Book One - Chapter Twenty-Nine: May the Brew Be With You

“All races that support our membership will receive territorial agreements. Five percent land allocation per supporting delegation, to be used for trade purposes, cultural exchange, and—” I paused for effect “—accelerated mana development.”

The Cerulean delegation perked up noticeably at that. Apparently even advanced alien civilizations weren't immune to the appeal of premium real estate with excellent magical infrastructure.

“Additionally, we are prepared to offer specific arrangements tailored to each delegation's unique needs and interests.”

I turned to address each group directly, feeling like a traveling salesman whose commission happened to be the continued existence of his entire species.

“To our sponsors, the Mewsari, we offer full partnership in all diplomatic and trade negotiations. Not a client relationship, but a true alliance between equals.”

Whiskers inclined his head with royal dignity.

“To the Graventhall, thirty percent of Earth's mineral rights, to be extracted using agreed-upon methods that won't compromise planetary structural integrity. One hundred year agreement with renewal options.”

The rock trolls shifted slightly in what might have been approval, their expressions revealing about as much emotion as a cliff face.

“To the Ceruleans, voluntary employment and education programs for willing Earth citizens, plus complete technology sharing agreements, with particular focus on robotics and automation. We hope that, with time, our combined technical efforts could replace certain... labor practices... throughout the galaxy. Helping to suppliment your current workforce with a robotic one would be of great interested to us.”

Their delegation leader's expression was that of polite skepticism, and I caught them exchanging glances with their subordinates.

“To the Chandrians, exclusive banking and financial services partnership. You would handle all of Earth's interworld monetary transactions for the next century, with preferential rates and first access to any new economic opportunities.”

Then I turned to face the Karen delegation, and my voice went flat.

“To the Karen Delegation, we offer… nothing. Absolutely nothing. All of these offers are contingent on Council acceptance and the express condition that your delegation receives zero territorial rights, zero trade agreements, and zero access to Earth's resources.”

The silence that followed was so complete I could hear my own heartbeat echoing off the chamber walls like a war drum.

The Karen leader shot to her feet, her face cycling through shades of red. Her mouth worked soundlessly for several seconds, and then, she sat down, saying nothing.

But I wasn't done. This was the real gambit, the move Jack had spent hours coaching me through.

“Before we proceed to the formal vote, I'd like to offer each delegation a gift. A demonstration of what Earth brings to this alliance.”

I nodded toward the back of the chamber. On cue, two technicians wheeled in the brass coffee machine. It gleamed under the lights, completely out of place among all the advanced alien tech.

I walked toward it slowly, letting the moment build. “Chairman, may I prepare something for each representative? You're under no obligation to accept, but we'd like to offer this gesture of goodwill.”

Glazial's shark features showed genuine curiosity. “What kind of gift, Representative Jerry?”

“Coffee, Mr. Chairman. But not ordinary coffee. Something I've been developing specifically for this occasion, what I call the Brew of Peace.”

“Permission granted, Representative Jerry. However, all offerings will be subjected to comprehensive scanning for harmful substances before consumption.”

“Of course, Mr. Chairman. I would expect nothing less.”

What followed was quite possibly the most important coffee service in the history of human civilization.

The Brew of Peace flowed into identical cups. If mankind could bring anything to the table, it would be coffee. Just the purest expression of what Earth's magic could offer.

The ships scanning process was thorough to the point of paranoia. Displays of molecular breakdown, magical residue analysis, toxicity screening.

“Substance cleared for consumption,” the ship's computer announced. “No harmful agents detected. Magical enhancement confirmed as non-hostile.”

I passed cups out to each delegate and their team. No one wanted to go first.

To help ease to concern, I took a sip of my own cup, feeling the enhanced cognitive abilities flowing through my system. The world seemed sharper, clearer. Colors brightened. The world finally stopped mumbling. Problems that felt like brick walls a minute ago now looked more like IKEA furniture: annoying, but solvable.

