Chapter 484: Meal Conversations with Friends
If audio player doesn't work, press Stop then Play button again
Chapter 484: Meal Conversations with Friends
Meal Conversations with Friends
With Martel's conscription as an alchemist at an end, nothing prevented him from resuming his regular classes, including those in fire magic. Early in the morning, he stood in the western courtyard and stared at his banner hanging from an upper window. He shivered lightly in the cold; presumably, the others felt it even worse, being born to a warmer climate.
If the cold bothered Moira, she did not allow it to show. She wore a cloak outside her purple robe, but she seemed at ease with the weather, unlike the acolytes keeping their hands inside their sleeves. "Don't wait for my sake," she told them with her usual demeaning tone. "You all know your task."
Martel glanced back at the fabric lightly blowing in the wind, marked by his initial letter. He could attempt a lightning bolt; he knew the spell well enough that it would not make him feel like his insides had been wrung out. The only question was whether he would hit. He had never aimed at anything that far away, and he had little idea how reliable his accuracy would be, and if it decreased the further away he aimed. It would look poor if his spell went through the window and hit a student inside.
Considering that option a last resort, Martel tried the other possibility. He allowed his magic to reach out. It had plenty to tell him, so he had to stay disciplined. Rather than allow it to spread in every direction, like his sense of hearing, he wanted it to behave like his eyesight; focused straight ahead.
Trying to shape it was a weird sensation, like attempting to box in air with his bare hands. He could to some extent direct it in one cardinal direction or another, but it still spread out like a cone in front of him, and the effect dissolved long before it could connect to the wavering fabric hanging out of the window.
Next to him, Harriet shot off a fire bolt that made it little over halfway before turning to nothing. Disdainful laughter could be heard from Moira. Doing his best to ignore everything else, Martel tried again.
***
At dinner, Maximilian graced Martel with his company. "Ah, but you missed a night, Nordmark! Wonderful music, played by this troupe all the way from Anvallum! Plenty of daughters to dance with, even some who would not be scared away by the brusque demeanour of a battlemage."
In his thoughts, Martel compared Maximilian's event with his own yesterday and found it a little difficult to take his words seriously; he avoided articulating this and simply smiled, letting the viscount talk all he wanted.nôvel binz was the first platform to present this chapter.
"And lest you doubt me, I will have it known, your absence was noticed."
Martel struggled to find a good retort, so he resigned himself to a scowl and renewed attention on his meal instead of his friend.
He heard rather than saw the grin on Maximilian's face as the latter spoke. "My father's carriage will pick us up the usual time on Solday."
***
The afternoon passed as the morning, but as Martel sat down for the evening meal, he found himself with a companion once again. This time it was the other half of his circle of friends. "Have you heard?" Eleanor asked.
"If this is about the Imperial palace, I'm not to blame. Maximilian insisted." And while Martel might be willing to disappoint his friend, he did not feel ready to defy the heir to the Empire.
"No, the rumour about the pestilence. I thought maybe with your work in the apothecary, you might know more than others."
"Oh, that. It's already dealt with. I went with Mistress Rana myself to deliver all the cures to the afflicted ship."
"I guess you have not heard," Eleanor considered. "Or maybe it is just a rumour and nothing more."
"Heard what? What do you mean?"
"Pestilence has broken out in the copper lanes. The entire district is being quarantined."
Martel looked at Eleanor, and for the second time today, he found himself at a loss for words.
Please report us if you find any errors so we can fix it asap!
Chapter 484: Meal Conversations with Friends
Meal Conversations with Friends
With Martel's conscription as an alchemist at an end, nothing prevented him from resuming his regular classes, including those in fire magic. Early in the morning, he stood in the western courtyard and stared at his banner hanging from an upper window. He shivered lightly in the cold; presumably, the others felt it even worse, being born to a warmer climate.
If the cold bothered Moira, she did not allow it to show. She wore a cloak outside her purple robe, but she seemed at ease with the weather, unlike the acolytes keeping their hands inside their sleeves. "Don't wait for my sake," she told them with her usual demeaning tone. "You all know your task."
Martel glanced back at the fabric lightly blowing in the wind, marked by his initial letter. He could attempt a lightning bolt; he knew the spell well enough that it would not make him feel like his insides had been wrung out. The only question was whether he would hit. He had never aimed at anything that far away, and he had little idea how reliable his accuracy would be, and if it decreased the further away he aimed. It would look poor if his spell went through the window and hit a student inside.
Considering that option a last resort, Martel tried the other possibility. He allowed his magic to reach out. It had plenty to tell him, so he had to stay disciplined. Rather than allow it to spread in every direction, like his sense of hearing, he wanted it to behave like his eyesight; focused straight ahead.
Trying to shape it was a weird sensation, like attempting to box in air with his bare hands. He could to some extent direct it in one cardinal direction or another, but it still spread out like a cone in front of him, and the effect dissolved long before it could connect to the wavering fabric hanging out of the window.
