Chapter 515: Loyalty
Loyalty
The next day, as third bell approached, Martel walked towards the fortress of Saint Marcellus. It did not lie far from the Lyceum, but being in the north-western palace district, Martel had never been there before. He had driven past it a few times when going to the Imperial palace, and on occasion noticed its towers in the distance when walking through the merchant quarter; that was the extent of his knowledge, other than it served as the headquarters for the First Legion in its capacity as the city guard. That left it under the command of its legate, Eleanor's father.
She met him in the courtyard of the fortress where the ceremony was to take place. The other mageknights from their year were likewise present along with the remaining firemages. William nodded at Martel; Harriet ignored him, and Edward just looked uncomfortable in general.
"Not a bad place to work. Your father must have a good view from his study." Martel glanced around at the surrounding walls. Even now, patrols of legionaries came and left, and Martel could see an armoury and other storages of various supplies. Even if Martel had no desire to join the legions, he had to admit it all looked impressive.
"I suppose it will do. It is an old fortress. The fortifications are rudimentary with just a single gate between here and outside, the towers are few and of no impressive height, and the surrounding buildings of the district offer cover against defenders on the walls. It is really just a large barracks and training yard," Eleanor remarked, clearly less impressed.
Martel looked over at Maximilian, who seemed in a jovial mood, joking and laughing with some of the other mageknights. Martel was still annoyed at him about yesterday; not just for how he had behaved towards Martel, but also how he had upset Eleanor.
Besides the graduating students of the Lyceum, a group had gathered in the other end of the courtyard. Martel recognised Maximilian's father, the count of Marche, along with his wife and daughter. Several other members of the nobility were present as well, though Martel did not necessarily know them; he recognised the crest for Alain's family, but not the others. They all seemed to be nobles and relatives of the mageknights; Martel wondered if any of his fellow firemages had family members present. It did not appear so.
Naturally, Eleanor's family had also come; a short trip for her father, the legate, but her mother and younger sister were also present. Genevieve waved in his direction, and Martel almost reciprocated until he realised it was meant for Eleanor; while he knew the girl, she could not be expected to remember or recognise him. "How is your sister?"
"She is well. My parents are spoiling her, as to be expected. Though she is sad that I will be leaving so soon after she was returned to us," Eleanor told him.
Trumpets rang, and more people entered the courtyard, including one elderly man wearing the purple-hemmed robe of a magistrate. Behind him came two servants transporting a chest on carrying sticks inserted through rings on the lid. The ceremony was about to begin.
***
The mageknights quickly lined up in a row, and the firemages took the hint and did as well. The magistrate let his eyes sweep over the wizards and began speaking. "On this auspicious day, we welcome a new year of wizards into the Asterian legions, to serve with honour and dedication as did blessed Saint Marcellus so many centuries ago. As the enemy broke through our walls, he defended this Citadel as the last, fighting until his dying breath and thereby setting the example we can all only aspire to..."
The magistrate droned on, but Martel had already stopped paying attention. He looked towards the chest being carried in carefully so that the servants would not directly touch it. He assumed it held a relic for the oath-swearing, perhaps the bones of the saint himself. If so, it had none of the powers that Martel had clearly felt radiating from the hand of Saint Laurentius. Perhaps something else was inside the chest, or perhaps the Faith of the Sun was less discerning with sainthood than it should be.
" And remember the words that every soldier of the legions must live by," the magistrate continued. "Loyalty yields discipline. Discipline yields strength. Strength yields victory!"
The mageknights roared in response, as did many of the onlookers, including soldiers of the garrison. Martel clapped his hands, mostly because standing completely still and remaining silent felt awkward.
The magistrate beckoned for the nearest graduate to approach. "Are you ready to swear the oath of allegiance to your emperor?"
"Yes," Alain answered.
"Place your hand on the remains of blessed Marcellus and repeat after me. With Sol as my witness, I swear..."
