Chapter 551: Fires of Solstice
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Chapter 551: Fires of Solstice
Fires of Solstice
Unlike the last time he was invited to the legate's house, Martel kept his expensive clothes in his chest. Instead, he simply dressed in one of his red robes like he would on an ordinary day. Leaving his tent, he waited outside until Eleanor joined him, likewise clad in her usual black tunic.
"Sir Martel, not wearing your finest today?"
"Borrowed feathers. This is who I am."
"I find you look rather dashing in a doublet, but given my own choice of attire, I shall not chastise you. Shall we?"Read latest chapters at nov(e)lbin.com Only
Together, they left the camp.
***
Reaching Esmouth, they found the locals had begun their own celebration. A bonfire was built on the town square, though it would not be lit until nightfall. Judging by the singing, the townspeople had not exhibited the same patience with regards to drinking. Watching the pair of prefects cross the square, some of them even had the courage to raise their mugs and shout their well-wishes for a merry solstice.
Entering the legate's house, they discovered the mood inside to be of the same cheer as outside, perhaps aided by the same means. In the atrium, tables filled with drink and food stood prepared, and the other prefects had already begun sampling the delicacies.
"The last sheep of our herd arrived, joined at the hip as usual!" Lucius, the oldest prefect present, appeared a few steps ahead of everybody else in terms of imbibing.
They each received a goblet to help them catch up. Eleanor was quickly spotted by their hostess, the legate's wife, who grabbed her by the arm and led her over to the other women, all of them mageknights. As for Martel, a handful of the male prefects include him in their circle, which also included Henry.
Dominic gave a condescending smile. "I am the decurion. My soldiers are not wasted on such efforts."
"I suppose all the trees would get in the way of your little ponies," Martel considered, his expression showing the same emotion as the mageknight. "A pity. Fortunately, all our infantry is more than up for the task."
"Hear, hear!" yelled the other mageknights, raising their goblets in salute of Martel's words, drowning out any response that the decurion attempted.
The conversation quickly took a different turn, and Martel lost interest again. Instead, he looked over to find Eleanor in conversation with the legate. The noise prevented him from hearing any words spoken, but by her demeanour, she seemed unhappy. Just as he wondered whether he should walk over to support her, the legate moved away from her abruptly and addressed the small crowd. "Night has fallen! It is time for the ritual."
***
The entire gathering filed outside into the garden of the residence. It was a pleasant summer night. The wall of the mansion shielded them from the noise of the town, with its own celebration taking place. The guests spread out to surround the bonfire prepared, waiting for the ceremony to begin.
"I tried talking to the legate," Eleanor whispered as she appeared next to Martel.
"And?"
"He categorically refused changing our orders. In fact, we are to leave immediately tomorrow morning. By his estimate, we are inflicting thrice the casualties we are incurring," she practically hissed. "Can you believe it? A war of attrition, using us as the means!"
Martel could believe it. This legion would not be fighting battles on a large scale, not in this terrain against this enemy. The legate had no use for a battlemage other than this, wearing down the enemy as much as possible until a golden bullet inevitably put an end to him. Which would also be pleasing news to Duke Cheval, a friend of the legate.
He was spared coming up with a response by the arrival of the local priest, carrying a torch. It occurred to Martel he did not even know the name of Esmouth's clergyman. He knew the town possessed a temple, of course, as he heard the bell ringing. But he had never once gone to pay his respects or leave an offering. He knew Eleanor had been a few times, and he had meant to join her. Perhaps a prayer to Sol and a gift would be a wise investment for a soldier to make. He might try to do so tomorrow, though Martel's magic along with Eleanor had so far proven sufficient. Perhaps he should put his trust in that instead, he considered, watching the priest light the fire.
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Chapter 551: Fires of Solstice
Fires of Solstice
Unlike the last time he was invited to the legate's house, Martel kept his expensive clothes in his chest. Instead, he simply dressed in one of his red robes like he would on an ordinary day. Leaving his tent, he waited outside until Eleanor joined him, likewise clad in her usual black tunic.
