Chapter 247: Back to School
Back to School
Graduating from novice to acolyte meant new classes and courses along with a different schedule. Martel would be trained extensively in fire magic throughout his remaining year; later on, he would also be taught skills like Tyrian runes and hopefully enchantment. For now, he would begin learning the Archean alphabet and language, as Archen was the basis of the magic being taught in Aster as well. So Martel dressed himself in his red robes denoting his new status and went to his first lesson as an acolyte.
Master Fenrick had several classrooms at his disposal, as Martel had learned. One for teaching astronomy, another for magical theory. It turned out that teaching Archean was done in a third. Entering, Martel saw one wall had been painted with the strange letters of the Archean alphabet, unknown to him. For now, anyway. In comparison, he recognised the other students present. Unlike when he had studied astronomy with them, he did not have to find a solitary seat in the back. One stood empty next to Maximilian, which Martel took.
"Nordmark, look at you. All dressed up in red," the mageknight remarked with a smirk. "A pleasant change from that dull brown."
Martel replied with a wry look, not sure what to say. Looking elsewhere, he saw Cheval staring at him with unvarnished hatred. He wondered if the young nobleman's father had told his son of how Martel had interfered with his plans; the mageknight had plenty of other reasons for disliking Martel, after all.
Master Fenrick entered. He adjusted his spectacles as he looked at the newest student in the class. "Martel, I see you have joined us. Good. Any further delay to your status as acolyte would have made it difficult for you to catch up. I am told you have a tutor for that purpose?"
Martel glanced at Eleanor, who gave a quick smile back at him, and quietly thanked Mistress Juliana for making the arrangement. "I do, master."
"Very well. Pay attention. Today we will look at irregular verbs. I suggest you take copious notes."
Grabbing the quill on his desk and dipping it in ink, Martel prepared to write.
***
Walking down the corridor later that day, Martel was lost in his own thoughts and did not notice someone walking on a collision course with him until it happened. They pushed against his shoulder with their own. Torn back to his surroundings, Martel turned to see it had not been an accident; Jasper glared at him.
"Your little secret's out. Now everyone knows what an unhinged bastard you are!" The gloating in his voice was nearly palpable, and if there had been any doubt, his face mirrored the emotion. "You'll get sent to the front, where some Khivan bullet will make short work of you!"
"If you know how volatile I am, why would you dare taunt me? Did our last encounter not put you in your place?" Martel stared at the earthmage's throat and let flames ignite around his hand, holding it up.
"You can't frighten me here," Jasper sneered, even as he took a step backwards. "Nobody will believe you are sparring, not this time!"
"I am a battlemage," Martel retorted. "Far more valuable than you. You think they would ever expel me? Especially not for fighting. That's the one thing they want me to do."
Various expressions crossed the earthmage's face, but they leaned towards fear. Jasper backed away a few more paces before he finally turned around and disappeared down the hallway.
"That's what I thought." Martel let the words echo even as others looked, exchanging whispers. He suddenly doubted himself; while he had no sympathy for Jasper, he reinforced what others believed about the fire-touched. That felt unwise; at the same time, Martel could not deny the satisfaction from sending Jasper into flight simply with his words. Others might not like him, but they would at least respect him from now on.
***
For his afternoon class, Martel stepped into the Hall of Elements. He had not expected to be back here; acolytes did not take lessons in this place or from Master Alastair. But with everything changing, he did not mind this small piece of familiarity.
"Punctual as ever. Come, join me." His teacher stood at the centre on the ring of earth, beckoning for him to join, which Martel did. "Did Mistress Juliana explain my reason for continuing to train you? You will be my only acolyte student, if you did not know."
"She mentioned something like helping me learn enough in my remaining year."
"Something like that. A little more complicated," Master Alastair admitted. "You'll learn everything any battlemage needs to know about fire magic, I'm sure. Between your talent and your teacher, that is assured. But in my experience, the weakness of a mage is rarely being sufficiently skilled with one element, but rather their shortcomings with the others. For that reason, knowing what you face, I have two aims."
Martel listened intently. He sometimes forgot, especially given the kind side of himself that Master Alastair usually showed, but the man had served twenty years as a battlemage, after all.
"First, I want to hone your skills with the other elements to ensure you can rely on them in combat. While you will never have the same offensive capabilities with them that fire provides, it will still be useful."
He trusted his teacher's aforementioned experience on this. "And the other aim?"
"Building on that, I wish to continue training you in advanced elemental magic. You will not receive this from Mistress Moira, whose domain is exclusively fire. But again, there is great power in mastering more than one element. You told me once that you called down a lightning bolt?"
Martel nodded. No need to mention that it had exhausted him to the point where he threw up.
"A powerful spell for those who can wield it properly. We will consider that our goal for this year."
Master Alastair's words rang true; Martel remembered the feeling of power coursing through him as he summoned lightning from the sky. He also recalled how his teacher had wielded that same power from his fingertip; probably no other piece of spellwork had impressed Martel as much. "That sounds great."
"Let's begin. Now, as fire-touched, drawing water straight from the air is difficult." Even as he said this, the teacher drew droplets from thin air into the palm of his hand. "It resists us. So that's the first thing we'll work on."
Martel stretched his neck. He felt ready for the challenge.
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