Chapter 21: The Roads to Friendship
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Chapter 21: The Roads to Friendship
The Roads to Friendship
The next morning, Martel had a headache. Perhaps he had not slept enough; it had been after last bell when he and Maximilian returned to the Lyceum. Another time, he would be sure to get home earlier.
It took him a while to remember the existence of hangovers and how it pertained to his situation. He concluded that he disliked the experience, and drinking was not worth it.
Fortunately, he did not have to help in the kitchens for breakfast, allowing him to sleep another hour before he stumbled out of bed, did his rudimentary washing, and finally descended to the dining hall.
He caught the tail end of breakfast, forced to eat the crusty ends of the bread and scrape the last porridge into his bowl. It made little difference to Martel, who ate any kind of food with relish.
Afterwards, he returned to his room and dozed for another bell.
~
The extra rest helped, and he arrived at his lesson in reasonably good spirits with only a dull ache. Still, Martel found the magic harder to control, making it seem like he had made no progress since the last fiveday.
"Are you feeling ill?" Master Alastair asked as Martel lost control of a column of water. "You have improved well these last days. I would not expect that to slow down."
"I didn't sleep so well last night," Martel explained. Partly true, at least.
"Up late?" his teacher asked with a knowing look.
"Maybe a bit."
"Well, I can't fault you for making friends. But your time is scarce compared to theirs, Martel. You have less than a year before you must pass the novice exam."
"Of course, master. I'll be more careful with my time."
"Good. Speaking of care... I have seen you with the mageknights in the dining hall?"
"Just one, really. Maximilian, we have astronomy and combat lessons together."
Master Alastair nodded. "A friendly fellow, from what I recall. But remember, Martel, all mageknights are destined for the legions or the palace. Often, their parents are already involved with those Imperial institutions."
Martel frowned until he caught on. "You're worried he'll find out my secret."
"He may be a trustworthy sort," his teacher began to say.
"He's been nothing but a friend to me," Martel interjected, feeling the need to defend his compatriot.
The Master of Elements raised his hands. "I am sure. But you cannot know if he'll protect you until you do trust him with your secret, and if he does not... well, it will be rather too late. Best not to chance it."
"I don't plan to," Martel declared.
"Good. As an elemental mage, there's nothing strange in you knowing a bit of fire magic. But don't let anyone see you do anything complex. A good rule would be to avoid anything more advanced than what you can do with water magic."
"I understand, master."
"Alright. Let's try that pillar of water again."
"I watched it. From a window."
Martel cleared his throat. "Am I in trouble?"
"You broke no rules," Master Alastair replied. "Since I saw no sign you used magic to deliberately harm another student. Though I caution you against ever doing that again."
"Oh, I don't intend to!"
"Training matches like that should be overseen and sanctioned by a teacher. You don't want to give them any excuse for expelling you from the school."
"Of course not. Them?"
"Ahem." Now it was Master Alastair's turn to clear his throat. "Anyway, you did well. Used the terrain rather than brute force. A valuable lesson."
"I did enjoy it," Martel admitted.
"The legions don't employ any weathermages – too few of them, I suppose. Ensuring food is grown is more important, after all."
"Yeah, certainly."
"But I've known a weathermage or two in my time who would be a great help for any soldier," Master Alastair told him. "Once, my regiment was trapped during a harsh winter in our camp by the Tyrian border."
"What happened?" asked Martel, his interest growing.
"The Tyrians, never as troubled by snow as us, decided we would make good trophies. Or perhaps they wanted to send a warning. Those were different days when the Empire wasn't busy fighting with Khiva."
"They attacked you?"
"A war party did. Young men, I suppose, out to prove themselves. They besieged us, testing our defences. We had a temporary camp only with palisades, and we found ourselves under constant threat."
"What did you do?"
"By chance, a weathermage had been passing the same way and, avoiding the Tyrians, taken shelter with us. He and I concocted a plan."
"What?" Martel asked eagerly.
"He created the most terrible blizzard to cover the area. Meanwhile, I surrounded us with heat. Under the cover of the snowstorm, with my fire blazing a trail and keeping us warm, we snuck out under their noses. Thirty miles we walked without rest! Right past the Tyrian sentinels."
Martel thought about the magic involved. Not only the power to summon such a blizzard, but also the strength and skill to keep the snow at bay and protect a whole group of people from the cold, all while avoiding detection. "That sounds incredible."
"Aye, it may not sound glorious, but it's one of the more difficult feats of magic I ever pulled off. I can tell you, that weathermage earned some respect too, from all the legionaries."
"I wish I could meet him! And hear how he did it."
Master Alastair smiled. "You did. His name is Ogion."
"Really?"
"Oh yes. He would be a man of a certain age when he arrived at your town, but in his youth, he was well-travelled and full of energy. One of the best wizards I've ever met, and I've met quite a lot. Not to mention, a good friend." The old mage's smile lasted for another moment. "Enough chittering. Back to the exercise."
