Chapter 521: Beyond the Walls
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Chapter 521: Beyond the Walls
Beyond the Walls
Staff against sword and shield, Martel sparred against Eleanor for an hour in the morning as had become their wont. Their efforts attracted mild attention, mostly from bored soldiers; the novelty of their training sessions had worn off quickly. Accustomed to spectators, Martel did not notice one among them who stood out. As they ceased their exertions and took a step back, the newcomer approached them.
Eleanor snapped to and saluted with her fist against her chest. "Legion prefect," she said, probably mostly for Martel's sake, who mirrored her salute. He glanced at the mageknight who had joined them without trying to be obvious about it. She seemed between fifteen to twenty years older, looking lean, stern, and typically Asterian with brown eyes and dark hair.
"At ease, prefects. I am Sir Lara Chasseur, should my name not be known to you. I do know yours." She glanced from one to the other. "I returned to camp yesterday, and I have been told you have yet to go on any patrols."
"I assume that was on purpose, sir," Eleanor responded. "My charge is too valuable to be used on duties that any legionary could perform."
"Well, if you think that the pair of you can spend the next two decades in camp without being asked to do a single thing, you are sorely mistaken. Your first patrol will be today and once every fiveday henceforth. Report to the camp prefect within the hour for instructions."
"Sir," Eleanor protested. "If the Khivans discover that a battlemage is regularly roaming the countryside with just a few legionaries for company, they will send entire regiments to kill him."
"In that case, should you have any encounters with the enemy, I suggest you allow none to escape. Or do you doubt your own abilities to protect him?"
As strange as it was being the object of their discussion while he was standing right next to them, Martel had kept quiet until he heard the final sentence. "Sir Fontaine is a most capable mageknight," he replied as calmly as he could, "and I can think of none more able to protect me in a fight or lead a patrol."
"Then I will entertain no further objections. You have your orders." Turning on her heel, the legion prefect left.
"I am not sure either of us endeared ourselves to her with this exchange," Eleanor considered, "but I appreciate your words."N♡vεlB¡n: Your Escape into Infinite Tales.
"Come on. Let's see what old Robert can tell us about our task for the day."
***
They were given brown cloaks to replace the bright red that legionaries usually wore, a flask that they could fill in the river, and some rations for the day. After that, the camp prefect directed them to assemble by the legion standard.
"They say you burned the ship to cinders," another soldier chimed in.
"Just the sail. It sank the old-fashioned way with a hole in its hull," Martel explained.
"I knew it! That Khivan alchemy is no match for Asterian magic!"
"Who cares for cannons when we got a battlemage fighting for us!"
A few of the soldiers continued with such merry remarks, but Martel noticed they were in the minority. Most of the legionaries seemed less at ease. Either they wore uncomfortable expressions, looking away, or they stared at Martel with unfriendly demeanours.
"Alright, eat up. Boots back on the ground," the princeps commanded, and they finished their break.
***
Eventually, they made a turn and moved back towards the camp, reaching it in the twilight hours. It had been uneventful; Martel had seen nothing but barren trees and the occasional animal or bird. Given all he had heard about this posting and the Tenth, he had half-expected to be ambushed once out of the sight from the encampment; so far, it seemed peaceful, especially compared to his experiences in Morcaster. Presumably, winter and barren trees did not provide the best opportunity for ambushes.
The patrol broke up once past the gate, and the two wizards moved towards their tents. "I got the feeling they weren't all keen on me," Martel remarked, wondering at Eleanor's impression.
"I would agree with that assessment."
"Is it because they're worried that I'll attract attention from the Khivans?"
"Most likely. It could also be that they are concerned your presence means an attempt at offensive manoeuvres why else would a battlemage be sent here? They are not privy to the real reason you are attached to the Tenth, I imagine."
"Right." Martel took a deep breath. Martel was not sure anything could be done about that; revealing the truth might just make the legionaries shun him for that reason instead. "Want me to start a cooking fire?"
"Only if it is not too much trouble."
