Chapter 520: Making Friends
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Chapter 520: Making Friends
Making Friends
The next morning followed what Martel figured would become the established pattern, cooking breakfast with Eleanor before a training session. When they had been at it a long while, Martel wiped the sweat from his brow and looked inside his tent. "That's nearly an hour. That has to be enough," he declared.
Eleanor frowned. "How can you know? Wait, did you bring your Khivan clock to the camp?" She spoke the offending word quietly.
"Of course! It's the most valuable thing I own," Martel pointed out.
She simply shook her head, muttering to herself as she disappeared back into her tent. Martel went to his own, washing himself and changing clothes.
"See you later," he shouted in the direction of Eleanor's dwelling as he left again; with a full pouch hanging by his belt, today was a day for visitations.
***
Martel chose the closest location first, making his way to the camp prefect's tent. Robert was at work by his desk with a pile of documents and parchment. Long lists and columns, detailing the minutiae of the legion's supplies, personnel, and everything else he had to keep track of. He looked up as Martel entered. "Prefect. What brings you here?"
Martel pulled out a lightstone from his pouch. It easily illuminated the tent far better than the pale morning sun could. "I thought you might have use of this. No need to refill oil on your lamp, or concern about a fire breaking out."
"I'd never be so careless," Robert declared, even as he reached out a hand to accept the gift.This essence is securely nested within the heart of Nøv€lß¡n★
"Well, it certainly smells better than lamps or candles."
"I don't smell anything."
"Exactly."
"Alright, well, thank you. But if you need something from me, gifts aren't required. They're not even useful. My decision will be whether your request is within the regulations or not."
Martel raised his hands in front of himself in a show of innocence. "I have no requests, prefect. This was a simple thing for me to make, and I thought it might make your evenings a little easier. We're all on the same side here, after all."
"I suppose that's true enough." Although frowning, Robert placed the lightstone on his desk, still looking at it.
"A blessed day to you, prefect," Martel told him and left.
***
Headed into town, Martel found Henry's home with little difficulty. After knocking, he waited only briefly until Henry opened the door. "Master Martel," he spoke with a glint in his eyes. "Please, enter my humble residence."
Martel did so, entering a room furnished with a thick carpet, a dining table, and several chairs. A small writing desk stood to the side, and a chest filled the remaining available space. A closed door led to the remaining rooms, including a kitchen and bedroom, presumably. "You may call it 'humble', but it's quite a step up from my tent."
Henry chortled. "One reason I'm glad to be a civilian. Even if I'm attached the legion, I'm afforded some privileges you'll have to do without." He gestured for Martel to take a seat.
"You've built the walls, right?" Martel asked, sitting down.
"Not those surrounding Esmouth. They're from before my time," the stonemage explained as he dug out two cups. "I've simply repaired them as need be. But the wall around the camp, aye, that's me." He left the room briefly and returned with two jars, using one to pour wine into Martel's cup. "I'll let you decide how strong you want it."
Josephine received it, giving it a long look before gazing at him again. "What have I done to deserve such an honour?"
What she really meant was, what did Martel want in return, and he decided to speak plainly. "I want information."
She frowned briefly before hiding her reaction. "Here I thought you intended to barter stone for flesh."
Martel shook his head. "I have no interest in such services, but I assume that every soldier does, high or low. And I know how talkative a man might get once his head touches a pillow. In return for this stone and more of its brethren, enough to fill all your rooms, I only ask that you inform me of anything worthwhile relating."
"I knew a battlemage once. She was a good customer, except for when she got mad and burned the place down. I can't imagine her strolling in here, offering such a trade."
"I'm not your typical wizard clad in red," Martel replied. "Do we have an understanding? If you enlighten me about the events and people of the camp, I shall enlighten your home."
"We understand each other."
***
After a day of striking up friendships, Martel returned to camp for his evening meal. This time, Eleanor had beaten him to it; water boiled in a pot in preparation for soup.
Seeing Martel's pointed glance, Eleanor gave him a look. "I do know how to start a fire without your help."
