Chapter 47: A Cold Touch
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Chapter 47: A Cold Touch
A Cold Touch
Martel woke refreshed after a solid night's sleep, feeling good about himself. He had witnessed an injustice and used his power to correct it. Even his weak skills in magic had been enough to handle that thug and scare him off. He could only dream of what he might accomplish once his powers grew further.
In the apothecary, only Nora was present like yesterday. She greeted him and gave him some quick instructions on his work for the bell.
"Hey, I have a question for you," Martel said as he picked and dried the seeds from bellthorns.
"Yes?"
"You make that salve for bruises, which the mageknights use. Is that a complicated bit of alchemy?"
Nora laughed. "Not at all, it's an apothecary remedy. Just a few simple ingredients. Think you can probably get them all cheap at the market. Mash them together, add a bit of time, and you got yourself a nice, thick paste. We wouldn't sell it for seventeen pieces a jar if it required more."
"Right, that makes sense." Martel hesitated. "Could you show me how to make it?"Ñøv€l-B1n was the first platform to present this chapter.
"I'm not sure Mistress Rana wants me teaching you anything other than what she says. Plus, we are not allowed to use any of the ingredients here for our own purpose."
"There can't be any harm in me learning something so simple, right? What if I buy all the ingredients? You said I could get them from the market." Martel felt a little uncomfortable pressing her, but the thought of learning something so useful ignited him. Besides helping people, if he could make and sell this ointment for seventeen silvers a jar to mageknights and others with money, he would not have need of other work.
"I'm not sure. Mistress Rana doesn't just let us make these things. She doesn't want us running our own little apothecary, making our own stuff and selling it around. Someone might get hurt, and it's against the rules of the Apothecary Guild." Nora chewed on her lip.
Martel's dream of becoming a rich apothecary at school died as quickly as it had been born. But he could still use more of the salve; he had emptied the small jar yesterday, and he knew not all of the children had been present. "What if I bring you the ingredients? Could you make it for me? I can't afford seventeen silver pieces, but I have some friends that have need of it."
Nora stood, wavering. "I suppose this one time wouldn't hurt. But I can't promise it will be as good as Mistress Rana's. I have only made it a handful of times."
"My friends aren't picky. You should see them eat." Martel smiled.
Martel thought back on the fight in the basement against the Tyrian berserker and his henchmen. He had been able to summon a stream of fire against the first bandit, but not the second. Master Alastair's words held some wisdom, he had to admit.
"This does remind me, I forgot to ask. Did you ever learn your star sign?"
"Oh, I did. I was born under Glund."
"Ah, I see. I'm a man of Malac myself." Alastair smiled.
"Does it make a big difference for our magic? How the stars shine and all."
His teacher shrugged. "Perhaps it does to those who are new to magic, or whose power is volatile and susceptible to influence and fluctuations. But that is why we learn control. To set ourselves above."
~
Once his tasks and lessons were done, Martel went to market. He had Nora's list of ingredients for the salve and his few remaining coins in his pocket. Normalcy had returned to Morcaster for now, and he saw no signs of unrest. Trade had resumed, and the vendors were eager to make up for lost days of sale.
Making his way through his list, Martel noticed something new. Here and there, he caught glimpses of children observing him. Of course, there had always been lots of children at the marketplace, but he had never paid them much attention before. Now he was much more aware. And he saw them watching or even following him around, from a distance. He wondered if they were part of Weasel's crew, or if word had spread. After all, Morcaster had lots of children in need.
He had nearly finished his purchases when a beggar approached. "Pennies for the poor," cried the man, wearing rags and with one eye covered. "Spare a copper for an old and broken soldier, unable to serve his emperor anymore."
"Sorry," Martel mumbled, "I got no money left." It was even true; he needed his last few pennies to finish his list.
"No harm, good master, no harm. Sol bless you." The beggar extended his hands and took hold of Martel's.
A shock ran through the novice. It felt like death itself had grabbed his hand as an icy chill pressed against his skin. He staggered backwards and quickly walked away.
