The Not-Immortal Blacksmith Chapter 8 - Butcher

An interesting point of note, from what I have seen of the world in the last 400 some odd years, is that even with all the Chosen Ones running around with ideas and technology far in excess of our own, we as a people haven't advanced in technology the way we should have. I wonder why?

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I have made it to Einar's duchy. I am far too late. Einar is more than 50 years in the grave, and my goddaughter more than 20. Einar's grandson sits on the throne now. He is a nice lad of some 40 years, with a wife and a passel of kids. I introduced myself to him on market day, and he about wept.

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I have spent the last 2 weeks in my old chambers in the castle. I have given the Duke and his wife all the information on Einar and his wife that I could remember. The duchy is doing well. I have gifted James with a sending stone (the magical version of Jon's "Phone") and told him to call if there was an emergency, or a death in the family, so that I could come as soon as possible. I leave tomorrow.

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I am now on the road to my home town. It has been 200 hundred years since I was last there. I wonder if they got the smithing school up and running.

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Oh boy, is the school up and running. I have disguised myself as a 14 year old boy (much as I would when being a spy) and have come in looking for a job. I met Matilda, the Forge Master. A stern woman, she looks like my wife did when she was angry. My heart aches at the memories.

I have been given a position as bellows pumper. It is a good beginning position as you can see the work being done, without getting in the way. It is also the first job at the forge that I had with my first master.

The school is huge. The family bought up all of the surrounding plots of land and turned the place into a temple of crafting. My one disappointment is that at the gate. Not only is there a statue of Bjorn, the Crafter (of which I heartily approve), but there is a statue of ME of all things! Heretics. The lot of them.

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Six weeks of working the bellows and I can see where the teachers are making the occasional mistake. If it wasn't for my time with Bjorn, I would be making those mistakes as well. Work is stopping tomorrow, there is a guest speaker from the Temple of Bjorn coming to discuss metallurgy.

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As an apprentice, I was supposed to sit on the floor in front of the speaker. I had to sneak out and pretend sickness. I knew this Dwarf. I punched him in a fight a century ago. I hid in the back and listened. Good information.

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I've been found out. After getting into an argument with a drunken journeyman about layered steel blades, I had wondered around, angry, letting my feet find their own way. When I looked up, I was in my old forge. And had already started a project. It was already late and everyone was asleep, so I finished it. A fine, water steel short sword.

When I looked up, I saw them. All of them. Everyone from the school was standing there in silence. Staring at me. I kind of blushed and said hello.

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I have taught at the family school for 6 months. I'm done. It's not that I don't like the work, it's that everyone walks on eggshells around me, treating me like I'm some kind of deity. I'm leaving at midnight.

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They caught me sneaking out. I gave each of the little ones a hug and a kiss, said my goodbyes to the adults, and left.

My horse is waiting for me at the stables, and the old farmstead that I keep my wagon and treasures at is not that far away.

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Back on the road! It feels good to be moving again. I have decided to head west, a coastal town sounds good. It's time to learn a new trade.

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I stopped in a small town today after cracking an axle on the wagon. Stupid potholes. Looked in the window of an apothecary shop and saw, on the top shelf, a very familiar cut glass vial with an even more familiar yellow liquid inside. Shit. Going to have to buy that in the morning.

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Bought the evil little vial. Dumped it out on the side of the road about a mile out of the village. Shouldn't have any impact on the aspen tree.

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The seaside town of Aviary is a picturesque place. The buildings are bright, the people have smiles, and the food is wonderful. I spent three months learning how to crew a fishing boat. Another three months learning to gut and preserve fish. Now I have gotten myself a job at one of the local butcher shops.

Now this isn't some big city specialty shop, no, this a a full service butcher. It comes in on four (sometimes six) legs, and walks out as a large number of cuts of meat. Until my time with the fish wives, gutting and cutting, I would never have known the amount of detail that goes into such things. Now I am learning the business, from the business end forward.

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Butchering isn't a "hard" business, but it is a hard business. One wrong cut with the knife and you turn a gold piece cut of meat into a coppers worth. Not to mention that you might loose a finger. Pinkie Joe can tell you all about that. I've been here a year now, and have mastered most of the cuts, but I don't have all the finesse cuts down yet.

We had a hunter bring in a Hex Bear yesterday (a large breed of bear that has 6 legs). I've heard rumors of the things, but never seen one before. I was allowed to assist in the skinning, but only allowed to watch the butchering. I now understand why. The Hex Bear has poison glands in all six paws, but the meat around the glands is a specialty, and dangerous to extract. Pinkie Joe made a small miss cut and got some of the poison in his hand. He almost died from it.

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I've been here for seven years now. I love this village. I love this business. I don't love that the new smith in town recognizes me from the family school. I've had a word with him, but I don't think he will be able to keep his mouth shut once he starts drinking. At least he can do his job properly.

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The winds and rain of spring have come and gone. And with them, I am as well. I have said a fond farewell to my friends and coworkers, and carry a letter of recommendation from Wendell, the master butcher. I travel to the north to test my skills.

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I have traveled through several small villages on my way north. None have been in need of a new butcher. I have stopped and "talked shop" with many butchers on my way. Some were pleasant, others were hostile, but a few drinks on me, and we were best of friends.

It bothers me that I haven't seen that goddess for a while. I wonder when she's going to show up again.

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I have found a place! A small coastal fishing village, very near the demon lands. Adventurers have been coming through a lot lately, carrying any number of magical beasts. I can learn a lot, and can help out the locals.

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Damascus, the local butcher, has been wonderfully helpful. I have taken over most of the local butchering for him while he sees to the adventurers. He calls me his "barely competent apprentice", and I call him my "uneducated teacher". We all laugh.

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A decade has passed, and Damascus is suffering from an early onset of the pox. I worry that he will no longer be able to keep his shop.

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The pox has indeed taken away Damascus' sight, but not his spirit. He works much more slowly now, but even cutting by feel, he is almost faster than I am. I have been keeping up on my disguise, no need for people to figure out who I am.

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Damascus has decided to retire. For the last 5 years I have been mostly running his shop as well as my own. He and his wife have offered my the shop, and I accepted. They have purchased a place in town, and I expect to see them regularly.

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Almost 20 years in town now. The beauty has never left, but today it is gray. The town all turned out for Damascus' funeral. His wife passed last fall, and he barely made it through the winter. He passed in his sleep, surrounded by friends and family. I gave the eulogy. Perhaps some day, I will have a friend who will speak at my funeral. Someday.

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Forty years have passed in my little corner of heaven. But heaven it is no more. The demons are starting to rally on the border. I expect, at any time, the goddess will show up and ask for my help. Can't a guy just retire?

Speak of the devil, and here she is. With some wet behind the ear kid in tow. Great. How do I say no to that?

Easily.

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I'm helping the townsfolk evacuate before the swarm of demons can come over the hills, and the idiot and her kid haven't left. I don't have time for this shit.

"Look, you idiot, fine. I'll take the kid, and train him to throw away his life like you want, just get these people safely out of here."

"GRANTED" her voice sparkled as it boomed across the town. and with that, the whole town, and the idiot herself, vanished.

Damn idiot took my shop.

"Okay, kiddo, lets get you started."

TTFN