Chapter 231: Deliberations
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Chapter 231: Deliberations
Deliberations
Reynard stood with his staff, a faint smirk outlined on his face. Of course – his only experiences with Martel had been in the first few months after his arrival, where he knew nothing of magic or weaponry. But since then, Martel had been in a dozen scraps or more. He had been ambushed by assailants wielding magic or golden protection and held his own against them. Considering the number of people who had tried to injure or kill him, Martel was not worried by simple sparring with all these witnesses. He raised his weapon, giving his former teacher a challenging look.
Reynard stepped forward and swung his staff. Martel parried and retaliated. This pattern now continued, neither able to get through the other's defences. As the moments passed, their speed picked up.
Martel began to sweat, both from physical and magical exertion. To keep up with his opponent, he could not rely on the small bursts of magic that required little of his strength; he had to expend his spellpower, letting it flow through his body to lend him empowered speed.
As could be expected, Reynard was a highly skilled warrior. Not a surprise to Martel, but it still unnerved him to realise. The Master of War surpassed any of the staff fighters that Martel had fought, such as Lothar and the others whose livelihood depended on it. Added to that, Reynard possessed magic.
None of Martel's blows even came close to landing. And while he sweated with effort, Reynard seemed at ease. If Martel had ever entertained beliefs to the opposite, it became clear to him that on these terms, he stood no chance of defeating a mageknight. But he did not have to, he just had to hold his own. Using more of his spellpower, he sped up his movements to keep pace.
Finally, despite his efforts, his defences failed. Reynard's staff struck him hard on the shoulder, hurting even through the leather armour underneath his robe. With a grunt, the Master of War stepped back and planted his staff in the ground, signalling an end to the fight.
"That should suffice," Master Alastair declared, stepping forward, but Reynard swiftly raised a hand in objection.
"I am not satisfied yet. Boy, attack me as swiftly as you may. Break through my shield if you can," Reynard challenged.
Seeing his teacher standing still, no sign of raising his weapon in defence, Martel gladly followed orders. He lashed out with his staff against Reynard's empty side, only to find his assault stopped an inch away, the shimmer of magic showing why. Using what remained of his spellpower, calling upon the last of his magic, Martel empowered himself to strike swiftly. Yet nothing broke through.This chapter was first shared on the Ñøv€lß1n platform.
"Enough," Master Fenrick chimed in. "No novice can be expected to break through a mageknight's shield. Surely we are done now."
Reynard shook his head. "I still have to test the boy's shield. Prepare yourself, lad. Hold off my attack if you can." He raised his weapon in threat.
Martel felt the weariness that came from straining his magic to its limits. But he needed more. Delving into his reserves, hoping such existed, he summoned his magical shield.
"He does not have the power to decide that – does he?" Alastair looked at Juliana.
"I did not expect him to persist in his objections," she admitted. "Perhaps we best delay for a day or two until this has been cleared up."
***
Once outside the hall, Martel sank down to the floor while breathing heavily. The worst of the unpleasant feelings subsided, but he was in no condition to do any magic, let alone complex spells. He looked towards the closed doors; it was strange to imagine that right now, his teachers discussed him and his performance, while he sat here, waiting.
Soon after, Reynard pushed the doors open and stalked away without even a glance at Martel. Seeing the other teachers follow, he got on his feet. Mistress Vana and Master Fenrick nodded towards him but also hurried past, leaving him with Master Alastair and Mistress Juliana. He looked at them expectantly.
"Things have become complicated," the overseer admitted.
It felt like a punch in Martel's already hurting stomach. "I'm not an acolyte?"
"Not yet," Master Alastair hurried to say. "We have something to clear up. Most of us agreed you are more than ready to be an acolyte. We just had to handle some administrative affairs."
Martel looked from one to the other, confused. If that was all standing in the way, could they not simply tell him he had passed and handle the administration of it later?
"Don't worry, it will all be sorted soon," his teacher promised him. Martel hoped that was true, though he could not tell how to interpret the apprehensive expressions he saw on their faces.
***
Martel slept as soon as he got the chance. When he woke, his nausea and discomfort had gone, though an inkling of the headache from Reynard's blow remained. Something had been strange about that, but he could think about that later. For now, he had another matter to swiftly attend. Tomorrow, he would break into the home of Shadi's landlord, a man named Oswald, and as the Night Knives had taught him, gathering reconnaissance beforehand could prove to be crucial.
So, he pushed aside his ambivalent feelings about his examination and dragged himself to the bridge district, investigating a specific house, the surrounding alleys, and various ways inside the building. Once satisfied, and before any neighbour might grow suspicious, he returned to the Lyceum.
