Chapter 43: Against the Stream
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Chapter 43: Against the Stream
Against the Stream
The journey home proved uneventful, which Martel was thankful for. The visit to the Stone of Archen had given him more excitement than he needed, even if the students themselves were to blame, himself included. And while Martel was no stranger to rough sleeping, he had gotten used to his own bed in his own room. Not to mention proper meals and freshly baked bread that the kitchens of the Lyceum could provide. As much as he respected Master Fenrick's knowledge of all matters arcane, his skills in organising a small expedition like this had proven to be basic, meaning rather simple fare for all meals of the day.
They arrived on a Manday, nearly two fivedays after they set out. Passing through the gate, the sounds and smells of the city immediately struck them from all sides. Martel had not missed this particular aspect of life in Morcaster, but as the Lyceum came in sight, his first thought was the feeling of returning home.
~
The afternoon was still young as Martel placed his few belongings back in his room. This gave him plenty of time to visit Shadi later and relate everything that had happened on his trip, and he could even take care of something else first.
He wondered briefly how and where to approach Mistress Rana. In the end, he decided on the apothecary rather than her personal chamber, considering he had never spoken to her before. It did necessitate walking through the infirmary, and he spent a moment steeling himself as the sound, sight, and smell of sick people reminded him of his father's last days. Rushing past the beds filled with ill people, almost knocking a nurse over, Martel reached the apothecary.
Opening the door, he found two people at work. One was the apothecary's assistant, whom he had met before; the other, a tall woman wearing a richly embroidered green robe, had to be Mistress Rana.
"Excuse me, Mistress Rana?" As Martel spoke, the two women turned around.
Martel thoroughly dried his hands in his robe.
"Show me your work."
Having eviscerated his share of vegetables in the past, Martel confidently grabbed the knife and began cutting.
~
Supper was a bell away, but Martel figured that if he made haste, he could squeeze in a visit to Shadi and make it back home for mealtime. Mistress Rana had shown if not enthusiasm, at least acceptance of his skill so far, and he was invited back tomorrow. This did not make him an apprentice to the apothecary yet, but it felt like something to be excited about and one more thing to tell Shadi.
Leaving the Lyceum, Martel went south. He had barely reached the market district when he noticed a change. When he and the others had entered the city earlier this day, they had come from the north and passed through the affluent districts before they reached the school. The southern parts of Morcaster, holding more inhabitants and less wealth, seemed different. The market, which should be bustling with trade and the jangling of coin, had closed shops. Not from a lack of footfall, as Martel found it difficult to get through the crowd; but the citizens of Morcaster had not come to buy or sell.
Anger lay in the air. People shouted and raised their fists. Pushing, shoving, trampling. Martel became caught in the throng of people, forcing him along. He tried to summon his magical shield to protect himself, but it availed nothing against the constant push and pull of the crowd. He could not properly hear or understand any of the furious words that surrounded him, nor did the people seem inclined to elaborate.
Finally, he managed to draw himself to the side and duck in between two stalls. Trying to control his rising panic, Martel pressed himself back and kept out of sight as the horde of people continued to move through the district. Only as the multitudes began to thin did he dare to leave his refuge. The angry mob had seemed directionless at first, but it appeared to mostly move southwards. Already, the horizon had darkened, and Martel had not even made it out of the market district. Abandoning his goal for now, he turned around and went back to the Lyceum, still mindful to avoid the crowds.
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Chapter 43: Against the Stream
Against the Stream
The journey home proved uneventful, which Martel was thankful for. The visit to the Stone of Archen had given him more excitement than he needed, even if the students themselves were to blame, himself included. And while Martel was no stranger to rough sleeping, he had gotten used to his own bed in his own room. Not to mention proper meals and freshly baked bread that the kitchens of the Lyceum could provide. As much as he respected Master Fenrick's knowledge of all matters arcane, his skills in organising a small expedition like this had proven to be basic, meaning rather simple fare for all meals of the day.
They arrived on a Manday, nearly two fivedays after they set out. Passing through the gate, the sounds and smells of the city immediately struck them from all sides. Martel had not missed this particular aspect of life in Morcaster, but as the Lyceum came in sight, his first thought was the feeling of returning home.
~
The afternoon was still young as Martel placed his few belongings back in his room. This gave him plenty of time to visit Shadi later and relate everything that had happened on his trip, and he could even take care of something else first.
He wondered briefly how and where to approach Mistress Rana. In the end, he decided on the apothecary rather than her personal chamber, considering he had never spoken to her before. It did necessitate walking through the infirmary, and he spent a moment steeling himself as the sound, sight, and smell of sick people reminded him of his father's last days. Rushing past the beds filled with ill people, almost knocking a nurse over, Martel reached the apothecary.
Opening the door, he found two people at work. One was the apothecary's assistant, whom he had met before; the other, a tall woman wearing a richly embroidered green robe, had to be Mistress Rana.
"Excuse me, Mistress Rana?" As Martel spoke, the two women turned around.
Martel thoroughly dried his hands in his robe.