Next to him, Harriet shot off a fire bolt that made it little over halfway before turning to nothing. Disdainful laughter could be heard from Moira. Doing his best to ignore everything else, Martel tried again.
***
At dinner, Maximilian graced Martel with his company. "Ah, but you missed a night, Nordmark! Wonderful music, played by this troupe all the way from Anvallum! Plenty of daughters to dance with, even some who would not be scared away by the brusque demeanour of a battlemage."
In his thoughts, Martel compared Maximilian's event with his own yesterday and found it a little difficult to take his words seriously; he avoided articulating this and simply smiled, letting the viscount talk all he wanted.nôvel binz was the first platform to present this chapter.
"And lest you doubt me, I will have it known, your absence was noticed."
Martel struggled to find a good retort, so he resigned himself to a scowl and renewed attention on his meal instead of his friend.
He heard rather than saw the grin on Maximilian's face as the latter spoke. "My father's carriage will pick us up the usual time on Solday."
***
The afternoon passed as the morning, but as Martel sat down for the evening meal, he found himself with a companion once again. This time it was the other half of his circle of friends. "Have you heard?" Eleanor asked.
"If this is about the Imperial palace, I'm not to blame. Maximilian insisted." And while Martel might be willing to disappoint his friend, he did not feel ready to defy the heir to the Empire.
"No, the rumour about the pestilence. I thought maybe with your work in the apothecary, you might know more than others."
"Oh, that. It's already dealt with. I went with Mistress Rana myself to deliver all the cures to the afflicted ship."
"I guess you have not heard," Eleanor considered. "Or maybe it is just a rumour and nothing more."
"Heard what? What do you mean?"
"Pestilence has broken out in the copper lanes. The entire district is being quarantined."
Martel looked at Eleanor, and for the second time today, he found himself at a loss for words.
Chapter 484: Meal Conversations with FriendsMeal Conversations with FriendsWith Martel's conscription as an alchemist at an end, nothing prevented him from resuming his regular classes, including those in fire magic. Early in the morning, he stood in the western courtyard and stared at his banner hanging from an upper window. He shivered lightly in the cold; presumably, the others felt it even worse, being born to a warmer climate.If the cold bothered Moira, she did not allow it to show. She wore a cloak outside her purple robe, but she seemed at ease with the weather, unlike the acolytes keeping their hands inside their sleeves. "Don't wait for my sake," she told them with her usual demeaning tone. "You all know your task."Martel glanced back at the fabric lightly blowing in the wind, marked by his initial letter. He could attempt a lightning bolt; he knew the spell well enough that it would not make him feel like his insides had been wrung out. The only question was whether he would hit. He had never aimed at anything that far away, and he had little idea how reliable his accuracy would be, and if it decreased the further away he aimed. It would look poor if his spell went through the window and hit a student inside.Considering that option a last resort, Martel tried the other possibility. He allowed his magic to reach out. It had plenty to tell him, so he had to stay disciplined. Rather than allow it to spread in every direction, like his sense of hearing, he wanted it to behave like his eyesight; focused straight ahead.Trying to shape it was a weird sensation, like attempting to box in air with his bare hands. He could to some extent direct it in one cardinal direction or another, but it still spread out like a cone in front of him, and the effect dissolved long before it could connect to the wavering fabric hanging out of the window.Next to him, Harriet shot off a fire bolt that made it little over halfway before turning to nothing. Disdainful laughter could be heard from Moira. Doing his best to ignore everything else, Martel tried again.***At dinner, Maximilian graced Martel with his company. "Ah, but you missed a night, Nordmark! Wonderful music, played by this troupe all the way from Anvallum! Plenty of daughters to dance with, even some who would not be scared away by the brusque demeanour of a battlemage."In his thoughts, Martel compared Maximilian's event with his own yesterday and found it a little difficult to take his words seriously; he avoided articulating this and simply smiled, letting the viscount talk all he wanted.novel binz was the first platform to present this chapter."And lest you doubt me, I will have it known, your absence was noticed."Martel struggled to find a good retort, so he resigned himself to a scowl and renewed attention on his meal instead of his friend.He heard rather than saw the grin on Maximilian's face as the latter spoke. "My father's carriage will pick us up the usual time on Solday."***The afternoon passed as the morning, but as Martel sat down for the evening meal, he found himself with a companion once again. This time it was the other half of his circle of friends. "Have you heard?" Eleanor asked."If this is about the Imperial palace, I'm not to blame. Maximilian insisted." And while Martel might be willing to disappoint his friend, he did not feel ready to defy the heir to the Empire."No, the rumour about the pestilence. I thought maybe with your work in the apothecary, you might know more than others.""Oh, that. It's already dealt with. I went with Mistress Rana myself to deliver all the cures to the afflicted ship.""I guess you have not heard," Eleanor considered. "Or maybe it is just a rumour and nothing more.""Heard what? What do you mean?""Pestilence has broken out in the copper lanes. The entire district is being quarantined."Martel looked at Eleanor, and for the second time today, he found himself at a loss for words.
