What happens when a son of Hephaestus is dropped north of the wall in the lands of forever winter?
Life was miserable, thought James, or rather Baldur, as he preferred to be called now. Why would people willingly choose to live in a place covered in snow all year round? The cold was particularly bothersome to him due to his heritage, not from this world but from his previous one.
James, originally born on Earth, was the son of Hephaestus, the Greek god of blacksmiths and craftsmen, and someone else whose identity he wasn't certain of since his mother had left him at an orphanage. However, he didn't let that fact bother him too much, as he was more engrossed in tinkering and creating things, much to the chagrin of the orphanage workers.
As he grew older, James realized that he had less in common with those around him and began to distance himself from them. "I don't need them," he thought at the time. Instead, he found solace in the company of his machines and inventions. They seemed to communicate with him, not literally, but he felt a connection with them.
Eventually, James had to leave the orphanage as a teenager. He was constantly attacked by terrifying dogs, later identified as hellhounds, but his machines protected him. However, the side effects of their protection caused friction with those around him. No one believed his stories about the hounds.
In hindsight, now that he knew about the mist—a magical veil that concealed the true nature of mythical creatures—he couldn't blame them for their skepticism. However, that was all in the past now. James had died due to his own hubris. He had discovered an entrance to the fabled labyrinth and believed he could uncover its secrets.
His heritage as a demigod enabled him to deftly avoid and disarm the traps within the labyrinth. But it wasn't the labyrinth itself that led to his demise. Ignoring caution, he took the first exit he found, unaware that it would lead him straight into the den of a hydra.
Normally, James would have fled, but this time he couldn't. The exit vanished behind him, leaving him trapped between the hydra and the cave wall. First, the monstrous beast attempted to burn him alive, a futile effort against a son of Hephaestus. When its flames failed, the hydra resorted to trying to devour James whole.
Fortunately, his suffering was short-lived. Darkness engulfed him within the hydra's belly, and after a few moments, he felt weightless. The sensation of falling persisted until he landed with a thud on something solid. Once again, he could see, hear, and smell. Opening his eyes, he saw someone standing over him, shouting.
They called him Baldur, a name that seemed strange to James as it belonged to a Norse god. They disregarded his claims of being named James, attributing it to the concussion he had sustained during the fight. The individuals around him paid little attention and went about their business, while internally James began to panic at the turn of events. Months had passed since then, and he had somewhat come to terms with what had happened.
He found himself in a place called the "True North," among the Free Folk. Initially, he had been with an interesting group of people, but he didn't particularly like them, so he decided to strike out on his own. James had always been better off working independently.
Furthermore, he discovered that he still possessed his demigod abilities, the gifts bestowed upon him as a child of Hephaestus. With these restored powers, he realized he didn't truly need others for protection. While their assistance would have been valuable in getting acquainted with the land and understanding the culture, he didn't care much for either.
James, now fully embracing his new name, Baldur, paid tribute to the man who had selflessly given up his body to him. Baldur was a handsome fellow with black hair and ice-blue eyes, standing at roughly 5'.6" He seemed a bit young, most likely not even past 15 but he was only a few years older on Earth so it mattered not. Fortunately, he possessed a similar build to his old body, although a bit slender, but he compensated with exceptional dexterity.
He had no desire for a larger physique, as there were benefits to being small that often went unmentioned. Baldur wasn't much of a fighter, and it appeared that his new body had the same inclination. He had been assigned the role of a scout and carried a small iron dagger for protection.
Where Baldur lacked in strength, he excelled in finesse and stealth. Furthermore, his newfound demigod strength surpassed that of mere mortals, making him formidable in his own right.
"Please, Baldur, let me down!" The pleas of his would-be robber broke Baldur from his thoughts. He turned around, facing the man who had followed him and stood. "Varmir, isn't it? What makes you think I'd allow you to go? You attempted to ambush me and steal my belongings."
"But you left the group! That meant you were fair game! Please, I'm sorry! Let me go, and I'll leave. I'll warn the others not to mess with you," Varmir pleaded, his face turning red from his upside-down position, hanging by his feet from a tree.