"Of course. How did your efforts go?"
"Well, the fortifications are solid. No obvious weaknesses, a tower at each corner, and there is obviously only the one gate to defend. The surrounding hills do limit visibility, but at least they have cut down all trees within a hundred feet or more," Eleanor explained. "The real weakness is that we are on the eastern bank, of course, and the wooden bridge would be easy to destroy, cutting us off from the town. We are easy to isolate."
"I see."
"Weapon stores are full, at least, and plenty of arrows. But I did feel a touch of concern walking around camp."
"Why's that?"
Eleanor stirred a ladle around the pot. "Lots of soldiers with day-old stubble or equipment in need of attention. If this was a remote or irrelevant outpost, I would assume lax discipline. But given the clear danger from the Khivans and the importance of this position, I worry that it is something more insidious."
"Well, don't keep me in suspense."
"Weariness. Exhausted morale. Plenty of empty tents, which means the legion is not at full strength, which in turn indicates a general lack of reinforcements. The soldiers are worn down, by my guess."
"Lots of new recruits came with us on the Red Emerald," Martel pointed out.
"Half a centuria's worth. A full cohort would not be enough," Eleanor retorted.
"Well, I'm glad you're keeping track of all that. You have a mind for military matters, unlike me."
"What about you?" she asked. "How did all your errands go?"
He smiled. "I made a friend or two."
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Chapter 520: Making Friends
Making Friends
The next morning followed what Martel figured would become the established pattern, cooking breakfast with Eleanor before a training session. When they had been at it a long while, Martel wiped the sweat from his brow and looked inside his tent. "That's nearly an hour. That has to be enough," he declared.
Eleanor frowned. "How can you know? Wait, did you bring your Khivan clock to the camp?" She spoke the offending word quietly.
"Of course! It's the most valuable thing I own," Martel pointed out.
She simply shook her head, muttering to herself as she disappeared back into her tent. Martel went to his own, washing himself and changing clothes.
"See you later," he shouted in the direction of Eleanor's dwelling as he left again; with a full pouch hanging by his belt, today was a day for visitations.
***
Martel chose the closest location first, making his way to the camp prefect's tent. Robert was at work by his desk with a pile of documents and parchment. Long lists and columns, detailing the minutiae of the legion's supplies, personnel, and everything else he had to keep track of. He looked up as Martel entered. "Prefect. What brings you here?"
Martel pulled out a lightstone from his pouch. It easily illuminated the tent far better than the pale morning sun could. "I thought you might have use of this. No need to refill oil on your lamp, or concern about a fire breaking out."
"I'd never be so careless," Robert declared, even as he reached out a hand to accept the gift.This essence is securely nested within the heart of Nøv€lß¡n★
"Well, it certainly smells better than lamps or candles."
"I don't smell anything."
"Exactly."
"Alright, well, thank you. But if you need something from me, gifts aren't required. They're not even useful. My decision will be whether your request is within the regulations or not."
Martel raised his hands in front of himself in a show of innocence. "I have no requests, prefect. This was a simple thing for me to make, and I thought it might make your evenings a little easier. We're all on the same side here, after all."
"I suppose that's true enough." Although frowning, Robert placed the lightstone on his desk, still looking at it.
"A blessed day to you, prefect," Martel told him and left.
***
Headed into town, Martel found Henry's home with little difficulty. After knocking, he waited only briefly until Henry opened the door. "Master Martel," he spoke with a glint in his eyes. "Please, enter my humble residence."
Martel did so, entering a room furnished with a thick carpet, a dining table, and several chairs. A small writing desk stood to the side, and a chest filled the remaining available space. A closed door led to the remaining rooms, including a kitchen and bedroom, presumably. "You may call it 'humble', but it's quite a step up from my tent."
Henry chortled. "One reason I'm glad to be a civilian. Even if I'm attached the legion, I'm afforded some privileges you'll have to do without." He gestured for Martel to take a seat.
