The not-immortal Blacksmith

In a small town in northern Garthia. A young woman stands next to a tree that has planted itself in the middle of her family's school compound. They share a laugh that no one else can hear, and continue their conversation.

*-*-*

Aeglazan, Duchy of Oldwell.

40th of Samue, the month of Planting;

2126 years since the new gods came.

Today I was told that I had to respond to a particular calling card. The only reason I listened to this piece of information is that it (the information) was delivered by my neighbor the elf. I have made a pair of calling cards of my own for the occasion. I dropped off one to the 'young' lady in question, an invitation to dinner at a local low-class pub that I quite enjoy. Meh. Nice place she lived in though, beautiful tree.

*-*-*

It was raining as Max walked to drop off the calling card to “Miss Evangeline Silverloch”. The name should have given away her heritage immediately, as only elves had such pretentious naming habits. Sadly, he hadn't been paying attention to such things when he threw them in the burn pit behind the hall on a weekly basis. Now, at the insistence of his hall mate, the cowardly elf, he was trudging through the rain, in a rather miserable mood. Stupid customs. Stupid people. Why am I doing this again? Oh, yeah, the elf asked me. Max thought. He actually walked up to me and asked! Must have pissed his god off immensely. A show of courage like that in the face of the gods must be respected. So I go. I just don't have to like it.

He trudged on, thoughts looping around his head, until he reached the residence hall. He was in what he thought of as the “overly posh” section of resident halls, and wasn't particularly impressed. Until he saw the tree. It was grown in the true classic style of the elves, graceful decorative curves (that could easily hide archers), up sweeping branches that looked like towers that intertwined with the rest near the top, perfect natural breaks in the bark that had been fitted with colorful glass windows, and the fresh silvery leaves still somehow sparkling in the rain. He walked up the steps to the actual door, not the 'front door' used by normal visitors, and knocked.

A young maid, in the proper elven attire for the position, answered the door in less than a heartbeat. She gave Max a quick examination with her eyes, smile barely faltering at his poor state of dress, then in a cold and dismissive voice, she said, “May I help you?”

“I have an invitation from a Master Smithson for Lady Silverloch.” Max held out the calling card. “I believe she is expecting it?”

In that moment, the maid's smile became real, “Ah, excellent! I will inform Lad...Miss Silverloch at once. Will you come in a moment?”

“I'm sorry miss, but I am needed at home. My apologies.” Max responded, lying through his teeth.

“Alas. Very well good man.” The maid held out a hand, “Please take this.” As max held out his hand, the maid dropped a gold coin into it. “A token from the Miss of her thanks.” He turned and departed. Well that was different. He looked at the coin, identifying it as an elven gold crown, a small fortune for a poor family.

*-*-*

43rd of Samue,

The quarter ends on the 55th. Apparently the last week is full of “Finals”, some sort of hellish tests. Should be fun. My “Date” with Silverloch is on Mikha, the 46th. I have a decent set of clothing for the occasion. We will see how the lady fares.

45th of Samune,

I have received the list of testing dates, times, and practice questions from my instructors. I was right, this will be fun.

46th of Samue,

Willa has asked me for help with the practice questions. Her real problem isn't the practical bits, she is better than I, her problem is a lack of confidence in her written answers. I will keep helping her along. Tonight was the “Date”. It went better than anticipated.

*-*-*

Maxwell was sitting in The Drowned Duck awaiting the Lady Silverloch. She would be late soon. A commotion started at the door, and he looked around, disturbed from his thoughts. A group of well dressed elves had just entered, and at their center was and overdressed elven lady, Silverloch. He stood and waived her over.

“Lady Silverloch, I presume?” Max said, tone mostly flat. “Please, have a seat.”

“Why thank you Master Smithson.” Lady Silverloch said. She waived at her escort, and they scattered around the room, and the bar. As she sat, Max gently pushed in her seat, before retaking his own.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your regard, Lady Silverloch?” Max asked, actually curious.

“Please, just call me Anna, otherwise I may have to start using All of your titles, Bjorn Friend.” Anna replied, a slight smile gracing her lips.

“Very well, Anna. So to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Max asked again, dropping the formalities.

“I was very interested to hear that one such as yourself had decided to enroll at this institution of learning. What with your varied history and all.” Anna said, waiving at a serving boy to bring drinks in the local fashion. “I wanted to meet you and, perhaps, get to know you better.”

Max cocked an eyebrow at the young woman. “Really? I would have thought your god would have words about that.”

“My god? Ha. That old coot can piss off. I don't follow him, and he has no control over me.” Anna replied, face slightly red. “I will not be dictated to about whom I may and may not acquaint myself with.”

Max raised his other eyebrow. Now this may be a woman worth getting to know. “Really? Pray tell, how did that come about?”

“That is a story best left for another time. Perhaps when we have gotten to know each other better.” Anna replied, a smile again playing about her lips. “Tell me, please, why did you give up being a baker?”

“That's an easy one, I gave my shop to my best apprentice when she got married. She had managed to achieve master status, and I was starting to get bored.” Max said.

“YOU GAVE IT TO HER!?!” Anna shouted. All of the patrons of the inn stared over at the table, and she blushed. “Apologies. I just find it hard to believe.”

“Too many people had figured out who I was, and I felt it was the best way to exit the situation. She should do well, she has most of my basic recipes, and sever that she developed on her own that were big hits.” Replied Max. “She also has the backing of several families in high places, so I am sure she will be fine.”

“You, you don't miss the power you had acquired there? The prestige?” Anna asked, yellow eyes wide.

“What power? What prestige?” Max asked, an eyebrow raised again. “I had no such things. I was just a baker. Albeit, one who helped some warring groups make peace. Nothing special. My old master? She was special. Her cakes were...are the best I have ever tasted. I envy her husband for that.”

“You... You really don't understand, do you.” Anna said, “You were, arguably still are, the head of the underground there, nay, the entire city. Anything you said was law! The roads need fixing? One word from you and they were fixed. Bandit problem? Gone. Mrs Gregory needed medicine for her small boy? Suddenly there it was, appearing in the middle of the night.”

Max stared. “...well shit...”

The conversation between the two continued for several hours. When the night ended, both went home, with many things to think about. For his part, Max was just happy to find someone, other than Bjorn, to talk openly with. Anna, on the other hand, had different plans.