Chapter 86: Fine Wine

"I guess so."

A hobby that wouldn't interrupt a priest's career but would damage his image upon disclosure fit Kraft's expectations of someone who didn't care much for religious rules in daily life.

It is worth mentioning that the Church does not explicitly forbid drinking alcohol; whether among clergy, peripheral staff, or believers, drinking is widespread, and often wine serves not merely as a beverage for entertainment and enjoyment.

It also possesses attributes of nutritional supplements and even medicine; monasteries brew their own beer and allow controlled consumption. In various folk remedies, alcohol occupies a quite important position, used as a solvent or part of a prescription alongside medicinal herbs.

People here also have the habit of soaking all kinds of things in wine, and often the wine spoils due to insufficient alcohol content, which has also fostered a common belief—the stronger the wine, the better.

Of course, drinking and alcoholism are two different matters and must be discussed separately. The Church categorizes losing one's composure while drinking and lacking self-control under the scope of "immorality"; this scope has no objective standard for judgment, relying entirely on subjective assessment, so being hungover in a tavern may or may not count.

Someone who can earn the nickname "Drunk Priest" is clearly not just someone who privately sips a cup; it has reached a point where others can question his level of piety as a clergyman based on private morality.

"Where did you hear about him?" William wiped the lips hidden behind his large beard, instinctively swallowing, "If you plan to confess to him, I advise you to find someone else."

"Why?"

"Adrian was banned from the confessional last year." His facial muscles twisted; he wanted to laugh but held back, probably feeling it was somewhat immoral to mock an acquaintance behind his back, so he restrained himself a bit.

After holding it in for a few seconds, William still laughed out, "Because multiple people reported smelling alcohol during confession."

"At first, everyone thought it was drunken sailors mistaking the smell of alcohol on their own bodies for an odd odor in the room, so they strictly warned that people reeking of alcohol could not enter the hall."

"However, after that, reports increased rather than decreased, and some even hinted after making donations whether they could get to know a certain priest 'quite accomplished in brewing,' and only then did the bishop realize something was seriously wrong." Speaking of this, William couldn't help but laugh out loud, recalling the bishop's ugly expression at the time.

"They ordered a thorough investigation of the confessional, sent people disguised as sailors to confess, and found Father Adrian passed out drunk inside. If not for this, no one would know he was stealing drinks inside yet."

Such a "glorious deed" quickly spread throughout the entire church and half the port district. Speaking on a larger scale, this was a desecration of the only pure land in the hearts of countless confessors, dragging the Church's style down to that of the port district. The shocking scandal led the bishop to personally order that he was never again allowed to hear confessions.

Kraft couldn't understand it, but he was greatly shocked. "Is it necessary? Just couldn't hold back for a moment?"

What was even more shocking was that, according to William, this scandal hadn't led to his expulsion from the church; the punishment was merely "banned from hearing confessions."

Could the bishop's own illegitimate child receive such treatment? The answer was no.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, of course it is necessary." William clicked his tongue, making a sound of saliva secretion. "Think about it: could ordinary wine be so strong that it remains potent even half a room away? Strong enough that even a drunkard could distinguish it wasn't the smell on his own body."

"Hard liquor?"

"No, once you've tasted it even once, you'll know nothing deserves the name 'hard liquor' in its presence; it's simply indescribable." Regarding the priest's fine brew, William was not sparing with words of praise. "It's like swallowing a mouthful of fire, sliding down the throat into the stomach; this single sip equals half a bucket of the water-thin stuff in taverns."

"You know, it is flowing charcoal fire, pure as ice, yet it won't hurt your tongue. Only honored guests can experience this taste." He used the hottest things he could think of to describe it, and seeing Kraft also reveal an expression of longing, he was even more absorbed than when hearing the story of the ice plains.

"Just so, you two have good fortune today. Adrian must be awake now; I must go find him to beg for a few cups. After this sip, perhaps you will know those fruit-flavored drinks are not worth mentioning."

These words made William unable to resist his alcohol craving himself; taking Kraft and Kup around the first-floor hall, they exited through a small door at the back of the church and darted into the auxiliary building complex behind it.

The priest on guard did not stop them upon seeing them but even greeted William. Seeing Kraft somewhat puzzled, William gave a thumbs-up to himself. "Honored guest."

He then pointed to a building of medium size within the auxiliary complex. "I donated it."

Understood. A church mainly serving sailors and seamen, with you lot of captains who donate large sums of money and are addicted to alcohol. Father Adrian, let alone drinking in the confessional, even if he held a statue of a saint and drank, the bishop would have to weigh the consequences.

Comfort Port itself was not a trade port that was a must-pass, not blocking any vital route, and the Church's influence hadn't reached the level of Dunling. Matters damaging dignity were minor; the real issue was if fewer captains came, a series of fantastical events were determined by the church's economic foundation.

There was even no attempt to conceal it; Kraft smelled the carried alcohol scent in the night wind. Clearly, they were still walking under the halo of the cathedral, yet it felt like arriving at the entrance of a wine cellar, the characteristic smell of alcohol not inferior to that of the port.