"You've built the walls, right?" Martel asked, sitting down.
"Not those surrounding Esmouth. They're from before my time," the stonemage explained as he dug out two cups. "I've simply repaired them as need be. But the wall around the camp, aye, that's me." He left the room briefly and returned with two jars, using one to pour wine into Martel's cup. "I'll let you decide how strong you want it."
Josephine received it, giving it a long look before gazing at him again. "What have I done to deserve such an honour?"
What she really meant was, what did Martel want in return, and he decided to speak plainly. "I want information."
She frowned briefly before hiding her reaction. "Here I thought you intended to barter stone for flesh."
Martel shook his head. "I have no interest in such services, but I assume that every soldier does, high or low. And I know how talkative a man might get once his head touches a pillow. In return for this stone and more of its brethren, enough to fill all your rooms, I only ask that you inform me of anything worthwhile relating."
"I knew a battlemage once. She was a good customer, except for when she got mad and burned the place down. I can't imagine her strolling in here, offering such a trade."
"I'm not your typical wizard clad in red," Martel replied. "Do we have an understanding? If you enlighten me about the events and people of the camp, I shall enlighten your home."
"We understand each other."
***
After a day of striking up friendships, Martel returned to camp for his evening meal. This time, Eleanor had beaten him to it; water boiled in a pot in preparation for soup.
Seeing Martel's pointed glance, Eleanor gave him a look. "I do know how to start a fire without your help."
"Of course. How did your efforts go?"
"Well, the fortifications are solid. No obvious weaknesses, a tower at each corner, and there is obviously only the one gate to defend. The surrounding hills do limit visibility, but at least they have cut down all trees within a hundred feet or more," Eleanor explained. "The real weakness is that we are on the eastern bank, of course, and the wooden bridge would be easy to destroy, cutting us off from the town. We are easy to isolate."
"I see."
"Weapon stores are full, at least, and plenty of arrows. But I did feel a touch of concern walking around camp."
"Why's that?"
Eleanor stirred a ladle around the pot. "Lots of soldiers with day-old stubble or equipment in need of attention. If this was a remote or irrelevant outpost, I would assume lax discipline. But given the clear danger from the Khivans and the importance of this position, I worry that it is something more insidious."
"Well, don't keep me in suspense."
"Weariness. Exhausted morale. Plenty of empty tents, which means the legion is not at full strength, which in turn indicates a general lack of reinforcements. The soldiers are worn down, by my guess."
"Lots of new recruits came with us on the Red Emerald," Martel pointed out.
"Half a centuria's worth. A full cohort would not be enough," Eleanor retorted.
"Well, I'm glad you're keeping track of all that. You have a mind for military matters, unlike me."
"What about you?" she asked. "How did all your errands go?"
He smiled. "I made a friend or two."
Chapter 520: Making FriendsMaking FriendsThe next morning followed what Martel figured would become the established pattern, cooking breakfast with Eleanor before a training session. When they had been at it a long while, Martel wiped the sweat from his brow and looked inside his tent. "That's nearly an hour. That has to be enough," he declared.Eleanor frowned. "How can you know? Wait, did you bring your Khivan clock to the camp?" She spoke the offending word quietly."Of course! It's the most valuable thing I own," Martel pointed out.She simply shook her head, muttering to herself as she disappeared back into her tent. Martel went to his own, washing himself and changing clothes."See you later," he shouted in the direction of Eleanor's dwelling as he left again; with a full pouch hanging by his belt, today was a day for visitations.