The not-immortal Blacksmith

Authors Note: The Reluctant Lich part of our story is a background piece that takes place some 600+ year ago in the Blacksmith timeline. In the current time ling, our poor Lich has been elected “King” for his 47th ten-year term in office. Poor guy. ☹

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“I’m not fit to rule a kingdom, how do I get out of this?” John asked nobody. “The kingdom is safe. We have gold aplenty, especially after the debacle at the textile mill made three hundred yards of one-sided invisible fabric*.”

For several years John pondered this question, until one day Lord Devon arrived for a visit.

“I tell you, the election for city council is a bear and a half!” Devon said, pouring himself another glass of wine. “If Donavan keeps making Martin look like a fool in the debates, Martin might have him assassinated on principle!”

John perked up at his friend’s words, “Elections? Hmm… What a wonderful Idea!”

“What do you mean, John? You aren’t going to have people vote as to whether or not you allow yourself to be eaten by another dragon, are you?” Devon asked.

“No. I’m not doing that again.” John chuckled, “No, I was thinking that I could use some advisors to take some of the load off my shoulders. The kingdom has become large and unwieldy.”

“Elected advisors?” Devon stopped slouching in his chair, “How do you mean?”

“I was thinking that every county could send a pair of ‘elected’ elders to court. Have them vote on laws on the people’s behalf. Then I could decide if they were good laws or not, and either sign them into law, or send them back with my thoughts on the matter.”

“So, basically a city council, but for the entire kingdom?”

“Exactly!” John smiled. “Who better to know what people need, than the people who live here?”

-

Three years passed before the “People’s Council” was completely established. Polling places needed to be erected, staffed, and funded. Then the whole balloting system had to be explained; usually more than once. Then finally came voting day.

Voting day was a disaster. People went to the wrong place to vote, wrote in names of people who didn’t exist (or worse yet – names of bards!), and at some places groups of armed thugs scared people away. It was a typical day for a democracy.

Once the votes were counted, recounted, witnessed under magical oath, and rechecked one more time, John finally had a staff of political minds to do his bidding. It was horrible. He spent most of the first year stopping feuds, duels, and attempted assassinations. Once he even had to save an assassin from a council member.

To say that the nobles were unhappy would be like saying that the oceans are moist. They decided that they wanted in on the action as well, and John was forced to enact another council, the “Council of Lords”.

-20 years later-

John, Lich king of Dis, stood on a platform in front of Castle Dis. “It is my pleasure to see all of you in attendance this blustery day!” he called out to the massive throng of people in attendance. “As you know, the election has come to an end, and the ballots counted, and Pastor Jack, Son of William, has been elected to the next ten years of running the kingdom!”

The assembled cheered and shouted.

“Now, if King Elect Jack would step forward?” John asked, and the afore mentioned man strode onto the platform, then knelt. “Do you, Jack, Son of William, son of Francis, Son of Joseph, willingly take up the crown of our kingdom, and swear on the graves of your ancestors to uphold her, and keep her, in sickness, health, times of war and calamity?”

“Your majesty, I do!” Jack yelled above the cheers.

“Then I hereby grant you the crown, the scepter, and the title of KING!” John said. He placed the crown on the poor man’s head, and felt a weight lifted. A weight he had suffered under for most of a century. Turning to the crowd he yelled “LONG LIVE THE KING!”

*-*-*

25th of Arah,

18 miles again today! The Hera are settling into our routine. Brianna is a little miffed at a book she was reading this evening. I will not be buying her any romance books for gifts, even though she seems to enjoy them. I may look through her collection at some point, and see what she likes, but probably not.

-

Maxwell looked up from his writing as a book impacted the side of the tent he shared with his wife. “What’s wrong dearest?”

Brianna glared at the offending book, then answered, “If I ever read another romance book where the female lead ‘Boobily Breasted’*** anywhere, I’m going to burn the author’s house down.”

Max raised one eyebrow, then slowly turned back to his writing. Note to self: Self, do NOT buy Bri any romance novels for birthday presents. Signed, Self.

-

28th of Arah,

Ice Zombies****? Really? Who thought it was a good idea to let them out? Idiots. You have to destroy the body almost completely, then remove the head, then burn the remnants to ash! You had best gather all of the pieces too, otherwise they may come back. Alternately, you could have a priest bless them, and they fall apart. About the only good use of clergy…

-

Max looked at the three piles of ash in front of the party. “What idiot awoke the Ice Zombies?” He looked around his assembled group. Magni was a little shaken, as was Numvula, the English, Chester, on the other hand was white faced and shuddering.

“Wh…What the hell were those things?” Chester managed to finally ask.

“Ice Zombies.” Brandywine answered. “They sometimes happen when someone dies the cold sleep.”

Numvula, leaning on her spear, and still not properly dressed for the cold, looked over towards Brandy, “How do they awaken?”

“Large amounts of magical power can wake them up, or call the already awoken to a location.” Brianna said, pulling her nose from a battered book. “Sometimes the sound of people passing by can do it too. The current thought is that the walking dead are trying to get help in passing on. But some scholars still stick with the idea that they are trying to eat the living in order to come back to life.”

“There are stories from home that talk of the draugr; men who died, that guard their graves against those who would plunder them.” Magni added. “Could we have walked over a grave?”

“Anything is possible in the demon wastes.” Maxwell replied. “Let’s get moving, time waits for no one.”

*One of the problems with the kingdom of Dis, is that the capital city is cursed. No one knows when or how it happened, but things get weird there. Fabric made in the city, or traveling through has a tendency to gain (or lose) magical properties. So does most everything else.

Magic users in the city have to be very careful with their spells because mana surges will occasionally happen that fundamentally alter the spells. Also, any mage born in the city has to work even harder because the magic seems to love them the best and the random surges follow them anywhere, they go, even overseas**.

**Yes, ALL wild mages in the world either originated from Dis, or are descended from people who were born there.

***Look up r/menwritingwomen.

****This was a problem with large battlefields, if you didn’t recover all the bodies, and properly bury them, the dead had a chance of standing back up after a few weeks (or days, and in a few cases the night after death) and causing problem. Not to mention the occasional necromancer.