Their pace unconsciously quickened; William's feet seemed to generate wind, his wide trouser legs swaying. Without needing a lantern to identify the direction, he naturally sought the place where the wine scent was strongest.

The feeling of approaching the wine cellar grew stronger; the mellow, pure wine scent without any other mixed odors overflowed from a room with bright windows. Even late at night, bright lights were on, as if a small banquet was being held inside.

William symbolically knocked twice and pushed the door open, calling out loudly to the wide, fat figure in white robes slumped on a recliner: "Adrian! Don't sleep, get up and have another drink!"

"Hmm?" The winged circle pattern on the white robes rippled; a round, large hand slapped it, making a "thump" sound like a drum skin, and the holy emblem's pattern humorously vibrated with ripples.

A bright head surrounded by sparse hair rose from behind a protruding belly; two eye slits opened on a round face, and after sizing up the visitors against the light for a while, he finally recognized the newcomers' identity from the large beard.

"William?! Oh my, how long has it been? How long since I heard you bring me stories?"

"Haha, three months and five days, plus half an evening spent in confession; I've missed you to death." William stepped forward, grasping Father Adrian's round, large hand, letting him use it as leverage to pull himself up, and gave him a hug that couldn't fully wrap around his back.

"You must be missing my wine; come, taste it. This time I got it just right." The priest, his belly stretching the white robes, walked upstairs, opened the tightly closed door, and immediately a stronger, more intense wine scent wafted out.

The smell was like tipping over a wine barrel; that small second-floor room seemed to have accumulated the essence of a wine cellar, condensed into this small building.

Adrian walked out of the room holding a small bottle, returned to the table, and set out several wine glasses. "Those two over there, stop standing; come witness the best, strongest wine in Comfort Port, all of North, a gift from the Heavenly Father."

The colorless wine swirled in a transparent thin-necked bottle no less crystal clear than the pair of glass wings; the hang marks were clearly visible. It seemed the eunuch's words that Adrian had a close relationship with that outstanding glass craftsman were true.

However, Kraft's mind had already been drawn to that wine; a sudden whim seemed to be leading him toward another unexpected joy.

He took a small cup holding half a sip, placed it under his nose to sniff lightly, and the escaping wine scent was so spicy it made his nose shrink. Kup also received a cup; with no experience, he swallowed it in one gulp as if it were beer, while Adrian and the priest held their glasses, smiling as they watched the newcomer experience this shock.

Seeing Kup cover his mouth and cough, his face flushed red, Adrian laughed until his eyes couldn't open, very satisfied with this work, and refilled his cup. "Drink slowly; this is my masterpiece, the spirit of wine, quite different from the clear water in those bars."

Kraft dipped a finger into a drop and tasted it with the tip of his tongue; the stimulating, scorching sensation of licking the rim of a hot tea cup spread across his taste buds, and the soul from another world revealed a smile from the bottom of his heart.

"I knew you would like it!" William took a sip of the wine; recommending something to others and receiving their approval had always been a joy in life.

The priest happily swallowed the wine; this batch was particularly pungent, and long-term drinking hadn't made him accustomed to this stimulation. Redness spread across his fat face, and he coughed lightly a few times.

Amidst the room full of wine scent, only Kraft did not taste further; he raised his wine glass, admiring the bright liquid surface. "A masterpiece..."

【I'm starting to like this wine scent.】

Kraft smeared a few drops of wine onto the back of his hand; opposite to the heat and spiciness of drinking, a cool, comfortable sensation came from the smeared area.

The liquid was evaporating rapidly, taking away the heat on the skin. There was no fruity sweetness of fruit wine, no grainy roasted scent of grain wine; it was pure wine, so simple it made him sigh at the impermanence of life.

The large amount of wine scent dissipating into the air clearly couldn't be achieved by such a small amount of wine; the priest was heating the wine upstairs.

【Distilled liquor.】

Distilled and purified alcohol approaching, or even possibly having reached, medical standards.

"You are indeed a genius; future generations will read your name in books recording the kingdom's history."

"Not at all. A priest who brews wine; the bishop didn't kick me out, and I can stay here only thanks to the help of old friends." The priest stood up to refill William's wine glass, intending to fill the cup of the young man who praised him like a saint, but he noticed the wine in the cup had only been lightly tasted, leaving just a thin layer.

He sat back down, still maintaining the posture of slightly bending forward while pouring wine. Kraft then realized that after standing up, the priest had maintained this posture the whole time; for a fat person, this shouldn't be that easy.

Recalling the pouring motion, the priest used his right hand whenever dexterity was needed, but after sitting back in the chair, he abandoned his dominant hand and held the wine glass with his left.

Looking down, his right hand rested lightly on the side, slightly above the protruding beer belly, never leaving this position except when necessary movement was required.

A protruding large belly, a history of long-term excessive drinking.

"Do you often feel pain in the upper right side of your abdomen, near the chest?" Kraft asked, pressing and gesturing to locate the spot under his own right ribs. "Is your appetite usually poor, and is your skin yellow?"