***
It took a while until it was Martel's turn. He stepped forward and placed one hand on the chest as the others had done.
"Are you ready to swear the oath of allegiance to your emperor?"
Martel wanted to say no, but he knew that was not an option, unless he wanted to see his family sold into slavery to repay his tuition. "Yes."
"Repeat after me. With Sol as my witness, I swear loyalty to His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Corvinus the Third."
"With Sol as my witness, I swear loyalty to His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Corvinus the Third," Martel repeated monotonously.
"I shall obey every command given me."
"I shall obey every command given me."
"I shall fight the enemies of the Empire until victory or death."
"I shall fight the enemies of the Empire until victory or death."
"My legion is my family, my legate is my father, and my comrades are my brothers."
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"My legion is my family, my legate is my father, and my comrades are my brothers."
"This I swear, with Sol as my witness."
"This I swear, with Sol as my witness."
As Martel finished, the magistrate placed a small pin upon his chest, showing an eagle with outspread wings; in its claws, it held the letter X. Finished, Martel stepped back into the line.
***
Once all had received their pins, the magistrate spoke further words and finally ended the ceremony. His servants picked up the chest containing the relic and carried it out. Meanwhile, the wizards broke from their row into groups or scattered to find their families. Looking at Eleanor, Martel found her already removing her legionary's pin. "What are you doing?"
"My father believes I have joined the Thirteenth Legion. I prefer if he discovers the truth once I am gone. I will have to speak with them briefly before I can make my excuse to leave, which is the purpose you serve," she explained, placing her pin inside a pocket. "You and I have plans to celebrate, so I must leave them to join you. Would you mind waiting for me outside?"
"Certainly." Having no reason to stay, Martel made his way out of the gates and leaned up against the outer wall.
"Fancy meeting you here at Castel Saint Marcel, of all places." Maximilian's growling voice reached the newly minted battlemage, who looked over at the mageknight.
"It didn't feel like an invitation I could refuse."
"Same here."
Martel considered what to say next; the tension from their last encounter hung in the air. Martel could guess why Maximilian had approached him, and considering he would be on a ship tomorrow morning, it seemed the wrong time to hold grudges. "Eleanor and I are going to celebrate." While they had not exactly agreed to that, Martel figured they might as well turn her excuse into the truth. "Would you care to join us?"
"I see how it is. You lot of the Tenth stick together, eh? Well, you better have a praetorian by your side. Morcaster is a dangerous city for outsiders," Maximilian declared in his boisterous manner. "Best you have a native like me at your side."
"You're going to make this feel like a long day, aren't you?"
"It is what I do best."
***
While they made a tour of it through the taverns of Morcaster, they inevitably ended up at The Golden Goose to catch the evening performance. Afterwards, the acting troupe joined them for mead, music, and general merriment.
Martel leaned back in his chair, enjoying his mug of ale and the spectacle; while some of the actors played their instruments, Eleanor danced with the young boy Ian, while Regnar created flashes of light that sparkled throughout the room.
"Well, Nordmark, we made it. We survived to the end of our education, despite your best efforts to drag us into all manner of conceivable trouble." Maximilian sank into the chair next to him, hoisting his own cup.
"As I recall, you were never shy about charging headfirst into any fight that came our way."
"Well, if a fight was to be had, why hesitate?" He drank from his cup. "That said, while I was not enthused to learn of Eleanor's choice, I suppose it is done. But I hope you will at least try to stay out of trouble for the next five years until she has served her time."
Martel was confused until he remembered; as Eleanor's family no doubt had paid for tuition, she was only obliged to serve five years in the legions. After that, she was free to return to Morcaster if she wanted; presumably, Maximilian expected as much, given their engagement. "If it were up to me, neither of us would leave the city. I doubt we'll get much say in the matter as to what happens, once we're at the front."
Maximilian's reply was to empty his cup. "I need another." He got up and left.