Left behind, the beggar looked down at the gold coin hidden in the palm of his hand.
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Chapter 47: A Cold Touch
A Cold Touch
Martel woke refreshed after a solid night's sleep, feeling good about himself. He had witnessed an injustice and used his power to correct it. Even his weak skills in magic had been enough to handle that thug and scare him off. He could only dream of what he might accomplish once his powers grew further.
In the apothecary, only Nora was present like yesterday. She greeted him and gave him some quick instructions on his work for the bell.
"Hey, I have a question for you," Martel said as he picked and dried the seeds from bellthorns.
"Yes?"
"You make that salve for bruises, which the mageknights use. Is that a complicated bit of alchemy?"
Nora laughed. "Not at all, it's an apothecary remedy. Just a few simple ingredients. Think you can probably get them all cheap at the market. Mash them together, add a bit of time, and you got yourself a nice, thick paste. We wouldn't sell it for seventeen pieces a jar if it required more."
"Right, that makes sense." Martel hesitated. "Could you show me how to make it?"Ñøv€l-B1n was the first platform to present this chapter.
"I'm not sure Mistress Rana wants me teaching you anything other than what she says. Plus, we are not allowed to use any of the ingredients here for our own purpose."
"There can't be any harm in me learning something so simple, right? What if I buy all the ingredients? You said I could get them from the market." Martel felt a little uncomfortable pressing her, but the thought of learning something so useful ignited him. Besides helping people, if he could make and sell this ointment for seventeen silvers a jar to mageknights and others with money, he would not have need of other work.
"I'm not sure. Mistress Rana doesn't just let us make these things. She doesn't want us running our own little apothecary, making our own stuff and selling it around. Someone might get hurt, and it's against the rules of the Apothecary Guild." Nora chewed on her lip.
Martel's dream of becoming a rich apothecary at school died as quickly as it had been born. But he could still use more of the salve; he had emptied the small jar yesterday, and he knew not all of the children had been present. "What if I bring you the ingredients? Could you make it for me? I can't afford seventeen silver pieces, but I have some friends that have need of it."
Nora stood, wavering. "I suppose this one time wouldn't hurt. But I can't promise it will be as good as Mistress Rana's. I have only made it a handful of times."
"My friends aren't picky. You should see them eat." Martel smiled.
Martel thought back on the fight in the basement against the Tyrian berserker and his henchmen. He had been able to summon a stream of fire against the first bandit, but not the second. Master Alastair's words held some wisdom, he had to admit.
"This does remind me, I forgot to ask. Did you ever learn your star sign?"
"Oh, I did. I was born under Glund."
"Ah, I see. I'm a man of Malac myself." Alastair smiled.
"Does it make a big difference for our magic? How the stars shine and all."
His teacher shrugged. "Perhaps it does to those who are new to magic, or whose power is volatile and susceptible to influence and fluctuations. But that is why we learn control. To set ourselves above."
~
Once his tasks and lessons were done, Martel went to market. He had Nora's list of ingredients for the salve and his few remaining coins in his pocket. Normalcy had returned to Morcaster for now, and he saw no signs of unrest. Trade had resumed, and the vendors were eager to make up for lost days of sale.
Making his way through his list, Martel noticed something new. Here and there, he caught glimpses of children observing him. Of course, there had always been lots of children at the marketplace, but he had never paid them much attention before. Now he was much more aware. And he saw them watching or even following him around, from a distance. He wondered if they were part of Weasel's crew, or if word had spread. After all, Morcaster had lots of children in need.
He had nearly finished his purchases when a beggar approached. "Pennies for the poor," cried the man, wearing rags and with one eye covered. "Spare a copper for an old and broken soldier, unable to serve his emperor anymore."
"Sorry," Martel mumbled, "I got no money left." It was even true; he needed his last few pennies to finish his list.
"No harm, good master, no harm. Sol bless you." The beggar extended his hands and took hold of Martel's.
A shock ran through the novice. It felt like death itself had grabbed his hand as an icy chill pressed against his skin. He staggered backwards and quickly walked away.
