Chapter 10: Sage Advice
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Chapter 10: Sage Advice
Mandays were quiet. Martel only had his astronomy lesson at sixth bell and kitchen chore at seventh. Until then, his time remained his own, though he was meant to practise his magical exercises, however fruitless that often seemed. But he would go mad staying in his room all day, so he grabbed his scarf and left.
He did not leave the Lyceum, but simply ventured to the western courtyard. In the winter weather, most students avoided the small greenery and stayed indoors. To a northerner like Martel, this felt like a typical day in late harvest season. He walked over to the statue that dominated the centre.
It reached twice his own height, depicting a mage wielding a staff. He wore a kaftan rather than a plain robe, richly adorned. The marble had been hewn with great skill, showing the wizard in an active position, striding towards some unseen goal.
Martel bent down to read the inscription on the pedestal. "Atreus the Spellbreaker," he mumbled, "who saved Morcaster from the fiends of the Nether." He looked up again at the determined demeanour carved into the face. Impressive, though Martel was glad he would never have to tangle with such dangers.
With a thin layer of frost covering the grass, water was easy to come by. Running his hands through the green blades, the little crystals became caught on his skin and soon melted thanks to his body heat. Closing his eyes, Martel emptied his thoughts and reached out with his magic to manipulate the drops of water on his palm.
After the usual disappointment, Martel opened his eyes and looked up at the statue of a real mage. Even in Engby, he had heard the tales of Atreus. Among the greatest and last heroes of Archen, dead in the calamity that claimed the city. He remembered Fenrick had spoken of how the Archeans had studied astronomy to learn magic. Perhaps that could prove an avenue; he had nothing left to lose.
~
His hands washed and dry, Martel stood before the librarian. "Any books about how the Archeans taught magic?"
A pair of narrowed eyes examined him. "Most books on Archen are above, but there may be one downstairs. I will look."
Martel patiently followed him, keeping a few paces of distance as he searched the shelves. Finally, he pulled his selection down and placed it in Martel's hands.
"Thanks," the youth mumbled, hurrying to a reading desk. He began leafing through the book, looking for anything useful.
There did not seem to be any concrete details, though. The book was written after the fall of Archen and discussed theories on how they unlocked their magical powers, but nothing useful for Martel. As he knew nothing of the constellations mentioned – he would not even be able to point out the Triumvirate in the night sky – he could not understand much of it. Perhaps after a few more astronomy lessons; the next one was this afternoon.
~The original appearance of this chapter can be found at Ñøv€lß1n.
Martel made sure to arrive early for his class, allowing him to choose a desk in the back corner. He spent the waiting time staring at the star chart on the opposite wall, dazzling with its countless geometrical figures. After the bell rang, the mageknights soon filtered in, arriving in groups of two and three according to their social circles. Martel noticed that the broad-shouldered boy, Maximilian, seemed entrenched with Cheval, whose first name he still had not learned. The only other name he knew belonged to the pretty girl, Eleanor, who arrived with the other two female mageknights, as could be expected.
Master Fenrick appeared as the last. Before he could speak, Martel quickly raised his hand. With one raised eyebrow, the teacher nodded at him. "Yes?"
Surprised, Martel looked at Eleanor. "You want to help me?"
"It is my duty to give aid where needed."
He recalled Maximilian's words during physical training and their casual condescension. "Because you are nobleborn?"
"My family traces its ancestry from Aquila with the right to become legates," she replied. "But even if I was not, mageknights are sworn to protect others and lead. That is why Master Reynard calls us first among equals."
"Equals. Generous of you to call us that." Every word she spoke to Martel felt like flint striking sparks.
"Well, all mages serve a purpose in the Empire." Eleanor shrugged. "But surely you must admit that mageknights hold a unique position, given that we risk our lives to defend the realm."
"Unlike us mere elemental mages." Sparks to ignite his temper.
"Nobody would dispute the value of your service, but they cannot be compared to fighting in wars." She gave a slight laughter born of disbelief.
"Seven years ago, my town had no weathermage. Dreadful hailstorms came and destroyed the harvest. My sister, Tora, was only two. I was fond of her above all others. So I starved myself that she might have a little extra to eat." Martel felt the lump in his throat at the memory, and his voice grew thick. He struggled to keep it steady as he continued. "Sometimes, I didn't eat for days. It didn't matter. One winter morning, she never woke up." He knew he could not keep his composure any longer, and the last thing he wanted was to let her see his tears. "I would have given my life's blood for a weathermage back then," he finished and turned his back on her.