Martel ignited the remnants of the firewood from their last meal. "I'll live."
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Chapter 521: Beyond the Walls
Beyond the Walls
Staff against sword and shield, Martel sparred against Eleanor for an hour in the morning as had become their wont. Their efforts attracted mild attention, mostly from bored soldiers; the novelty of their training sessions had worn off quickly. Accustomed to spectators, Martel did not notice one among them who stood out. As they ceased their exertions and took a step back, the newcomer approached them.
Eleanor snapped to and saluted with her fist against her chest. "Legion prefect," she said, probably mostly for Martel's sake, who mirrored her salute. He glanced at the mageknight who had joined them without trying to be obvious about it. She seemed between fifteen to twenty years older, looking lean, stern, and typically Asterian with brown eyes and dark hair.
"At ease, prefects. I am Sir Lara Chasseur, should my name not be known to you. I do know yours." She glanced from one to the other. "I returned to camp yesterday, and I have been told you have yet to go on any patrols."
"I assume that was on purpose, sir," Eleanor responded. "My charge is too valuable to be used on duties that any legionary could perform."
"Well, if you think that the pair of you can spend the next two decades in camp without being asked to do a single thing, you are sorely mistaken. Your first patrol will be today and once every fiveday henceforth. Report to the camp prefect within the hour for instructions."
"Sir," Eleanor protested. "If the Khivans discover that a battlemage is regularly roaming the countryside with just a few legionaries for company, they will send entire regiments to kill him."
"In that case, should you have any encounters with the enemy, I suggest you allow none to escape. Or do you doubt your own abilities to protect him?"
As strange as it was being the object of their discussion while he was standing right next to them, Martel had kept quiet until he heard the final sentence. "Sir Fontaine is a most capable mageknight," he replied as calmly as he could, "and I can think of none more able to protect me in a fight or lead a patrol."
"Then I will entertain no further objections. You have your orders." Turning on her heel, the legion prefect left.
"I am not sure either of us endeared ourselves to her with this exchange," Eleanor considered, "but I appreciate your words."N♡vεlB¡n: Your Escape into Infinite Tales.
"Come on. Let's see what old Robert can tell us about our task for the day."
***
They were given brown cloaks to replace the bright red that legionaries usually wore, a flask that they could fill in the river, and some rations for the day. After that, the camp prefect directed them to assemble by the legion standard.
"They say you burned the ship to cinders," another soldier chimed in.
"Just the sail. It sank the old-fashioned way with a hole in its hull," Martel explained.
"I knew it! That Khivan alchemy is no match for Asterian magic!"
"Who cares for cannons when we got a battlemage fighting for us!"
A few of the soldiers continued with such merry remarks, but Martel noticed they were in the minority. Most of the legionaries seemed less at ease. Either they wore uncomfortable expressions, looking away, or they stared at Martel with unfriendly demeanours.
"Alright, eat up. Boots back on the ground," the princeps commanded, and they finished their break.
***
Eventually, they made a turn and moved back towards the camp, reaching it in the twilight hours. It had been uneventful; Martel had seen nothing but barren trees and the occasional animal or bird. Given all he had heard about this posting and the Tenth, he had half-expected to be ambushed once out of the sight from the encampment; so far, it seemed peaceful, especially compared to his experiences in Morcaster. Presumably, winter and barren trees did not provide the best opportunity for ambushes.
The patrol broke up once past the gate, and the two wizards moved towards their tents. "I got the feeling they weren't all keen on me," Martel remarked, wondering at Eleanor's impression.
"I would agree with that assessment."
"Is it because they're worried that I'll attract attention from the Khivans?"
"Most likely. It could also be that they are concerned your presence means an attempt at offensive manoeuvres why else would a battlemage be sent here? They are not privy to the real reason you are attached to the Tenth, I imagine."
"Right." Martel took a deep breath. Martel was not sure anything could be done about that; revealing the truth might just make the legionaries shun him for that reason instead. "Want me to start a cooking fire?"
