The not-immortal Blacksmith - Interlude - Einar
Excerpts from the personal journal of Baron Einar Ólafsson
My name is Einar Ólafsson, and I am from Reykjavík Iceland, in the year 1953. I died in a traffic accident that involved a "Troll Rock", and the God of War of this new world asked if I wanted to be reincarnated as a hero. Obviously, I said yes.
My mentor, and dare I say friend, Maxwell, a local to this world, has suggested that I keep a journal. After seeing his journals, I am convinced that it is a good idea.
After killing the "demon lord" as the army is calling him, I/we have been discharged from military service, and we traveled to Maxwell's new home. I was surprised when we got there that he turned to me and said, "Here you go kid, this place is yours now. I have no use for the nobility." He assisted me with the transfer of lands and title.
I begged him to stay for a while and assist me in my new role as Baron. He acquiesced.
*-*-*
It has been 3 months, and the work has been hard. The last baron was not a just ruler. He robbed the people blind, stole their women, and ruined the local economy. I have been working without a break from sun up to past sundown.
The Barony is about 17 square miles, mostly rolling hills. Our major exports include wood (we have an enormous forest) and farm goods. We import mostly textiles and luxury goods. We have a small copper/iron/tin mine, but only enough is produced for local consumption, not export.
I am making inroads with the locals, first by firing all of the tax collectors, then by prosecuting them for breaking the kings law. The people were shocked to say the least. I am planning to implement a new tax code in the spring.
*-*-*
"Winter" here is much more mild than I am used to. I find myself liking it more than my homeland. The population has been coming around more to my way of things after the "Sheriff" incident last month. I didn't want to, but he "needed killing" as Max said. I will not recite his crimes against humanity, but they would have made the Nazis proud.
*-*-*
It is now spring, and I unveiled the new iron plows to the farmers today. They had been using the ancient wooden ones that don't work very well. The shock and awe on the farmers faces was nice to see. When they found out they were a free gift from me to them there wasn't a dry eye in the crowd. I plan on using this as a stepping stone for my new taxation policy. The old money won't like it, but they will come around when they see the return on their investment.
*-*-*
It is midsummer. The old money has eaten their words. The populace is chafing at the bit for more ideas and inventions. The money is coming in nicely. There are 2 more windmills in the works, one for sawing logs, the other for grinding grain. It seems that we will have a bumper crop this year. I'm planning to help fund more storehouses for the villages.
*-*-*
My second fall approaches, and the people are starting to worry about an heir. They expect me to get married. I have no idea how to go about it here. There is a ball next week for me to meet prospective wives. Maxwell has shown another side of himself and made a most handsome suit for me to wear. It is the rival of anything you could find in the capital.
Speaking of the capital, The Queen Mother has taken ill, and has refused treatment. Apparently, much as myself, she also came here from our world when she died, and has decided that it has been long enough. I was able to attend her for a while and told her of my friend Maxwell. She seemed very interested. I wish her well in her afterlife.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
*-*-*
As predicted, the better plows made better fields, and in turn made a bountiful crop. I have, almost literally, vegetables of all sorts coming out of my ears. The granaries were barely finished in time to hold the crops. The current sales estimates will keep the Duchy solvent for several years to come, and no one will be going hungry this winter.
Speaking of winter, I have made schooling compulsory. Everyone, regardless of station or age, will be learning to read, write and do basic sums. I believe this will take most of the adults no more than a few years. The young will of course take longer. I have set up a fairly simple and straightforward mandatory test that will be held here in the palace for graduation. No one seems to like the idea, but no one has any real objections either.
*-*-*
School for the people has had a few hiccups. The nobility doesn't like their children being exposed to the masses. I told them that they could pay for their own tutors for their children. They looked at the extra expense that would incur, as they would still have to pay the "Education Tax" and pass the exam, and they folded. There are also some problems with them expecting preferential treatment from the teachers. I had to nip that problem. My response was along the lines of, "If your children are better because of the station they were born to, they should be able to prove it by not needing the extra help in class." Maybe not the best way to solve things, but I am too busy to deal with shenanigans.
