The not-immortal Blacksmith

The sky was a deep blue in the celestial realm. All the trees were various shades of green. The coliseum of the old gods was, as always, a foreboding bone white. The large and and ancient building; even by celestial standards; was to be, as tradition dictated, the site of a trial.

The twelve gods and the “celestial Goat” were in attendance as, the defendant walked himself to the “defendants cage”. When he finished closing himself inside goddess Tranquility floated herself to the center of the coliseum, and began.

“Maximilian, god of war, you are hereby charged with summoning forth not one, not two, but THREE dead members of the military from another world! This is in clear violation of the rules. How do you plead?” The goddess of Tranquility stood in the center, left hand outstretched towards the defendants cage.

Maximilian shook his head, steeped out of the cage and over to the defense council's chair and said, “My client is not guilty. He summoned Spies, not members of the military. Ladies, gentlemen, and goat of the jury, if you will look at the documents in front of you---”

“I HAVE JUST HAD A NEAR HERETIC EXPERIENCE.” a black cloaked figure, with glowing cobalt blue eyes and skeletal features, stated, having just appeared in the middle of the proceedings. “WHILE THIS DOES NOT BOTHER ME, IT DOES PUT MY SCHEDULE BEHIND. MR. WAR GOD, PLEASE INFORM YOUR MINIONS NOT TO ATTEMPT TO KILL THE HERETIC.” The figure disappeared.

“What the?” Maximilian said.

“Court is adjourned. Have fun with that, 'Mr. War God'.” Said Tranquility, before she and the rest of the gods disappeared.

Looking up at the beautiful sky, Maximilian yelled, “Well fuck!”

*-*-*

Lostcairn, Snows Province, Kingdom of Garthia;

34th of Samue, the month of Planting;

2122 years since the new gods came.

Evening.

Max was finishing up the post closing cleaning of the bakery, and as was usual, he listed things off out loud, “Dishes? Done. Oven prep? Done. Counters? Done.” The background chatter from the bar suddenly stopped, and the lack of background noise disturbed his train of thought. “What the hell is going on over there?” he asked the room.

He stretched, tossed his apron on the counter, and stepped through the adjoining door to the bar, and said in a loud voice, “What's going on over here?”

A man; one of three with what he recognized as boomsticks; with a fluid and well practiced motion, mounted the weapon to his shoulder, and pulled the trigger.

The boom deafened his ears, the pain in his chest as the (he knew from Tristan) .32 caliber lead balls tore through it, overcame him. He dropped to the floor.

3.

2.

1.

With a deep breath, he opened his eyes. Nope. I'm done. He thought, then uttered a single powerful word.

The room around him exploded with screams of terror as the wooden planks of the floor and walls sprouted grasping brambles and vines. Maxwell said another word, then a third. He stood, the skin of his bare chest bloody but unmarred. “What have you brought to my home?” He asked, as he slowly stepped towards the three black coated men. Men who were trying, much like the rest of the bar, to free themselves from brambles and vines.

“You shot me. That hurt.” He looked at the tables, and waived an arm, “Release all but these three.” All but the brambles holding the three men dissolved.

“I don't care why you are here. I don't care how you came here.” Max stared into the mans eyes, “You will not leave here. Alive.” He reached out his left hand and wrapped his fingers around the mans neck. He squeezed, gently at first, then with more and more strength, and in the deathly quiet of the bar, everyone heard the cracking snap of the vertebrae when it broke.

Max pointed to a corner of regulars, thugs all, and said “Take these other two to the wolves, with my complements.” Someone gasped. “Good point. Take them out the back and strip them first, then take one to the wolves, and the other to the Ratlings. With my compliments.” He dismissed his spells, and the three men fell to the floor.

“Drinks are on the house. I'm going to bed.” Max said. “Oh, Reggie? Please put up the 'Closed till further notice' sign up in the bakery window.”

*-*-*

34th of Samue,

I got shot tonight. I don't care who they worked for. I'm pissed. This was supposed to be a good violence free place. Fuck. At least none of my patrons were injured. I will have to close for a while in order to clean. I have no idea why the three of them were here, but I was told they were “Looking for The Blacksmith.” I sense foul things afoot. In the meantime, I have new things to work on during my free time. Hahaha, “free time.”

