Chapter 466: Fury from the Sky
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Chapter 466: Fury from the Sky
Fury from the Sky
Once finished with alchemy, Martel went to The Golden Goose. Like last time, he entered through the back and had one of the actors fetch Regnar for him. Soon after, they sat inside his chamber.
"I've not really learned much," the hedge mage admitted. "Vitus uses The Broken Crown as his domain, like Tibert did before him. He's not been seen in a few days, though."This chapter made its debut appearance via N0v3lB1n.
Keeping his head down, waiting for things to play out with Lady Pearl's death, presumably. "Alright. Anything else?"
"Not really. Trying to figure out more about his activities didn't get me far. They're a suspicious lot, for good reason, and I can't really risk the attention."
"I understand. Do you think you could learn more about who bought the lightstones from you? They ended up in the hands of the Night Knives, which makes me wonder who acted as middlemen."
"I can ask, but if they didn't want me to know in the first place, there's probably not much I can find out," Regnar considered.
"Right. Fine. Seen any sign of the Night Knives?"
"Nothing so far. Might be they're already on a ship back to Aquila."
"Could be. Alright, thanks. I know where to go tonight."
The hedge mage reached out to take hold of Martel's arm. "Before you do – what exactly do you intend?"
In other words, Martel had to wait for when the tavern began to close and its patrons left, but before its residents would already be asleep. Accepting that he had a long wait ahead of him, Martel continued down the street until he found a small tavern down an alley with a quiet table and a mug of ale.
***
Every now and then, Martel would leave his chosen spot and wander up the street to observe The Broken Crown. Every time he found it open and as lively as ever, making him continue and find somewhere else to wait for another half hour or so.
Finally, the right moment arrived. Drunk carousers stumbled out of the front doors, which closed behind them. The shutters of the windows were likewise closed; through the cracks, Martel could see lamplight being dimmed, one after the other. It was time.
He stepped into an alley, leaving him unobserved by others on the main street while still giving him vision of the tavern. It was a large building made from solid stone – except for the roof and the interior.
Martel looked up at the sky. The rain had turned into a near storm. Martel did not have need of it, but it made matters easier for him, almost as if the heavens agreed with his anger.
Raising one hand into the air, Martel channelled magic straight up until he connected with the brewing storm and unleashed its dormant fury. Making a fist and pulling his hand down, as if breaking a branch from a tree, Martel tore a thunderbolt from the skies to strike at The Broken Crown.
The surge of both natural and magical energy could not be denied. It hit the wooden beams that made up the construction of the roof and ignited them.
It did not take long before people became aware, as the flames were highly visible against the dark night. Shouts and screams could be heard. The smell of heavy smoke from rain-soaked wood burning permeated the air. The doors burst open as the people inside the tavern fled. One man on the upper floor lowered himself out of the window, hanging by his fingertips from the windowsill before dropping down to the ground.
Still, the fire burned merrily. It was not possible to see from the outside, but anyone with knowledge of the interior could imagine how it blazed through floorboards and furniture. The balconies surrounding the pit where Tibert had once hosted prize fights was likewise made from wood and became another victim for the conflagration.
The fire patrol arrived. They organised human chains carrying buckets of water. While the building itself seemed lost, it was important to prevent the spread of the flames.
Their work turned out easier than expected. Almost as if the fire agreed with their purpose, it grew less and less. Once it had eaten the interior of the tavern, it did not advance further, allowing the legionaries and volunteers to keep it contained and eventually douse the remaining flames. Some thanked Sol for this miracle, others attributed it to the heavy rain. Walking with visible strain and laboured breathing, Martel turned away from the crowd, retreating further into the alley before he set a course home for the Lyceum.
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Chapter 466: Fury from the Sky
Fury from the Sky
Once finished with alchemy, Martel went to The Golden Goose. Like last time, he entered through the back and had one of the actors fetch Regnar for him. Soon after, they sat inside his chamber.
"I've not really learned much," the hedge mage admitted. "Vitus uses The Broken Crown as his domain, like Tibert did before him. He's not been seen in a few days, though."This chapter made its debut appearance via N0v3lB1n.
Keeping his head down, waiting for things to play out with Lady Pearl's death, presumably. "Alright. Anything else?"
"Not really. Trying to figure out more about his activities didn't get me far. They're a suspicious lot, for good reason, and I can't really risk the attention."
"I understand. Do you think you could learn more about who bought the lightstones from you? They ended up in the hands of the Night Knives, which makes me wonder who acted as middlemen."
"I can ask, but if they didn't want me to know in the first place, there's probably not much I can find out," Regnar considered.
"Right. Fine. Seen any sign of the Night Knives?"
"Nothing so far. Might be they're already on a ship back to Aquila."
"Could be. Alright, thanks. I know where to go tonight."
The hedge mage reached out to take hold of Martel's arm. "Before you do – what exactly do you intend?"
In other words, Martel had to wait for when the tavern began to close and its patrons left, but before its residents would already be asleep. Accepting that he had a long wait ahead of him, Martel continued down the street until he found a small tavern down an alley with a quiet table and a mug of ale.
***
Every now and then, Martel would leave his chosen spot and wander up the street to observe The Broken Crown. Every time he found it open and as lively as ever, making him continue and find somewhere else to wait for another half hour or so.
Finally, the right moment arrived. Drunk carousers stumbled out of the front doors, which closed behind them. The shutters of the windows were likewise closed; through the cracks, Martel could see lamplight being dimmed, one after the other. It was time.