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Chapter 231: Deliberations
Deliberations
Reynard stood with his staff, a faint smirk outlined on his face. Of course – his only experiences with Martel had been in the first few months after his arrival, where he knew nothing of magic or weaponry. But since then, Martel had been in a dozen scraps or more. He had been ambushed by assailants wielding magic or golden protection and held his own against them. Considering the number of people who had tried to injure or kill him, Martel was not worried by simple sparring with all these witnesses. He raised his weapon, giving his former teacher a challenging look.
Reynard stepped forward and swung his staff. Martel parried and retaliated. This pattern now continued, neither able to get through the other's defences. As the moments passed, their speed picked up.
Martel began to sweat, both from physical and magical exertion. To keep up with his opponent, he could not rely on the small bursts of magic that required little of his strength; he had to expend his spellpower, letting it flow through his body to lend him empowered speed.
As could be expected, Reynard was a highly skilled warrior. Not a surprise to Martel, but it still unnerved him to realise. The Master of War surpassed any of the staff fighters that Martel had fought, such as Lothar and the others whose livelihood depended on it. Added to that, Reynard possessed magic.
None of Martel's blows even came close to landing. And while he sweated with effort, Reynard seemed at ease. If Martel had ever entertained beliefs to the opposite, it became clear to him that on these terms, he stood no chance of defeating a mageknight. But he did not have to, he just had to hold his own. Using more of his spellpower, he sped up his movements to keep pace.
Finally, despite his efforts, his defences failed. Reynard's staff struck him hard on the shoulder, hurting even through the leather armour underneath his robe. With a grunt, the Master of War stepped back and planted his staff in the ground, signalling an end to the fight.
"That should suffice," Master Alastair declared, stepping forward, but Reynard swiftly raised a hand in objection.
"I am not satisfied yet. Boy, attack me as swiftly as you may. Break through my shield if you can," Reynard challenged.
Seeing his teacher standing still, no sign of raising his weapon in defence, Martel gladly followed orders. He lashed out with his staff against Reynard's empty side, only to find his assault stopped an inch away, the shimmer of magic showing why. Using what remained of his spellpower, calling upon the last of his magic, Martel empowered himself to strike swiftly. Yet nothing broke through.This chapter was first shared on the Ñøv€lß1n platform.
"Enough," Master Fenrick chimed in. "No novice can be expected to break through a mageknight's shield. Surely we are done now."
Reynard shook his head. "I still have to test the boy's shield. Prepare yourself, lad. Hold off my attack if you can." He raised his weapon in threat.
Martel felt the weariness that came from straining his magic to its limits. But he needed more. Delving into his reserves, hoping such existed, he summoned his magical shield.
"He does not have the power to decide that – does he?" Alastair looked at Juliana.
"I did not expect him to persist in his objections," she admitted. "Perhaps we best delay for a day or two until this has been cleared up."
***
Once outside the hall, Martel sank down to the floor while breathing heavily. The worst of the unpleasant feelings subsided, but he was in no condition to do any magic, let alone complex spells. He looked towards the closed doors; it was strange to imagine that right now, his teachers discussed him and his performance, while he sat here, waiting.
Soon after, Reynard pushed the doors open and stalked away without even a glance at Martel. Seeing the other teachers follow, he got on his feet. Mistress Vana and Master Fenrick nodded towards him but also hurried past, leaving him with Master Alastair and Mistress Juliana. He looked at them expectantly.
"Things have become complicated," the overseer admitted.
It felt like a punch in Martel's already hurting stomach. "I'm not an acolyte?"
"Not yet," Master Alastair hurried to say. "We have something to clear up. Most of us agreed you are more than ready to be an acolyte. We just had to handle some administrative affairs."
Martel looked from one to the other, confused. If that was all standing in the way, could they not simply tell him he had passed and handle the administration of it later?
"Don't worry, it will all be sorted soon," his teacher promised him. Martel hoped that was true, though he could not tell how to interpret the apprehensive expressions he saw on their faces.
***
Martel slept as soon as he got the chance. When he woke, his nausea and discomfort had gone, though an inkling of the headache from Reynard's blow remained. Something had been strange about that, but he could think about that later. For now, he had another matter to swiftly attend. Tomorrow, he would break into the home of Shadi's landlord, a man named Oswald, and as the Night Knives had taught him, gathering reconnaissance beforehand could prove to be crucial.
So, he pushed aside his ambivalent feelings about his examination and dragged himself to the bridge district, investigating a specific house, the surrounding alleys, and various ways inside the building. Once satisfied, and before any neighbour might grow suspicious, he returned to the Lyceum.
