Chapter 513: X
X
The routine of previous fivedays returned for Martel. No further sign nor word of Atreus reached him or his friends. When they got together, they did not speak of their sojourn to the catacombs; it seemed too strange an event that it could be discussed in the familiar, almost mundane surroundings above ground. Not that Martel saw much of either; Maximilian was busy being introduced and prepared as necessary for joining the Imperial court, and Eleanor spent her time with her family, now restored to its full number.
As for Martel, he used his hours practising his spells and skills, such as enchantment. He visited his friends at The Golden Goose and otherwise waited for his time at the Lyceum to reach its end. And about seven days before winter solstice, two things happened; the quarantine of the copper lanes was announced to be over as the pestilence had finally released its grip on the district, and Martel received a summons to Mistress Juliana's chambers.
***
Wondering what the overseer wanted with him, considering he was no longer a student, Martel went to Mistress Juliana's room and knocked. Given admittance, he entered and took a chair opposite her.
"Good, you are here. I heard something strange regarding you that I thought best to share."
Martel looked at her; her description could fit any number of activities. "What is it?"
"I have friends in the Imperial administration from my days of soldiering. The military council convenes in a few days to determine the postings of our wizards, but apparently, a decision has already been made regarding you."
Unfamiliar with the process, Martel did not know if that was weird or what it portended. "Alright. What does that mean?"
"This in itself is not odd. Those with influence may use it to ensure that their children are given a specific posting."
Martel remembered Eleanor speaking of her own family's connections in this regard. "And?"
"Obviously, your family did not influence any councillors on the decision of your posting. Especially not given the choice." She took a deep breath. "Martel, you will be stationed with the Tenth."
Martel frowned as it took him a moment to understand. Everything he had heard about Legio Astra came back. A legion of the hardest and roughest soldiers, for better or worse, thanks to their gruelling task of defending the Savena delta. The legion once led by Eleanor's father, and which suffered more losses than any other. "Why?" it burst from him.
"A good question. Currently, all battlemages are sent to the legions at the siege of Nahavand. The Tenth holds a position of hills and forests, fighting skirmishes where the range and destructive power of a battlemage is less useful compared to the danger it poses for you. Only someone with great influence and equal hatred of you would have done this."
She gave him a knowing look, and he realised who she meant. "Duke Cheval." The nobleman had even told Martel as much, the last time they met. He had already decided Martel's fate and set it in motion in such a way that nobody could blame the duke when a Khivan bullet claimed Martel, yet everybody would know he had caused it to happen.
"Yes. Especially as the legate of the Tenth Legion is one of his allies, who owes his position to the duke. While a battlemage is a most valuable asset that any commander would be a fool to throw away, politics have made commanders do far worse." She cleared her throat. "I am sorry, Martel. You will receive official confirmation in a few days, but I thought you deserved to know right away."
Martel clenched his fists, trying to hold it together. "Thank you, Mistress Juliana."
***
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Once he left her chamber, Martel had to spend a moment supporting himself against the wall. His vision darkened briefly, and he felt as he had done when he first realised he was to become a battlemage. Back then, death in battle had felt certain to him, but after a while, he had become almost numb to the thought. And then his skills grew, as did his experience, and he began to think that he might have the power and wits to survive his twenty years of service.
With this news, all such hope evaporated. He was no longer being sent to war with merely the risk of dying; his death was the express purpose of his posting.
But he could not change this. He had already decided, on the day of his examination, that he would not desert. He could not change his fate, but he could do something about the fate of others.
He found Eleanor doing light training in the gymnasium; noticing him, she interrupted her exercises to join him. "Yes?"
"You mentioned that you could pull some strings and get posted in the same legion as me. Have you done that?"
She shook her head. "The military council meets in a few days. I was going to meet my father's friend tomorrow."
"Good. Don't ask to be assigned to the same legion as me. Choose which other would be best for your career."
"Why?"
Martel hesitated, but he would not lie to her. "Mistress Juliana informs me that someone has gone to great lengths to get me assigned to the Tenth."
A trickle of disbelieving laughter escaped her. "That makes no sense. The Tenth fights skirmishes in forested terrain. Your offensive powers would be wasted, and you are far too easy a target for an ambush."
"I suspect that is the very reason." He attempted a wry smile, but it failed. "Looks like making enemies caught up to me. In any case, it's a terrible place for you. I don't want you to join that legion as well." Martel swallowed, knowing this would leave him friendless at his new destination. "Anyway, don't let me interrupt your training." He said this more for his own sake, giving him an excuse to leave at a brisk pace.
***
After collecting some coin and his winter clothing, Martel left the castle on his second task of the day. While this could wait, it gave Martel something to do rather than sit in his chamber and feel despondent.
He went to the marketplace first, spending his coin on various supplies; mostly some food, different herbs, and a few blankets. All of this gathered in his arms, he continued south.
Walking down the familiar streets of Morcaster, Martel thought about when he first arrived. Back then, the city had seemed a strange and intimidating beast. Now, he had been to every district multiple times; he knew the shortcuts, which baker sold their bread a little cheaper at the end of the day, and when his favourite haunts would have new kegs of ale delivered. While Morcaster had been a harsh acquaintance, teaching Martel heartache and pain, he could not regret his time in the city.
Reaching the harbour, he walked past The Broken Crown in the latter stages of being rebuilt. Ahead, he saw the masts of the few ships in the harbour; he remembered sitting by the docks together with Shadi, thinking about being a seamage and crossing oceans upon those great vessels arriving and leaving port. He wondered if the ship that would take him to his posting already lay anchored.
Continuing westwards, Martel walked down the street that until recently had held the gate into the copper lanes. It had already been demolished with only a few traces left of the watch post. He crossed the line where the gate once stood, entering the district.
Reaching a fork in the road, Martel looked down one direction. If he went that way, he would reach The Copper Drum. He thought about Kerra and all she had done to him last year. Back then, he had been a novice; if she had treated him the same way now, Martel would have dealt with her as he had done Vitus. Martel hoped she knew to consider herself lucky.
Choosing the other direction, Martel walked until a familiar, derelict house came into sight. Being this late and cold, the children were not outside on the street, but he felt their eyes upon him from their little spy holes allowing them to keep watch of their surroundings. He entered through the back door and smiled seeing them surround him with their usual clamour and excitement.
"Martel! What did you bring us?"
He unfolded the blankets on the table, showing the other items he got from the market. "I am afraid this will be my last visit. I am leaving soon, to take up my new post. I'm done at my school, you see, so I'm being sent away for my new employment."
"Won't you be able to visit us when you come back?" asked Badger. From the stairs, Weasel appeared, but he said nothing.
Martel did his best to smile. "Maybe." He looked towards the rock in the middle of the room that he had enchanted for them. He walked over and placed one hand to feel its residual warmth. "This won't last through winter, I suspect. Best that I renew it." He looked around until he saw Sparrow. "Enchantment is a good skill to have. A good way to make a living while helping people, providing them with things they need."
"Is that what you're leaving us to do?" The little Mouse looked at him with big eyes. "To do work that helps people?"
Martel's voice almost broke. "Yes," was all he dared to answer with an unhappy smile. Bending over the heating stones, Martel set to work, conveniently forcing him to push all emotions from his mind. Slowing his breathing, he wove his best enchantment yet.
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