42nd of Samue,

The bakery and bar are clean. I am unsure if I should even bother reopening. We will see what tomorrow brings.

43rd of Samue,

Business went well. Several people asked why we were closed, and I informed them that deep cleaning had been called for after serious stains had been caused. After closing, the various underworld groups came and said hello. The bar is having a wild re-opening party.

I am unsure why, but there are now three highly polished human skulls on the wall behind the counter. No sign yet as to why the three were after me.

*-*-*

“Why did you shoot the Heretic?” The voice of Maximilian, god of war, bounced around the marble floored plane. “I told you to capture him, and bring him to a temple.”

The three former CIA operatives just cowered on the floor.

“I was in trial to be censured for summoning you, and was about to get off free, when HE showed up to inform the council that YOU had killed the Heretic!” His voice echoed in their souls.

Michael looked up, “I, I'm sorry, lord. We were startled, and things just happened.”

“Just happened? Just happened?!? Stepping on an ant just happens! Slipping on the soap in the shower, and falling into your buddy's naked wife 'just happens'! No, what happened here was simple incompetence.” Maximilian wound down. “And incompetence doesn't pay.”

The three men looked at each other, concern all but running from their faces. Michel looked up again, “My lord! We can do better! Our track record is otherwise pristine!”

“Yes it is. Otherwise I would throw your souls to the void.” Maximilian took a deep breath. “Your payment, for an otherwise clean record, is to be reincarnated. Randomly. Gentlemen, enjoy your new lives.” He waved his hand over them, and they disappeared, never to be seen again.

*-*-*

50th of Samue,

Looks like things are back to normal. Profits are steady. Sam has passed the exams and graduated to master. I will discuss it with her in a few days, but I think I will sell her the place and move on in a decade or so.

53rd of Samue,

She said yes.

Lostcairn, Snows Province, Kingdom of Garthia;

4th of Kusha, the month of Harvest

2125 years since the new gods came.

Sam and Reggie are getting married! I have volunteered to make the clothing for the entire wedding party. And of course we will be hosting the entire thing.

23rd of Kusha,

The wedding is starting to snowball. EVERYONE wants in. The nobles are jumping over each other. The 'Families' are beside themselves. This will end up being a circus. The date isn't even set yet!

29th of Kusha,

The date has been set for Midwinter, 56th of Anael. The bride's family will be in attendance, as will Reggie's. I only have 8 outfits to prepare in a month and a half. That and my wedding present to the happy couple.

52nd of Kusha,

Sam's mother is a harpy and a half. Good taste in cloth, though.

55th of Kusha,

Mrs. Hardinkle was allowed to see the patterns for the gowns and suits today. She fainted. I gathered from Sam that she follows the royal fashions quite a lot. Apparently my old pattern, or variations there of, are back in style this year.

55th of Kusha,

The Harpy is persistent. I gave in and showed her the array of patterns at my disposal. She fainted again.

56th of Kusha,

Mrs. “the harpy' Hardinkle is a deft hand with the needle. We will be done even earlier than expected.

Wedding gifts are already showing up. Liam and his brood of children are coming. As is the current Duke of Coxnia and his brood. Martha and the reverend are putting in an appearance as well. The reverend has offered to officiate.

14th of Anael, first month of Snow,

When did this turn into a “State Wedding”? The second cousin of the king will be in attendance, as will a representative from Demonia. At least the clothing is done. I will be turning the bakery over to Martha to do the wedding cake, as she is still better at it than I am.

39th of Anael,

Guests are arriving. It is getting hectic. At least the visiting nobility are being put up by the local lords. The inns will be full this year.

45th of Anael

I received a sealed letter from the local temple of the Healer. There were 3 seals on it, actually. I recognized Bjorn's right off, as I have seen it many times before. The other two I didn't immediately recognize. They were from War and Tranquility.

The three will be attending the ceremony, but only as a nicety as they want to talk to me about something. I suppose at this point, the more the merrier.

TTFN