Baldur sighed and approached Varmir. "Even if I wanted to let you go, I couldn't. You now know my secret." He gestured toward the primitive forge he was in the midst of creating.
"I don't care about your damn fire pit! I won't tell anyone!" Varmir protested, his voice filled with desperation.
After pretending to consider Varmir's plea, Baldur delivered a short response. "No."
Ignoring Varmir's shouting and sobbing, Baldur returned to his work on the forge. In truth, he didn't need Varmir, but letting him go would have been a waste of valuable resources. On Earth, the mere thought of using a human as materials would be seen as barbaric, but Baldur was more practical. Besides, no one else would know or judge him. He wasn't planning on consuming the man or anything of that sort. Instead, Varmir's bones and blood would be useful in his attempt to recreate Bone Steel.
Bone Steel was a mystical metal primarily used by the Norse pantheon. Thanks to his new name, Baldur remembered the metal and recalled some offhand comments from Nordic demigods he had encountered, speculating on its creation process.
They had mentioned that Bone Steel was forged from iron and bone, quenched in blood. Baldur believed he could easily replicate it, as imperial gold and celestial bronze required raw ore, which seemed to be an impossibility in this land. Judging by the equipment of those around him, successfully creating Bone Steel would provide him with the finest weapons in the region, and if there was one thing Baldur enjoyed, it was having the best stuff.
Once he perfected the technique of creating Bone Steel, Baldur planned to start small with crafting some weapons and tools. Subsequently, he would search for a suitable location to settle down and construct a magnificent forge and workshop, allowing him to produce more advanced equipment.
A few hours later, with the impromptu forge and quenching barrel completed, Baldur turned his attention to Varmir, who had long since passed out. Placing the barrel beneath the unconscious man, Baldur began to strip him of his clothes and any remaining belongings that hadn't already fallen to the ground.
Once he collected everything and organized the items into a pile, Baldur slit Varmir's throat, allowing the blood to flow into the barrel for collection. As the blood filled the container, Baldur began to sort through Varmir's possessions.
Though Varmir didn't possess much, Baldur was grateful to find an iron sword among his belongings. When he first noticed that nearly everyone around him wielded weapons made of stone, wood, or horn, he had been disheartened. However, Zeus had blessed a select few with bronze or iron armaments. Baldur himself had an iron dagger, and individuals like Varmir, liberating them from a group called the 'Crows,' possessed iron swords. While he didn't care about the origins of these weapons, Baldur was glad to have access to iron for his work. The scarcity of blacksmiths hinted that there were likely no mines in the vicinity, which frustrated Baldur immensely.
Nevertheless, he would make do with what he had. His divine gifts would ensure his success.
-----
It had taken far too long for Baldur's taste, but after a week of meticulous work, he had managed to create Bone Steel. The process had been challenging with the limited amount of iron he possessed, and his perfectionist nature compelled him to refine and remove any impurities. In the end, he could only craft one weapon and one tool with the scarce resources available.
The first creation was a unique tomahawk. Unlike typical axes, its blade was more curved and longer, extending further down the handle. Additionally, the back end of the ax had a spike, allowing it to function both as a versatile ax and a pickaxe combo.
Using the remaining metal, Baldur fashioned a flat shovel. One side of the shovel had a saw blade, while the other side featured a sharp edge, effectively transforming it into a larger ax. Unfortunately, due to his limited iron supply, Baldur had to construct wooden shafts for both the tomahawk and shovel. It was a temporary solution, but it would serve his purposes for the time being.
Giving his equipment one last inspection, Baldur set off on his journey. His goal was to head southeast, closer to the massive ice wall he had spotted, with the intention of crossing it to reach the other side. While he appreciated the cool climate of the north to some extent, Baldur despised the idea of constantly residing in a cold region. Despite his demigod abilities granting him resistance to the elements, it wasn't enough to satisfy his preferences.