"Show me your work."
Having eviscerated his share of vegetables in the past, Martel confidently grabbed the knife and began cutting.
~
Supper was a bell away, but Martel figured that if he made haste, he could squeeze in a visit to Shadi and make it back home for mealtime. Mistress Rana had shown if not enthusiasm, at least acceptance of his skill so far, and he was invited back tomorrow. This did not make him an apprentice to the apothecary yet, but it felt like something to be excited about and one more thing to tell Shadi.
Leaving the Lyceum, Martel went south. He had barely reached the market district when he noticed a change. When he and the others had entered the city earlier this day, they had come from the north and passed through the affluent districts before they reached the school. The southern parts of Morcaster, holding more inhabitants and less wealth, seemed different. The market, which should be bustling with trade and the jangling of coin, had closed shops. Not from a lack of footfall, as Martel found it difficult to get through the crowd; but the citizens of Morcaster had not come to buy or sell.
Anger lay in the air. People shouted and raised their fists. Pushing, shoving, trampling. Martel became caught in the throng of people, forcing him along. He tried to summon his magical shield to protect himself, but it availed nothing against the constant push and pull of the crowd. He could not properly hear or understand any of the furious words that surrounded him, nor did the people seem inclined to elaborate.
Finally, he managed to draw himself to the side and duck in between two stalls. Trying to control his rising panic, Martel pressed himself back and kept out of sight as the horde of people continued to move through the district. Only as the multitudes began to thin did he dare to leave his refuge. The angry mob had seemed directionless at first, but it appeared to mostly move southwards. Already, the horizon had darkened, and Martel had not even made it out of the market district. Abandoning his goal for now, he turned around and went back to the Lyceum, still mindful to avoid the crowds.
Chapter 43: Against the StreamAgainst the StreamThe journey home proved uneventful, which Martel was thankful for. The visit to the Stone of Archen had given him more excitement than he needed, even if the students themselves were to blame, himself included. And while Martel was no stranger to rough sleeping, he had gotten used to his own bed in his own room. Not to mention proper meals and freshly baked bread that the kitchens of the Lyceum could provide. As much as he respected Master Fenrick's knowledge of all matters arcane, his skills in organising a small expedition like this had proven to be basic, meaning rather simple fare for all meals of the day.They arrived on a Manday, nearly two fivedays after they set out. Passing through the gate, the sounds and smells of the city immediately struck them from all sides. Martel had not missed this particular aspect of life in Morcaster, but as the Lyceum came in sight, his first thought was the feeling of returning home.~The afternoon was still young as Martel placed his few belongings back in his room. This gave him plenty of time to visit Shadi later and relate everything that had happened on his trip, and he could even take care of something else first.He wondered briefly how and where to approach Mistress Rana. In the end, he decided on the apothecary rather than her personal chamber, considering he had never spoken to her before. It did necessitate walking through the infirmary, and he spent a moment steeling himself as the sound, sight, and smell of sick people reminded him of his father's last days. Rushing past the beds filled with ill people, almost knocking a nurse over, Martel reached the apothecary.Opening the door, he found two people at work. One was the apothecary's assistant, whom he had met before; the other, a tall woman wearing a richly embroidered green robe, had to be Mistress Rana."Excuse me, Mistress Rana?" As Martel spoke, the two women turned around.Martel thoroughly dried his hands in his robe."Show me your work."Having eviscerated his share of vegetables in the past, Martel confidently grabbed the knife and began cutting.~Supper was a bell away, but Martel figured that if he made haste, he could squeeze in a visit to Shadi and make it back home for mealtime. Mistress Rana had shown if not enthusiasm, at least acceptance of his skill so far, and he was invited back tomorrow. This did not make him an apprentice to the apothecary yet, but it felt like something to be excited about and one more thing to tell Shadi.Leaving the Lyceum, Martel went south. He had barely reached the market district when he noticed a change. When he and the others had entered the city earlier this day, they had come from the north and passed through the affluent districts before they reached the school. The southern parts of Morcaster, holding more inhabitants and less wealth, seemed different. The market, which should be bustling with trade and the jangling of coin, had closed shops. Not from a lack of footfall, as Martel found it difficult to get through the crowd; but the citizens of Morcaster had not come to buy or sell.Anger lay in the air. People shouted and raised their fists. Pushing, shoving, trampling. Martel became caught in the throng of people, forcing him along. He tried to summon his magical shield to protect himself, but it availed nothing against the constant push and pull of the crowd. He could not properly hear or understand any of the furious words that surrounded him, nor did the people seem inclined to elaborate.Finally, he managed to draw himself to the side and duck in between two stalls. Trying to control his rising panic, Martel pressed himself back and kept out of sight as the horde of people continued to move through the district. Only as the multitudes began to thin did he dare to leave his refuge. The angry mob had seemed directionless at first, but it appeared to mostly move southwards. Already, the horizon had darkened, and Martel had not even made it out of the market district. Abandoning his goal for now, he turned around and went back to the Lyceum, still mindful to avoid the crowds.
