Chapter 221: A Hope and a Prayer
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Chapter 221: A Hope and a Prayer
A Hope and a Prayer
Figuring he might as well get it out of the way, Martel approached Alain at breakfast the next morning. "I'm sorry, I won't be able to make the ointment for the sparring matches after all. Sorry," he reiterated. Having to retract his offer bothered Martel, maybe more than it should. But it had seemed like a good opportunity to both demonstrate his generosity and also his skill and knowledge, and maybe sow some seeds of friendship. Looking at Alain's disappointed face, all of that now seemed doubtful.This chapter's initial release occurred on the n0vell--Bjjn site.
"Alright, I guess. Why not? You seemed happy to do it the other night."
"Mistress Rana won't let me," Martel lied. "She doesn't want me making it for anyone other than the apothecary." He felt a little guilty pushing the blame on his teacher, but given the situation, Martel's self-pity mattered more, and the lie made him feel less embarrassed.
"That is a shame. I guess we will have to pay Nora again. If you can spare any coin, we all try to contribute," the mageknight said.
"Definitely," Martel replied, possibly lying again. He had nothing to contribute at present, unless he got another task with the Night Knives. Where Jasper would appear again to take half. Deciding to leave before his frustrations got the better of him, Martel nodded at Alain and walked away.
***
With a jar of salve in his hand, Martel followed the main road north towards the temple district. He walked in light snowfall, making him occasionally shake his cloak. Although not the best of weather, he did not mind so much. Being away from the Lyceum made him feel better about his situation, getting some distance from his problems. And as the towers of the Basilica rose in the distance through the snow descending from the skies, Martel almost felt uplifted. To see such beauty, to know it existed in the world, comforted him.
Crossing the square before the Basilica, Martel noticed that the ragged preacher railing against magic was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps the cold weather had driven him off, or people had finally lost interest in his message. Martel hoped it was the latter.
Entering the temple itself, Martel spent a moment taking it in. Even if he had seen the vaulted halls before, they still amazed him. Approaching the great altar of Sol, a quandary presented itself. Normally, people left offerings of obvious nature. Money, food, clothes, maybe candles or the like. But the priests could not be expected to know what to do with a jar containing a smelly substance.
***
It took Martel several hours to make his way to the copper lanes. The snowfall had subsided, at least, and he rested his feet as he passed through the market district before making the final stretch to Weasel's gang. None of the children were outside as he approached; the weather kept them indoors unless otherwise necessary, he assumed.
As he entered the house, Weasel appeared almost immediately. "You have my money?"
Martel extended his hand and let the silver coins fall into the boy's palms. "There you are."
"Better late than never, I suppose, though you really stretched my patience."
"Sorry. A problem showed up." Martel hesitated, unhappy to admit he was being extorted. He felt shameful about it. But he also needed advice. "Someone at my school found out about things I've done, in the city." That was as much as Martel was willing to elaborate. "He's extorting me for money. I don't know how to deal with him."
"Stab him."
Martel gave the little chief a look. "I don't want to kill him."
"Stab him a little, and warn him if he bothers you again, you'll stab him a lot." Weasel stared back. "Want me to do it for you? This time, I'll need payment in advance."
While frustrated, Martel was not at the point where he would pay a child for an assassination. "I'll think of something."
"You know where to go if you change your mind."
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Chapter 221: A Hope and a Prayer
A Hope and a Prayer
Figuring he might as well get it out of the way, Martel approached Alain at breakfast the next morning. "I'm sorry, I won't be able to make the ointment for the sparring matches after all. Sorry," he reiterated. Having to retract his offer bothered Martel, maybe more than it should. But it had seemed like a good opportunity to both demonstrate his generosity and also his skill and knowledge, and maybe sow some seeds of friendship. Looking at Alain's disappointed face, all of that now seemed doubtful.This chapter's initial release occurred on the n0vell--Bjjn site.
"Alright, I guess. Why not? You seemed happy to do it the other night."
"Mistress Rana won't let me," Martel lied. "She doesn't want me making it for anyone other than the apothecary." He felt a little guilty pushing the blame on his teacher, but given the situation, Martel's self-pity mattered more, and the lie made him feel less embarrassed.
"That is a shame. I guess we will have to pay Nora again. If you can spare any coin, we all try to contribute," the mageknight said.
"Definitely," Martel replied, possibly lying again. He had nothing to contribute at present, unless he got another task with the Night Knives. Where Jasper would appear again to take half. Deciding to leave before his frustrations got the better of him, Martel nodded at Alain and walked away.
***
With a jar of salve in his hand, Martel followed the main road north towards the temple district. He walked in light snowfall, making him occasionally shake his cloak. Although not the best of weather, he did not mind so much. Being away from the Lyceum made him feel better about his situation, getting some distance from his problems. And as the towers of the Basilica rose in the distance through the snow descending from the skies, Martel almost felt uplifted. To see such beauty, to know it existed in the world, comforted him.
