Chapter 2: Scarecrow
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Chapter 2: Scarecrow
Scarecrow
An unfamiliar sound woke Martel. Not the noise of siblings, the roar of the forge being lit, or the neighbour's rooster greeting the sun. A bell, tolling loudly.
Likewise, he did not recognise his surroundings as he opened his eyes. Clothes lay on a stool. An ink set rested atop a small desk. An unlit candle and an empty bowl stood on a commode. Strangest of all, he was alone. He smiled as he surveyed his fiefdom, all his.
He washed and put on the brown robe issued to him as a novice. Being possibly the tallest novice to attend the Lyceum, it ended several inches above where it should. The quartermaster had promised a better-fitting one, but it would take time.
Reaching the dining hall quickly, he found it empty. The many long tables stood waiting for students; as for food, neither sight nor scent reached him.
A boy appeared, carrying a stack of wooden bowls taller than his head. He looked at Martel. "Someone's hungry. Guess you didn't outgrow your clothes for no reason." He cast a look at where Martel's robe proved too short to reach his ankles.
"I heard the bell," Martel explained, a tad confused.
The other boy laughed. "Just to wake people up. We still got to make breakfast first. You'll be waiting a while."
~
At least Martel was first in line to fill a wooden bowl with porridge. Other students still trickled into the hall by the time he had finished. He noticed some brought their own small parcels of food, mostly bread or fruit, to supplement their breakfast. He felt a tad envious, but lacking coin, it was not an option for him at present. Instead, he remembered his first task of the day.
Making his way through the school, asking for directions a few times, he reached the chambers of the overseer.
"Enter."
Martel opened the door. He glanced around the room, noticing the wealth of books upon her shelves. As for Mistress Juliana, she sat at the desk with her back towards him. He could only see her hair, already tied up in a knot, until she looked over her shoulder.
"Martel. Good." She rose, holding a piece of parchment in her hand. "I have your schedule for the coming months." She handed it to him, and he looked at it eagerly. "You will learn elemental magic for two bells on Pelday and Glunday. For Malday, two bells of empowerment magic. Manday is reserved for astronomy at present. Normally, you would begin learning the theory of magic, but time does not permit we wait until a new class begins, so you will learn astronomy first."
Martel only listened with half an ear, his mind filled with thoughts of learning magic. "Great."
"Some mealtimes have been highlighted. You will be required to work in the kitchen to help. When you hear the bell ring, make your way there immediately."
"Got it."
"As for Solday, you have no classes. But you will be assisting the artificer of the Lyceum according to his requirements, as your schedule shows."
Martel frowned briefly, having no idea who that was or what it entailed. "Very well."
The overseer placed her hand on Martel's shoulder; despite his height, she was even taller, which coupled with her thin frame only made her seem more intimidating. "Martel, you are expected to graduate in two years. I encourage you to spend your spare time practising your skills."
"Two years? I thought I had four."
The overseer let her hand fall away. "The headmaster would not agree to that. Yet the Master of Elements and I are confident you can accomplish this in the given time."Ñøv€l-B1n was the first platform to present this chapter.
If Martel had been better at interpreting tone of voice or body language, he would have seen signs contradicting the certainty expressed in Mistress Juliana's words. Instead, he simply smiled. "Alright."
Master Alastair laughed again. "Let's go back to water."
~
When the fourth bell rang, ending the lesson, it took Martel a moment to remember his schedule; for Pelday, he was to help make lunch. Thankfully, the Hall of Elements lay near the dining hall and thus the kitchens. Bowing his head and mumbling his gratitude to Master Alastair, Martel hurried to his chore.
Upon his arrival, he was tossed a peeling knife and vegetables. It was a strange pace to go from manipulating the elements of nature through magical skill to peeling carrots, but his labour served as payment for room and board, not to mention the tuition. If that required him to disembowel the odd potato once a day, so be it.
As he settled into his chores, he found himself more comfortable than he would have expected. It took him a moment to recognise why. For the first time since leaving his home, he felt at ease. While certainly these kitchens were far greater than the modest home of his family in Engby, the sounds and smells were the same. Large pots boiled over a crackling fire while the scent of food permeated the air. Nobody gave him strange glances or made remarks, busy with their own tasks.
It lasted until he had to carry out a tray of wooden bowls to the dining hall. A handful of students already sat waiting, impatiently. All their eyes turned to Martel as he entered. "Look at the scarecrow!" yelled one wit, causing laughter.
