Chapter 407: The Promise of Spectacle
The Promise of Spectacle
Martel returned to the workshops the next day, entering the small laboratory where his stone waited for him. Placing his hands against it, it felt cool as always; he had yet to enchant it sufficiently that it actually produced heat that would be noticeable. Only his sense of magic, attuned to warmth above all else, could detect the layer of fire suffused into the rock.
Nothing to do but give it another try and hopefully improve a little compared to yesterday. With the entirety of both his hands, from palm to fingertips, pressed against the stone, Martel began casting a spell. The simplest he knew, summoning a flame, but deep inside the rock. In a way, it reminded him of learning how to focus through the ruby, his current task in the Circle of Fire. The main difference was the resistance met by his magic. The staff, with its lines of silver that converged around the gem, practically pushed his magic forward. The stone, made of uniform material and representing an element that did not blend well with fire, seemed as unwilling as possible to accept his spell.
Shaking these thoughts aside, as the distraction almost made him release his spell on accident, Martel focused on his enchantment once more. Moment after moment passed, as magic flowed like a single drop sliding down a leaf, dripping into the stone.
***
A message waited for Martel in the entrance hall, of the short and snippy kind that often spelled trouble. He did not recognise the handwriting, nor did it bear any signature.
Master Martel,
You are cordially invited
to the solstice celebration
at The Golden Goose on
tomorrow night, this Pelday.
As an honoured guest, food
and drink will be provided
at seventh bell, along with
unprecedented entertainment.
A little strange. While Martel had frequented the tavern plenty of times and would consider himself in good standing with most of its staff, he had never had dealings with the owner, nor did he see a reason why they would reach out to invite him specifically. It could be that the patronage of a mage lent the establishment a certain prestige, but probably not if the wizard in question was a battlemage. Especially not one also fire-touched. If anything, rumours about Martel might convince people to stay away.
He remembered the last time he received an invitation to a tavern for solstice. That had been Kerra, expecting an ambush from Tibert and planning her own defences. Martel almost suspected this was the situation again; the question remained if that was reason for discouragement or encouragement to attend.
***
Going to the upper floors of the library for his recurring study meeting with Eleanor, Martel was surprised to see Maximilian there as well. While she already sat at a table, reading and making notes, the other mageknight wandered around looking restless until he saw the fire acolyte enter.
"Nordmark, there you are."
"Different to see you here, Max. You've come to help?"
"Do not be silly. Everyone knows that reading contorts your face. You keep this up, you shall look deformed at the age of twenty," the young viscount sniffed.
"I did wonder if you had ever even set foot on this floor before."
"Yes, yes, enough of that. Did you also receive one of these?" Maximilian held up a missive between two of his fingers.
"An invitation to the Goose? Yes, I did."
"So did both of us," Eleanor inserted.
"Very well, that settles it. We shall all go tomorrow," Maximilian declared.
Martel agreed; if he had the two mageknights by his side, he was not concerned about what awaited at the tavern. Either they would have a jovial night or a rousing fight; either way, it would be a good celebration. "Sounds good to me." He pulled out a chair and took a seat by the table opposite Eleanor, ready to continue the search for something that might cure her sister.
"That is not all," Maximilian continued, making Martel look up at him. "With solstice on the horizon, my family will host our usual celebration. You remember last year, where you helped me with a little performance. My father expects better this year, especially as I now have an actual battlemage counted among my friends." Maximilian spoke in a matter-of-factly voice, as if all of this was agreed upon, but Martel thought he noticed a touch of apprehension. This meant a lot to the mageknight.
As for his part, Martel was happy to oblige. He no longer needed to hide his gifts; nothing was at stake for him, and he saw no reason to excuse himself. While last year had been an unpleasant affair, it had mostly been because Martel was inexperienced and unsure what to expect. Not so this year. "Of course. Tell your father not to worry. We'll give his guests a spectacle they won't forget, and I'll make sure you look brilliant."
An expression of relief flickered across Maximilian's face. "I expected nothing less of the Lyceum's premier battlemage. First round tomorrow night is on me," he promised before making his way towards the door.
"Food and drink would be provided, the invitation said," Martel pointed out, which only earned him a shrug from the mageknight leaving them.
"See you at training," Eleanor called out.
The two remaining acolytes exchanged looks, laughing a little.
"How goes the search?" he asked.
"I am nearly done with the book I showed you last, and the rune of unbinding. I did not learn much more, but at least I have an actual drawing of what it looks like. That will let me ask Master Fenrick what he knows about it."
"That seems a good idea." Getting the advice of an actual northern bard would be even better, but Martel had still done nothing to locate one. He could not continue to postpone it; eventually, it would be too late. Chiding himself for his inaction, Martel declared silently that he would get it done soon. For now, another book about Asterian encounters with Tyrians awaited him.
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