Chapter 250: Once More into the Breach
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Chapter 250: Once More into the Breach
Once More into the Breach
Thanks to his extended period of sleep, Martel felt physically rested come next morning; unfortunately, his mind was not similarly at ease. As gruelling as two classes with Mistress Moira had been, at least she was trying to teach him. He did not expect the same from Reynard given past experiences, and he dreaded the prospect of once more spending two bells in the company of the Master of War every Malday.
Besides the teacher's callous treatment of Martel, he had not forgotten about his novice examination. He had no proof, but he strongly suspected that Reynard had tried to influence the outcome by using gold to destroy Martel's spells. Now that same man was to train him in the art of war, equipping him with the skills to survive on the battlefield?
Martel felt like a dead man walking as he stepped outside to reach the arena. There was light snowfall again this morning; the future legionaries trained outdoors specifically for that reason, to become accustomed to combat under the influence of the elements. At least moving about would get Martel warm.
His fellow fire acolytes were all present as he arrived, like yesterday. Perhaps the influence of Mistress Moira, impressing upon them to be ready immediately after the bell rang. Martel knew none of their names; all of them, himself included, had been too busy yesterday during class to speak, and too exhausted afterwards. Besides, considering the glares they all gave him, he did not expect much camaraderie.
Reynard strode onto the circle of sand, looking as self-important as ever. He held two staves in each hand. "Attention, students. You will notice our number has increased. Making it even, which I suppose is one benefit at least." He threw the weapons on the ground, motioning for all of them to pick one up. "Pair up and practise. No shields yet, you know the drill. Three of you do, anyway. Northern boy, for this part, you only practice empowerment," Reynard added towards Martel. He frowned seeing the acolyte inspect his staff. "Something the matter, boy?"
"Just examining my weapon," Martel replied. "You never know what you might find." He made a show of running his fingers across the tip, similar to where he suspected Reynard had embedded a piece of gold in his weapon during Martel's novice examination.
The Master of War gave a growl. "I said, pair up!"
Martel recalled Master Alastair's stories, fighting as a battlemage with Mistress Juliana by his side to protect him. Martel had not given it any thought before now, but obviously, the same would happen to him. He looked at the mageknights present, wondering who it might be. Since his life would depend on it, he had a keen interest in finding out. "How will that be determined?"
"Some clerk in the Imperial administration throws all the names in a jar and pulls them out until they are all paired up," Maximilian explained with a grin.
From what Martel had heard, the outcome was not as random as his friend suggested. Both the duke of Cheval and Flora of the Night Knives had suggested that influence and money could decide a mage's posting, within reason, at any rate. Naturally, Martel's fate as a battlemage was sealed; everyone had been clear on that. But given how much Maximilian's father had invested towards his son joining the praetorians, Martel figured that his friend would never be among those becoming a battlemage's protector.
He looked at Eleanor; he could not recall if she had ever shared her ambitions for the future. In any case, he imagined that like Maximilian, she had loftier goals than sitting in the mud next to a battlemage. From what little Martel knew, advancement for mageknights lay primarily as officers of a cohort, leading legionaries into battle.
"Time to group up!" Reynard had arrived.
Martel looked around to see everyone else had already fetched a weapon from the school's armoury, while he had none. Apparently, the procedure was different compared to this morning when the teacher had brought the staves. "Master," Martel spoke up, reluctant to even use the title, "I don't have a weapon."
"You should have fetched one before the lesson began," Reynard told him brusquely. "Do not interrupt me again. As I said, group up! Attackers, on this side and wait your turn. You two, you will be the first to defend."
With various degrees of enthusiasm, the students moved around the arena as ordered. One pair of protector and battlemage took position in the middle with three mageknights making ready to assault, the rest watching from the stands.
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Chapter 250: Once More into the Breach
Once More into the Breach
Thanks to his extended period of sleep, Martel felt physically rested come next morning; unfortunately, his mind was not similarly at ease. As gruelling as two classes with Mistress Moira had been, at least she was trying to teach him. He did not expect the same from Reynard given past experiences, and he dreaded the prospect of once more spending two bells in the company of the Master of War every Malday.
Besides the teacher's callous treatment of Martel, he had not forgotten about his novice examination. He had no proof, but he strongly suspected that Reynard had tried to influence the outcome by using gold to destroy Martel's spells. Now that same man was to train him in the art of war, equipping him with the skills to survive on the battlefield?
Martel felt like a dead man walking as he stepped outside to reach the arena. There was light snowfall again this morning; the future legionaries trained outdoors specifically for that reason, to become accustomed to combat under the influence of the elements. At least moving about would get Martel warm.
His fellow fire acolytes were all present as he arrived, like yesterday. Perhaps the influence of Mistress Moira, impressing upon them to be ready immediately after the bell rang. Martel knew none of their names; all of them, himself included, had been too busy yesterday during class to speak, and too exhausted afterwards. Besides, considering the glares they all gave him, he did not expect much camaraderie.
Reynard strode onto the circle of sand, looking as self-important as ever. He held two staves in each hand. "Attention, students. You will notice our number has increased. Making it even, which I suppose is one benefit at least." He threw the weapons on the ground, motioning for all of them to pick one up. "Pair up and practise. No shields yet, you know the drill. Three of you do, anyway. Northern boy, for this part, you only practice empowerment," Reynard added towards Martel. He frowned seeing the acolyte inspect his staff. "Something the matter, boy?"
"Just examining my weapon," Martel replied. "You never know what you might find." He made a show of running his fingers across the tip, similar to where he suspected Reynard had embedded a piece of gold in his weapon during Martel's novice examination.
