Reborn As A Beastman With A System

"What?"

"Rejected again?"

...

Nestled in the bustling, whimsical south end of Canyon City, within a quaint Gothic building, seven beastmen lounged in lavish style. The room, ornate and shadowed, played host to their brooding forms as they reclined on plush velvet sofas, their expressions a mix of irritation and contemplation.

"Yes, boss, they're sticking to the same story," the werewolf attendant reported with a deferential bow.

"Did they mention when the elusive winemaker from the Kasha Hotel might return?" inquired one of the foxes, his voice laced with a mix of curiosity and frustration.

"No, they claim to be clueless about the winemaker's whereabouts," the attendant replied, shaking his head in dismay.

"Very well, dismiss yourself and ensure someone keeps a vigilant watch over Kasha Hotel," the Beastmen leader commanded with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Understood!" With a nod, the werewolf exited, leaving the room charged with a tense silence.

As the door clicked shut, the Beastmens exchanged wary glances. "Do you reckon the winemaker is avoiding us deliberately, or could he genuinely be away?" one of them mused aloud.

"Regardless, we must persist," another grunted determinedly. "Are we risking offense, though?" a third Beastmen pondered, his brow furrowed. "Anyone capable of crafting such exquisite wine surely isn't a nobody!"

"But why would a renowned vintner choose to brew in such a backwater? Perhaps he's just a minor player... yet, how does he produce wine that tastes so divine?" debated another, his voice tinged with both admiration and skepticism.

"It's implausible for a master vintner to have just one grain merchant as a partner," another Beastmen chimed in, his tone hinting at a broader knowledge of the industry. "Every respected name in the business is flanked by a consortium of top-tier wine merchants."

Indeed, the notion of a prominent winemaker secluding himself in such a forsaken locale seemed ludicrous. "It must be a smaller-scale winemaker trying to expand his reach," one Beastmen concluded thoughtfully.

To them, even a lesser-known winemaker was a gem. In a world dominated by human and dwarf vintners, stumbling upon any Beastmenish brewer was rare. "To snag such a talent could be our ticket to the big leagues," an Beastmen whispered, almost to himself.

Feeling a mix of desperation and hope, one of the Beastmens, previously silent, spoke up with cautious optimism. "Perhaps we should take matters into our own hands. Why not meet him in person?"

The room hummed with renewed energy as the beastmen considered this bold strategy, each pondering the possibilities that such a direct approach might yield in their quest to secure a partnership with the elusive winemaker.

As the realization settled, the six Beastmens sank into contemplation. Silence stretched across the ornate room, thick with the weight of decisions yet made.

"No, we still don't fully understand who this brewer is or the true dynamics at the Kasha Hotel," one beastmen finally voiced, his tone laced with caution.

Another Beastmen quickly interjected, his brow furrowed in concern. "And let's not forget, we're merely assuming this is a minor brewer. What if we're wrong? Moreover, while Fisher Greymane might have started as a mere grain merchant, the Greymane lineage is far from insignificant. Approaching rashly could spell disaster!"

The mention of Fisher Greymane brought a collective nod of agreement; his influence and power were well known among them.

"Indeed, if we've already ruffled Fisher Greymane's feathers, he's likely investigating us by now," another added grimly.

"And if the Greymanes link us directly to this... We're courting peril. Fisher's father, Laeral Greymane, isn't just any adversary, he's a rank 10 warrior," the fox from earlier chimed in, his voice a mix of awe and fear.

"A rank 10 warrior?" the rest of the group echoed in unison, their concern palpable.

"Laeral? You mean the Storm Lord Laeral?" one Beastmen suddenly asked, his voice tinged with a blend of recognition and disbelief, as if dredging up a legend from the depths of his memory.

"That's right," confirmed the fox, his nod slow and deliberate.

"The Storm Lord himself?"