Mindful of his ill-fitting robe, Martel felt his cheeks flush. He all but dropped the bowls in their place, eager to escape back into the promised sanctuary of the kitchen.
The witty student quickly got up to block Martel's path; he wore a black tunic. "Hold a moment. How can it be that I have never noticed your gangly frame ambling about before?"
By his speech, Martel could tell the other boy came from a home with stone floors and servants, and he felt no desire to tangle with him. But as he tried to move past, his interrogator simply extended a hand and pushed Martel back.
The shove came with such force, it seemed impossible; it took Martel a moment to realise the boy must have used some kind of magic.
"I await an answer, little novice."
"I'm new here," Martel mumbled.
"Hah! New to the Lyceum and new to Morcaster, by your speech. And the blue in your eyes betray a northern influence in your blood. Half-breed, are we?"
Martel looked into the dark, condescending eyes of his counterpart, not quite his own height. It took him a moment to digest the insult. He had spent his life in a small town in the northern province bordering the Tyrian lands; it had never occurred to him that any might mock him for having physical features revealing Tyrian ancestry.
"It would seem the question has left the beast dumb, or at least, dumbfounded." The mageknight smirked, looking towards his companions with a clear expectation of laughs. "To be expected from a scarecrow too big for his breeches."
"Yes," Martel finally replied with rising anger, "I got Tyrian blood. Yes, my parents fed me well. Yes, I've outgrown my clothes." He pushed forward, catching the other boy off-guard, who fell to the ground. Hurrying past, Martel fled into the kitchen.
One of the servants, who had watched from the door, gave him a smile. "You know who that is?"
"Who?" Martel asked with a sinking feeling.
"I don't know his name, but his father is the duke of Cheval. I bet everyone enjoyed seeing him on his back. Well, except for himself." The servant slapped Martel on the shoulder. "You should probably keep an eye out."
"I'll just keep my distance," Martel considered. "He's ahead of me in his classes. No reason we should have anything to do with each other." Ignorant of how fate worked, he resumed his chores in the kitchens.
~
An hour later, when the meal had been finished and Martel's duties completed, he left the kitchen. He had only made it halfway through the dining hall when a shout got his attention. "Out of the way!"
Stepping aside, Martel watched two men carrying a stretcher. On top lay a young man, barely older than himself, wearing the green robe of an earthmage. His eyes stared emptily at Martel, who could not help but stare back. In addition to his lack of expression, his cheeks looked hollow, and his lips were cracked as if suffering from terrible thirst.
Besides the sick or wounded youth, Martel's attention was caught by two others. One walked ahead of the stretcher – it was him who had called out – and his companion followed behind. They walked clad the same in dark blue cloaks clasped with a sun. Along their belts ran a thin golden chain, and their bootstraps were made from the same metal. Martel had only once seen men in such raiment before. They were inquisitors from the Faith of the Sun, tasked with hunting down all things unnatural and evil – including maleficars such as necromancers and warlocks. Mages using their magic for ill purposes. The inquisitors scowled briefly at Martel as they led the servants with the stretcher through the hall to the infirmary, gone as swiftly as they had appeared.
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Chapter 2: Scarecrow
Scarecrow
An unfamiliar sound woke Martel. Not the noise of siblings, the roar of the forge being lit, or the neighbour's rooster greeting the sun. A bell, tolling loudly.
Likewise, he did not recognise his surroundings as he opened his eyes. Clothes lay on a stool. An ink set rested atop a small desk. An unlit candle and an empty bowl stood on a commode. Strangest of all, he was alone. He smiled as he surveyed his fiefdom, all his.
He washed and put on the brown robe issued to him as a novice. Being possibly the tallest novice to attend the Lyceum, it ended several inches above where it should. The quartermaster had promised a better-fitting one, but it would take time.
Reaching the dining hall quickly, he found it empty. The many long tables stood waiting for students; as for food, neither sight nor scent reached him.
A boy appeared, carrying a stack of wooden bowls taller than his head. He looked at Martel. "Someone's hungry. Guess you didn't outgrow your clothes for no reason." He cast a look at where Martel's robe proved too short to reach his ankles.
"I heard the bell," Martel explained, a tad confused.
The other boy laughed. "Just to wake people up. We still got to make breakfast first. You'll be waiting a while."
~
At least Martel was first in line to fill a wooden bowl with porridge. Other students still trickled into the hall by the time he had finished. He noticed some brought their own small parcels of food, mostly bread or fruit, to supplement their breakfast. He felt a tad envious, but lacking coin, it was not an option for him at present. Instead, he remembered his first task of the day.
