The not-immortal Blacksmith

Lostcairn, Snows Province, Kingdom of Garthia;

55th of Anael, the first month of Snow;

2125 years since the new gods came.

All of the guests have arrived. The Brides dinner is over. The wedding is tomorrow at noon.

*-*-*

56th of Anael, Midwinter day,

Noon,

A clear sky, and a cold breeze make the people standing outside the courthouse shiver as they wait to be seated. The courthouse was the only building in town big enough to hold the wedding of a poor baker and her equally destitute bar man husband to be. Why? Because their adopted Godfather made the mistake of asking some of his old friends if they wanted to come to a wedding. An act that he literally kicked himself for after the fact.

The bride is resplendent as she waits at the altar for the groom to make his way down the aisle. He is handsome in his suit coat and tails, his tie and cummerbund setting off his pale blue eyes nicely. They are truly a sight to behold. Reverend Paul Baker (he had taken Martha's name) waited for the audience to quiet down before preforming the rite of marriage as the book of healing required. Water, wine, bread, and other things were poured, eaten or burned, then words were said, and the marriage was done.

The three gods in attendance sat in the farthest back seating they could find in such a crowded space, and bided their time, waiting for Maxwell the Heretic to be done. They quietly talked among themselves about how the goat had disappeared; again. And how different plans were going.

Maxwell eventually excused himself from a knot of “Guests”; who everyone recognized as being “Of the Family”; where he was the only one who didn't realize he ruled; and stepped up to them.

“Okay. You haven't brought ruin to the occasion, so there is that,” Maxwell said to Tranquility, then looked over to the dwarf and the man, “Bjorn, always a pleasure. War.” He looked back to the 'idiot', “So why did you need to interfere on this happy occasion?”

“Well, first off, we knew you wouldn't run away. Second, we wanted to enjoy your cooking. Third, we want to know what your plans are, going forward.” Tranquility said, standing as tall as she could.

“Oh, well you are welcome to the food and drink. I never run away,” He looked at Maximilian, “as you well know. As for my plans? Candlesticks. I think some time in a little shop on the Island of Clifrontle, and away from you lot, will do me good.” He looked at Bjorn, “No offense, old friend.”

“None taken. The older you get, the more you want to be alone with your thoughts.” Bjorn replied, looking at Tranquility.

“I get it. I get it.” Tranquility replied. “Now, Maximilian has something to say to you. Don't you, my dear?”

“Um...yes.---” Maximilian started, but was interrupted by the bride gliding up.

“Oh, Max! There you are! We are waiting on you to cut Martha's cake!” She stopped and looked at the three people Max was standing with. “Who are your friends? I recognize Bjorn, always a pleasure, but the rest?”

Max sighed, “May I introduce my acquaintances, Maximilian and Narissa? I met them years back in my youth.”

“Oh, so before you became a baker? How wonderful!” She curtsied to the two gods. “So you were named after the Gods? How wonderful! Please, enjoy yourselves. Any friend of Max's is a friend of mine!” And with that, Sam glided away.

No fighting at weddings or funerals, no fighting at weddings or funerals, Max repeated to himself for a moment. “I guess you are invited. Follow me.” Max walked through the crowd, greeting many by first name, and the rest by family.

When the cake was cut, Narissa and Maximilian both raised their glasses, and recited in clear and quiet voices, “May this wedding, and all in attendance be blessed.”

Maxwell seemed to be the only one who noticed, as he openly sighed at the pair. “Really? Did you have too? It was bad enough that we had to have a preacher man do the thing.” He shook his head, “Now what did you want to say to me, Max?” The name said with a bit of scorn.

“I...wanted to apologize to you for getting you killed. Those men were supposed to take you to a temple so I could yell at you for a bit, before I sent you home.” Maximilian said. “It was not supposed to go that way. The men responsible have been suitably punished for there transgression.”

Maxwell cocked his head to the side, “Max, would you walk with me for a moment? So we can discuss this like men?”

“Of course!” Maximilian said, and followed Max down a quiet hallway, and out a side door into an alley. “What do you want?” He asked as they stepped outside into the darkness.

“This.” Maxwell pulled his pair of revolvers, and shot the god of war. He unloaded the pair, first a shot into each foot, then each kneecap, then each shoulder, then each elbow.

“How do you like being shot? Hurts, doesn't it? Ruins the clothing too.” Maxwell said, mostly to himself as he watched the god start to heal. Then he put a pair of slugs in Maximilian's chest, followed by his last pair, into the gods eyes.

“I accept your apology.” Maxwell said. He turned on his heel, and left the dissolving body of the god of war behind him. That will keep him from bothering anyone down here for a hundred years.

When asked where his friend was, he replied, “He had a pressing engagement.” and left it at that.

*-*-*

1st of Arah, Second month of Snow.

The wedding went off without a hitch! I shot the god of war several times. He wont be back for a century or more. Good riddance. I need to pack it up now. Going to head to Clifrontle in the morning. Learn to make candles. Everyone knows that I will be dropping by occasionally to make sure things are going well. Sam and Reggie should have a good life here.

*-*-*

Sam looked at Reggie, “I can't believe he just gave it to us and left! And the rest of the presents? What are we going to do with a country house in Demonia?”

Reggie looked up from a sheaf of papers he was reading through. “I don't know what he did, but Damn that man has connections, your Ladyship.”

“WHAT!!!”

*-*-*

2nd of Arah,

Lostcairn to Clifrontle is only a 660ish mile trip, but more than half is by water. I expect the water portions to take less time or distance, as most ships only vaguely follow the shipping lanes at this time of year.123 miles to Dragon, where I will book passage on a ship to Swifthtown, 217 nautical miles. Then from there to Cavernfore, another 149 nautical miles. And finally the last leg of Cavernfore to Clifrontle, 173 Nautical miles.

TTFN