Chapter 255: Ambitions of a Father
Ambitions of a Father
Martel was unsure which lessons he looked forward to the least, combat or fire magic. Four lessons a fiveday under Mistress Moira would drive anyone mad with her incessant criticisms and belittlements, not to mention her exacting demands that left Martel exhausted after every class.
But at least he learnt something, even if the path was unpleasant and sometimes left him almost seething with anger. With Reynard, it was the same stream of negative remarks, but in a more indifferent manner; as if he did not really care whether they listened or improved, and he only spoke this way because he could not be bothered to do otherwise. Combat lessons allowed more leeway to slack, and it was easier to ignore the spiteful comments from his teacher, but Martel also knew that he made no improvements.
At least not during the first lesson on Maldays, training empowered fighting; Martel's time in the ring at The Broken Crown and elsewhere had already provided him with the foundation for using his magical shield or fighting with a staff. The only possible avenue for getting better at this lay in the second lesson, when the fire acolytes trained together with the future mageknights. Presumably because he cared about them, Reynard actually provided proper instructions during their sparring together.
Their training usually took place in the same manner. Those mageknights destined to be protectors, whether for the emperor as praetorians or on the battlefield for mages, played a defensive role alongside the fire acolytes. The rest, those mageknights seeking a career in the legions as officers, provided the attacking force. Martel still did not know all the names of the students in black tunics; partly because he did not care, but also because he had only been in previous classes with some of them. He did notice that both Eleanor and Alain usually fought as attackers, while students like Maximilian and Cheval played the role of defenders.
If left up to Martel, he would pair up with Maximilian for every exercise; besides preferring to fight next to his friend, they had already established a rapport in their actual brawls out in the city. Whether for some deeper reason or simply out of spite, however, Reynard always decided the pairings and never allowed them together.
Sometimes, perhaps to keep things from getting repetitive, Reynard did change their sparring exercises. Mageknights usually playing attackers became defenders and reverse, or he commanded the fire acolytes to fight on their own without protectors. Martel could see the sense in that; in a battle, it could not be guaranteed that the mageknight would always be right by the battlemage or even still alive. Yet he noticed that after every such fight, Reynard only offered instructions to the mageknight on how to improve, never the fire acolyte.
Regardless, Martel enjoyed such bouts. Thanks to his experiences sparring after hours in the Chamber of Earth, he knew what to expect from fighting a mageknight and what spells to employ in return. He rarely landed on his back, typically finding a way to disarm or disable his opponent first. He usually only had trouble with Eleanor, generally showing herself to be the strongest at spellwork among the mageknights, or Maximilian, who by now knew all of Martel's little ploys in a fight.
The fire acolyte especially enjoyed these sparring matches when up against Cheval. It seemed clear that the young nobleman did not have any particular talents to be a mageknight. Had his father been a peasant, perhaps he would have been allowed to pursue elemental magic as befitted his natural talent – assuming he had one. At least Martel could think of no other explanation why anyone would insist to train Cheval as a warrior.
Not that Martel particularly cared other than it afforded him the opportunity to humiliate the young nobleman every time they matched up. The father was beyond Martel's reach, but he could retaliate against the son.
Of course, he did not inflict serious injuries on Cheval; Martel was not interested in acts of cruelty. He simply did as told by his teacher and sparred against the mageknight to the best of his ability. If people quietly laughed at Cheval's performance, how easily he was bested, Martel felt no guilt related to that.
After another such round, Cheval got on his feet and glared at Martel menacingly. "Enjoy it while it lasts," the mageknight declared with a threatening voice. "The legions have no use for an honourless knave like you!"
"If that's the case, they are wasting an awful lot of time and money to train me," the fire acolyte retorted.
"I know the truth," Cheval sneered. "How you're always sneaking around the city, fighting with rogues, sell-swords, and all manner of criminals!"
"That sounds serious," Martel replied as nonchalantly as he could. "If you have evidence, you should really let somebody know." He turned and walked away. While he did not relish the thought of anybody digging through his past exploits, he wondered what anyone could do with the information. After all, they could hardly send him to war twice.
***
Once the lesson had ended, Martel fell into place next to Eleanor as all the students left the arena. "I was wondering about something," he asked.
"Which is?"
"Well, I know that Maximilian intends to join the praetorians. What about you?"
"My father is a legate, one of the few to reach that rank without possessing magic," she replied. "I cannot say if he was disappointed to never have sons to follow in his footsteps, but he was certainly pleased to discover my own talent in that regard." She gave him a wry smile. "Somewhere out there, a legion has a cohort in need of a prefect. No doubt, my father expects me to eventually rival him in rank."
Fathers and their ambitions.
"See you later." Eleanor and the other girls turned right, aiming for the northern corridor that led to their dormitory tower; Martel followed the other boys left towards their own, his mind already on the warm bath awaiting him in the basement pools.
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