Chapter 311: Camaraderie
Camaraderie
As soon as the potion went down his throat, Martel felt warm. As he walked home to the Lyceum, he took off his cap and removed his cloak as well. By the time he went to bed, he wore only his underwear as he lay under a single blanket despite this being a winter month.
He woke, shivering all over. Glancing at his clock in the dark, he could eventually tell that it was four in the morning. He wondered if he was ill; this felt like a fever, this sudden onset of being cold. Putting on clothes before crawling back under his blanket, he soon felt warm again and stopped shivering.
He finally realised that the potion had stopped working, leaving him exposed to the cold. A rather short duration compared to what Mistress Rana had claimed, and an abrupt end to the effect. He figured the former was due to his own lacking in terms of alchemy; as for the sudden change, he wondered if that was also his own fault or if all elixirs work that way. He would find out. Wearing socks, a night shirt, and a cap, he went back to sleep.
***
When he woke again, Martel felt normal, and he went to his class in the Circle of Fire as usual. They practised the flame wall spell primarily; among the others, Harriet remained the only one who could summon anything remotely useful, and it still would not be sufficient to deter a determined foe. Martel practised as well, improving his casting time; he was tempted to throw it in her face how superior his spellwork was, but he restrained himself. If Moira simply told the other acolytes that losing their skirmishes against the mageknights still earned Martel a detention, he did not want to give them any reasons to exploit that.
After two lessons, Martel felt exhausted. He had spent his spellpower practising during class, and he still had detention this evening. At least Moira had yet to push any of her acolytes beyond the point of actual exhaustion; on the contrary, she reproached any who might seem like they were doing it to themselves.
"Martel, wait a moment," a voice called out to him in the hallway.
He had been on his way to his room for a bit of rest, but Martel was happy to turn around and face the speaker. "Hey, Eleanor."
"I was thinking we could work on our chapters last bell? I think we can both be finished tonight," she suggested.
"I can't," he admitted. He lowered his voice as he spoke again. "I have detention."
She looked at him with a mixture of amusement and surprise. "What did you do to deserve that?"
"Every time we lose a fight against you and the other mageknights, Moira gives me detention."
"Mistress Moira," Eleanor said in correction before she frowned. "Wait, every time? Even if the fault is not yours? You are always the best fighter on your team."
Martel shrugged with a defeated smile. "If one person fails, I guess we all die."
"Well, I can wait for you in the library until you are done, and we can finish our work then?"
He shook his head. "My detention is the entire bell. Library will be closed by then. Look, I don't want to hold you back. You should get your work done. I'll finish mine when I get the chance, I guess." He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and continued to his chamber.
***
Moira waited for him as he arrived in the Circle of Fire. "You lost again, even though nobody on your team had any reason to sabotage you. They had no knowledge that you would be punished for failure. Unless you were stupid enough to tell them?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Of course I didn't tell them. But it didn't matter. Harriet can't do the spell, which she should have told us," Martel complained.
"She is to blame for her poor spellwork."
Martel was almost taken aback; he had not expected she would agree with him.
"As is the captain who does not know the capabilities of his soldiers."
Moira still finding a way to blame him, on the other hand, felt familiar. "But I'm not anyone's captain. We're all acolytes, all equal. They have no reason to listen to me."
"No reason other than survival? Besides, why do you need others to approve before you take up leadership? Will you loiter around, waiting for defeat until someone pats you on the shoulder and gives you permission to make decisions?"
Her voice and words were as sharp and condescending as ever, but Martel found it difficult to argue. "But how do I get them to accept my decisions?"
"You did before. It was your idea that half should fight defensively and half offensively, wasn't it?"
It was, which made Martel wonder how she knew.
"Stop thinking as a soldier and start thinking as a leader. Unless you wish to spend every Glunday with detention."
Martel did not.
"Alright, take position. Your footwork is laughable, and your fire bolts barely tickle me. Time to whip you into shape."
Dejected, Martel trod to the other side of the chamber and prepared himself to duel.
***
Almost limping, Martel crossed a near empty Lyceum on his way from the Circle of Fire back to the dormitory tower. He felt too worn to do anything but sleep, even if tomorrow was Manday, which meant handing in the translation for Master Fenrick. Luckily, that was also the day when he worked in Mistress Rana's laboratory in the afternoon instead of his usual morning shift in the apothecary. That gave him a full bell to finish his work then.
Entering the common room at the ground floor of his tower, Martel noticed a lamp burning by one of the tables. Within its ring of light, he managed to make out Eleanor. "What are you doing here?" he asked as he approached her.
"Well, I know you work mornings in the apothecary, so I figured you would have to finish the chapter tonight." She gave him a wink. "A mageknight does not abandon a comrade on the field of battle."
Right, she would not know that Manday was the exception where he worked in the afternoon instead of mornings for Mistress Rana. Touched by her consideration, Martel saw no reason to mention it. "Let me get my things, and we can get to work."
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