Chapter 288: Carrying Water
Carrying Water
For the second lesson on Malday, it seemed that they would resume training with fire acolytes and mageknights mixed together. Moira did not appear either, leaving their practice entirely in the hands of Reynard. Paired up with Alain, Martel nodded to him as they prepared to train. They stood against two mageknights, Eleanor and her friend Clarisse.
"Begin!"
Martel immediately retreated one step behind Alain, letting him act as a shield to hold the two attackers back. Fighting purely defensively, the mageknight did admirable work intercepting their attacks, giving Martel free reins to use his offensive spells. Despite the advantage this should yield, the fight proved difficult; by shielding him, Alain also blocked Martel from a straight line of sight to their opponents, making it tough to attack them without hitting his own protector.
The turning point came when Clarisse manoeuvred her way past Alain to attack Martel directly. While it seemed a good strategy, it proved in his favour, as he could finally unleash his spells without concern of a friendly strike. It took only two fire bolts for her to yield.
Two against one, Eleanor fought better than could be expected, but she had to surrender soon after as well.
The skirmish done, Martel untensed his body. The others still fought on in their duels, leaving him and the three others some time to slake their thirst and catch their breath.
"You are doing well," Eleanor told Martel as they stood by the barrel of water. "I am told you impressed a few last night, in the Chamber of Earth."
"Thanks." His face lit up in a smile – it meant more when it came from her. "You too. The way you kept moving, keeping Alain between me and you, so I couldn't get an attack on you."
She gave a shrug. "He was easy to manipulate."
"Hey!" came the offended outburst from Alain, standing nearby.
"Well, I am glad I am not a protector," Clarisse interjected. "Following some battlemage around like a watchdog. I much prefer to lead rather than be led."
Martel tried to imagine the snobbish girl leading soldiers in battle. She would have to handle a lot more than two fire bolts to do well, assuming anyone would even listen to anything she said.
"Get ready!" yelled Reynard. "We go another round!"
The acolytes drank their last sips of water and resumed positions to fight again.
***
Once the class had ended and the students began filing out of the gymnasium, Maximilian appeared by Martel's side, slapping him on the shoulder. "Nordmark, it is about time we set sail again! I have not shared a drink with you in ages. We never celebrated your ascension to acolyte, for instance."
For Maximilian, any excuse to go out drinking would serve, but it also suited Martel, given he intended to take the mageknight's measure on a matter. "Sounds good. I get paid on Solday, so we can go out then."
"Pointless to wait that long." Maximilian waved his hand about dismissively. "My purse got enough for us both. You can cover next time we saddle up."
That left Martel without reasons to refuse. "The Golden Goose?"
"You read my mind."
***
After baths and supper, the pair of acolytes went to their tavern of choice. The place bustled with activity as ever; winter only gave people more reason to seek indoors for warmth, drink, and company. Each mageling armed with a full tankard of ale, they sat down. "Cheers to my man from Nordmark, an acolyte at twice the speed of any other!"
Martel joined in the cheer, accepting the accolade. Once they had sampled the brew and the mood was on the rise, he decided to broach his intended subject. "I understand that there's ways you can decide where you get sent, after you graduate."
"I doubt that will matter much in your case," Maximilian considered. "All battlemages these days get sent to the siege of Nahavand, from what I hear."
"Right, sure, I wasn't thinking about myself." Martel did not need any reminders of what awaited him. "But you mageknights, you get some influence over the choice, don't you?"
"Well, formally it is the Imperial administration that makes the decision. But if you know the people in the administration making that decision..." The young nobleman gave a wink and took another sip.
"That's what I understand. Because some mageknights will be protectors, but who determines whether they'll join the praetorians or go to the legions alongside battlemages?" More importantly, could the choice of a battlemage's protector be influenced?
"I cannot say what they claim to base the distinction on." Maximilian shrugged. "Supposedly, the best are offered a place in the Praetorian Guard, considering they guard the emperor's life."
"Offered? So they could refuse and go to the legions instead?" Martel raised his cup in front of his face, trying to hide his interest.
"Possibly. But who wants to be sent to the field when you can live at the Imperial palace?" Maximilian laughed. "At least mageknights serving as officers get a command and a chance to rise through the ranks. Protector to a battlemage, you are stuck at the bottom of the ladder. Little chance for glory either."
"I hadn't thought about that." Martel cleared his throat. "So you're happy that your father wants you to be a praetorian?"
"My wishes have nothing to with it. My father has spent money and political influence to get me in position that one day, I shall be captain of the Guard. I doubt he would accept all that being thrown away!" His laughter continued. "Besides, could you imagine me trailing some mage around on the battlefield? Me, the favoured son of the House of Marche?"
"A silly notion, I guess." Martel certainly felt silly having thought of it. At least Maximilian's obliviousness spared him further embarrassment.
"Ah, I am empty already. I will get us another round."
"Yeah, thanks." Martel drank the last of his mug and set it on the table between them.
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