Chapter 231: DeliberationsDeliberationsReynard stood with his staff, a faint smirk outlined on his face. Of course his only experiences with Martel had been in the first few months after his arrival, where he knew nothing of magic or weaponry. But since then, Martel had been in a dozen scraps or more. He had been ambushed by assailants wielding magic or golden protection and held his own against them. Considering the number of people who had tried to injure or kill him, Martel was not worried by simple sparring with all these witnesses. He raised his weapon, giving his former teacher a challenging look.Reynard stepped forward and swung his staff. Martel parried and retaliated. This pattern now continued, neither able to get through the other's defences. As the moments passed, their speed picked up.Martel began to sweat, both from physical and magical exertion. To keep up with his opponent, he could not rely on the small bursts of magic that required little of his strength; he had to expend his spellpower, letting it flow through his body to lend him empowered speed.As could be expected, Reynard was a highly skilled warrior. Not a surprise to Martel, but it still unnerved him to realise. The Master of War surpassed any of the staff fighters that Martel had fought, such as Lothar and the others whose livelihood depended on it. Added to that, Reynard possessed magic.None of Martel's blows even came close to landing. And while he sweated with effort, Reynard seemed at ease. If Martel had ever entertained beliefs to the opposite, it became clear to him that on these terms, he stood no chance of defeating a mageknight. But he did not have to, he just had to hold his own. Using more of his spellpower, he sped up his movements to keep pace.Finally, despite his efforts, his defences failed. Reynard's staff struck him hard on the shoulder, hurting even through the leather armour underneath his robe. With a grunt, the Master of War stepped back and planted his staff in the ground, signalling an end to the fight."That should suffice," Master Alastair declared, stepping forward, but Reynard swiftly raised a hand in objection."I am not satisfied yet. Boy, attack me as swiftly as you may. Break through my shield if you can," Reynard challenged.Seeing his teacher standing still, no sign of raising his weapon in defence, Martel gladly followed orders. He lashed out with his staff against Reynard's empty side, only to find his assault stopped an inch away, the shimmer of magic showing why. Using what remained of his spellpower, calling upon the last of his magic, Martel empowered himself to strike swiftly. Yet nothing broke through.This chapter was first shared on the Nvl1n platform."Enough," Master Fenrick chimed in. "No novice can be expected to break through a mageknight's shield. Surely we are done now."Reynard shook his head. "I still have to test the boy's shield. Prepare yourself, lad. Hold off my attack if you can." He raised his weapon in threat.Martel felt the weariness that came from straining his magic to its limits. But he needed more. Delving into his reserves, hoping such existed, he summoned his magical shield."He does not have the power to decide that does he?" Alastair looked at Juliana."I did not expect him to persist in his objections," she admitted. "Perhaps we best delay for a day or two until this has been cleared up."***Once outside the hall, Martel sank down to the floor while breathing heavily. The worst of the unpleasant feelings subsided, but he was in no condition to do any magic, let alone complex spells. He looked towards the closed doors; it was strange to imagine that right now, his teachers discussed him and his performance, while he sat here, waiting.Soon after, Reynard pushed the doors open and stalked away without even a glance at Martel. Seeing the other teachers follow, he got on his feet. Mistress Vana and Master Fenrick nodded towards him but also hurried past, leaving him with Master Alastair and Mistress Juliana. He looked at them expectantly."Things have become complicated," the overseer admitted.It felt like a punch in Martel's already hurting stomach. "I'm not an acolyte?""Not yet," Master Alastair hurried to say. "We have something to clear up. Most of us agreed you are more than ready to be an acolyte. We just had to handle some administrative affairs."Martel looked from one to the other, confused. If that was all standing in the way, could they not simply tell him he had passed and handle the administration of it later?"Don't worry, it will all be sorted soon," his teacher promised him. Martel hoped that was true, though he could not tell how to interpret the apprehensive expressions he saw on their faces.***Martel slept as soon as he got the chance. When he woke, his nausea and discomfort had gone, though an inkling of the headache from Reynard's blow remained. Something had been strange about that, but he could think about that later. For now, he had another matter to swiftly attend. Tomorrow, he would break into the home of Shadi's landlord, a man named Oswald, and as the Night Knives had taught him, gathering reconnaissance beforehand could prove to be crucial.So, he pushed aside his ambivalent feelings about his examination and dragged himself to the bridge district, investigating a specific house, the surrounding alleys, and various ways inside the building. Once satisfied, and before any neighbour might grow suspicious, he returned to the Lyceum.
