The sentient grape vine went silent for a time. Aubert de Villaine pondered on the past, and only later did his deep voice return. “I did whatever I could, employed whatever methods possible, to beat Jayer. Have you seen the fruit of my vine? These are the product of my life’s work – three hundred years of study, of trying to understand. Every grape is already fermented in to a self-contained dollop of wine. You have tasted Jayer’s Cros Parantoux, so I invite you to try my own creations. Tell me if I’ve finally surpassed the man.”
Lan Jue was surprised by the sudden shift in topic. He looked on as three vines, thick as a man’s arm, stretched towards them.
The grapes situated on these vines were different from normal grapes. Those came in bunches, while de Villain’s fruit came only one per bud. Each twinkling, amethyst-hued grape was about as large as an infant’s fist. They looked delectable.
