The not-immortal Blacksmith

Rorevilia, capital of Pondge.

14th of Kusha, the month of Harvest.

2290 Years since the New gods came.

In the suite of rooms on the top floor of the Inn, Grendel sat across the table from Maxwell and Brianna, bullets of sweat dripping down his back. “Yes sir.”

“So, after he beat you, you spent the next two days planning your revenge?” Max asked.

“Yes sir.”

“You obtained a pest control smoke bomb, with goblin powder in it.” Max continued, ignoring Grendel’s reply.

“Yes sir.”

“Smashed it into the face of the door guard. Then you waited for the man to exit?” Max asked.

“Yes sir.”

Brianna, who had been giving Grendel what could only be called a “Piercing Stare” got up from the table and went to her room. Grendel gulped.

“Then, when the man came out, you waylaid him. Beating him to within an inch of his life?” Max asked, as Brianna came back to the table with her needlepoint.

“Not quite, sir.” Grendel said.

“Really?” Brianna asked, starting to work on her project.

“I only broke both of his kneecaps and both arms.” Grendel replied, shuffling his feet under the table.

Max shook his head, “At least you showed some restraint at that point. You are grounded to your room for the rest of the day.” Max pointed to the room Grendel had been assigned. “And don’t go sneaking out the window this time.”

Grendel hung his head, mumbling “yes sir.” As he walked the walk of the dead to his room.

Once the door had closed, and they heard him climb out the window, Max and Bri laughed. “At, at least he didn’t kill anyone!” Bri said between laughs.

“Right?” Max said.

-

Grendel walked the city streets, borrowed some money purses and then returned them a little heavier than they had been. “What the hell am I doing?” He asked the sky at the edge of town. “Have I lost my touch? I should have killed that guy, not maimed him.” He shook his head.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and whirled around. The woman in front of him smiled, then faster than he could react, poked him in the chest. “And that, young Repute, is as quickly as you can die.” She smiled. “But I have decided to let you live.”

Grendel stared at the nondescript woman. “Wait, what?” Then he noticed the small broach above her left breast, and bowed slightly. “Hello Ma’am. How may I serve you today?”

“Don’t bother with the formalities. I’m here to give you a piece of advice: Don’t do something that will spread to the populace at large.” She smiled a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “That, isn’t our way.”

Grendel nodded enthusiastically. “Yes Ma’am.”

“Good.” The woman walked away, and stepped into a doorway.

Grendel didn’t bother following the woman, he knew she would be gone by the time he made it to the door. “Great. Now I’m in trouble with the family too… Why am I more worried about Max and Bri?”

-*-

14th of Kusha

Dearest Mother,

Sweet little Grendel is a handful! Aside from the varmint bomb, he had the proper reaction to being beaten up in a bar fight that he neither caused nor deserved. The instigator of the beatdown only had his limbs broken, as opposed to being stabbed on his way home from the bar. Little Grendel is growing into a better man. I am a little disappointed that Brandy didn’t help out, but then again, Grendel does need to learn on his own.

Maxie still hasn’t made a move. I don’t know how I feel about this. On the one hand, the excitement is filling me with joy. On the other, I desperately want to feel him in my bead. What to do, what to do… That is a rhetorical question, mother. I do NOT want your advice; I just feel like sharing my thoughts with you.

The revealing of the new flags has gone better than I had imagined. The people have been satisfied with results, and seem to be accepting him fairly well. Maxie does have a way with people… It is fun to watch him agree with the dissenters, and bash the king and queen for thrusting this responsibility upon him. It does a wonderful job of quelling the crowd. So does meeting with them in the various bars in the evenings and buying the house a round or two of the good stuff. Never underestimate the working people’s appreciation for free food and drink. Or how much they like having actual interaction with “the people in charge” as Maxie calls them.

He really is a man among men.

My needlepoint is going well, and I thank you for suggesting the hobby. I do wish I had more friends on this journey, as I do feel lonely since I don’t drink that often, and that does seem to be Brandy’s favorite hobby, aside from fighting...and causing trouble. Last week she got Maxie involved in a bar fight not of his choosing. It was amusing to watch, and no one was hurt too badly.

I wish you well mother, and I love you.

Brianna Smithson.

Ps. Will I ever tire of calling myself that?

Pps. Don’t answer that, for I know that I will not.

-

Brianna looked over the letter she had written, then folded it and placed it into an envelope. Such an interesting thing, these self-sealing envelopes! They make things so much easier! She added a dollop of wax anyway, and used her ring to mark it. Then she took the letter and a few miscellaneous packages down to the lobby to be sent out on the next delivery ship.

She stepped into the bar, ordered a glass of wine (the good stuff, as she had taste), and played darts for a few hours. She won almost every game.