Ange crushed, blended, and sealed it, then placed his finger on it, equivalent to a year of cellar aging. He then singled out a dwarf approximately on par with Copper Beard and had him drink it.
The dwarf went berserk, only to rupture a blood vessel from the strength of the alcohol after a bout of activity, nearly dying. Had it not been for Ange, he surely would have died.
"See, it doesn't work. The alcohol is too strong. Perhaps we should use the previous recipe," Negris said.
"No." Durken had a different opinion: "Brew everything, just a little less of the beetroot wine, and least of this kind. The regular dwarves can't handle the alcohol strength, but surely the Dwarf King can?"
"Oh? Isn't that risky? What if he can't handle it? If the Dwarf King dies from our wine, it will drive the dwarves mad." Negris expressed his concern.