With angry motions, he cleared his desk and stormed out.
~
The astronomy tower lay opposite the quarters for male students, and Martel knew he had to cut a ridiculous figure as he stalked across the Lyceum. A lanky figure in a coarse, brown robe with tears brimming in his eyes. He went through the western courtyard, disregarding the cold to buy himself a few moments of solitude. They lasted briefly before he had to head inside, and he was aware that he drew stares passing through the boys' common room.
At last he reached the sanctuary of his room. Locking his door, he threw himself on his bed and ceased to fight the tears. They did not last long; he had cried his grief out for Tora years before, and only a reminder remained. Sitting back up, he sniffled and looked outside. His window had glass, not just shutters, which meant even in cold winter, he could peer through without losing heat. Another luxury that would be unthinkable to a smith's family in Engby.
The sun had long set; nor did the moon shine. A dark night lay beyond, though it did allow the stars to shine in their brightness. Walking over to the window, Martel wiped his nose and gazed up. Despite the lessons, he still knew nothing about what he saw; he could not name the stars. But seeing their light, he felt oddly comforted. Despite the misery on the ground, nothing could dim their brightness, shared for all.
One star in particular seemed to shine, as if it gave its light especially for Martel. Without thinking, keeping his eyes upon that bright spark, Martel raised one hand to point at the bowl of water on his commode. Still without thought or consideration, dried tears on his face, he felt magic flow in him just as the star's light flowed onto him. From the bowl, a drop of water rose into the air.
Martel did not know it, but the star that shone upon him was Glund, the Sage.
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Chapter 10: Sage Advice
Mandays were quiet. Martel only had his astronomy lesson at sixth bell and kitchen chore at seventh. Until then, his time remained his own, though he was meant to practise his magical exercises, however fruitless that often seemed. But he would go mad staying in his room all day, so he grabbed his scarf and left.
He did not leave the Lyceum, but simply ventured to the western courtyard. In the winter weather, most students avoided the small greenery and stayed indoors. To a northerner like Martel, this felt like a typical day in late harvest season. He walked over to the statue that dominated the centre.
It reached twice his own height, depicting a mage wielding a staff. He wore a kaftan rather than a plain robe, richly adorned. The marble had been hewn with great skill, showing the wizard in an active position, striding towards some unseen goal.
Martel bent down to read the inscription on the pedestal. "Atreus the Spellbreaker," he mumbled, "who saved Morcaster from the fiends of the Nether." He looked up again at the determined demeanour carved into the face. Impressive, though Martel was glad he would never have to tangle with such dangers.
With a thin layer of frost covering the grass, water was easy to come by. Running his hands through the green blades, the little crystals became caught on his skin and soon melted thanks to his body heat. Closing his eyes, Martel emptied his thoughts and reached out with his magic to manipulate the drops of water on his palm.
After the usual disappointment, Martel opened his eyes and looked up at the statue of a real mage. Even in Engby, he had heard the tales of Atreus. Among the greatest and last heroes of Archen, dead in the calamity that claimed the city. He remembered Fenrick had spoken of how the Archeans had studied astronomy to learn magic. Perhaps that could prove an avenue; he had nothing left to lose.
~
His hands washed and dry, Martel stood before the librarian. "Any books about how the Archeans taught magic?"
A pair of narrowed eyes examined him. "Most books on Archen are above, but there may be one downstairs. I will look."
Martel patiently followed him, keeping a few paces of distance as he searched the shelves. Finally, he pulled his selection down and placed it in Martel's hands.
"Thanks," the youth mumbled, hurrying to a reading desk. He began leafing through the book, looking for anything useful.
There did not seem to be any concrete details, though. The book was written after the fall of Archen and discussed theories on how they unlocked their magical powers, but nothing useful for Martel. As he knew nothing of the constellations mentioned – he would not even be able to point out the Triumvirate in the night sky – he could not understand much of it. Perhaps after a few more astronomy lessons; the next one was this afternoon.
~The original appearance of this chapter can be found at Ñøv€lß1n.
Martel made sure to arrive early for his class, allowing him to choose a desk in the back corner. He spent the waiting time staring at the star chart on the opposite wall, dazzling with its countless geometrical figures. After the bell rang, the mageknights soon filtered in, arriving in groups of two and three according to their social circles. Martel noticed that the broad-shouldered boy, Maximilian, seemed entrenched with Cheval, whose first name he still had not learned. The only other name he knew belonged to the pretty girl, Eleanor, who arrived with the other two female mageknights, as could be expected.
