The not-immortal Blacksmith

35 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 11 – Demonia II

Gilip, Capital city of Demonia;

33rd of Anael, First month of Snow;

2109 years since the new gods came.

9am, Magistrates Office

Maxwell sat in a well appointed waiting room, waiting for the Magistrates assistant to come out from the inner office. The candelabras were unlit, and the morning sun was doing a fine job of illuminating the room. The plush carpet was indeed a work of beauty, showing a stylized sunrise in red, blue, and gold.

While he waited, he went over in his mind the questions he would ask. 1) When did Demonia add his face to their coins? 2) Why did Demonia add his face to the coins? 3) Would they remove his face from the coins?

He waited for what seemed like an eternity in the comfortable chair, until he heard the muted sound of shattering glass from the inner room. As he stood up to head towards the sound, the assistant came out, looking more than a little distraught. “I'm sorry, sir, but the Magistrate is unable to take your meeting due to him having just jumped out his window, and running down the street.”

“Okay?” Was all Maxwell could come up with as a response.

“If you could kindly leave a calling card, I can have him get back to you when he returns?”

“Certainly.” Maxwell removed an old calling card from his jacket, wrote his current contact location on the back and handed it to her. “Here you go. I do hope he will be okay.”

“I'm sure he will be fine in a few days.” The assistant said, smiling nervously.

Maxwell walked out of the Magistrate building, whistling an old tune, and turned up the broad street towards the Council Building.

*-*-*

Approximately 10 am, Council Building

“Oh goddess and all the hells, he is here! He was just in my office!” An extremely panicked Magistrate Ilgrid was yelling, having just charged in on the councils meeting.

“Magistrate Ilgrid, if you don't want to loose your position, I suggest you restrain yourself immediately, and depart this chamber!” Councilman Wright said, voice only raised a small amount.

“Councilors, I don't think you understand!” Ilgrid said, voice still overly loud, as sweat seeped from his face, “The HERETIC WAS IN MY OFFICE!”

The entire room went silent. A secretary who had been filling an ink pot dropped it, it hit the pristine floor and shattered, loudly. Everyone jumped at the sound.

Councilman Wright slowly stood, looked across the worried faces of his fellow councilors, and quietly said, “I hereby call a vote to close down the council until such a time as the Heretic has departed the city. All in favor say 'Aye' ---” The overwhelming number of 'Aye' responses drowned out the rest of his words as the members of the council stood and fled the chamber.

*-*-*

Approximately 10:15 am, Council Building

Maxwell approached the Council Building at a measured pace. He observed the fine carvings of gargoyles, the stained glass windows, and the speedy procession of individuals leaving. “Hmm, must be some kind of problem going on, I guess I'll give it a bit before I go in.” he quietly muttered.

He window shopped for what he thought was around a half hour, enjoying the new fashions that the high end stores near the capital buildings displayed, before heading back to the council building. As he approached, he saw the sign on the door had been flipped to “Closed”, with an additional sign having been posted “The Council has recessed for the month, and will return there after.”

“Strange. Most of the bureaucrats I've met hate closing down the shop. Cuts into their profits too much.” Maxwell said.

A bystander, apparently one with business in the building looked over at him, “You said it. These idiots always try to stay open, even on festival days. This is strange indeed. Guess I don't have to worry about renewing my permits.”

I guess I will get myself an early lunch before I head to the castle, and ask to see the King, Maxwell thought, heading towards a small cafe he had seen earlier.

*-*-*

Approximately 1:15 pm, The Castle.

“Highness, the Heretic has been reported to be heading this way. What are your orders?” Sir Gavin Helmsman, Knight of the Order of Kittens, and head of the King's Guard asked.

“We will need to receive him in the grand hall. Prepare your knights for a grand reception.” King Gexra II, High Lord of Demonia, said. “This needs to be handled as a state visit.”

“Very good, milord.” Sir Helmsman replied. “Is there anything else?”

“Have the castle staff ready to flee, just in case there is trouble. And remind your men not to instigate anything.” King Gexra responded. “Now I need to get ready, you are dismissed.”