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Chapter 21: The Roads to Friendship
The Roads to Friendship
The next morning, Martel had a headache. Perhaps he had not slept enough; it had been after last bell when he and Maximilian returned to the Lyceum. Another time, he would be sure to get home earlier.
It took him a while to remember the existence of hangovers and how it pertained to his situation. He concluded that he disliked the experience, and drinking was not worth it.
Fortunately, he did not have to help in the kitchens for breakfast, allowing him to sleep another hour before he stumbled out of bed, did his rudimentary washing, and finally descended to the dining hall.
He caught the tail end of breakfast, forced to eat the crusty ends of the bread and scrape the last porridge into his bowl. It made little difference to Martel, who ate any kind of food with relish.
Afterwards, he returned to his room and dozed for another bell.
~
The extra rest helped, and he arrived at his lesson in reasonably good spirits with only a dull ache. Still, Martel found the magic harder to control, making it seem like he had made no progress since the last fiveday.
"Are you feeling ill?" Master Alastair asked as Martel lost control of a column of water. "You have improved well these last days. I would not expect that to slow down."
"I didn't sleep so well last night," Martel explained. Partly true, at least.
"Up late?" his teacher asked with a knowing look.
"Maybe a bit."
"Well, I can't fault you for making friends. But your time is scarce compared to theirs, Martel. You have less than a year before you must pass the novice exam."
"Of course, master. I'll be more careful with my time."
"Good. Speaking of care... I have seen you with the mageknights in the dining hall?"
"Just one, really. Maximilian, we have astronomy and combat lessons together."
Master Alastair nodded. "A friendly fellow, from what I recall. But remember, Martel, all mageknights are destined for the legions or the palace. Often, their parents are already involved with those Imperial institutions."
Martel frowned until he caught on. "You're worried he'll find out my secret."
"He may be a trustworthy sort," his teacher began to say.
"He's been nothing but a friend to me," Martel interjected, feeling the need to defend his compatriot.
The Master of Elements raised his hands. "I am sure. But you cannot know if he'll protect you until you do trust him with your secret, and if he does not... well, it will be rather too late. Best not to chance it."
"I don't plan to," Martel declared.
"Good. As an elemental mage, there's nothing strange in you knowing a bit of fire magic. But don't let anyone see you do anything complex. A good rule would be to avoid anything more advanced than what you can do with water magic."
"I understand, master."
"Alright. Let's try that pillar of water again."
"I watched it. From a window."
Martel cleared his throat. "Am I in trouble?"
"You broke no rules," Master Alastair replied. "Since I saw no sign you used magic to deliberately harm another student. Though I caution you against ever doing that again."
"Oh, I don't intend to!"
"Training matches like that should be overseen and sanctioned by a teacher. You don't want to give them any excuse for expelling you from the school."
"Of course not. Them?"
"Ahem." Now it was Master Alastair's turn to clear his throat. "Anyway, you did well. Used the terrain rather than brute force. A valuable lesson."
"I did enjoy it," Martel admitted.
"The legions don't employ any weathermages – too few of them, I suppose. Ensuring food is grown is more important, after all."
"Yeah, certainly."
"But I've known a weathermage or two in my time who would be a great help for any soldier," Master Alastair told him. "Once, my regiment was trapped during a harsh winter in our camp by the Tyrian border."
"What happened?" asked Martel, his interest growing.
"The Tyrians, never as troubled by snow as us, decided we would make good trophies. Or perhaps they wanted to send a warning. Those were different days when the Empire wasn't busy fighting with Khiva."
"They attacked you?"
"A war party did. Young men, I suppose, out to prove themselves. They besieged us, testing our defences. We had a temporary camp only with palisades, and we found ourselves under constant threat."
"What did you do?"
"By chance, a weathermage had been passing the same way and, avoiding the Tyrians, taken shelter with us. He and I concocted a plan."
"What?" Martel asked eagerly.
"He created the most terrible blizzard to cover the area. Meanwhile, I surrounded us with heat. Under the cover of the snowstorm, with my fire blazing a trail and keeping us warm, we snuck out under their noses. Thirty miles we walked without rest! Right past the Tyrian sentinels."
Martel thought about the magic involved. Not only the power to summon such a blizzard, but also the strength and skill to keep the snow at bay and protect a whole group of people from the cold, all while avoiding detection. "That sounds incredible."
"Aye, it may not sound glorious, but it's one of the more difficult feats of magic I ever pulled off. I can tell you, that weathermage earned some respect too, from all the legionaries."
"I wish I could meet him! And hear how he did it."
Master Alastair smiled. "You did. His name is Ogion."
"Really?"
"Oh yes. He would be a man of a certain age when he arrived at your town, but in his youth, he was well-travelled and full of energy. One of the best wizards I've ever met, and I've met quite a lot. Not to mention, a good friend." The old mage's smile lasted for another moment. "Enough chittering. Back to the exercise."