However, Baldur acknowledged that if he stumbled upon an iron deposit, he might consider staying in the area for the convenience it offered. This realization led him to his current location, deep within some caves in search of precious metal.
Initially, Baldur had followed a southward river until he encountered a peculiar stone formation that oddly resembled a clenched fist. Although intriguing, it failed to captivate his attention for long, prompting him to continue his journey. Not too far from there, he discovered a valley nestled between a mountain range to the west and a solitary peak to the east.
The river he had been tracing appeared to veer slowly toward the east, curving closer to the ice wall. Although Baldur was content to follow the river, he decided to explore the mountain since they often housed caves.
His instincts proved correct, and he began venturing into the first few caves he stumbled upon. Some led to dead ends, while others had narrow tunnels that he couldn't comfortably traverse. Baldur persisted in his search until he finally discovered a passage that extended deeper into the mountain.
Hours passed as Baldur diligently explored the caves, guided only by the flickering light of his torch. Finally, he struck iron, and by the gods, there was an abundance of it. Thoughts of heading to the ice wall and seeking warmer climates dissipated from Baldur's mind as he became consumed by the possibilities of industrialization.
Fuel would be his first concern. If he couldn't locate coal within the caves, he would resort to creating charcoal, a less efficient but viable alternative for his needs. Additionally, he needed to start planning a settlement for himself, one that was sizable and defensible, with ample space for a forge and storage facilities. The flatland near the river at the base of the valley seemed perfect for his purposes. Although the frozen river prevented him from harnessing water power with a wheel, Baldur decided to leap straight into steam power.
He began plotting out the area, marking the precise locations for his forge, warehouse, and residence. Extensive planning was necessary for plumbing, as he refused to endure the inconvenience of using a bucket for much longer. Water would be drawn from the river, necessitating the creation of heaters to prevent the pipes from freezing and to maintain a steady flow. Waste management was crucial, with filtered water draining to a designated area while the remaining sludge could be repurposed as fertilizer.
Baldur's mind was abuzz with an ever-expanding array of plans, but he acknowledged that he couldn't accomplish everything on his own. He would require assistance, though his lack of charisma made it unlikely that he could easily convince the local inhabitants to join him. In a more modern age, he would simply construct robots to handle the labor, but alas, he found himself in the iron age. "Might as well be the stone age," he chuckled to himself, recalling the stone weapons he had encountered.
Nevertheless, Baldur remained undeterred. With time and the resources at his disposal, he would do what he did best—build and create a future that suited his ambitions.
-----
Five months had passed since Baldur began working, and now he stood before his completed house, a contented smile on his face. The process of making concrete had initially been a challenge, but over time he had perfected his technique, allowing for smooth progress.
The completion of his forge had brought him great satisfaction, as it had already seen plenty of use. However, the construction of his house had occupied most of his time, involving digging trenches and laying plumbing. Fortunately, Baldur had discovered a copper deposit on the other side of the mountain, allowing him to create pipes without depleting his precious iron reserves.
His two-story house was now finished, offering a comfortable living space. The ground floor consisted of a living room, a full bathroom, and a functional kitchen. Upstairs, Baldur had his bedroom and a storage area. While he still lacked a bed and a pillow, he would make do with sleeping on pelts for the time being.
Standing in his kitchen, Baldur turned on the faucet and watched with satisfaction as the water began to flow. It was a bit cold at first, but he adjusted the hot water knob, nodding approvingly as the temperature increased.
Baldur had dedicated considerable effort to implementing central heating in his house, and he marveled at what he had accomplished on his own. His incredible strength had made labor less of an issue, but he still tired out eventually, which had led to the consumption of most of his meat stores.
Completing the wall surrounding his property would take much longer, but it wasn't a pressing concern now that his house was finished. Baldur was eager to return to mining and forging more Bone Steel weapons and tools. He planned to remake his ax and shovel, create a spear, and start working on a crossbow. Although he would have preferred to make a gun, he realized that acquiring all the necessary components for gunpowder would be a time-consuming task.