This must be how people feel when they hike on purpose, take vitamins, discuss philosophy unironically, practice curiosity over judgment, and actually deal with their issues—

instead of cramming everything into a mental crawlspace and drowning it in late-night snacking and day-old lukewarm Dr Pepper left in their truck.

It felt like following through on going to the gym instead of doomscrolling until dawn, because your just so goddamn tired… Ahem, anyway.

The delegations studied their cups with varying degrees of curiosity, then began to sip. The room filled with oohs and ahs.

All except the Karens.

Their leader sat with arms crossed, cup untouched, radiating the kind of disapproval usually reserved for suburban moms demanding to speak to the manager because there are three pickles and she explicitly said no pickles.

But one of her subordinates—younger, with slightly less weaponized hair—snuck a quick sip when she thought no one was looking.

Her eyes went wide. A genuine smile broke across her face, the first real expression of joy I'd probably seen from any Karen, ever.

Then she caught her leader's death glare and quickly frowned, setting the cup down with theatrical disgust. “Ugh, tastes like... like happiness,” she said, trying to sound offended.

But I'd seen that moment. And more importantly, so had everyone else.

I'd tested this particular concoction before the hearing. And was certain everyone was getting the same System Message as I was. It was confirmed by the looks on their faces.

Brew of Peace

Effect:
+10% to all stats — but only for non-combat activities.
-10% to all stats for any combat-related activity.

Perfect for reorganizing your life, finishing that weirdly personal email to your aunt, or finally understanding how escrow works.
Try to punch someone, though, and you'll just feel deeply disappointed in yourself.

Also boosts general wellness.
Not “I can run a marathon” wellness — more like “I forgive my dad” wellness.

Duration: 30 minutes

Side Effects May Include:

  • A feeling of peace and limitlessness
  • Finally deleting those old photos of your ex
  • Accepting that it’s okay to be flawed and let go of the mistakes of yesterday, as long as you keep striving to be better tomorrow

Flavor Profile:
Tastes like warm nostalgia and freshly vacuumed carpet.
Some say jasmine. Some say childhood.
One guy said, “Tax returns in a mug.”

System Note:
Effects vary by soul alignment, hydration level, and unresolved emotional baggage.

Wanna Hear a Joke?
A Buddhist monk walks up to a hot dog vendor and says, “Make me one with everything.”
Then he pays with a $20 and asks for change.
The vendor says, “Change comes from within.”

Get it?
It’s okay if you don’t.
I still love you.

This was unfolding exactly as Whipsteele had said it would. Something about the speed of mana release—with me at the center of it all. He'd let me in on a little secret: “Your powers, and the potency of the drinks, aren’t just unusual. They’re unheard of. You’ve been going about this all wrong. You aren’t just a battle magician. You are a support class. Combat abilities are common. But transferable boons of this scale? That’s freakish. This might just tip the scale in our favor. Show them what they’re missing.”

And the Council’s response was exactly as he’d predicted.

Once the last satisfied sip had settled, I spoke again.

“Earth’s unique mana concentration has produced rare opportunities for all of us. We’re ready to share this gift freely with our allies. The choice before you is simple, honored representatives. Will you stand with a galaxy where young species are punished for defending themselves from unprovoked attack? Or will you help build something new—a true alliance, where cooperation and mutual aid provide real, quantifiable advantage for all?”

I sat down heavily, my heart hammering against my ribs like it was trying to pound its way out of my chest and make a run for the nearest exit.

The chamber fell into a silence so profound I could hear the soft humming of the life support systems and the barely audible grinding of Karen teeth.

Finally, after what felt like several geological ages, Chairman Glazial cleared his throat with ceremonial gravity.

“Thank you, Representative Jerry. You have given the Council much to consider. We will now proceed to the formal membership vote. All delegations in favor of granting the species known as 'Human' of the planet ‘Earth’ full membership in the Council of Allied Worlds, please indicate your position.”

This was it. Everything, absolutely everything, came down to this moment. He called on the delegations one by one.

“The Mewsari delegation?”

“We vote yes.” The King’s voice carried no hesitation whatsoever.

