The not-immortal Blacksmith

Garthax, Capital city of Garthia;

54th of Anael, First month of Snow;

2109 years since the new gods came.

Dearest Master Maxwell,

I hope this letter finds you well, and that the season warms your heart. With the death of the Demon General, life is returning to normal. I have been recalled to the capital.

My field promotions have been made official, as have those of my soldiers. We have been assigned temporary lodgings in a mostly permanent camp just outside the city proper, while the troops are being mustered out of the service. A fair number are being actively recruited by the magic school in order to finish their training, and others are being poached by different branches of the military.

I have been offered a promotion and transfer to the training regiment, to train up what back home would be called “Special Forces''. I have decided to accept. The pay is good, and the bonus is excellent. In two years I will be wedded to my secretaries; there is apparently some loophole in a couple of the churches that allows it; it will be an interesting experience.

You were right, combat really does change a man. Some for the better, some for the worse. My experiences are in some ways hard to recount, the bad ones at least; whereas the good ones make for excellent drinking stories that are good for a pint or two at the pub.

The Goat God has finally left us, and forgive me for saying this, thank the Goddess. He was a pain. A fun pain, but a pain. Did I ever tell you that he once left a steaming pile of poo on my floor? Good riddance.

I plan on trying to capitalize on my current influence to create a properly regulated mail system, something along the lines of the postal system back home. The lack of correspondence with the soldiers' families caused a large drop in morale on the front lines. I hope this idea will help.

Young Lord Oswald has patched things up with his father. Their reunion was actually a heart warming affair. It looks like he has started on the long road of recovery. I hate to say it, after he was such a pain in the ass, but I'm actually proud of him. If he keeps it up, he should be a good ruler one day.

A tragedy will be befalling me soon. After the Midwinter festivities I will be being presented to the king, and knighted. I don't know how to feel about this. Back home the nobility and royalty were a thing to be mocked and laughed at. And here I am now, being thrust into it. I suppose I will just have to do my best to carry on your legacy in my duties to come.

Your disciple,

Lt. William Johann Roosevelt

Ps, I found a twenty sided die in my bed this morning, and can't figure out where it came from. Strange.