Chapter 528: Fifteen Coins
Fifteen Coins
After their morning spar, Eleanor pulled back and caught her breath. "I do not suppose you know where we are to collect our salary?"
"Not a clue. Wait, that's today?" To Martel, the days all felt the same, except Pelday when they had patrol.
"What would you do without me?"
"Right, I would never have figured out this well-guarded secret that today's the first of the month."
"That would be my assessment as well," Eleanor said lightly. "Well, let us seek out the camp prefect. He must know."
***
After a wash and change of clothes, the pair crossed camp to reach the tent of the camp prefect. They entered and found Robert behind his desk, piles of parchment in front of him. "What is it?" he asked, only to answer his own question. "Oh, you want your money."
"You make us sound like mercenaries," Eleanor protested.
"Usually that would be handled by the clerk in your cohort, but since you're not attached to one, I shall deal with it," Robert declared with a stressed expression, and he began digging through his drawers.
"Sorry to cause you such trouble," Martel said with only a touch of sarcasm.
"It's fine, I'll handle it," the camp prefect muttered, grabbing a small lockbox.
Martel had to bite his tongue from thanking the man in the most sarcastic of tones.
"Alright, what's your scheme? You getting full pay or splitting it?"
"Half to the Imperial treasury, half paid out," Eleanor replied.
"Oh, yeah, me too," Martel added.
"Alright. Prefect's salary, subtracted your repayments to the Lyceum, divided by half" Robert wrote down a few figures and finally stacked fifteen golden coins in front of each of them.
They both collected their pay and left; Martel stared at the gold in his hand with a smile as they walked. This would pay for just about anything he could think of.
"Not exactly much for a whole month, given we are mages," Eleanor remarked, placing her coin in her purse.
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Martel shot her a look; he had never owned this much money at once, and the same amount lay in the Imperial treasury wearing his name. "To be fair, we only work once every fiveday." Even if that included the occasional chance of Khivan bullets.
Eleanor laughed before she sighed. "Quite. Wait, who is that?" Outside their tents, a servant stood, clearly out of place compared to the soldiers that occupied the camp.
"Ah, Sir Martel and Sir Fontaine?" The servant read their names aloud from two envelopes, handing one to each of them. "From my master, the legate." He bowed his head and hurried away.
Sir Martel,
You are cordially invited to join the celebration of Saint Agnes at the home of Legate Titus Varus, second Solday of this month at last bell.
Titus Varus
Legate of Legio X Astra
"A party?" Martel gave a frown. "Here?"
"When you are gone for years, you celebrate when you can. This must be the saint that the legate's family venerates," Eleanor considered.
"Right, like your family and Saint Cuthbert."
"You remember. Yes. Do your family not have affinity for a particular saint? Or your town?"
Martel shrugged. "Honestly, we barely know about Sol, let alone the saints."
"Well, it shall be nice to attend something out of the ordinary. We got time, after all."
"Indeed. Well, I have letters of my own to send," he told you. "See you later.
***
The quartermaster who doled out food rations had explained the system to Martel when he first arrived. He simply had to make a list and leave payment, and the quartermaster would get the purchases shipped to Esmouth on the next possible ship once the request had arrived in Morcaster, of course.
Gleefully, Martel wrote down everything he needed. Mortar and pestle, a cauldron, glass jars, and various ingredients he could not expect to find locally. Soon, he would have his own little laboratory, and his alchemy would surpass what anybody else here could make of such remedies; not that he expected much competition from the mageknights, the local apothecary in Esmouth, or anybody else.
Afterwards, Martel wrote a letter that he had been anxious to send.
Dear mum,
I have arrived at my posting in a quaint little town called Esmouth, not much different from Engby, besides being by a big river and the sea. The journey hereto was uneventful, except I got sea-sick. Nobody ever told me that ships move that much, and constantly. I won't look forward to the journey back.
It is quiet here, especially in winter. We have not seen sight of the enemy at all, and there is little chance we will. Our soldiers maintain a strong patrol, keeping them far from our camp, which has high walls that are enchanted by Henry, a stonemage I have befriended.
And of course, I always have Eleanor by my side. She is the best friend I could ask for. She was the strongest mageknight in our year, and I imagine she will soon be better than anybody in the entire legion. I am never in danger with her protecting me, and she makes the long days go by fast. She taught me a new card game the other day. She also makes me train with her every morning, which I am less enthused about, but it keeps me strong, I suppose.
Say a prayer for Sol to keep her safe and good health, will you? Thank you. Let me know how my brothers and sisters are doing. How was Keith's wedding? Has the child been born yet? I hope everything and everyone is well.
Martel
Exhaling, Martel tried not to feel worried that it had been months since he last received a letter from home. Between the pestilence in Morcaster and him travelling to Esmouth, there had been a lot of disruptions.
As he closed the letter into an envelope, he tried not to think about how it would take months to reach Engby, and as long for any reply to reach him.
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