The Master of War gave a growl. "I said, pair up!"
Martel recalled Master Alastair's stories, fighting as a battlemage with Mistress Juliana by his side to protect him. Martel had not given it any thought before now, but obviously, the same would happen to him. He looked at the mageknights present, wondering who it might be. Since his life would depend on it, he had a keen interest in finding out. "How will that be determined?"
"Some clerk in the Imperial administration throws all the names in a jar and pulls them out until they are all paired up," Maximilian explained with a grin.
From what Martel had heard, the outcome was not as random as his friend suggested. Both the duke of Cheval and Flora of the Night Knives had suggested that influence and money could decide a mage's posting, within reason, at any rate. Naturally, Martel's fate as a battlemage was sealed; everyone had been clear on that. But given how much Maximilian's father had invested towards his son joining the praetorians, Martel figured that his friend would never be among those becoming a battlemage's protector.
He looked at Eleanor; he could not recall if she had ever shared her ambitions for the future. In any case, he imagined that like Maximilian, she had loftier goals than sitting in the mud next to a battlemage. From what little Martel knew, advancement for mageknights lay primarily as officers of a cohort, leading legionaries into battle.
"Time to group up!" Reynard had arrived.
Martel looked around to see everyone else had already fetched a weapon from the school's armoury, while he had none. Apparently, the procedure was different compared to this morning when the teacher had brought the staves. "Master," Martel spoke up, reluctant to even use the title, "I don't have a weapon."
"You should have fetched one before the lesson began," Reynard told him brusquely. "Do not interrupt me again. As I said, group up! Attackers, on this side and wait your turn. You two, you will be the first to defend."
With various degrees of enthusiasm, the students moved around the arena as ordered. One pair of protector and battlemage took position in the middle with three mageknights making ready to assault, the rest watching from the stands.
Chapter 250: Once More into the BreachOnce More into the BreachThanks to his extended period of sleep, Martel felt physically rested come next morning; unfortunately, his mind was not similarly at ease. As gruelling as two classes with Mistress Moira had been, at least she was trying to teach him. He did not expect the same from Reynard given past experiences, and he dreaded the prospect of once more spending two bells in the company of the Master of War every Malday.Besides the teacher's callous treatment of Martel, he had not forgotten about his novice examination. He had no proof, but he strongly suspected that Reynard had tried to influence the outcome by using gold to destroy Martel's spells. Now that same man was to train him in the art of war, equipping him with the skills to survive on the battlefield?Martel felt like a dead man walking as he stepped outside to reach the arena. There was light snowfall again this morning; the future legionaries trained outdoors specifically for that reason, to become accustomed to combat under the influence of the elements. At least moving about would get Martel warm.His fellow fire acolytes were all present as he arrived, like yesterday. Perhaps the influence of Mistress Moira, impressing upon them to be ready immediately after the bell rang. Martel knew none of their names; all of them, himself included, had been too busy yesterday during class to speak, and too exhausted afterwards. Besides, considering the glares they all gave him, he did not expect much camaraderie.Reynard strode onto the circle of sand, looking as self-important as ever. He held two staves in each hand. "Attention, students. You will notice our number has increased. Making it even, which I suppose is one benefit at least." He threw the weapons on the ground, motioning for all of them to pick one up. "Pair up and practise. No shields yet, you know the drill. Three of you do, anyway. Northern boy, for this part, you only practice empowerment," Reynard added towards Martel. He frowned seeing the acolyte inspect his staff. "Something the matter, boy?""Just examining my weapon," Martel replied. "You never know what you might find." He made a show of running his fingers across the tip, similar to where he suspected Reynard had embedded a piece of gold in his weapon during Martel's novice examination.The Master of War gave a growl. "I said, pair up!"Martel recalled Master Alastair's stories, fighting as a battlemage with Mistress Juliana by his side to protect him. Martel had not given it any thought before now, but obviously, the same would happen to him. He looked at the mageknights present, wondering who it might be. Since his life would depend on it, he had a keen interest in finding out. "How will that be determined?""Some clerk in the Imperial administration throws all the names in a jar and pulls them out until they are all paired up," Maximilian explained with a grin.From what Martel had heard, the outcome was not as random as his friend suggested. Both the duke of Cheval and Flora of the Night Knives had suggested that influence and money could decide a mage's posting, within reason, at any rate. Naturally, Martel's fate as a battlemage was sealed; everyone had been clear on that. But given how much Maximilian's father had invested towards his son joining the praetorians, Martel figured that his friend would never be among those becoming a battlemage's protector.He looked at Eleanor; he could not recall if she had ever shared her ambitions for the future. In any case, he imagined that like Maximilian, she had loftier goals than sitting in the mud next to a battlemage. From what little Martel knew, advancement for mageknights lay primarily as officers of a cohort, leading legionaries into battle."Time to group up!" Reynard had arrived.Martel looked around to see everyone else had already fetched a weapon from the school's armoury, while he had none. Apparently, the procedure was different compared to this morning when the teacher had brought the staves. "Master," Martel spoke up, reluctant to even use the title, "I don't have a weapon.""You should have fetched one before the lesson began," Reynard told him brusquely. "Do not interrupt me again. As I said, group up! Attackers, on this side and wait your turn. You two, you will be the first to defend."With various degrees of enthusiasm, the students moved around the arena as ordered. One pair of protector and battlemage took position in the middle with three mageknights making ready to assault, the rest watching from the stands.
