The not-immortal Blacksmith

Maxwell stared out the small window in the war room while he waited for the generals and other officers to arrive. The dome had dimmed to the point that you could see through it, and he watched as the demonic army set up camp less than a mile from the city. When the last straggler entered and sat, the general in charge started the meeting. Why am I even here? I don’t add anything besides my fighting and base knowledge of magic. Whatever.

The meeting ended with the decision being made to defend at the wall, and only send out mounted troops when the enemy showed a weakness. Pretty standard fare for defending a city. He made his way out of the room, not stopping to chat with anyone and went for a walk in the now recovering city.

He was sitting on a park bench, randomly tossing seeds to a small flock of birds when his messaging stone started to vibrate. He removed the stone from his pocket and swiped his finger across the smooth face, “Hello?”

“Ah, the heretic. Just who I wanted to speak too.” The voice on the other end said. “I am general xxx of the demon army---”

Max ended the call, swiping across the stone again. “Idiots.” He grumbled. “I wasn’t born yesterday.”

The stone vibrated again. He answered. “WHAT?”

“The same voice as before spoke again. “We need to talk.”

“Make it fast.” Max growled. “I’m busy.”

“Very well. I want you to kill the demon lord.” Ochalz said in a level voice.

“You…You what?” Max stuttered into the stone.

“He needs to die.” Ochalz replied. “He will force me to throw my troops into your void forsaken wall. The number of unneeded deaths will be high. I need him gone.”

Mas took a deep breath to calm his nerves, “What’s in it for us?”

“Upon his death, we will cease all hostilities for a total of ten years.” Ochalz said.

“Twenty-five, no less, and you will retreat to the demon wastes.” Max responded.

“Very well. Twenty-five years.” Ochalz said, “And we will move to the aptly named demon wastes.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” Max asked.

“You don’t. But I give you my personal assurances, and all the information I have on that lard filled bastard.” Ochalz responded.

“Good enough.” Max smiled. “Tell me everything.

*-*-*

Grendel Repute sat on the back of the wagon as it progressed down the snow-covered road. What to do. What to do. He absentmindedly scratched the cat that Brandywine had left in his care when she and the others had left. “So, cat, what should we do today? No one will dice with me anymore. Especially after they finally caught me cheating.” The cat flopped onto its side and purred at him. “Maybe we should… No. Perhaps? No. What do you think?”

The cat gently captured his left hand in its paws and brought it closer to lick and nibble on.

“I suppose we could eat something, but lunch isn’t for another hour or so.” Grendel said in response to the nibbles. “Maybe we could raid the sweets jar?”

*-*-*

Max had gathered up his usual suspects in his rooms. “Demon general Ochalz has asked that we assassinate the demon lord.”

The room went silent.

“Yeah. I was surprised too.” Max said into the silence. “I have a bunch of notes here,” he waved to a stack of papers, “with all of the information Ochalz could give me.”

The next several hours were spent going over the notes.

*-*-*

Cookies in hand, Grendel sat once again on the back of the wagon, cat purring on his lap. “Okay. We have a communication stone from Prince Lancil. We have snow. We have cookies… Now what?”

“Meow” said the cat.

“Exactly.” Grendel replied.

*-*-*

Gilip, Capital of Demonia.

53rd of Anael, First month of Snow.

2290 years since the New Gods came.

We have almost a thousand miles to travel to get to the demon lord’s lair. We will be traveling the demon wastes through ice and snow. While the demons will not be “thick and heavy” due to their army being here, they will still be around. Little else thrives out there.

There is a “breed” of “Horse” that has been mostly tamed that will survive the travel, but with my track record with half demonic beasts, I worry there will be problems.

Bri has refused to stay behind, claiming that “the place of a wife is with her husband”. Who am I to argue?

The gang’s all here, we leave tomorrow at dusk.

54th of Anael.

Dusk.

The wind is cold, blowing the powdery snow across the plain as we departed. The heroes, Brandywine and Bri are all well covered in winter traveling clothes. The trunk is tied to my back.

55th of Anael,

We got five miles through the wind and snow last night. No demons were spotted. Today we should make about ten more. I keep forgetting how much I hate walking in snow, it gets everywhere.

Plains of Demonia.

1st of Arah, Second month of Snow.

2291 years since the new gods came.

Midwinter was last night, and we did not celebrate. Travel was more important. We made just over ten miles today, giving us a total of twenty-five miles. I believe it is around twenty points below freezing* as we set up camp tonight. We are all sharing one small tent to conserve heat. The wind is whipping across the gently rolling plain at speed. Tomorrow we may be snow blind.

Our current path will bring us to Ghostward, another one hundred twenty miles or so. Twelve days. We will rest for a couple nights there, and hopefully be able to procure ‘Horses’ that can deal with the weather.

3rd of Arah.

The wind and snow were too much today, we made it three miles. It is a blizzard. I hope we aren’t snow bound for too long. Only 38 miles so far.

6th of Arah.

We got nearly two feet of snow, but the wind has slowed. Tomorrow, we will dig ourselves out and continue on our way.

-

Magni stared at the snow, and smiled to himself. It’s like home. Just without the mountains. He held back a tear as he thought back to his lost home, the people, his wife and children, and then let the tears loose.

-

10th of Arah.

We continue our march. I don’t understand how Magni can smile and whistle through this. Maybe he really is part bear as Nomvula claims? I don’t know, he kind of does look like one…

Around eighty miles, halfway there. Seventy left.

13th of Arah.

Elk. A herd of elk. Being chased by a small pack of worgs. The worgs ate there fill and ignored us. I’m an idiot gods forsaken MORON! We could have ridden worgs if I hadn’t wanted to avoid the “going away” ceremony that would have been thrown for us. Too late now.

14th of Arah.

We spotted a demon patrol today. They ignored us.

*-*-*

Grendel stared at the boring snow once again. “Now what do we do, cat?”

“Mrow?” The cat replied.

“Me either.” Grendel said. “Maybe we can use Lancil’s stone and try to sell someone a bridge?”

*-*-*

Demon General Ochalz sat on his camp chair, and smiled. “The Heretic is well on his way now? Excellent. Once that worthless idiot is dead, we will make a place for ourselves in the wastes, and prepare.”

*That would be -20c, or -10f.