Before long, Regnar took his spot, finished with his spellwork. "That'll have to do for amusement tonight," he declared. "And I'm told tomorrow is your day of departure?"
Martel nodded. "It is. I'd tell you to come east, but you aren't the travelling type anymore."
The hedge mage shook his head with a smile. "A permanent roof over our heads suits us just fine."
"Probably for the best. Not exactly peaceful around those parts."
"I'm not too worried," Regnar said.
"Of course not, you're staying here."
"I meant on your behalf, lad. How long had you been studying magic when you strangled a berserker with a golden chain?"
"Couple of months, I guess."
The hedge mage grinned. "And now you're a battlemage. I almost pity those Khivans. And I noticed that the letter on your pin is the same as upon the gracious lady in our midst." He looked up towards the stage where Eleanor still danced with the boy.
"Yeah. We've been assigned to the same legion. My fault, really. Eleanor volunteered just to keep an eye on me."
Regnar smiled, leaning back with crossed arms. "I'm not surprised. I remember a night much like this when we were still a travelling troupe and you a fairly recent arrival to the city. Foresight's a fool's game, but some things you can tell."
Martel was not certain what Regnar meant by that, but given that the hedge mage always had one drink in hand, he chalked it up to that.
"Speaking of such things, why are you sitting here? I don't know how much dancing there will be where you're going I suggest you take advantage of this moment." Regnar nodded towards the stage.
"I'm not really much for that," Martel claimed. "The only dance I know is the Aquilan step." Taught to him by none other than Eleanor, back when he was going to attend the celebrations in the Imperial palace.
"Not a problem," Regnar declared. "Theodore! Play 'The Maid in the Meadow'! It's the only rhythm that our fiery friend can dance to!" Up on the stage, the storyteller nodded and began strumming his lute. The hedge mage turned towards Martel. "Music's about to start. Better hurry."
With a grumbling noise, Martel got on his feet and stepped onto the stage to grab Eleanor's hands and lead her into the dance.
***
Waking with only a slight headache next morning, Martel left his chamber at the Lyceum for the last time. He had a small chest under one arm, carrying all his letters, his writing tools and some parchment, and his coin. In the other hand, he carried a bag holding all of his clothing.
Eleanor waited for him by the entrance. She had a large chest and a few other items. "A cart will take us to the harbour," she explained when Martel raised an eyebrow at seeing her luggage.
"Alright. I still haven't received any uniform or anything like that. Not even a weapon."
"It will be on the ship." Eleanor picked up her belongings, clearly using magical strength to haul it all.
"It's just us? Nobody else going on the same ship?"
"Nobody else being sent to the front, it seems." They walked outside where the promised cart waited for them. After loading their goods into the back, they climbed up as well; Eleanor found a seat on her chest while Martel sat in the bottom of the cart, and the driver set the wagon in motion.
Martel had thought this several times of late, walking through the streets, how eerie it was to be leaving Morcaster. Now it was real. He might never look upon any of this again. He glanced at every house as if it held special meaning to him, thinking about how often he had walked past them without giving any of them a second thought.
This early, few people were on the streets, and they made good progress. Martel wished the cart drove slower.
Far too soon, the masts appeared on the horizon, and the smell of salt lay in the air. Martel figured that would soon become familiar; he did not know how long the journey took, but more than a fiveday, at least. Probably two or three.
Eleanor did not speak either; perhaps the weight of the moment had likewise set in for her. The silence was filled by the cart rumbling and people moving about, starting their day, opening their shops and stalls, and everything else entailed by life in the city; as they reached the third pier by the docks, the sound of the second bell was added to the noise.
The two young wizards emptied the cart of their belongings and themselves. Ahead lay a small merchant vessel gently floating in the water, with a band of legionaries on the deck; sailors moved about, adjusting the rigging or stowing away supplies. Looking at each other, Eleanor and Martel exchanged a small nod and walked forward to board the ship and set sail for war.
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