Making his way through the school, asking for directions a few times, he reached the chambers of the overseer.
"Enter."
Martel opened the door. He glanced around the room, noticing the wealth of books upon her shelves. As for Mistress Juliana, she sat at the desk with her back towards him. He could only see her hair, already tied up in a knot, until she looked over her shoulder.
"Martel. Good." She rose, holding a piece of parchment in her hand. "I have your schedule for the coming months." She handed it to him, and he looked at it eagerly. "You will learn elemental magic for two bells on Pelday and Glunday. For Malday, two bells of empowerment magic. Manday is reserved for astronomy at present. Normally, you would begin learning the theory of magic, but time does not permit we wait until a new class begins, so you will learn astronomy first."
Martel only listened with half an ear, his mind filled with thoughts of learning magic. "Great."
"Some mealtimes have been highlighted. You will be required to work in the kitchen to help. When you hear the bell ring, make your way there immediately."
"Got it."
"As for Solday, you have no classes. But you will be assisting the artificer of the Lyceum according to his requirements, as your schedule shows."
Martel frowned briefly, having no idea who that was or what it entailed. "Very well."
The overseer placed her hand on Martel's shoulder; despite his height, she was even taller, which coupled with her thin frame only made her seem more intimidating. "Martel, you are expected to graduate in two years. I encourage you to spend your spare time practising your skills."
"Two years? I thought I had four."
The overseer let her hand fall away. "The headmaster would not agree to that. Yet the Master of Elements and I are confident you can accomplish this in the given time."Ñøv€l-B1n was the first platform to present this chapter.
If Martel had been better at interpreting tone of voice or body language, he would have seen signs contradicting the certainty expressed in Mistress Juliana's words. Instead, he simply smiled. "Alright."
Master Alastair laughed again. "Let's go back to water."
~
When the fourth bell rang, ending the lesson, it took Martel a moment to remember his schedule; for Pelday, he was to help make lunch. Thankfully, the Hall of Elements lay near the dining hall and thus the kitchens. Bowing his head and mumbling his gratitude to Master Alastair, Martel hurried to his chore.
Upon his arrival, he was tossed a peeling knife and vegetables. It was a strange pace to go from manipulating the elements of nature through magical skill to peeling carrots, but his labour served as payment for room and board, not to mention the tuition. If that required him to disembowel the odd potato once a day, so be it.
As he settled into his chores, he found himself more comfortable than he would have expected. It took him a moment to recognise why. For the first time since leaving his home, he felt at ease. While certainly these kitchens were far greater than the modest home of his family in Engby, the sounds and smells were the same. Large pots boiled over a crackling fire while the scent of food permeated the air. Nobody gave him strange glances or made remarks, busy with their own tasks.
It lasted until he had to carry out a tray of wooden bowls to the dining hall. A handful of students already sat waiting, impatiently. All their eyes turned to Martel as he entered. "Look at the scarecrow!" yelled one wit, causing laughter.
Mindful of his ill-fitting robe, Martel felt his cheeks flush. He all but dropped the bowls in their place, eager to escape back into the promised sanctuary of the kitchen.
The witty student quickly got up to block Martel's path; he wore a black tunic. "Hold a moment. How can it be that I have never noticed your gangly frame ambling about before?"
By his speech, Martel could tell the other boy came from a home with stone floors and servants, and he felt no desire to tangle with him. But as he tried to move past, his interrogator simply extended a hand and pushed Martel back.
The shove came with such force, it seemed impossible; it took Martel a moment to realise the boy must have used some kind of magic.
"I await an answer, little novice."
"I'm new here," Martel mumbled.
"Hah! New to the Lyceum and new to Morcaster, by your speech. And the blue in your eyes betray a northern influence in your blood. Half-breed, are we?"
Martel looked into the dark, condescending eyes of his counterpart, not quite his own height. It took him a moment to digest the insult. He had spent his life in a small town in the northern province bordering the Tyrian lands; it had never occurred to him that any might mock him for having physical features revealing Tyrian ancestry.
"It would seem the question has left the beast dumb, or at least, dumbfounded." The mageknight smirked, looking towards his companions with a clear expectation of laughs. "To be expected from a scarecrow too big for his breeches."
"Yes," Martel finally replied with rising anger, "I got Tyrian blood. Yes, my parents fed me well. Yes, I've outgrown my clothes." He pushed forward, catching the other boy off-guard, who fell to the ground. Hurrying past, Martel fled into the kitchen.
