The not-immortal Blacksmith

Isle of Golstran

50th of Kusha, the month of Harvest.

2290 Years since the New gods came.

From the Journal of Aaron Fish

I have reported in to the Deacon of Wisdom. He was very impressed with my findings in the records. I was surprised to find out that here on the island the cost of living is such that Two Silvers is pay for a week, not for a day! Then again, fish are plentiful, and the sea provides more than enough of the local food. I was being robbed of my coin at the tavern due to being a “foreigner”. On the other hand, traditional grain crops are more expensive than on the mainland. The local grain is called Mize; it is a saltwater grass that strikes me as a combination of corn and rice; rice like in that it is a grass, corn like in that its grains are yellow and the size of kernels of corn.

We were able to open the actual treasury, with help, and what we found inside was…unfortunate.

-

Aaron stood in front of the solid wooden door of the temple’s treasury, and looked at the iron bands that reinforced it. He sighed, and waited for the Deacon to return with the key. As the minutes passed he noted his surroundings: a mathematically correct spiral on the wall next to the door, inlaid with a silver colored metal; a rich red carpet with actual silver threads that depicted the mathematical formula for understanding surface area and volume for many different shapes, as well as the ballistic coefficients of several projectiles; bright yellow light stones recessed into the ceiling that provided the exact amount of light for proper reading; and three blueprints for farming machines were displayed on the wall across from the door. All said and done, he considered it tasteful.

As Aaron waited, an acolyte approached him, “Are you Mr. Fish?”

“Yes, young man, I am he.” Aaron replied.

“The Head Deacon has said to inform you that the only key is missing, and he is unable to open the treasury.” The acolyte said, voice breaking in the way they do at puberty.

“Very well.” Aaron said, “What are we to do about it?”

“I believe the Deacon is going to try and find a locksmith as the old one who installed the door and lock died several years back.”

“How long will this take?” Aaron inquired, quirking an eyebrow.

“Several days, I’m afraid.”

Aaron smiled, “I have a better idea.” He removed his new communication stone from his pocket; wonderful inventions, pockets; and called Lord Smithson. “My lord? I am sorry to interrupt you, but the temple is having a problem with the treasury doors lock. Is there anything you could do to open it?” He listened for a moment, then smiled again. “Thank you, sir. I will be waiting.” He looked to the acolyte, “Please take me to the entrance, we are to meet someone.”

-

Twenty minutes of waiting at the front steps of the temple Aaron saw who he was waiting for: a short boy of twelve or so, previously malnourished, with the standard tanned skin of the lands and a face that could almost be described as “rat like”, one Mr. Grendel Repute.

“Mr. Repute, I presume?” Aaron asked.

“Yeah, that’s me.” The boy replied. “Now, what’s this I’m breaking into?”

A short five minutes later Aaron stared as Grendel moved a small piece of metal in the lock and it clicked.

“Doors open!” Grendel said with a wide smile. “Is that the best one the temple could afford? Granny Gurt has a better one on her jewelry box.”

“Granny Gurt? ...Never mind.” Aaron said as he pushed the heavy door open. Well, he tried to, but the door only opened six inches. “Um, Grendel? Do you think---”

Grendel slipped through the crack, “Way ahead of you boss!” Then he stopped, “You may want to call The Boss, and that Deacon guy too. We have a body.”

-

Half an hour and much bustling later Aaron, Maxwell, constable John, and Head Deacon McHenry stood over the body of Deacon Gregory. Aaron was looking over the scene with a discerning eye, and dictating what he saw in his mind. There are no signs of a struggle, which points to her either being surprised Or knowing her killer. There are no indications of violence aside from the knife in the deacon’s throat. The only key is missing from the corpse. All of the money is missing from the treasury. There are no prints in the pool of congealed blood around and under the body. There is no magical residue in the room. The room is eight by ten feet in size, with a seven-foot ceiling and a stone floor. The light stones only come on and stay on when the door is open. There is a counting table on the left wall with pen, ink, blotter, scale, and locked drawer. The drawer in the counting table was unlocked by Mr. Repute, and I opened it to find that it contained extra quills, ink, and a ledger. The ledger was last updated four days ago by the deceased with a deposit of eighteen copper, and shows that there should be five thousand three hundred fifty-two silvers and thirteen thousand ninety-six coppers in the treasury.

Aaron looked over to the head deacon, “Head Deacon McHenry, did Gregory have anyone working for or with her?”

Head Deacon McHenry looked up from the corpse, “Yes? But Ms. Angela has been on maternity leave for over a week now.”

“Thank you.” Aaron pressed his lips together in a frown. “Is anyone else away from the temple?”

“I…I don’t know?” Head Deacon McHenry replied. “I’ll have to ask around.”

“Please do that.” Aaron sad in a flat voice. “I think it will be necessary.”

-

Meanwhile, in the celestial realm…

“An accounting error?” Brother Proof shook his fist at the memo on his office desk, “You want ME to investigate an accounting error?”