The not-immortal Blacksmith

Maxwell

Necallhill, Ehelm Province, Kingdom of Garthia.

3rd of Kusha, the month of Harvest.

2290 Years since the New gods came.

The wee hours of the morning were a happy time for Maxwell. He crawled from his bed, and poured a cup of coffee from the magic pot Bri had found somewhere. He glanced around their rooms, but saw nothing of his wife, and assumed she was still sleeping. She has been doing a lot of legwork on this whole banner thing. And a lot of research on the history of all three islands. I’m impressed.

He dressed in his best sailors’ wear, and quietly left the rooms for the docks, intending on buying breakfast on the way to the ship, when a soft arm grabbed him from the shadows.

“Don’t forget your breakfast, husband.” Brianna said, handing him a waxed bag. “Take the coffee with you. I can live without for the day.” She handed him the sealed pot as well, then kissed him on the cheek. “Good hunting!” Bri then disappeared into the rooms.

“Well, I’ll be…” Max walked down the stairs and out of the inn, a stupid grin plastered to his face. “How did this happen?”

-

The docks were unusually quiet this morning, as Max stepped onto the foggy pier from which he would be boarding the Harmory of Light, a light scoop of a shipHhhh that would be a part of the scout fleet. Well, if you could call a group of six a fleet. He made his way down the pier until he found the correct ship. “Ahoy! Permission to come aboard?” He yelled up the ramp.

“Sate your name!” a voice called from above.

“Max. I volunteered for today’s trip!” Max yelled back.

“Welcome Max. Permission granted! Welcome aboard!” The voice replied.

And with that, Max climbed the boarding ramp. When he reached the top, he was greeted by a sailor in heavy wool clothes, sturdy boots, and a fine fleece hat. “Mornin to you, Max. Welcome to the Harmony of Light. If you will follow me, I will show you to your station.” The man said. “I’m mate Johnson, and I’m in charge of the lubbers who volunteered for this trip.”

“Well met, mate Johnson.” Max replied with a grin. “I was hoping to serve as a second set of eyes in the ‘nest, if you don’t mind?”

“You don’t even have your sea legs, and you are askin for a lofty position.” Mate Johnson gave a bark of laughter, “Well you got stones, I’ll give you that. If you can climb the riggin to get to the ‘nest, you can help. If you fall, I’ll throw you off the ship, and see if you can swim.”

Max’s grin got even wider. “Then I’ll take you up on that.” And he took off up the rigging like a squirrel up an oak. About halfway up, he wrapped a leg in the rigging for support, poured and drank a cup of coffee, then continued up to the crow’s nest.

Down on the deck, Mate Johnson just stared at Max’s shenanigans before muttering “Must be half squirrel, that one.”

-

The voyage started just before the early light of dawn; Max secured in the ‘nest with a John “no last name”. They spoke no more than was needed for the job at hand, but shared a conversation about the ship none the less. After dawn broke [there was no duct tape to fix it] [I should never write at this hour of the morning] the fog started to dissipate, and the pair could see a vast distance to the horizon.

The hours passed with nothing from any of the ships. Lunch came and went, and darkness was finally approaching when the ship farthest to the port reported something breaking the water’s surface. Max read the flags through his glass as they waved franticly to the rest of the fleet; “Leviathan sighted. Whale type. Bleeding.”

Max and John sighed a breath of relief, which was interrupted by the form of a serpent’s coil wrapping around the wale, a coil larger than most dragons (that Max had met) were thick, and dragged it under. The two men stared at the scene as bits and pieces of whale floated to the surface along with a bloom of blood.

“Well, that ain’t right.” John stated in a quiet voice. “Them things are supposed to ignore each other, not prey on each other.”

Max nodded in agreement. “That is strange. What would drive it to such extremes?” He looked to John, who only shrugged. “…that blood is going to attract all the curious sharks…”

Another coil appeared near the stern of the aforementioned ship. Then another. As Max and John watched in growing horror, they swept across the ship’s stern, and wrapped tighter and tighter, until the ship was sundered in half. Men jumped from the ship, not even bothering to launch the lifeboats, and swam as fast as they could. Then another tragedy occurred as sharks rose from the depths, and began to take “interested, but not really committed” bites of the ‘Strang thrashing things. Few sailors made it more than a dozen yards.

Max stared, feelings of horror mixed with anger and fear churned in his chest. And then it was over, the sharks and serpent gone, and not but wreckage floating in the water.

The remaining ships soon converged on the wreck, and pulled what people and bodies they could from the water. Then a sailor’s prayer was said of the dispersing wreckage, and the fleet, minus one, sailed for home.

-

Finally on the dock, Max looked at mate Johnson; and Captain Liam, whom he had met over lunch; and stated in a very flat voice “…We will need a bigger boat. And bigger guns.”

The two seamen gave Max a hard look, but nodded in agreement.

*-*-*

Brianna

Bri smiled as she watched her husband leave the rooms, well apartments, actually, that they were currently occupying. She had been up later than expected, and had been awoken early by the little sweety Grendel when he had finally come home. She smiled as she thought of how much fun it would be later to awake him before noon with a pitcher of iced salt water over the head to return the favor.

She walked to the sitting room, and lay out her project of the day, a paper layout of Maxwell’s future banner. After a conversation with her old teacher, she had learned that while straight lines and circles were frowned upon when trying to show equality, “irregular shapes” such as triangles, pentagons, and hexagons; while uncommon; were an accepted equalizer, as long at the individual representations were placed in the corners as opposed to on the line itself.

In order to show leadership over the others in the grouping, it was common practice to place the head above the rest; not in the top center of the shape at a corner, but above the shape entirely. She had rejected that immediately, already having the gut reaction that her Maxie would not approve.

So, she had moved his family seal to the center of the shape. A shape that she decided would be a Triangle. She took the finished sketch, made a sewing pattern from it, and began the next project of the day: Sewing. But not before dumping the aforementioned bucket on a very surprised and now very wet Grendel.