Chapter 367: Study Sessions
Study Sessions
Feeling the pace set by Master Fenrick when it came to learning Tyrian runes, Martel only became more and more glad to have Eleanor's company for studying every Solday. Having grown up with tutors, it seemed second nature to her. She made extensive notes and knew how to look for more information.
She had also known to compare their drawings of the runes with those of the library's tome; it seemed an obvious thing to do, but Martel might have spent several fruitless sessions practising before coming up with the same idea.
And besides the methods Eleanor brought to the table, Martel found her presence to be pleasant, even when they simply sat quietly together, each focused on their own spellwork or notes. It was similar to how he felt himself when around Maximilian.
"What is it?" she asked, looking up from her runes.
"What? Nothing. What makes you ask?"
"You smiled for a moment as if a jest had come to mind."
"No, nothing of the sort," he told her. "I'm just glad to have your help with this."
"Not that we have made much progress." Eleanor glanced at the library's book on Tyrian runes. "The descriptions on how to make the magic work seem like guesswork, written by someone who never actually did it themselves."
"There are Tyrians in the city. I remember you mageknights all bought rune-inscribed arrows for the harvest games," Martel considered. He could add another example, that of the bard who played during the masquerade at The River Pearl, but that might be awkward to explain to Eleanor. "We could find him, or someone else like him, and ask for their help."
"I doubt they are inclined towards teaching the secrets of their runes to others. Either because they might consider it sacrilege or because it would deprive them of their income," she said.
"I guess. Do you – would Master Fenrick keep us from graduating if we fail this course?"
"I doubt he has the power. I remember he made that threat when he taught us astronomy, but I suspect it may have been idle words. The legions are not going to be deprived of a battlemage and several mageknights simply because we cannot recognise a constellation or draw a barbarian symbol right."
That made Martel feel a little more at ease. "I guess they need us too much. You're still joining the legions, then?"
"Yes, why would that have changed?"
Martel shrugged. He found this topic awkward to discuss, but now he had brought it up, he might as well ask. "I thought you might become protector instead of a prefect. Join the Praetorian Guard and stay in Morcaster. With Maximilian."
"Oh." It was hard to tell in the dim light, but it looked like Eleanor blushed a little. "Did he tell you? I do not recall if you and I discussed it."
"He told me, yeah."
"Well, my father still wants me to become a legate. Originally, I intended to seek command of a frontier legion, but my father may retire early if it allows me to take over the Legio Urbis. Such a move would require support from Maximilian's father, though, and I still need to serve several years as a prefect, no doubt."
"So, no wedding bells any time soon."
She gave an awkward laughter. "No. Our fathers may announce the union when it seems suitable – probably the same time we graduate from the Lyceum and take up our respective posts."
"I see." Martel cleared his throat and turned his attention back on the runes.
***
With his own studies seen to, at least for the day, Martel left the Lyceum in order to oversee those of another. He found it to be a pleasant evening in spring, enjoying the walk to the copper lanes. As the days grew warmer, activity grew in Morcaster. More and more ships arrived, no longer suppressed by the fear of winter storms. Goods and trade flowed faster and faster, filling the streets with labourers, donkeys, and carts.
As Martel left the mercantile districts to reach the copper lanes, much of this faded away. The slums of the city did not share in the increased trade nor the wealth that resulted; winter or summer, only the current weather determined how many could be found on the streets.
Reaching the home of the urchins, they knew to fetch Sparrow for him. As he retreated to the alley, the children crowded around the open door to stare at him; once his unofficial apprentice arrived, however, Weasel shooed them away and closed the door, leaving him as the only spectator.
Sparrow smiled at him; crouching down, she eagerly placed her hand on the ground. About a yard ahead of her, the earth cracked a few inches in width and depth. Looking up at him with excited eyes, her smile only grew. "I did that!"
"You certainly did." Martel was in a flash reminded of his younger brother William, who would come running into the house to display a frog or bird he had found in much the same excited manner. "Keep practising. I know it's dull and repetitive, but you'll increase what you can do in every way. You will be faster, you can do it more powerfully, and over greater distances."
Sparrow nodded sagely, as if Martel was saying something obvious. "I will. I remember how you made Weasel fall." She giggled, and a grumble could be heard from the door. "Once I can do that, nobody can ever catch me again."
"Very true. There are many other spells that can be done with earth magic." Not that Martel knew any, but he would find out. "Is there something you would like to learn in particular? Besides what I already showed you – what would you find useful?"
Sparrow frowned in thought. Behind her, Martel could almost hear Weasel leaning forward.
"Well, the other thing you showed me helps to run away. But what if I can't? Can I use this magic to protect myself? Keep someone from hurting me?"
"There ought to be." Martel hoped so, at least. "If you keep practising what I already showed you, I'll figure out a new spell for you to learn next time I visit. Sound good?"
The little girl beamed. "Yeah!"
***
Martel did not stay much longer. He knew it was a bad habit to stay out in town late, attracting trouble and disrupting his sleep pattern. The walk to the copper lanes was pleasant, especially given the mild weather, and he enjoyed getting out of the Lyceum for a change of scenery, but there was no need to be gone longer than necessary.
His mind filled with thoughts of earth magic and how to find out about the spells that Sparrow might want to learn, Martel paid no heed to the shadow that followed some distance behind him, watching his every move; looking ordinary in every regard, the hooded fellow only had one distinguishing feature – his belt buckle was in the shape of a snake.
This content is taken from (f)reewe(b)novel.𝗰𝗼𝐦