Chapter 158: Help from Above
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Chapter 158: Help from Above
Help from Above
Martel looked from the prince to Maximilian. He had sparred against the mageknight on many occasions, and he had no trouble doing that again. But he had the distinct feeling exchanging a few blows under the protection of their magical shields would not impress the prince as demanded.
"Come on. Hit me with the best you got," Maximilian told him. The mageknight raised his fists. "Think of it as a fight in the pit," he muttered.
Feeling like he had no other option, Martel gave an empowered blow straight against his friend's chin. His fist never made impact, held back by Maximilian's shield.
Retaliation came swiftly. Martel barely remembered to raise his own protection, but it held the mageknight's first blow at bay. Just not the second, which came immediately after. A fist planted against his chest sent the novice sprawling on his back.
He heard laughter from the young nobleman, especially Cheval. The prince stood with his passive expression, regarding them with cool eyes.
"Not much of a performance," one of them remarked.
"What can you expect from someone with Tyrian blood in his veins?" Cheval snorted derisively. "Disgraceful that he should be in the presence of us with noble blood."
Anger rising, Martel quickly got on his feet. Without thinking, flames filled his hands. "Your clothes burn the same as mine," he threatened and was rewarded by seeing Cheval flinch.L1tLagoon witnessed the first publication of this chapter on Ñøv€l--B1n.
"That resembles better what I expected to see," Flavius said. "If you are an elemental mage, show us your magic."
Martel turned towards Maximilian, who looked at him with apprehension. Yet he held his fists up and made no sign nor gestured towards surrender, even if he had to know that he might be seriously injured if Martel attacked him with fire.
"You exhausted yourself," Maximilian explained. "We all do it sooner or later. Think of it as getting your first hangover after a night out." He helped the novice inside and found a bench in a hallway for him to sit.
"I've been tired before," Martel protested weakly.
"No, no," the mageknight said impatiently. "You are magically exhausted. You went beyond your limits, drained yourself dry and more. You just need a good night's rest. Don't do any magic until then."
Dimly, Martel recalled Master Fenrick explaining the process behind drawing magic from your body and the need to replenish it.
"I must say, I'm almost relieved to see you so fatigued."
"Why?" Not a nice thing to say to someone so afflicted as Martel currently was. Even worse, he realised that his sense of magic seemed gone. He did not detect any heat from Maximilian like he always did from people around him.
"You called down lightning, Nordmark. That is advanced magic, even for acolytes. If you could do that without breaking a sweat, I would be scared of you. Not to mention," he added with a mumble, "so would others."
Martel did not feel scary at all in this moment, rather the reverse. It was like when the Broken Blades had kidnapped him and placed gold around his neck, quelling his magic. Forgetting what Master Fenrick and Maximilian had told him, Martel imagined his magic gone forever, which frightened him more than anything.
Straining himself until his head felt like it would burst apart, he summoned a flame in his hand. A sigh of relief escaped him. His magic was still there.
Next, he threw up in the potted plant by the bench.
"Alright, let us get you home. I think we accomplished all we could tonight anyway."
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Chapter 158: Help from Above
Help from Above
Martel looked from the prince to Maximilian. He had sparred against the mageknight on many occasions, and he had no trouble doing that again. But he had the distinct feeling exchanging a few blows under the protection of their magical shields would not impress the prince as demanded.
"Come on. Hit me with the best you got," Maximilian told him. The mageknight raised his fists. "Think of it as a fight in the pit," he muttered.
Feeling like he had no other option, Martel gave an empowered blow straight against his friend's chin. His fist never made impact, held back by Maximilian's shield.
Retaliation came swiftly. Martel barely remembered to raise his own protection, but it held the mageknight's first blow at bay. Just not the second, which came immediately after. A fist planted against his chest sent the novice sprawling on his back.
He heard laughter from the young nobleman, especially Cheval. The prince stood with his passive expression, regarding them with cool eyes.
"Not much of a performance," one of them remarked.
"What can you expect from someone with Tyrian blood in his veins?" Cheval snorted derisively. "Disgraceful that he should be in the presence of us with noble blood."
Anger rising, Martel quickly got on his feet. Without thinking, flames filled his hands. "Your clothes burn the same as mine," he threatened and was rewarded by seeing Cheval flinch.L1tLagoon witnessed the first publication of this chapter on Ñøv€l--B1n.
"That resembles better what I expected to see," Flavius said. "If you are an elemental mage, show us your magic."