Chapter 21: The Roads to FriendshipThe Roads to FriendshipThe next morning, Martel had a headache. Perhaps he had not slept enough; it had been after last bell when he and Maximilian returned to the Lyceum. Another time, he would be sure to get home earlier.It took him a while to remember the existence of hangovers and how it pertained to his situation. He concluded that he disliked the experience, and drinking was not worth it.Fortunately, he did not have to help in the kitchens for breakfast, allowing him to sleep another hour before he stumbled out of bed, did his rudimentary washing, and finally descended to the dining hall.He caught the tail end of breakfast, forced to eat the crusty ends of the bread and scrape the last porridge into his bowl. It made little difference to Martel, who ate any kind of food with relish.Afterwards, he returned to his room and dozed for another bell.~The extra rest helped, and he arrived at his lesson in reasonably good spirits with only a dull ache. Still, Martel found the magic harder to control, making it seem like he had made no progress since the last fiveday."Are you feeling ill?" Master Alastair asked as Martel lost control of a column of water. "You have improved well these last days. I would not expect that to slow down.""I didn't sleep so well last night," Martel explained. Partly true, at least."Up late?" his teacher asked with a knowing look."Maybe a bit.""Well, I can't fault you for making friends. But your time is scarce compared to theirs, Martel. You have less than a year before you must pass the novice exam.""Of course, master. I'll be more careful with my time.""Good. Speaking of care... I have seen you with the mageknights in the dining hall?""Just one, really. Maximilian, we have astronomy and combat lessons together."Master Alastair nodded. "A friendly fellow, from what I recall. But remember, Martel, all mageknights are destined for the legions or the palace. Often, their parents are already involved with those Imperial institutions."Martel frowned until he caught on. "You're worried he'll find out my secret.""He may be a trustworthy sort," his teacher began to say."He's been nothing but a friend to me," Martel interjected, feeling the need to defend his compatriot.The Master of Elements raised his hands. "I am sure. But you cannot know if he'll protect you until you do trust him with your secret, and if he does not... well, it will be rather too late. Best not to chance it.""I don't plan to," Martel declared."Good. As an elemental mage, there's nothing strange in you knowing a bit of fire magic. But don't let anyone see you do anything complex. A good rule would be to avoid anything more advanced than what you can do with water magic.""I understand, master.""Alright. Let's try that pillar of water again.""I watched it. From a window."Martel cleared his throat. "Am I in trouble?""You broke no rules," Master Alastair replied. "Since I saw no sign you used magic to deliberately harm another student. Though I caution you against ever doing that again.""Oh, I don't intend to!""Training matches like that should be overseen and sanctioned by a teacher. You don't want to give them any excuse for expelling you from the school.""Of course not. Them?""Ahem." Now it was Master Alastair's turn to clear his throat. "Anyway, you did well. Used the terrain rather than brute force. A valuable lesson.""I did enjoy it," Martel admitted."The legions don't employ any weathermages too few of them, I suppose. Ensuring food is grown is more important, after all.""Yeah, certainly.""But I've known a weathermage or two in my time who would be a great help for any soldier," Master Alastair told him. "Once, my regiment was trapped during a harsh winter in our camp by the Tyrian border.""What happened?" asked Martel, his interest growing."The Tyrians, never as troubled by snow as us, decided we would make good trophies. Or perhaps they wanted to send a warning. Those were different days when the Empire wasn't busy fighting with Khiva.""They attacked you?""A war party did. Young men, I suppose, out to prove themselves. They besieged us, testing our defences. We had a temporary camp only with palisades, and we found ourselves under constant threat.""What did you do?""By chance, a weathermage had been passing the same way and, avoiding the Tyrians, taken shelter with us. He and I concocted a plan.""What?" Martel asked eagerly."He created the most terrible blizzard to cover the area. Meanwhile, I surrounded us with heat. Under the cover of the snowstorm, with my fire blazing a trail and keeping us warm, we snuck out under their noses. Thirty miles we walked without rest! Right past the Tyrian sentinels."Martel thought about the magic involved. Not only the power to summon such a blizzard, but also the strength and skill to keep the snow at bay and protect a whole group of people from the cold, all while avoiding detection. "That sounds incredible.""Aye, it may not sound glorious, but it's one of the more difficult feats of magic I ever pulled off. I can tell you, that weathermage earned some respect too, from all the legionaries.""I wish I could meet him! And hear how he did it."Master Alastair smiled. "You did. His name is Ogion.""Really?""Oh yes. He would be a man of a certain age when he arrived at your town, but in his youth, he was well-travelled and full of energy. One of the best wizards I've ever met, and I've met quite a lot. Not to mention, a good friend." The old mage's smile lasted for another moment. "Enough chittering. Back to the exercise."