***Martel chose the closest location first, making his way to the camp prefect's tent. Robert was at work by his desk with a pile of documents and parchment. Long lists and columns, detailing the minutiae of the legion's supplies, personnel, and everything else he had to keep track of. He looked up as Martel entered. "Prefect. What brings you here?"Martel pulled out a lightstone from his pouch. It easily illuminated the tent far better than the pale morning sun could. "I thought you might have use of this. No need to refill oil on your lamp, or concern about a fire breaking out.""I'd never be so careless," Robert declared, even as he reached out a hand to accept the gift.This essence is securely nested within the heart of Nvln"Well, it certainly smells better than lamps or candles.""I don't smell anything.""Exactly.""Alright, well, thank you. But if you need something from me, gifts aren't required. They're not even useful. My decision will be whether your request is within the regulations or not."Martel raised his hands in front of himself in a show of innocence. "I have no requests, prefect. This was a simple thing for me to make, and I thought it might make your evenings a little easier. We're all on the same side here, after all.""I suppose that's true enough." Although frowning, Robert placed the lightstone on his desk, still looking at it."A blessed day to you, prefect," Martel told him and left.***Headed into town, Martel found Henry's home with little difficulty. After knocking, he waited only briefly until Henry opened the door. "Master Martel," he spoke with a glint in his eyes. "Please, enter my humble residence."Martel did so, entering a room furnished with a thick carpet, a dining table, and several chairs. A small writing desk stood to the side, and a chest filled the remaining available space. A closed door led to the remaining rooms, including a kitchen and bedroom, presumably. "You may call it 'humble', but it's quite a step up from my tent."Henry chortled. "One reason I'm glad to be a civilian. Even if I'm attached the legion, I'm afforded some privileges you'll have to do without." He gestured for Martel to take a seat."You've built the walls, right?" Martel asked, sitting down."Not those surrounding Esmouth. They're from before my time," the stonemage explained as he dug out two cups. "I've simply repaired them as need be. But the wall around the camp, aye, that's me." He left the room briefly and returned with two jars, using one to pour wine into Martel's cup. "I'll let you decide how strong you want it."Josephine received it, giving it a long look before gazing at him again. "What have I done to deserve such an honour?"What she really meant was, what did Martel want in return, and he decided to speak plainly. "I want information."She frowned briefly before hiding her reaction. "Here I thought you intended to barter stone for flesh."Martel shook his head. "I have no interest in such services, but I assume that every soldier does, high or low. And I know how talkative a man might get once his head touches a pillow. In return for this stone and more of its brethren, enough to fill all your rooms, I only ask that you inform me of anything worthwhile relating.""I knew a battlemage once. She was a good customer, except for when she got mad and burned the place down. I can't imagine her strolling in here, offering such a trade.""I'm not your typical wizard clad in red," Martel replied. "Do we have an understanding? If you enlighten me about the events and people of the camp, I shall enlighten your home.""We understand each other."***After a day of striking up friendships, Martel returned to camp for his evening meal. This time, Eleanor had beaten him to it; water boiled in a pot in preparation for soup.Seeing Martel's pointed glance, Eleanor gave him a look. "I do know how to start a fire without your help.""Of course. How did your efforts go?""Well, the fortifications are solid. No obvious weaknesses, a tower at each corner, and there is obviously only the one gate to defend. The surrounding hills do limit visibility, but at least they have cut down all trees within a hundred feet or more," Eleanor explained. "The real weakness is that we are on the eastern bank, of course, and the wooden bridge would be easy to destroy, cutting us off from the town. We are easy to isolate.""I see.""Weapon stores are full, at least, and plenty of arrows. But I did feel a touch of concern walking around camp.""Why's that?"Eleanor stirred a ladle around the pot. "Lots of soldiers with day-old stubble or equipment in need of attention. If this was a remote or irrelevant outpost, I would assume lax discipline. But given the clear danger from the Khivans and the importance of this position, I worry that it is something more insidious.""Well, don't keep me in suspense.""Weariness. Exhausted morale. Plenty of empty tents, which means the legion is not at full strength, which in turn indicates a general lack of reinforcements. The soldiers are worn down, by my guess.""Lots of new recruits came with us on the Red Emerald," Martel pointed out."Half a centuria's worth. A full cohort would not be enough," Eleanor retorted."Well, I'm glad you're keeping track of all that. You have a mind for military matters, unlike me.""What about you?" she asked. "How did all your errands go?"He smiled. "I made a friend or two."