Left behind, the beggar looked down at the gold coin hidden in the palm of his hand.
Chapter 47: A Cold TouchA Cold TouchMartel woke refreshed after a solid night's sleep, feeling good about himself. He had witnessed an injustice and used his power to correct it. Even his weak skills in magic had been enough to handle that thug and scare him off. He could only dream of what he might accomplish once his powers grew further.In the apothecary, only Nora was present like yesterday. She greeted him and gave him some quick instructions on his work for the bell."Hey, I have a question for you," Martel said as he picked and dried the seeds from bellthorns."Yes?""You make that salve for bruises, which the mageknights use. Is that a complicated bit of alchemy?"Nora laughed. "Not at all, it's an apothecary remedy. Just a few simple ingredients. Think you can probably get them all cheap at the market. Mash them together, add a bit of time, and you got yourself a nice, thick paste. We wouldn't sell it for seventeen pieces a jar if it required more.""Right, that makes sense." Martel hesitated. "Could you show me how to make it?"Nvl-B1n was the first platform to present this chapter."I'm not sure Mistress Rana wants me teaching you anything other than what she says. Plus, we are not allowed to use any of the ingredients here for our own purpose.""There can't be any harm in me learning something so simple, right? What if I buy all the ingredients? You said I could get them from the market." Martel felt a little uncomfortable pressing her, but the thought of learning something so useful ignited him. Besides helping people, if he could make and sell this ointment for seventeen silvers a jar to mageknights and others with money, he would not have need of other work."I'm not sure. Mistress Rana doesn't just let us make these things. She doesn't want us running our own little apothecary, making our own stuff and selling it around. Someone might get hurt, and it's against the rules of the Apothecary Guild." Nora chewed on her lip.Martel's dream of becoming a rich apothecary at school died as quickly as it had been born. But he could still use more of the salve; he had emptied the small jar yesterday, and he knew not all of the children had been present. "What if I bring you the ingredients? Could you make it for me? I can't afford seventeen silver pieces, but I have some friends that have need of it."Nora stood, wavering. "I suppose this one time wouldn't hurt. But I can't promise it will be as good as Mistress Rana's. I have only made it a handful of times.""My friends aren't picky. You should see them eat." Martel smiled.Martel thought back on the fight in the basement against the Tyrian berserker and his henchmen. He had been able to summon a stream of fire against the first bandit, but not the second. Master Alastair's words held some wisdom, he had to admit."This does remind me, I forgot to ask. Did you ever learn your star sign?""Oh, I did. I was born under Glund.""Ah, I see. I'm a man of Malac myself." Alastair smiled."Does it make a big difference for our magic? How the stars shine and all."His teacher shrugged. "Perhaps it does to those who are new to magic, or whose power is volatile and susceptible to influence and fluctuations. But that is why we learn control. To set ourselves above."~Once his tasks and lessons were done, Martel went to market. He had Nora's list of ingredients for the salve and his few remaining coins in his pocket. Normalcy had returned to Morcaster for now, and he saw no signs of unrest. Trade had resumed, and the vendors were eager to make up for lost days of sale.Making his way through his list, Martel noticed something new. Here and there, he caught glimpses of children observing him. Of course, there had always been lots of children at the marketplace, but he had never paid them much attention before. Now he was much more aware. And he saw them watching or even following him around, from a distance. He wondered if they were part of Weasel's crew, or if word had spread. After all, Morcaster had lots of children in need.He had nearly finished his purchases when a beggar approached. "Pennies for the poor," cried the man, wearing rags and with one eye covered. "Spare a copper for an old and broken soldier, unable to serve his emperor anymore.""Sorry," Martel mumbled, "I got no money left." It was even true; he needed his last few pennies to finish his list."No harm, good master, no harm. Sol bless you." The beggar extended his hands and took hold of Martel's.A shock ran through the novice. It felt like death itself had grabbed his hand as an icy chill pressed against his skin. He staggered backwards and quickly walked away.Left behind, the beggar looked down at the gold coin hidden in the palm of his hand.