Martel turned towards Maximilian, who looked at him with apprehension. Yet he held his fists up and made no sign nor gestured towards surrender, even if he had to know that he might be seriously injured if Martel attacked him with fire.
"You exhausted yourself," Maximilian explained. "We all do it sooner or later. Think of it as getting your first hangover after a night out." He helped the novice inside and found a bench in a hallway for him to sit.
"I've been tired before," Martel protested weakly.
"No, no," the mageknight said impatiently. "You are magically exhausted. You went beyond your limits, drained yourself dry and more. You just need a good night's rest. Don't do any magic until then."
Dimly, Martel recalled Master Fenrick explaining the process behind drawing magic from your body and the need to replenish it.
"I must say, I'm almost relieved to see you so fatigued."
"Why?" Not a nice thing to say to someone so afflicted as Martel currently was. Even worse, he realised that his sense of magic seemed gone. He did not detect any heat from Maximilian like he always did from people around him.
"You called down lightning, Nordmark. That is advanced magic, even for acolytes. If you could do that without breaking a sweat, I would be scared of you. Not to mention," he added with a mumble, "so would others."
Martel did not feel scary at all in this moment, rather the reverse. It was like when the Broken Blades had kidnapped him and placed gold around his neck, quelling his magic. Forgetting what Master Fenrick and Maximilian had told him, Martel imagined his magic gone forever, which frightened him more than anything.
Straining himself until his head felt like it would burst apart, he summoned a flame in his hand. A sigh of relief escaped him. His magic was still there.
Next, he threw up in the potted plant by the bench.
"Alright, let us get you home. I think we accomplished all we could tonight anyway."
Chapter 158: Help from AboveHelp from AboveMartel looked from the prince to Maximilian. He had sparred against the mageknight on many occasions, and he had no trouble doing that again. But he had the distinct feeling exchanging a few blows under the protection of their magical shields would not impress the prince as demanded."Come on. Hit me with the best you got," Maximilian told him. The mageknight raised his fists. "Think of it as a fight in the pit," he muttered.Feeling like he had no other option, Martel gave an empowered blow straight against his friend's chin. His fist never made impact, held back by Maximilian's shield.Retaliation came swiftly. Martel barely remembered to raise his own protection, but it held the mageknight's first blow at bay. Just not the second, which came immediately after. A fist planted against his chest sent the novice sprawling on his back.He heard laughter from the young nobleman, especially Cheval. The prince stood with his passive expression, regarding them with cool eyes."Not much of a performance," one of them remarked."What can you expect from someone with Tyrian blood in his veins?" Cheval snorted derisively. "Disgraceful that he should be in the presence of us with noble blood."Anger rising, Martel quickly got on his feet. Without thinking, flames filled his hands. "Your clothes burn the same as mine," he threatened and was rewarded by seeing Cheval flinch.L1tLagoon witnessed the first publication of this chapter on Nvl--B1n."That resembles better what I expected to see," Flavius said. "If you are an elemental mage, show us your magic."Martel turned towards Maximilian, who looked at him with apprehension. Yet he held his fists up and made no sign nor gestured towards surrender, even if he had to know that he might be seriously injured if Martel attacked him with fire."You exhausted yourself," Maximilian explained. "We all do it sooner or later. Think of it as getting your first hangover after a night out." He helped the novice inside and found a bench in a hallway for him to sit."I've been tired before," Martel protested weakly."No, no," the mageknight said impatiently. "You are magically exhausted. You went beyond your limits, drained yourself dry and more. You just need a good night's rest. Don't do any magic until then."Dimly, Martel recalled Master Fenrick explaining the process behind drawing magic from your body and the need to replenish it."I must say, I'm almost relieved to see you so fatigued.""Why?" Not a nice thing to say to someone so afflicted as Martel currently was. Even worse, he realised that his sense of magic seemed gone. He did not detect any heat from Maximilian like he always did from people around him."You called down lightning, Nordmark. That is advanced magic, even for acolytes. If you could do that without breaking a sweat, I would be scared of you. Not to mention," he added with a mumble, "so would others."Martel did not feel scary at all in this moment, rather the reverse. It was like when the Broken Blades had kidnapped him and placed gold around his neck, quelling his magic. Forgetting what Master Fenrick and Maximilian had told him, Martel imagined his magic gone forever, which frightened him more than anything.Straining himself until his head felt like it would burst apart, he summoned a flame in his hand. A sigh of relief escaped him. His magic was still there.Next, he threw up in the potted plant by the bench."Alright, let us get you home. I think we accomplished all we could tonight anyway."