Crossing the square before the Basilica, Martel noticed that the ragged preacher railing against magic was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps the cold weather had driven him off, or people had finally lost interest in his message. Martel hoped it was the latter.
Entering the temple itself, Martel spent a moment taking it in. Even if he had seen the vaulted halls before, they still amazed him. Approaching the great altar of Sol, a quandary presented itself. Normally, people left offerings of obvious nature. Money, food, clothes, maybe candles or the like. But the priests could not be expected to know what to do with a jar containing a smelly substance.
***
It took Martel several hours to make his way to the copper lanes. The snowfall had subsided, at least, and he rested his feet as he passed through the market district before making the final stretch to Weasel's gang. None of the children were outside as he approached; the weather kept them indoors unless otherwise necessary, he assumed.
As he entered the house, Weasel appeared almost immediately. "You have my money?"
Martel extended his hand and let the silver coins fall into the boy's palms. "There you are."
"Better late than never, I suppose, though you really stretched my patience."
"Sorry. A problem showed up." Martel hesitated, unhappy to admit he was being extorted. He felt shameful about it. But he also needed advice. "Someone at my school found out about things I've done, in the city." That was as much as Martel was willing to elaborate. "He's extorting me for money. I don't know how to deal with him."
"Stab him."
Martel gave the little chief a look. "I don't want to kill him."
"Stab him a little, and warn him if he bothers you again, you'll stab him a lot." Weasel stared back. "Want me to do it for you? This time, I'll need payment in advance."
While frustrated, Martel was not at the point where he would pay a child for an assassination. "I'll think of something."
"You know where to go if you change your mind."
Chapter 221: A Hope and a PrayerA Hope and a PrayerFiguring he might as well get it out of the way, Martel approached Alain at breakfast the next morning. "I'm sorry, I won't be able to make the ointment for the sparring matches after all. Sorry," he reiterated. Having to retract his offer bothered Martel, maybe more than it should. But it had seemed like a good opportunity to both demonstrate his generosity and also his skill and knowledge, and maybe sow some seeds of friendship. Looking at Alain's disappointed face, all of that now seemed doubtful.This chapter's initial release occurred on the n0vell--Bjjn site."Alright, I guess. Why not? You seemed happy to do it the other night.""Mistress Rana won't let me," Martel lied. "She doesn't want me making it for anyone other than the apothecary." He felt a little guilty pushing the blame on his teacher, but given the situation, Martel's self-pity mattered more, and the lie made him feel less embarrassed."That is a shame. I guess we will have to pay Nora again. If you can spare any coin, we all try to contribute," the mageknight said."Definitely," Martel replied, possibly lying again. He had nothing to contribute at present, unless he got another task with the Night Knives. Where Jasper would appear again to take half. Deciding to leave before his frustrations got the better of him, Martel nodded at Alain and walked away.***With a jar of salve in his hand, Martel followed the main road north towards the temple district. He walked in light snowfall, making him occasionally shake his cloak. Although not the best of weather, he did not mind so much. Being away from the Lyceum made him feel better about his situation, getting some distance from his problems. And as the towers of the Basilica rose in the distance through the snow descending from the skies, Martel almost felt uplifted. To see such beauty, to know it existed in the world, comforted him.Crossing the square before the Basilica, Martel noticed that the ragged preacher railing against magic was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps the cold weather had driven him off, or people had finally lost interest in his message. Martel hoped it was the latter.Entering the temple itself, Martel spent a moment taking it in. Even if he had seen the vaulted halls before, they still amazed him. Approaching the great altar of Sol, a quandary presented itself. Normally, people left offerings of obvious nature. Money, food, clothes, maybe candles or the like. But the priests could not be expected to know what to do with a jar containing a smelly substance.***It took Martel several hours to make his way to the copper lanes. The snowfall had subsided, at least, and he rested his feet as he passed through the market district before making the final stretch to Weasel's gang. None of the children were outside as he approached; the weather kept them indoors unless otherwise necessary, he assumed.As he entered the house, Weasel appeared almost immediately. "You have my money?"Martel extended his hand and let the silver coins fall into the boy's palms. "There you are.""Better late than never, I suppose, though you really stretched my patience.""Sorry. A problem showed up." Martel hesitated, unhappy to admit he was being extorted. He felt shameful about it. But he also needed advice. "Someone at my school found out about things I've done, in the city." That was as much as Martel was willing to elaborate. "He's extorting me for money. I don't know how to deal with him.""Stab him."Martel gave the little chief a look. "I don't want to kill him.""Stab him a little, and warn him if he bothers you again, you'll stab him a lot." Weasel stared back. "Want me to do it for you? This time, I'll need payment in advance."While frustrated, Martel was not at the point where he would pay a child for an assassination. "I'll think of something.""You know where to go if you change your mind."
