Chapter 487: Rolling up Sleeves
If audio player doesn't work, press Stop then Play button again
Chapter 487: Rolling up Sleeves
Rolling up Sleeves
A fiveday after the quarantine began, Martel made his way through the city with a great bundle on his back. The mood felt subdued on the streets, even if the pestilence had been contained to the copper lanes; perhaps it was merely the effect of winter suppressing trade and traffic, but it felt to Martel as if the city lay dormant, or perhaps holding its breath.
Martel walked straight south until he had passed halfway through the harbour district before turning right. Soon after, he could see the gate that separated the copper lanes from the rest of the city; it was not made of solid wood like the outer gates, but rather it was built like a fence to keep animals inside their pasture. On a small pillar on either side, a lightstone lay to keep the place illuminated even at night.
Ten soldiers stood guard, mostly pulling their cloaks around themselves to shield against the howling wind. Furthermore, they had made a station out of a nearby house, so additional patrols constantly came and left. Martel approached, but when he was still a small distance away, he made his final turn to enter a small warehouse.
Inside, he saw the same sight as the dining hall of the Lyceum last fiveday, before operations had been moved here to be closer to the copper lanes. Long tables filled with ingredients and remedies, along with apothecaries turning the former into the latter. A handful of alchemists were also at work; some of them used Asterian methods, while two others practised the Sindhian manner.
Approaching Mistress Rana, Martel carefully placed his big bundle on the table by her fireplace, where a potion happily bubbled. "Everything on your list, mistress," he said as she turned towards him. "As for the apothecary, supplies will last to the end of the month, maybe a few more days."
"The infirmary will have to get it from elsewhere," the alchemist muttered. "Nora and I will not be back before that, by the looks of it."
"Is it bad in there?"
"I wouldn't know. I'm going in for the first time tomorrow, bringing in the fruit of our work and explaining to all these monks and nuns how to use it – and just as importantly, when it would be a waste to use it." She picked up an empty vial, waiting to be filled with life-giving elixir. "If they waste a single one of these, I'll tan their hides."
"How many do you think you'll need?" Martel asked.
"Far more than we can ever make," Mistress Rana admitted. "For everyone we can expect to get sick, we'll have potions for less than one in a hundred. Even if some of them can be saved by – other means," she remarked with a glance at the Asterians at work in the warehouse, "most will have to simply get well on their own. These cures will be for those who have no hope otherwise, yet aren't so close to death's door that even a potion is too late." She sighed. "A difficult distinction to make. Hence my trip tomorrow."
"Is it safe? I mean, for you?" Martel did not wish to imagine the implications if Mistress Rana became sick.
"I would like to be excused from all classes, so I might stay by the harbour permanently, just like Mistress Rana and her apprentice."
"In less than two months, you will be examined on your abilities as a battlemage. If you do not pass, you will be thrown out and made to pay the entire cost of your education. It seems unwise for you to disrupt your studies at this point."
"I have learned nearly all that I can. I'm as good a fighter as I'll be – at least, a few lessons in combat once a fiveday won't make a difference with that. And I think it's better I spend my time helping at the docks than assisting here in the workshops. Lastly, I'm by far the best of all the fire acolytes. If I can't pass this examination, none of them can."
The overseer gave him a long look. "I can agree that you will be excused from your various duties at the Lyceum – except for lessons in fire magic. That gives you three days out of five that you may assist at the docks."
This was not ideal; it meant Martel still had to run back and forth on some days. But he suffered no illusions that arguing or badgering Mistress Juliana would accomplish anything; he accepted the compromise. "Thank you."
"I am simply glad to know that you are spending your spare time more wisely than you have in the past."
Martel let the remark go unanswered.
***
Carrying another bundle to the harbour, this time containing his personal belongings, Martel returned to the warehouse. He found Mistress Rana and Nora still at work, though they paused seeing him at this late hour.
"I'll have to be at the Lyceum on some days," he began to explain, "but the remaining days, I can be here. It seemed expedient to sleep here."
"You can leave your things over there, by our sleeping corner," Mistress Rana told him. "And you may use that space over there for working."
