The First Keg

The crowd at the back roared as the first mayor struck the mallet into the barrel, shouting "O'zapft is!" to officially kick off the festival. Johannes didn't look up; he had spent the last thirty-six hours straight rolling heavy oak casks into the timber hall and was already dead to the world, face-planted on the sticky table. Marta ignored the drunken dancing behind them, focusing entirely on blowing the steam off a fresh piece of harvest bread to pop into her son's mouth before the tent became too rowdy to handle.