Master Fenrick appeared as the last. Before he could speak, Martel quickly raised his hand. With one raised eyebrow, the teacher nodded at him. "Yes?"
Surprised, Martel looked at Eleanor. "You want to help me?"
"It is my duty to give aid where needed."
He recalled Maximilian's words during physical training and their casual condescension. "Because you are nobleborn?"
"My family traces its ancestry from Aquila with the right to become legates," she replied. "But even if I was not, mageknights are sworn to protect others and lead. That is why Master Reynard calls us first among equals."
"Equals. Generous of you to call us that." Every word she spoke to Martel felt like flint striking sparks.
"Well, all mages serve a purpose in the Empire." Eleanor shrugged. "But surely you must admit that mageknights hold a unique position, given that we risk our lives to defend the realm."
"Unlike us mere elemental mages." Sparks to ignite his temper.
"Nobody would dispute the value of your service, but they cannot be compared to fighting in wars." She gave a slight laughter born of disbelief.
"Seven years ago, my town had no weathermage. Dreadful hailstorms came and destroyed the harvest. My sister, Tora, was only two. I was fond of her above all others. So I starved myself that she might have a little extra to eat." Martel felt the lump in his throat at the memory, and his voice grew thick. He struggled to keep it steady as he continued. "Sometimes, I didn't eat for days. It didn't matter. One winter morning, she never woke up." He knew he could not keep his composure any longer, and the last thing he wanted was to let her see his tears. "I would have given my life's blood for a weathermage back then," he finished and turned his back on her.
With angry motions, he cleared his desk and stormed out.
~
The astronomy tower lay opposite the quarters for male students, and Martel knew he had to cut a ridiculous figure as he stalked across the Lyceum. A lanky figure in a coarse, brown robe with tears brimming in his eyes. He went through the western courtyard, disregarding the cold to buy himself a few moments of solitude. They lasted briefly before he had to head inside, and he was aware that he drew stares passing through the boys' common room.
At last he reached the sanctuary of his room. Locking his door, he threw himself on his bed and ceased to fight the tears. They did not last long; he had cried his grief out for Tora years before, and only a reminder remained. Sitting back up, he sniffled and looked outside. His window had glass, not just shutters, which meant even in cold winter, he could peer through without losing heat. Another luxury that would be unthinkable to a smith's family in Engby.
The sun had long set; nor did the moon shine. A dark night lay beyond, though it did allow the stars to shine in their brightness. Walking over to the window, Martel wiped his nose and gazed up. Despite the lessons, he still knew nothing about what he saw; he could not name the stars. But seeing their light, he felt oddly comforted. Despite the misery on the ground, nothing could dim their brightness, shared for all.
One star in particular seemed to shine, as if it gave its light especially for Martel. Without thinking, keeping his eyes upon that bright spark, Martel raised one hand to point at the bowl of water on his commode. Still without thought or consideration, dried tears on his face, he felt magic flow in him just as the star's light flowed onto him. From the bowl, a drop of water rose into the air.
Martel did not know it, but the star that shone upon him was Glund, the Sage.
Chapter 10: Sage AdviceMandays were quiet. Martel only had his astronomy lesson at sixth bell and kitchen chore at seventh. Until then, his time remained his own, though he was meant to practise his magical exercises, however fruitless that often seemed. But he would go mad staying in his room all day, so he grabbed his scarf and left.He did not leave the Lyceum, but simply ventured to the western courtyard. In the winter weather, most students avoided the small greenery and stayed indoors. To a northerner like Martel, this felt like a typical day in late harvest season. He walked over to the statue that dominated the centre.It reached twice his own height, depicting a mage wielding a staff. He wore a kaftan rather than a plain robe, richly adorned. The marble had been hewn with great skill, showing the wizard in an active position, striding towards some unseen goal.Martel bent down to read the inscription on the pedestal. "Atreus the Spellbreaker," he mumbled, "who saved Morcaster from the fiends of the Nether." He looked up again at the determined demeanour carved into the face. Impressive, though Martel was glad he would never have to tangle with such dangers.With a thin layer of frost covering the grass, water was easy to come by. Running his hands through the green blades, the little crystals became caught on his skin and soon melted thanks to his body heat. Closing his eyes, Martel emptied his thoughts and reached out with his magic to manipulate the drops of water on his palm.After the usual disappointment, Martel opened his eyes and looked up at the statue of a real mage. Even in Engby, he had heard the tales of Atreus. Among the greatest and last heroes of Archen, dead in the calamity that claimed the city. He remembered Fenrick had spoken of how the Archeans had studied astronomy to learn magic. Perhaps that could prove an avenue; he had nothing left to lose.