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The not-immortal Blacksmith
003 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – A Royal Affair

003 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – A Royal Affair

Maxwell's Dell, Capital city of 'Heretic's Kingdom'.

22nd of Kusha, the month of harvest.

2289 years since the new gods came.

The thing was a thing. Highlights were Sarah and Bjorn showed up. 'Downlights' were that other people showed up too. At least the Gentlemen were nice.

- - -

The large mechanical clock in the center of the city was striking five bells, as Maxwell and Brandywine walked (or flew, as the case may be) up the steps into the kings palace. A red carpet was laid out, making a striking contrast to the almost black stone of the steps. Ornate glass lamps lit the way up the steps, shedding illumination over the whole affair. Max walked with purpose of stride up the steps and across the relatively short lawn, entering the great hall. He didn't wait to be introduced at the door, and just walked on in.

The assemblage of nobles, aristocrats and dignitaries halted their conversations and openly stared at the pair as they entered. A dropped spoon mad a loud clatter as it hit the polished stone floor, and the man responsible hid his face in his hands. It took several moments for conversation to resume as Max and Brandy walked the distance from the door to where King Michael and Queen Dana stood, surrounded by courtiers.

“Michael!” Max said, a bit too loudly, “A pleasure to see you again.” He nodded to the Queen, “And you as well, Dana.” Brandy smirked at Max's standard 'who cares if you are a king' greeting, while those nearby audibly gasped.

Without missing a beat, Michael responded, “You as well, Max.” Those nearby gasped again. “How are your vacation plans shaking out?”

“Fairly well. We are planning to visit the Dwarves on our way to the eastern ocean, and it's white sand beaches. Brandy says they are warm year round.”

Brandy piped up, “They serve wonderful drinks.” She flew over to Dana's shoulder and settled there, “And have the most amazing oceanfront cottages. As well as beautiful views.” She smiled, showing her small pointed teeth, “Best of all, the buffet dinners are stocked full of fresh seafood!”

“When do you plan on leaving?” Dana asked.

“In a few days.” Max responded.

Sever hours passed, and Max mingled with the guests. Not his favorite pastime, but required, so he did it. He answered the occasional question from a lord or lady about where he had gotten his clothing for the evening, and gave a glowing review of the 'Daniel and Crew Tailors'. He also mentioned that the outfit was based on a previously unknown 'Smithson' pattern the shop had gotten it's hands on, as well as the full number of alterations and options the original patters usually came with. He spoke at some length to some well dressed gentlemen, and received a 'gift of appreciation' from them in the form of a small intricately designed broach, designed to be worn on a collar. “It is a token of your regard. None will touch you if you wear it in cities.” was the response when he asked about it's meaning. Shortly thereafter the 'gentlemen' departed the gathering.

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A hubbub at the door began just as he attached the broach to his collar, and he looked up in time to see the idiot, Bjorn, and Sarah sweep into the gathering. He saw the magic move as the three spoke something, then it quieted.

The room went still, even the minstrels fell silent.

“Master Maxwell, the Peacemaker, and Defender of the Mortal World,” Narissa, goddess of Tranquility, spoke, “Welcome back from the land of the dead.”

Max gave a grunt. “Thanks, I guess.” Many gasps were made. Then coldly, he spoke again, “To what do we owe the dubious pleasure of your visit?”

Sarah spoke this time, “We have come to welcome you back.” She gave one of her winning smiles, “And to enjoy the party.” Behind her, Bjorn rolled his eyes. Sarah continued, “We have also come to Bless This Gathering.” Her voice almost boomed at the last bit. Several men, and a few ladies, swooned at her comment. In a whisper only Max could hear she added, “Besides, I have some needs.” And winked.

Max rolled his eyes, and spoke the words he had learned while 'dead', “Then I welcome you to this gathering, held in my honor, as long as you harm none.” The three gods nodded there assent, and entered the party proper.

Max shook his head as the three passed him heading strait for the food. Gods. Why does it always have to be gods?

- - -

23rd of Kusha,

Brandy and I have our affairs in order. We will be leaving the Dell on the 26th. Baring any stupid stuff. Since when can I see magic?

Clerics. Bah.

- - -

Clerics of many faiths had descended (ascended actually, since Max lived in his cabin once more) upon Max's cabin. The started to arrive mere moments after dawn, driving Maxwell from his bed. Brandywine slept through it, by virtue of here 'bedroom' having been soundproofed.

By three hours past dawn, they had had to move outside and occupy the public picnic tables. “So, now that you are all here,” Max gazed over the forty odd clerics, “why have you woken me up so gods cursed early?”

One of the clerics he recognized as being from the cult, stood up, “Master Maxwell, the Peacemaker, and Defender of the Mortal World, we have come before you to gain your wisdom before you depart for lands unknown.”

Max's head slumped to his chest as he cussed under his breath. “Alright, you want My wisdom?” Most of the crowd nodded. “Fine.” He started on a rant about the gods, and then switched to the general theories of forging and glass blowing, interspersing little nuggets of things he had learned from the cursed cookbook he had gotten from the goddess of Knowledge. He droned on for three hours to a rapt audience, then ended by walking back into his cabin and slamming the door.

Bjorn looked up from Max's kitchen table, and snickered. “You know that is All going into the holy books, right?”

Max jumped at the words, then gave a slight smile, “I certainly hope so. Maybe it will make them think, as opposed to following in blind faith.”

“We can hope.”

“Did I notice a lack of your followers in the crowd?”

“Yup. They have orders not to seek you out, unless it is an actual Smithing emergency.” Bjorn yawned, “Do you have any good coffee around here?”

- - -

24th of Kusha,

The watch is now keeping the clergy away from the cabin. All it took was a quiet word to the corporal on duty. They still let the pilgrims through, and the public at large.

Some of the sign boards that they put up about the war, and me, were wrong. I fixed them.

We depart tomorrow before dawn. Hopefully no one notices us leave.

Yes. I lied about our timetable.