One of the servants, who had watched from the door, gave him a smile. "You know who that is?"
"Who?" Martel asked with a sinking feeling.
"I don't know his name, but his father is the duke of Cheval. I bet everyone enjoyed seeing him on his back. Well, except for himself." The servant slapped Martel on the shoulder. "You should probably keep an eye out."
"I'll just keep my distance," Martel considered. "He's ahead of me in his classes. No reason we should have anything to do with each other." Ignorant of how fate worked, he resumed his chores in the kitchens.
~
An hour later, when the meal had been finished and Martel's duties completed, he left the kitchen. He had only made it halfway through the dining hall when a shout got his attention. "Out of the way!"
Stepping aside, Martel watched two men carrying a stretcher. On top lay a young man, barely older than himself, wearing the green robe of an earthmage. His eyes stared emptily at Martel, who could not help but stare back. In addition to his lack of expression, his cheeks looked hollow, and his lips were cracked as if suffering from terrible thirst.
Besides the sick or wounded youth, Martel's attention was caught by two others. One walked ahead of the stretcher – it was him who had called out – and his companion followed behind. They walked clad the same in dark blue cloaks clasped with a sun. Along their belts ran a thin golden chain, and their bootstraps were made from the same metal. Martel had only once seen men in such raiment before. They were inquisitors from the Faith of the Sun, tasked with hunting down all things unnatural and evil – including maleficars such as necromancers and warlocks. Mages using their magic for ill purposes. The inquisitors scowled briefly at Martel as they led the servants with the stretcher through the hall to the infirmary, gone as swiftly as they had appeared.
Chapter 2: ScarecrowScarecrowAn unfamiliar sound woke Martel. Not the noise of siblings, the roar of the forge being lit, or the neighbour's rooster greeting the sun. A bell, tolling loudly.Likewise, he did not recognise his surroundings as he opened his eyes. Clothes lay on a stool. An ink set rested atop a small desk. An unlit candle and an empty bowl stood on a commode. Strangest of all, he was alone. He smiled as he surveyed his fiefdom, all his.He washed and put on the brown robe issued to him as a novice. Being possibly the tallest novice to attend the Lyceum, it ended several inches above where it should. The quartermaster had promised a better-fitting one, but it would take time.Reaching the dining hall quickly, he found it empty. The many long tables stood waiting for students; as for food, neither sight nor scent reached him.A boy appeared, carrying a stack of wooden bowls taller than his head. He looked at Martel. "Someone's hungry. Guess you didn't outgrow your clothes for no reason." He cast a look at where Martel's robe proved too short to reach his ankles."I heard the bell," Martel explained, a tad confused.The other boy laughed. "Just to wake people up. We still got to make breakfast first. You'll be waiting a while."~At least Martel was first in line to fill a wooden bowl with porridge. Other students still trickled into the hall by the time he had finished. He noticed some brought their own small parcels of food, mostly bread or fruit, to supplement their breakfast. He felt a tad envious, but lacking coin, it was not an option for him at present. Instead, he remembered his first task of the day.Making his way through the school, asking for directions a few times, he reached the chambers of the overseer."Enter."Martel opened the door. He glanced around the room, noticing the wealth of books upon her shelves. As for Mistress Juliana, she sat at the desk with her back towards him. He could only see her hair, already tied up in a knot, until she looked over her shoulder."Martel. Good." She rose, holding a piece of parchment in her hand. "I have your schedule for the coming months." She handed it to him, and he looked at it eagerly. "You will learn elemental magic for two bells on Pelday and Glunday. For Malday, two bells of empowerment magic. Manday is reserved for astronomy at present. Normally, you would begin learning the theory of magic, but time does not permit we wait until a new class begins, so you will learn astronomy first."Martel only listened with half an ear, his mind filled with thoughts of learning magic. "Great.""Some mealtimes have been highlighted. You will be required to work in the kitchen to help. When you hear the bell ring, make your way there immediately.""Got it.""As for Solday, you have no classes. But you will be assisting the artificer of the Lyceum according to his requirements, as your schedule shows."Martel frowned briefly, having no idea who that was or what it entailed. "Very well."The overseer placed her hand on Martel's shoulder; despite his height, she was even taller, which coupled with her thin frame only made her seem more intimidating. "Martel, you are expected to graduate in two years. I encourage you to spend your spare time practising your skills.""Two years? I thought I had four."The overseer let her hand fall away. "The headmaster would not agree to that. Yet the Master of Elements and I are confident you can accomplish this in the given time."Nvl-B1n was the first platform to present this chapter.If Martel had been better at interpreting tone of voice or body language, he would have seen signs contradicting the certainty expressed in Mistress Juliana's words. Instead, he simply smiled. "Alright."Master Alastair laughed again. "Let's go back to water."