~His hands washed and dry, Martel stood before the librarian. "Any books about how the Archeans taught magic?"A pair of narrowed eyes examined him. "Most books on Archen are above, but there may be one downstairs. I will look."Martel patiently followed him, keeping a few paces of distance as he searched the shelves. Finally, he pulled his selection down and placed it in Martel's hands."Thanks," the youth mumbled, hurrying to a reading desk. He began leafing through the book, looking for anything useful.There did not seem to be any concrete details, though. The book was written after the fall of Archen and discussed theories on how they unlocked their magical powers, but nothing useful for Martel. As he knew nothing of the constellations mentioned he would not even be able to point out the Triumvirate in the night sky he could not understand much of it. Perhaps after a few more astronomy lessons; the next one was this afternoon.~The original appearance of this chapter can be found at Nvl1n.Martel made sure to arrive early for his class, allowing him to choose a desk in the back corner. He spent the waiting time staring at the star chart on the opposite wall, dazzling with its countless geometrical figures. After the bell rang, the mageknights soon filtered in, arriving in groups of two and three according to their social circles. Martel noticed that the broad-shouldered boy, Maximilian, seemed entrenched with Cheval, whose first name he still had not learned. The only other name he knew belonged to the pretty girl, Eleanor, who arrived with the other two female mageknights, as could be expected.Master Fenrick appeared as the last. Before he could speak, Martel quickly raised his hand. With one raised eyebrow, the teacher nodded at him. "Yes?"Surprised, Martel looked at Eleanor. "You want to help me?""It is my duty to give aid where needed."He recalled Maximilian's words during physical training and their casual condescension. "Because you are nobleborn?""My family traces its ancestry from Aquila with the right to become legates," she replied. "But even if I was not, mageknights are sworn to protect others and lead. That is why Master Reynard calls us first among equals.""Equals. Generous of you to call us that." Every word she spoke to Martel felt like flint striking sparks."Well, all mages serve a purpose in the Empire." Eleanor shrugged. "But surely you must admit that mageknights hold a unique position, given that we risk our lives to defend the realm.""Unlike us mere elemental mages." Sparks to ignite his temper."Nobody would dispute the value of your service, but they cannot be compared to fighting in wars." She gave a slight laughter born of disbelief."Seven years ago, my town had no weathermage. Dreadful hailstorms came and destroyed the harvest. My sister, Tora, was only two. I was fond of her above all others. So I starved myself that she might have a little extra to eat." Martel felt the lump in his throat at the memory, and his voice grew thick. He struggled to keep it steady as he continued. "Sometimes, I didn't eat for days. It didn't matter. One winter morning, she never woke up." He knew he could not keep his composure any longer, and the last thing he wanted was to let her see his tears. "I would have given my life's blood for a weathermage back then," he finished and turned his back on her.With angry motions, he cleared his desk and stormed out.~The astronomy tower lay opposite the quarters for male students, and Martel knew he had to cut a ridiculous figure as he stalked across the Lyceum. A lanky figure in a coarse, brown robe with tears brimming in his eyes. He went through the western courtyard, disregarding the cold to buy himself a few moments of solitude. They lasted briefly before he had to head inside, and he was aware that he drew stares passing through the boys' common room.At last he reached the sanctuary of his room. Locking his door, he threw himself on his bed and ceased to fight the tears. They did not last long; he had cried his grief out for Tora years before, and only a reminder remained. Sitting back up, he sniffled and looked outside. His window had glass, not just shutters, which meant even in cold winter, he could peer through without losing heat. Another luxury that would be unthinkable to a smith's family in Engby.The sun had long set; nor did the moon shine. A dark night lay beyond, though it did allow the stars to shine in their brightness. Walking over to the window, Martel wiped his nose and gazed up. Despite the lessons, he still knew nothing about what he saw; he could not name the stars. But seeing their light, he felt oddly comforted. Despite the misery on the ground, nothing could dim their brightness, shared for all.One star in particular seemed to shine, as if it gave its light especially for Martel. Without thinking, keeping his eyes upon that bright spark, Martel raised one hand to point at the bowl of water on his commode. Still without thought or consideration, dried tears on his face, he felt magic flow in him just as the star's light flowed onto him. From the bowl, a drop of water rose into the air.Martel did not know it, but the star that shone upon him was Glund, the Sage.