One down. Four to go. I need two more.

“The Graventhall Collective?”

Their leader's granite features gave away absolutely nothing, carved from stone that had seen the birth and death of stars. The silence extended until I started to wonder if they'd fallen asleep or simply decided to become one with the mountain again.

Finally: “Yes.”

Two down. Just one more. I could feel hope blooming in my chest like a flower in spring.

“The Karen Coalition?”

“Absolutely not.” The words came out dripping with enough venom to poison a small planet. “This entire proceeding is a mockery of everything this Council stands for. This... this creature represents a species of barely civilized barbarians who respond to lawful authority with violence and then have the unmitigated gall to demand rewards for their criminal behavior.”

Expected.

“Your objection is noted. The Cerulean Confederation?”

Another pause, this one filled with visible internal struggle. Their leader's perfectly symmetrical features showed careful calculation. I could practically see the Brew of Peace working its way through their system, battling against centuries of ingrained diplomatic caution.

They glanced toward the Karen delegation, then back at me, then toward their own subordinates. The pause stretched until it became uncomfortable, then actively painful.

“We... we appreciate Earth's generous offers and recognize the potential value of this alliance. However, existing political obligations and security concerns prevent us from supporting this petition at this time. Our position is... no.”

Something inside my chest rocked like a house of cards in a hurricane. Two to two. Everything came down to one final vote. I held my breath.

“Unfortunately, Earth possesses insufficient assets to qualify for even our most basic financial services. This is simply a matter of sound business practice—I trust you understand. The Chondrian delegation votes... no.”

The word hit me like a physical blow, driving the air from my lungs and leaving me gasping. Dreams of heroism, of pulling humanity back from the brink through clever negotiation and superior coffee, dissolved like sugar in acid rain. I felt sick, despite the Peace Brew.

The Karens were practically vibrating with orgasmic smugness. Their leader stood slowly, savoring every second of her triumph, her smile sharp enough to perform surgery.

“Excellent. Now we can finally proceed to address Earth's numerous and egregious crimes against civilized society.”

I was numb. Completely and utterly hollow inside. The Mewsari delegation looked stricken—their fate was tied to ours now, and we'd all just gone down together in the most expensive shipwreck in galactic history.

The formal voting on individual charges proceeded with mechanical, bureaucratic inevitability. I barely heard it through the fog.

Late filing of required documentation: guilty, four votes to one.

Destruction of Council property during unauthorized defensive actions: guilty, four votes to one.

Crimes against the Allied Worlds for resisting lawful conquest...

“The Mewsari delegation?”

“Not guilty, Mr. Chairman.” The King's voice carried steel wrapped in velvet.

“The Graventhall Collective?”

Another geological pause that seemed to stretch toward the heat death of the universe. Then, surprisingly: “Not guilty.”

Two to two again. My heart climbed back up from the basement where it had been hiding and started beating against my ribs with renewed, the barest hope left.

The Chondrians held the deciding vote. Again.

The Chairman's black eyes fixed on me, not with malice, but with the kind of pity you'd reserve for roadkill. His expression carried a solemn inevitability, like gravity, death, or taxes. His hand began to rise, webbed fingers spreading to cast what would surely be the final nail in humanity's coffin, when—

A young intern burst through the chamber doors like his ass was on fire, racing toward Chairman Glazial. He whispered something in the Chairman's ear that made those predatory features go wide with what looked like genuine shock.

The Karen leader was practically foaming at the mouth, hungry, eager, exhilarated. “We demand that the final vote be cast immediately! This delay is a transparent attempt to—”

But Chairman Glazial raised one massive hand for silence, and something in his expression made the entire chamber fall quiet.

“Something unprecedented is occurring,” he announced, his voice carrying a note of bewilderment that I hadn’t heard from him before. “We have just received notification that another member of the Council has arrived aboard this vessel and intends to participate in these proceedings.”

The chamber erupted in confused murmurs and bewildered exchanges. Another member? I looked to the empty seats.

“The Xarnathi delegation has arrived.”