddenly fighting back the overwhelming urge to break into sobs. "Answer my question, Cana. Do mountains grow back? I need to know."

"By the way, I've been meaning to ask," Cana pointed to Mystogan's sleeve, deftly avoiding him. "Why is there a booger on your arm?"

He looked down at it. Sure enough, there was one there. How did that… Makarov. He wiped it on him earlier under the pretext of a consoling pat on the arm! That… that sly old man…!

And Cana still had not answered his question.