Chapter 575: Letters and Leave
Letters and Leave
A period of calm followed after the raid. As Martel and Eleanor resumed their patrolling, they no longer encountered the enemy. Day after day passed with no sign. At first, Martel suspected this was only the sort of calm that preceded a storm, and he continued to wait for what he assumed to be the inevitable resumption of ambushes and fight for control of the area.
Yet a month passed and another, without either the mages or the common legionaries seeing any evidence of Khivan activity. The Tyrian scouts were deployed Martel was not the only one who feared a ruse and they returned with reports that the nearest Khivans were a fiveday away.
In addition, the trees had begun to lose the first leaves. Harvest season was coming early with colder weather than usual. The lack of foliage made attempts of ambushing harder, and the falling temperatures made camping in the wild less enticing. The birds fled for southern skies, making game harder to find; soon, snow would cover the ground to chill the bones, while frost would make water a chore to collect.
It appeared that, at least for now, the Khivans had ceded ground. Martel figured that they would return past winter, once the campaigning season returned, but for now, he praised each morning that proved colder than the last. A child of the North, it did not bother him yet, and he had plenty of gold to buy furs from the Tyrians for his tent if needed. While life in the outpost was harsh and simple with few comforts and no luxuries, in the absence of fighting, Martel felt content.
***
As they returned from another uneventful patrol, Eleanor went to the commander's tent to enquire after mail while Martel began preparing something hot to eat. She had gone on this errand for more than a fiveday, so far to no avail. But this time, as she returned, she held an envelope in her hand.
"Luck finally smiled on you," he said as she reached him. "You have been anxious about that for a while now. News from home?" It had been a long while since Martel last received a letter from home. The distance from his current location to Engby could be felt.
Eleanor did not reply as she opened the envelope and read the letter inside. "Yes!"
He looked up at her, one hand stirring the pot containing their supper. She was not the type to act excited. "What is it?"
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"A while back, I wrote to the military administration in Morcaster. I detailed our exploits, number of skirmishes thought, our actions during the various assaults on Khivan encampments and the defence of this outpost, and lastly, our successful raid into Khivan territory," she said, practically rambling.
"Alright I remember, I was present. And what's that, a note from them thanking us for a task well done?"
"I requested that we receive leave during this winter, given that we have seen more combat this season than most legionaries see during all the years of service. I may also have written to my father, asking for him to put in a good word for us," she admitted. "And this is confirmation that we have been granted leave for three months!" She waived the parchment about. "Enough for us to return to Morcaster, spend the solstice in the capital, and make it back here before springtime."
The news was so unexpected, Martel did not know how to react or what to think. "Why didn't you tell me about this?" The couple of times he had enquired about why she was so eagerly awaiting the post, she had brushed him off.
"I did not wish to raise your hopes. Being granted leave during war is rare, especially giving this is our first year. But given all our work, and since we are not strictly needed, I thought there might be a chance." Her happy expression faded as she noticed his conflicted look. "Why? Do you not wish to leave?"
Martel knew little about the workings of the Asterian military administration, but he figured Eleanor was right in one regard; soldiers being granted leave during war was close to unheard of, especially during their first year of service. It was the reason that so many legionaries had their families follow them to camp. He worried that the primary influence in making this decision was Eleanor's father rather than because they had earned it through their actions.
In other words, this was a privilege afforded to them due to personal advantages that ordinary legionaries and maybe even the other prefects would never enjoy. Accepting this would not endear Martel to anybody in the legion.
On the other hand, if he refused to go, so would Eleanor. Her sense of duty as his protector would never allow her to leave while he remained this close to the front. Thus, he would deprive her of the opportunity to see her family, including her sister, whom Eleanor barely had been able to spend time with since she was cured of her never-ending sleep. And while this leave had probably only been granted because of her father's influence, Martel did feel that she deserved to sleep in a real bed, take hot baths in proper facilities, and eat better food than porridge for breakfast and stew for supper.
"Don't be silly. I can't wait." He did his best to smile.
"Wonderful! We have received permission to leave at once, so there is no need to delay. After all, it will not take us long to pack." She laughed, and hearing that sound made all of Martel's reservations melt away. "I will find it hard to sleep tonight."
Martel yawned. "I won't. All this walking around, breathing the forest air after living two years in Morcaster I almost got used to it."
She finally began removing her armour, going in and out of their tent, while Martel continued to stir the simmering pot.
The next day, as they woke up, the first snow had fallen.
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