He stepped into an alley, leaving him unobserved by others on the main street while still giving him vision of the tavern. It was a large building made from solid stone – except for the roof and the interior.
Martel looked up at the sky. The rain had turned into a near storm. Martel did not have need of it, but it made matters easier for him, almost as if the heavens agreed with his anger.
Raising one hand into the air, Martel channelled magic straight up until he connected with the brewing storm and unleashed its dormant fury. Making a fist and pulling his hand down, as if breaking a branch from a tree, Martel tore a thunderbolt from the skies to strike at The Broken Crown.
The surge of both natural and magical energy could not be denied. It hit the wooden beams that made up the construction of the roof and ignited them.
It did not take long before people became aware, as the flames were highly visible against the dark night. Shouts and screams could be heard. The smell of heavy smoke from rain-soaked wood burning permeated the air. The doors burst open as the people inside the tavern fled. One man on the upper floor lowered himself out of the window, hanging by his fingertips from the windowsill before dropping down to the ground.
Still, the fire burned merrily. It was not possible to see from the outside, but anyone with knowledge of the interior could imagine how it blazed through floorboards and furniture. The balconies surrounding the pit where Tibert had once hosted prize fights was likewise made from wood and became another victim for the conflagration.
The fire patrol arrived. They organised human chains carrying buckets of water. While the building itself seemed lost, it was important to prevent the spread of the flames.
Their work turned out easier than expected. Almost as if the fire agreed with their purpose, it grew less and less. Once it had eaten the interior of the tavern, it did not advance further, allowing the legionaries and volunteers to keep it contained and eventually douse the remaining flames. Some thanked Sol for this miracle, others attributed it to the heavy rain. Walking with visible strain and laboured breathing, Martel turned away from the crowd, retreating further into the alley before he set a course home for the Lyceum.
Chapter 466: Fury from the SkyFury from the SkyOnce finished with alchemy, Martel went to The Golden Goose. Like last time, he entered through the back and had one of the actors fetch Regnar for him. Soon after, they sat inside his chamber."I've not really learned much," the hedge mage admitted. "Vitus uses The Broken Crown as his domain, like Tibert did before him. He's not been seen in a few days, though."This chapter made its debut appearance via N0v3lB1n.Keeping his head down, waiting for things to play out with Lady Pearl's death, presumably. "Alright. Anything else?""Not really. Trying to figure out more about his activities didn't get me far. They're a suspicious lot, for good reason, and I can't really risk the attention.""I understand. Do you think you could learn more about who bought the lightstones from you? They ended up in the hands of the Night Knives, which makes me wonder who acted as middlemen.""I can ask, but if they didn't want me to know in the first place, there's probably not much I can find out," Regnar considered."Right. Fine. Seen any sign of the Night Knives?""Nothing so far. Might be they're already on a ship back to Aquila.""Could be. Alright, thanks. I know where to go tonight."The hedge mage reached out to take hold of Martel's arm. "Before you do what exactly do you intend?"In other words, Martel had to wait for when the tavern began to close and its patrons left, but before its residents would already be asleep. Accepting that he had a long wait ahead of him, Martel continued down the street until he found a small tavern down an alley with a quiet table and a mug of ale.***Every now and then, Martel would leave his chosen spot and wander up the street to observe The Broken Crown. Every time he found it open and as lively as ever, making him continue and find somewhere else to wait for another half hour or so.Finally, the right moment arrived. Drunk carousers stumbled out of the front doors, which closed behind them. The shutters of the windows were likewise closed; through the cracks, Martel could see lamplight being dimmed, one after the other. It was time.He stepped into an alley, leaving him unobserved by others on the main street while still giving him vision of the tavern. It was a large building made from solid stone except for the roof and the interior.Martel looked up at the sky. The rain had turned into a near storm. Martel did not have need of it, but it made matters easier for him, almost as if the heavens agreed with his anger.Raising one hand into the air, Martel channelled magic straight up until he connected with the brewing storm and unleashed its dormant fury. Making a fist and pulling his hand down, as if breaking a branch from a tree, Martel tore a thunderbolt from the skies to strike at The Broken Crown.The surge of both natural and magical energy could not be denied. It hit the wooden beams that made up the construction of the roof and ignited them.It did not take long before people became aware, as the flames were highly visible against the dark night. Shouts and screams could be heard. The smell of heavy smoke from rain-soaked wood burning permeated the air. The doors burst open as the people inside the tavern fled. One man on the upper floor lowered himself out of the window, hanging by his fingertips from the windowsill before dropping down to the ground.Still, the fire burned merrily. It was not possible to see from the outside, but anyone with knowledge of the interior could imagine how it blazed through floorboards and furniture. The balconies surrounding the pit where Tibert had once hosted prize fights was likewise made from wood and became another victim for the conflagration.The fire patrol arrived. They organised human chains carrying buckets of water. While the building itself seemed lost, it was important to prevent the spread of the flames.Their work turned out easier than expected. Almost as if the fire agreed with their purpose, it grew less and less. Once it had eaten the interior of the tavern, it did not advance further, allowing the legionaries and volunteers to keep it contained and eventually douse the remaining flames. Some thanked Sol for this miracle, others attributed it to the heavy rain. Walking with visible strain and laboured breathing, Martel turned away from the crowd, retreating further into the alley before he set a course home for the Lyceum.