"Only if it is not too much trouble."
Martel ignited the remnants of the firewood from their last meal. "I'll live."
Chapter 521: Beyond the WallsBeyond the WallsStaff against sword and shield, Martel sparred against Eleanor for an hour in the morning as had become their wont. Their efforts attracted mild attention, mostly from bored soldiers; the novelty of their training sessions had worn off quickly. Accustomed to spectators, Martel did not notice one among them who stood out. As they ceased their exertions and took a step back, the newcomer approached them.Eleanor snapped to and saluted with her fist against her chest. "Legion prefect," she said, probably mostly for Martel's sake, who mirrored her salute. He glanced at the mageknight who had joined them without trying to be obvious about it. She seemed between fifteen to twenty years older, looking lean, stern, and typically Asterian with brown eyes and dark hair."At ease, prefects. I am Sir Lara Chasseur, should my name not be known to you. I do know yours." She glanced from one to the other. "I returned to camp yesterday, and I have been told you have yet to go on any patrols.""I assume that was on purpose, sir," Eleanor responded. "My charge is too valuable to be used on duties that any legionary could perform.""Well, if you think that the pair of you can spend the next two decades in camp without being asked to do a single thing, you are sorely mistaken. Your first patrol will be today and once every fiveday henceforth. Report to the camp prefect within the hour for instructions.""Sir," Eleanor protested. "If the Khivans discover that a battlemage is regularly roaming the countryside with just a few legionaries for company, they will send entire regiments to kill him.""In that case, should you have any encounters with the enemy, I suggest you allow none to escape. Or do you doubt your own abilities to protect him?"As strange as it was being the object of their discussion while he was standing right next to them, Martel had kept quiet until he heard the final sentence. "Sir Fontaine is a most capable mageknight," he replied as calmly as he could, "and I can think of none more able to protect me in a fight or lead a patrol.""Then I will entertain no further objections. You have your orders." Turning on her heel, the legion prefect left."I am not sure either of us endeared ourselves to her with this exchange," Eleanor considered, "but I appreciate your words."NvlBn: Your Escape into Infinite Tales."Come on. Let's see what old Robert can tell us about our task for the day."***They were given brown cloaks to replace the bright red that legionaries usually wore, a flask that they could fill in the river, and some rations for the day. After that, the camp prefect directed them to assemble by the legion standard."They say you burned the ship to cinders," another soldier chimed in."Just the sail. It sank the old-fashioned way with a hole in its hull," Martel explained."I knew it! That Khivan alchemy is no match for Asterian magic!""Who cares for cannons when we got a battlemage fighting for us!"A few of the soldiers continued with such merry remarks, but Martel noticed they were in the minority. Most of the legionaries seemed less at ease. Either they wore uncomfortable expressions, looking away, or they stared at Martel with unfriendly demeanours."Alright, eat up. Boots back on the ground," the princeps commanded, and they finished their break.***Eventually, they made a turn and moved back towards the camp, reaching it in the twilight hours. It had been uneventful; Martel had seen nothing but barren trees and the occasional animal or bird. Given all he had heard about this posting and the Tenth, he had half-expected to be ambushed once out of the sight from the encampment; so far, it seemed peaceful, especially compared to his experiences in Morcaster. Presumably, winter and barren trees did not provide the best opportunity for ambushes.The patrol broke up once past the gate, and the two wizards moved towards their tents. "I got the feeling they weren't all keen on me," Martel remarked, wondering at Eleanor's impression."I would agree with that assessment.""Is it because they're worried that I'll attract attention from the Khivans?""Most likely. It could also be that they are concerned your presence means an attempt at offensive manoeuvres why else would a battlemage be sent here? They are not privy to the real reason you are attached to the Tenth, I imagine.""Right." Martel took a deep breath. Martel was not sure anything could be done about that; revealing the truth might just make the legionaries shun him for that reason instead. "Want me to start a cooking fire?""Only if it is not too much trouble."Martel ignited the remnants of the firewood from their last meal. "I'll live."