*-*-*
Spring has come again, and the rains are worse than normal. There has been some excessive flooding, and several roads and a bridge have been washed out. I wish I had paid more attention in class when bridges were discussed.
*-*-*
Maxwell has informed me that he will be departing next spring. He has been feeling his wanderlust, I fear.
I'm set to marry a nice young woman a summer fair. We have been seeing each other for several months, and she seems to be completely smitten with me. We met at the ball last year and have been keeping in touch. It is not quite an arranged marriage, but close enough that I am a bit uncomfortable with it. Maxwell has said he will look into it for me.
*-*-*
It has been 3 weeks, and Maxwell has returned. The news is both good and bad. Lady Margaret is indeed smitten. But not with me. She is smitten by the money, prestige, and power that will be hers upon the marriage. Apparently there is also worry that she, or more likely her parents, are behind the recent bandit raids that have been happening on our eastern border. The border we happen to share.
I am disheartened by this, as I had found myself looking forward to the marriage.
*-*-*
Due to the bandit raids, I have been forced to take up steel again. My guards and I, with the assistance of Maxwell, have dealt them a blow. On the morrow we will raid their encampment.
*-*-*
The raid is over. I say with a heavy heart that my bride to be and her family were there, enjoying a delicious meal when we attacked. The surviving bandits and the family that sponsored them are in chains, awaiting the kings judgment.
*-*-*
The Kings Judge put them to death. Man, women, and children. All of them. Never before have I had it rubbed in my face that this is truly a new and different world. I cried for the children.
*-*-*
Maxwell is an ass.
The children are now in my care, as is their lady maid. I will keep them safe, and in a few years reveal them to the king. By the point in time of the revelation, things should be changed enough that all will be forgiven.
As the "victim" of the crime, I have been awarded half of the neighboring duchy. It is not nearly as bad off as mine when I first arrived, but still in need of support. I will bring them into the fold as gently as I can.
Maxwell is still an ass.
*-*-*
I have been set up. Maxwell it thrice an ass. He has played matchmaker, and I have fallen into his trap. There will be a wedding this summer fair, and it will still be mine. Lady Beatrice, the former ladies maid and I have been "running into" each other on numerous occasions not of our choosing. It ended up being some kind of mating dance set up by the children and Maxwell. Stumbling into a room accidentally where one or the other of us is changing, switching signs and hours on the bath, mismatched meals, all sorts of things. Most of them fairly embarrassing.
I will maintain to the day I die, that Maxwell, is an ass.
*-*-*
The wedding is tomorrow. Maxwell has outdone himself this time. Not only do I have the finest suit I have ever seen, but I have been told that Lady Beatrice's gown would have made the Queen Mother cry. I am so nervous that I can barely sleep.
*-*-*
Yesterdays wedding was fantastic! The king himself sent a representative. Also in attendance were my old companions in arms, and a few individuals that looked hauntingly familiar. The Priest of the Goddess was the officiate for the occasion, and for some reason, was very flustered for the entire service.
The reception was a wonder, Maxwell pulled out all the stops. He didn't even threaten to shoot anyone. He did seem to be a bit upset with a familiar looking young lady and her male escort. He did introduce me to an old friend of his, a Dwarf named Bjorn. Excellent story teller that one. Several amusing tales about Maxwell in his youth... That has lead me to question how old Maxwell actually is, as it seemed the stories took place many years ago...
*-*-*
Winter is upon us again, and Maxwell will be leaving in the spring. I am melancholy about this. In the way of good news, my wife is pregnant with our first (of many I hope) child! I hope that I can talk Maxwell into being the godfather. I doubt he will agree, seeing as to his dislike of religion.
Otherwise all is well here.
*-*-*
It is late spring. Maxwell did agree to be the godfather of my daughter. On the condition that she, not "The idiot she's going to marry" inherit my lands and title. I obviously agreed, who wouldn't want the Immortal Blacksmith on their side after all?
*-*-*
Maxwell left during the night. Not even a note. But I am sure he will return one day. Farewell my friend.