Lostcairn, Snows Province, Kingdom of Garthia;
9th of Kielat, First month of Summer;
2120 years since the new gods came.
My tests are tomorrow. I am surprisingly worried. Business is a little slow right now.
10th of Kielat,
The written test was long and grueling. The practical was very easy. There were two others testing today as well. Their bakeries are in the city proper, and they weren't particularly pleasant people.
13th of Kielat,
I passed. Good. Took everyone out to eat in the Upper Ward. Food was good, the service was pleasant, the other patrons were not. Glad I don't have to deal with people like that anymore. Entitled asses.
14th of Kielat,
My local “Lords” have requested the use of the basement tomorrow night. There is apparently some underworld shit going on, and they wanted the security of “Neutral Ground”.
15th of Kielat,
It has been a bad night. I will be closed tomorrow to clean the basement.
*-*-*
“Welcome ladies and gentlemen! I know all of you, you all know me. You know the rules. There are snacks and drinks in the basement.” Max greeted the local crime lords. They all nodded or smiled as they filed past and down into the basement.
---
A few hours had passed when Max heard the sounds of someone trying to break in through the back door. He opened the door on a small group of very startled, burly men.
“You could have just knocked.” Max said.
They group looked up in shock. After a few moments, one of them said, “We're here for the bunch in your basement. Get out of the way baker, or we will kill you.”
Max shook his head and sighed, “You do know that this place is recognized as 'Neutral Ground', right? No fighting, no killing, no problems.”
“Don't care what your little thugs call it. Move or die.” the vocal man replied.
Max took a slow deep breath, “You asked for it.” He wiggled his fingers in the air, then snapped them. Nothing happened.
“Aww did your magic not work? Silly baker.” The man said, then exploded.
“Gentlemen, why don't you run back to whomever your boss is, and explain that this is a place for peaceful meetings?” Max said to the remaining members of the group, as they stared in horror.
They ran.
*-*-*
18th of Kielat,
Several representatives from the criminal families inside the walls have come to certify my shop as “Neutral Territory”. I wonder if I should open a bar?
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
*-*-*
35th of Kusha, the month of Harvest,
My bar opened today. I have laid in a large amount of beer and ale, but nothing hard. Hard Liquor tends to cause fights.
I even included a couple of well insulated “meeting” rooms in the back. The bar has been christened “Neutral Ground”. Not my choice. Paul has happily taken it over, giving up his apprenticeship.
We serve bread (obviously) and meat stew.
41st of Kusha,
Bjorn stopped in at the bar! Had an excellent time catching up. Apparently this “Ghondish” fellow has been missing from the celestial pen for several years, and the rest of the gods have been worrying themselves sick over it. I assured him that I would keep an eye out for a strange goat. The name vaguely rings a bell, but meh.
*-*-*
Lostcairn, Snows Province, Kingdom of Garthia;
11th of Amsiel, Second month of Summer;
2120 years since the new gods came.
Morning.
I have been asked to mediate an argument between two criminal parties. I have closed the bar today to prepare.
- - -
11th of Amsiel,
10(ish) pm,
The bar had been cleaned, and fresh straw scattered on the floor. Three places had been set at a mid-sized table in the common area, with lamb stew, bread, and a proper ale.
The observers, of which there were many, sat on benches set against the outer walls, close enough to observe, but far enough that it would take effort to hear.
The two parties involved in the dispute, “Jay the Bird” from an inner family, and “Greta Knife Hand” from outside, stood at the table.
“Lady, Gentleman, weapons to your seconds, please?” Max politely asked the criminals. They obliged with a minimal fuss. “Alright, please sit, and let's get this talked out.”
As the supper progressed, bits and pieces of the problem came out. What it boiled down to, Max found out, was a lack of respect for each other's territories, up to and including each other's headquarters. Max sat back as the dishes were carried away, “So, I can see three ways to do this, and neither of you is going to like any of them. First, you have a total and bloody war, calling down the watch on your heads. I think everyone would like for that to NOT happen. Second, the two of you put together an intermediate third family and cede them the territory on the border between yours. That would ensure a stricter, less permeable boundary. Third,” Max looked at the two family heads, “is to trade pieces of territory to each other in a fair and equal manner with proper recompense and restitution.”
The two crime lords looked at each other, then at Max. “Thank you Baker. We will think about this and meet with you again in three days.” Jay the Bird intoned.
“Okay. And please, no open war until after that? It is bad for everyone's business.” Max replied. As the two stood and started towards their guards, Max looked up suddenly, “There is a fourth idea, but I expect you to hate it.”
Greta and Jay turned towards Max. Eyebrows raised.
“Marry into each other's family, and bring the entire area under one united family front.” Max said, face completely blank.
The two adversaries looked at each other, Jay quirking an eyebrow at Greta, “It would be like boarding school all over again.”
Greta laughed, “I'm already married, and you just knocked up your secretary again.”
“So just like school then.” Jay smirked.
“I think I have a few cousins that are unwed. Is Adam still single?” Greta asked.
“I believe so.” Jay answered.
The pair turned to Max, nodding. “I believe we can both agree to joining the families.” Jay said.
“Yes. Especially since it means this snake won't keep trying to invade.” Said Greta.
“Well then, good luck to you both. I would love to hear about how things work out down the road.” Max said, smiling.
- - -
12th of Amsiel,
Things went well last night. There will be some arranged marriages coming in the future, but better that than blood in the streets.
I think I will start hosting twice monthly meetings of the bosses, and maybe some of the “upper crust”? It may forestall added bloodshed in the future.
TTFN
*-*-*
Three almost naked men awoke, coughing and shivering on a floor. Not the cracked tile floor they had died on when the grenade thrown by the Medellín cartel enforcer exploded in their midst, but a flat expanse of marble, polished to a highly reflective sheen. They glanced around, muscles twitching as they attempted to understand what was happening.
As they stood, the expanse of marble shifted, and they were in front of what could only be described as a throne made from the skull of an enormous beast. There was ...someone... sitting on the throne, but their eyes couldn't clearly focus on the individual. All they caught were impressions of shining metal armor, in the classic European style, spattered with deep red, and there was, perhaps, a sword or spear in one of the individuals hands, also splashed with the same crimson red.
A voice echoed, not throughout the room, but somewhere behind their eyes, reverberating to the very depths of the soul. “I am Maximilian, the God of War. I have summoned you, warriors of another world, to deal with problems my sister has left festering for far to long. Problems that break the laws of our world. Problems of a sort that you are accustomed to dealing with.”
The already shaken men fell to their knees, trembling at the pressure placed upon their souls.
The figure on the throne spoke again, “I give you each a new life, and power. Power you have only dreamed of. And in exchange, all I ask of you is to fix a few things in the new world I lay before you.”
On their knees, the three men nodded in agreement, anything to remove the pressure.
“Excellent. Off with you now, experience this world, and gain your bearings. You will be contacted when I wish for things to start.”