*-*-*

Approximately 1:45 pm, The Castle.

Maxwell entered the castle and looked around. Much had changed here since his last visit. A public garden had been added, as had a few small shops. He decided that it was much improved. As he headed towards the Keep itself, he noted a large contingent of armored knights approaching the gate he had just come through, and made his way to the side to let them pass. Instead of passing, they walked up to him, the knight in the lead bowed at the waist, and said “Lord Blacksmith, the King sends his regards and asks that you meet with him in the grand hall.”

Maxwell was dumbstruck for a moment before collecting himself and said, “Um, certainly? Please lead on. It has been a long while since I was here, and I don't remember the way.”

The knights formed up around him, and Maxwell allowed himself to be shepherded to the great hall, which was exactly where he remembered it to be. Glad to know they didn't change things that much, he thought.

The great hall had undergone much in the way of renovations. The lighting was much improved, using candles instead of torches, the tapestries which had been old and tattered were now restored and clean, the new tapestries that had been added were nice and colorful. Then Max noticed the details of the new tapestries, they seemed to detail his last journey into Demonia. The last of the new tapestries depicted him; light streaming from behind his form; pointing an oversized sword at a grotesque demon, with a caption below saying “Do not force me to return”. Max shook his head in discomfort. Why? Why do they make such a big thing out of it? It was just a theatrical threat. He thought.

Standing on a raised dais at the far end of the hall was an average looking man of indeterminate age, who had a look that seemed to combine fear and joy on his face. Between the dais and Maxwell were a number of knights, standing at attention along both sides of a carpet that led from the door to the base of the dais. As Maxwell approached, the man spoke, “My Lord Blacksmith, it is a great honor to meet you.” The man bowed deeply towards Maxwell, “I am King Gexra the Second.” The king stood back up. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Slightly taken aback, Maxwell looked around again, then said, “Well, your highness, I have come to have a chat about your money.”

“What about it?” The king asked, looking perplexed. “Is there something wrong with it? Has someone been illegally striking coins? If that was the case, you could have just sent a message, and it would have been handled.”

Maxwell quirked and eyebrow, thinking, What is this nonsense? Since when would a commoner like me have any say in that? “No, your highness, it is the use of my face on the coins, and the line on the back about me never returning.”

“Oh... OH! Of course. No one would have even thought to bother you with that!” The king replied, releasing a heavy breath, “It was designed that way by my great grandfather, King Gexra, to remind us what you looked like and to be warned that your return could spell the end for all of us.”

Maxwell openly gawked at the man in front of him. “Say what now? I would never... Well probable not... Um... Okay then... Thank you for clearing that up for me... I will be taking my leave... Carry on.” Maxwell turned, and departed with as much haste as he could muster, without breaking into a jog. This place is fucking INSANE! Goddess take them all! It was just theatrics! I mean, I kinda meant it at the time, but that was years ago! He shook his head again, Time to get out of here before they try something stupid, like parading the real me through the streets.

*-*-*

Approximately 2:08 pm, The Castle.

King Gexra let out a shaky breath, “Did you see the look in his eyes? He could have killed us all without a second thought!”

Sir Helmsman sat on a couch next to the kings chair, “The aura of danger and destruction coming off of that man! It's no wonder that the Full bloods left in such numbers. I am not ashamed to admit that a little pee came out when I met him in the courtyard.” He shook himself at the thought of the experience. “How did you manage to not falter under the full effect of his regard?”

The king held up a small talisman on an intricate chain from under his shirt, “This is a 'bullet' from his boom stick, more exactly it is THE bullet that the Hero Tristan used to kill King Gexra's great uncle, the Demon Lord Garthrix the Third. Gexra spared no expense in it's recovery from his castle.” The king took a halting breath, “It still retains some of Tristan's magic, and has saved me several times from psychic assaults. It was less effective versus the Heretic, but it helped.”

Sir Helmsman wiped his face on his sleeve. “I will sound the all clear in a few minutes. I hope to never meet that man again. Ever.”

“Me either, old friend. Me either.” The king replied. “Get me another drink before you go?”