"Isn't he the same Storm Lord who decimated the Angry Bear Mercenary Group a decade ago?" another Beastmen asked, the historical weight of the name settling among them.

The room fell silent as the memory surfaced collectively. Over ten years ago, the Angry Bear Mercenary Group had terrorized Tara Hills, their reign marked by brutality and extortion. They had turned Canyon City into a ghost town, driving away merchants and plunderers alike with their ruthless dominance.

At the height of their tyranny, when it seemed no one could curb their power, it wasn't the fabled masters of Canyon City who intervened but a then-little-known mercenary group led by the Storm Lord. In a swift, decisive campaign that lasted only half a month, they obliterated the Angry Bears' decade-long reign.

"It's ironic, really," another Beastmen mused, his tone a mix of humor and respect. "The leader of the Angry Bears, a fearsome tenth-level black bear named Kasko, thought he could find sanctuary in Canyon City. But Laeral, with merely three strokes of his sword, ended Kasko's tyranny right at the city's gates."

As the tale unfolded, the implications for their current predicament became starkly clear. Engaging with the Greymane family, particularly one so storied and formidable as the Storm Lord, required more than mere courage, it demanded a strategy as sharp as the swords that had once quelled Canyon City's greatest threat.

The renown of the Storm Lord had cast a formidable shadow over the areas surrounding Canyon City, filling its air with both awe and caution.

"Wait just a moment, Parks, why in the blazes didn't you mention this sooner? You've led us straight into the path of a rank 10 warrior, the Storm Lord himself!" one of the Beastmens accused, his glare boring into the fox man named Parks.

The tension in the room spiked as the other Beastmens mirrored the sentiment, their faces etched with unease and frustration. The presence of a rank 10 warrior was daunting enough, but the Storm Lord was in a league of his own, commanding the infamous Storm Mercenary Group known even beyond the human kingdoms.

Parks responded with a steely gaze, unfazed. "Humph, how was I to know that you were unaware? Besides, are we just to abandon our pursuit of the Brewer? Fisher Greymane may have started as a mere grain merchant, but if we let him rise unchallenged, what place will there be left for us in the wine trade? And as long as we remain unseen, who's to say it was us who interfered?"

He paused, letting his words sink in before adding, "Even if we have truly angered the Storm Lord, the worst case scenario is we retreat. We've only ever used money to stir thieves against the wine caravans leaving Canyon City; we've never engaged directly. If things turn dire, we simply pull back."

Parks scoffed lightly, his confidence seemingly unshaken. "And what of the winemaker? That new wine's profits are astronomical. Are you really prepared to just walk away from such a fortune?" His faint smile suggested the rhetorical nature of his inquiry.

His mention of the highly lucrative new wine, sourced from their very own region and monopolized by Fisher Greymane's upscale outlets, reignited a flicker of greed among the Beastmens. Despite their concerns, the potential rewards were too tantalizing to dismiss outright.

"What should we do now, then?" one of the Beastmens finally asked, his tone a mix of resignation and intrigue.

"Nothing rash. We wait, we watch," Parks decided, his voice steady. "We wait for the winemaker to reveal himself."

"Agreed," came the collective response, a silent pact formed among them as they settled into a cautious but eager vigil.

...

Meanwhile, in the grand lobby of the Kasha Hotel, the rich, intoxicating aroma of fine wine enveloped the space. His Highness the Elf, surrounded by towering wine barrels, reveled in the scent that permeated the air.

It had been half a month since his agents had failed to pinpoint the true identity of the elusive winemaker at the Kasha Hotel. Impatient and determined, the Elf Prince had decided to take matters into his own hands by arriving in person.

"Your Highness, I'm here!" called an aide, snapping the Prince out of his reverie.

Quickly regaining his composure, the Elf Prince stood, smoothing his robes as he prepared to greet the newcomer with a regal, welcoming smile. His gaze turned expectantly towards the hotel entrance, ready to unravel the mystery of the winemaker himself.

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