"Understood." Martel received a tired smile from Nora as he walked by, depositing his bundle before returning to start brewing.
Please report us if you find any errors so we can fix it asap!
Chapter 487: Rolling up Sleeves
Rolling up Sleeves
A fiveday after the quarantine began, Martel made his way through the city with a great bundle on his back. The mood felt subdued on the streets, even if the pestilence had been contained to the copper lanes; perhaps it was merely the effect of winter suppressing trade and traffic, but it felt to Martel as if the city lay dormant, or perhaps holding its breath.
Martel walked straight south until he had passed halfway through the harbour district before turning right. Soon after, he could see the gate that separated the copper lanes from the rest of the city; it was not made of solid wood like the outer gates, but rather it was built like a fence to keep animals inside their pasture. On a small pillar on either side, a lightstone lay to keep the place illuminated even at night.
Ten soldiers stood guard, mostly pulling their cloaks around themselves to shield against the howling wind. Furthermore, they had made a station out of a nearby house, so additional patrols constantly came and left. Martel approached, but when he was still a small distance away, he made his final turn to enter a small warehouse.
Inside, he saw the same sight as the dining hall of the Lyceum last fiveday, before operations had been moved here to be closer to the copper lanes. Long tables filled with ingredients and remedies, along with apothecaries turning the former into the latter. A handful of alchemists were also at work; some of them used Asterian methods, while two others practised the Sindhian manner.
Approaching Mistress Rana, Martel carefully placed his big bundle on the table by her fireplace, where a potion happily bubbled. "Everything on your list, mistress," he said as she turned towards him. "As for the apothecary, supplies will last to the end of the month, maybe a few more days."
"The infirmary will have to get it from elsewhere," the alchemist muttered. "Nora and I will not be back before that, by the looks of it."
"Is it bad in there?"
"I wouldn't know. I'm going in for the first time tomorrow, bringing in the fruit of our work and explaining to all these monks and nuns how to use it – and just as importantly, when it would be a waste to use it." She picked up an empty vial, waiting to be filled with life-giving elixir. "If they waste a single one of these, I'll tan their hides."
"How many do you think you'll need?" Martel asked.
"Far more than we can ever make," Mistress Rana admitted. "For everyone we can expect to get sick, we'll have potions for less than one in a hundred. Even if some of them can be saved by – other means," she remarked with a glance at the Asterians at work in the warehouse, "most will have to simply get well on their own. These cures will be for those who have no hope otherwise, yet aren't so close to death's door that even a potion is too late." She sighed. "A difficult distinction to make. Hence my trip tomorrow."
"Is it safe? I mean, for you?" Martel did not wish to imagine the implications if Mistress Rana became sick.
"I would like to be excused from all classes, so I might stay by the harbour permanently, just like Mistress Rana and her apprentice."
"In less than two months, you will be examined on your abilities as a battlemage. If you do not pass, you will be thrown out and made to pay the entire cost of your education. It seems unwise for you to disrupt your studies at this point."
"I have learned nearly all that I can. I'm as good a fighter as I'll be – at least, a few lessons in combat once a fiveday won't make a difference with that. And I think it's better I spend my time helping at the docks than assisting here in the workshops. Lastly, I'm by far the best of all the fire acolytes. If I can't pass this examination, none of them can."
The overseer gave him a long look. "I can agree that you will be excused from your various duties at the Lyceum – except for lessons in fire magic. That gives you three days out of five that you may assist at the docks."
This was not ideal; it meant Martel still had to run back and forth on some days. But he suffered no illusions that arguing or badgering Mistress Juliana would accomplish anything; he accepted the compromise. "Thank you."
"I am simply glad to know that you are spending your spare time more wisely than you have in the past."
Martel let the remark go unanswered.
***
Carrying another bundle to the harbour, this time containing his personal belongings, Martel returned to the warehouse. He found Mistress Rana and Nora still at work, though they paused seeing him at this late hour.
"I'll have to be at the Lyceum on some days," he began to explain, "but the remaining days, I can be here. It seemed expedient to sleep here."
"You can leave your things over there, by our sleeping corner," Mistress Rana told him. "And you may use that space over there for working."