Leaving his house behind, Baldur made his way toward his far from complete warehouse, currently nothing more than a wooden frame. Once he had improved his tools, he would focus his efforts on completing the warehouse. Its importance lay in providing a space for storing materials and keeping them dry.
As Baldur bent over to gather some iron ore, a sound caught his attention from the right. Turning to look, he recognized the faces of five individuals—the same group he had been a part of before.
The leader, a tall man with rotten yellow teeth, greeted Baldur with a toothy grin. "Baldur, what a surprise to see you." Although the man appeared relaxed, Baldur maintained an alert demeanor, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. The others around the man were a motley crew not really worth mentioning as they all seemed cocky.
"It's a surprise to see you all as well, it's been what? Months?" Baldur said casually. They all looked confused, a few behind the leading man mouthing the word 'months' as if they had never heard it before.
"I don't know what language that word is boy or where you learned it but I don't care. What I want to know is what these strange stone contraptions are behind you and how you're still alive?" The tall man adopted a threatening tone and reached for his sword, demanding an explanation
Baldur couldn't help but laugh at the questions and shrugged indifferently, further irritating the man. "Still alive? Ah, Varmir. You sent him after me to kill me aye? For what? My iron dagger?"
"You left us and took valuable iron from us. A lot of brothers died to get that from those damned Crows. I don't know how you managed to kill Varmir but return the blades to us and we'll kill you quickly since we were once in the same group."
The rest of the group drew their weapons—a mix of stone axes and bronze swords. Without wasting any time, Baldur swiftly retrieved his tomahawk and shovel, prepared for the confrontation that unfolded. The men laughed as they closed in, circling him with ill intentions.
Taking the initiative, Baldur capitalized on his superior speed and rushed the first man. He used his tomahawk to hook the man's blade, pulling it down, while simultaneously delivering a powerful blow to the side of his head with the flat side of his shovel. The man crumpled to the ground, incapacitated.
"Fuck! Get him, boys!" one of the men shouted
Two more men attempted to attack Baldur from the sides with their swords, but he effortlessly evaded their strikes by executing a quick jump, followed by a backflip, and landing in a crouched position. Seizing the opportunity, Baldur used his ax to hook onto the left leg of one of the attackers, causing him to lose his balance. As the man struggled to regain his footing, he fell victim to a shovel's strike against the side of his head.
Now, with two out of the five assailants incapacitated, the large man finally seemed compelled to act. He acknowledged Baldur's unexpected display of skill but remained determined to end his life. "Seemed you've been holding out on us Baldur. You're much more skilled than I remember. You'll die all the same though."
"I won't be dying today, and certainly not to the three of you." Smirking, Baldur swiftly spun, throwing his ax at one of the approaching men. As the ax found its mark, and the last lackey of the large man decided to retreat and flee the scene, realizing the futility of their fight. "Smart, unlike you." Baldur teased.
"Get back here Gendel! Damn it!" Infuriated by his companion's escape, the large man gritted his teeth and took a half-step back. He let out a huff and charged at Baldur, intent on overpowering him. However, Baldur used a clever tactic, kicking up some snow to obstruct the man's vision. While the large man struggled to see, Baldur circled around him and swiftly kicked his leg near the knee, causing him to stumble and fall to his knees.
Baldur poised his shovel for a finishing blow, but the man managed to turn his body halfway, blocking the strike with his sword. Wide-eyed, he realized he couldn't hold Baldur back and strained to keep his blade steady. Unbeknownst to him, Baldur utilized his free hand to deliver a devastating uppercut, finally toppling the larger man.
"Almost broke a sweat." Surveying the three unconscious men and the motionless form of the fourth, Baldur couldn't help but smile. He had been in dire need of a labor force, and fate had conveniently delivered it to his doorstep. Anticipating resistance, he began contemplating how he would effectively keep these new workers in check, as he dragged them closer to his warehouse.
Fortunately, he possessed the necessary rope and knew that crafting restraining devices wouldn't take long. Although there was still much work to be done, Baldur couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope that the completion of his tasks might be accelerated with this unexpected turn of events.