~When the fourth bell rang, ending the lesson, it took Martel a moment to remember his schedule; for Pelday, he was to help make lunch. Thankfully, the Hall of Elements lay near the dining hall and thus the kitchens. Bowing his head and mumbling his gratitude to Master Alastair, Martel hurried to his chore.Upon his arrival, he was tossed a peeling knife and vegetables. It was a strange pace to go from manipulating the elements of nature through magical skill to peeling carrots, but his labour served as payment for room and board, not to mention the tuition. If that required him to disembowel the odd potato once a day, so be it.As he settled into his chores, he found himself more comfortable than he would have expected. It took him a moment to recognise why. For the first time since leaving his home, he felt at ease. While certainly these kitchens were far greater than the modest home of his family in Engby, the sounds and smells were the same. Large pots boiled over a crackling fire while the scent of food permeated the air. Nobody gave him strange glances or made remarks, busy with their own tasks.It lasted until he had to carry out a tray of wooden bowls to the dining hall. A handful of students already sat waiting, impatiently. All their eyes turned to Martel as he entered. "Look at the scarecrow!" yelled one wit, causing laughter.Mindful of his ill-fitting robe, Martel felt his cheeks flush. He all but dropped the bowls in their place, eager to escape back into the promised sanctuary of the kitchen.The witty student quickly got up to block Martel's path; he wore a black tunic. "Hold a moment. How can it be that I have never noticed your gangly frame ambling about before?"By his speech, Martel could tell the other boy came from a home with stone floors and servants, and he felt no desire to tangle with him. But as he tried to move past, his interrogator simply extended a hand and pushed Martel back.The shove came with such force, it seemed impossible; it took Martel a moment to realise the boy must have used some kind of magic."I await an answer, little novice.""I'm new here," Martel mumbled."Hah! New to the Lyceum and new to Morcaster, by your speech. And the blue in your eyes betray a northern influence in your blood. Half-breed, are we?"Martel looked into the dark, condescending eyes of his counterpart, not quite his own height. It took him a moment to digest the insult. He had spent his life in a small town in the northern province bordering the Tyrian lands; it had never occurred to him that any might mock him for having physical features revealing Tyrian ancestry."It would seem the question has left the beast dumb, or at least, dumbfounded." The mageknight smirked, looking towards his companions with a clear expectation of laughs. "To be expected from a scarecrow too big for his breeches.""Yes," Martel finally replied with rising anger, "I got Tyrian blood. Yes, my parents fed me well. Yes, I've outgrown my clothes." He pushed forward, catching the other boy off-guard, who fell to the ground. Hurrying past, Martel fled into the kitchen.One of the servants, who had watched from the door, gave him a smile. "You know who that is?""Who?" Martel asked with a sinking feeling."I don't know his name, but his father is the duke of Cheval. I bet everyone enjoyed seeing him on his back. Well, except for himself." The servant slapped Martel on the shoulder. "You should probably keep an eye out.""I'll just keep my distance," Martel considered. "He's ahead of me in his classes. No reason we should have anything to do with each other." Ignorant of how fate worked, he resumed his chores in the kitchens.~An hour later, when the meal had been finished and Martel's duties completed, he left the kitchen. He had only made it halfway through the dining hall when a shout got his attention. "Out of the way!"Stepping aside, Martel watched two men carrying a stretcher. On top lay a young man, barely older than himself, wearing the green robe of an earthmage. His eyes stared emptily at Martel, who could not help but stare back. In addition to his lack of expression, his cheeks looked hollow, and his lips were cracked as if suffering from terrible thirst.Besides the sick or wounded youth, Martel's attention was caught by two others. One walked ahead of the stretcher it was him who had called out and his companion followed behind. They walked clad the same in dark blue cloaks clasped with a sun. Along their belts ran a thin golden chain, and their bootstraps were made from the same metal. Martel had only once seen men in such raiment before. They were inquisitors from the Faith of the Sun, tasked with hunting down all things unnatural and evil including maleficars such as necromancers and warlocks. Mages using their magic for ill purposes. The inquisitors scowled briefly at Martel as they led the servants with the stretcher through the hall to the infirmary, gone as swiftly as they had appeared.