"Understood." Martel received a tired smile from Nora as he walked by, depositing his bundle before returning to start brewing.
Chapter 487: Rolling up SleevesRolling up SleevesA fiveday after the quarantine began, Martel made his way through the city with a great bundle on his back. The mood felt subdued on the streets, even if the pestilence had been contained to the copper lanes; perhaps it was merely the effect of winter suppressing trade and traffic, but it felt to Martel as if the city lay dormant, or perhaps holding its breath.Martel walked straight south until he had passed halfway through the harbour district before turning right. Soon after, he could see the gate that separated the copper lanes from the rest of the city; it was not made of solid wood like the outer gates, but rather it was built like a fence to keep animals inside their pasture. On a small pillar on either side, a lightstone lay to keep the place illuminated even at night.Ten soldiers stood guard, mostly pulling their cloaks around themselves to shield against the howling wind. Furthermore, they had made a station out of a nearby house, so additional patrols constantly came and left. Martel approached, but when he was still a small distance away, he made his final turn to enter a small warehouse.Inside, he saw the same sight as the dining hall of the Lyceum last fiveday, before operations had been moved here to be closer to the copper lanes. Long tables filled with ingredients and remedies, along with apothecaries turning the former into the latter. A handful of alchemists were also at work; some of them used Asterian methods, while two others practised the Sindhian manner.Approaching Mistress Rana, Martel carefully placed his big bundle on the table by her fireplace, where a potion happily bubbled. "Everything on your list, mistress," he said as she turned towards him. "As for the apothecary, supplies will last to the end of the month, maybe a few more days.""The infirmary will have to get it from elsewhere," the alchemist muttered. "Nora and I will not be back before that, by the looks of it.""Is it bad in there?""I wouldn't know. I'm going in for the first time tomorrow, bringing in the fruit of our work and explaining to all these monks and nuns how to use it and just as importantly, when it would be a waste to use it." She picked up an empty vial, waiting to be filled with life-giving elixir. "If they waste a single one of these, I'll tan their hides.""How many do you think you'll need?" Martel asked."Far more than we can ever make," Mistress Rana admitted. "For everyone we can expect to get sick, we'll have potions for less than one in a hundred. Even if some of them can be saved by other means," she remarked with a glance at the Asterians at work in the warehouse, "most will have to simply get well on their own. These cures will be for those who have no hope otherwise, yet aren't so close to death's door that even a potion is too late." She sighed. "A difficult distinction to make. Hence my trip tomorrow.""Is it safe? I mean, for you?" Martel did not wish to imagine the implications if Mistress Rana became sick."I would like to be excused from all classes, so I might stay by the harbour permanently, just like Mistress Rana and her apprentice.""In less than two months, you will be examined on your abilities as a battlemage. If you do not pass, you will be thrown out and made to pay the entire cost of your education. It seems unwise for you to disrupt your studies at this point.""I have learned nearly all that I can. I'm as good a fighter as I'll be at least, a few lessons in combat once a fiveday won't make a difference with that. And I think it's better I spend my time helping at the docks than assisting here in the workshops. Lastly, I'm by far the best of all the fire acolytes. If I can't pass this examination, none of them can."The overseer gave him a long look. "I can agree that you will be excused from your various duties at the Lyceum except for lessons in fire magic. That gives you three days out of five that you may assist at the docks."This was not ideal; it meant Martel still had to run back and forth on some days. But he suffered no illusions that arguing or badgering Mistress Juliana would accomplish anything; he accepted the compromise. "Thank you.""I am simply glad to know that you are spending your spare time more wisely than you have in the past."Martel let the remark go unanswered.***Carrying another bundle to the harbour, this time containing his personal belongings, Martel returned to the warehouse. He found Mistress Rana and Nora still at work, though they paused seeing him at this late hour."I'll have to be at the Lyceum on some days," he began to explain, "but the remaining days, I can be here. It seemed expedient to sleep here.""You can leave your things over there, by our sleeping corner," Mistress Rana told him. "And you may use that space over there for working.""Understood." Martel received a tired smile from Nora as he walked by, depositing his bundle before returning to start brewing.