"Sir Martel, not wearing your finest today?"
"Borrowed feathers. This is who I am."
"I find you look rather dashing in a doublet, but given my own choice of attire, I shall not chastise you. Shall we?"Read latest chapters at nov(e)lbin.com Only
Together, they left the camp.
***
Reaching Esmouth, they found the locals had begun their own celebration. A bonfire was built on the town square, though it would not be lit until nightfall. Judging by the singing, the townspeople had not exhibited the same patience with regards to drinking. Watching the pair of prefects cross the square, some of them even had the courage to raise their mugs and shout their well-wishes for a merry solstice.
Entering the legate's house, they discovered the mood inside to be of the same cheer as outside, perhaps aided by the same means. In the atrium, tables filled with drink and food stood prepared, and the other prefects had already begun sampling the delicacies.
"The last sheep of our herd arrived, joined at the hip as usual!" Lucius, the oldest prefect present, appeared a few steps ahead of everybody else in terms of imbibing.
They each received a goblet to help them catch up. Eleanor was quickly spotted by their hostess, the legate's wife, who grabbed her by the arm and led her over to the other women, all of them mageknights. As for Martel, a handful of the male prefects include him in their circle, which also included Henry.
Dominic gave a condescending smile. "I am the decurion. My soldiers are not wasted on such efforts."
"I suppose all the trees would get in the way of your little ponies," Martel considered, his expression showing the same emotion as the mageknight. "A pity. Fortunately, all our infantry is more than up for the task."
"Hear, hear!" yelled the other mageknights, raising their goblets in salute of Martel's words, drowning out any response that the decurion attempted.
The conversation quickly took a different turn, and Martel lost interest again. Instead, he looked over to find Eleanor in conversation with the legate. The noise prevented him from hearing any words spoken, but by her demeanour, she seemed unhappy. Just as he wondered whether he should walk over to support her, the legate moved away from her abruptly and addressed the small crowd. "Night has fallen! It is time for the ritual."
***
The entire gathering filed outside into the garden of the residence. It was a pleasant summer night. The wall of the mansion shielded them from the noise of the town, with its own celebration taking place. The guests spread out to surround the bonfire prepared, waiting for the ceremony to begin.
"I tried talking to the legate," Eleanor whispered as she appeared next to Martel.
"And?"
"He categorically refused changing our orders. In fact, we are to leave immediately tomorrow morning. By his estimate, we are inflicting thrice the casualties we are incurring," she practically hissed. "Can you believe it? A war of attrition, using us as the means!"
Martel could believe it. This legion would not be fighting battles on a large scale, not in this terrain against this enemy. The legate had no use for a battlemage other than this, wearing down the enemy as much as possible until a golden bullet inevitably put an end to him. Which would also be pleasing news to Duke Cheval, a friend of the legate.
He was spared coming up with a response by the arrival of the local priest, carrying a torch. It occurred to Martel he did not even know the name of Esmouth's clergyman. He knew the town possessed a temple, of course, as he heard the bell ringing. But he had never once gone to pay his respects or leave an offering. He knew Eleanor had been a few times, and he had meant to join her. Perhaps a prayer to Sol and a gift would be a wise investment for a soldier to make. He might try to do so tomorrow, though Martel's magic along with Eleanor had so far proven sufficient. Perhaps he should put his trust in that instead, he considered, watching the priest light the fire.
Chapter 551: Fires of SolsticeFires of SolsticeUnlike the last time he was invited to the legate's house, Martel kept his expensive clothes in his chest. Instead, he simply dressed in one of his red robes like he would on an ordinary day. Leaving his tent, he waited outside until Eleanor joined him, likewise clad in her usual black tunic."Sir Martel, not wearing your finest today?""Borrowed feathers. This is who I am.""I find you look rather dashing in a doublet, but given my own choice of attire, I shall not chastise you. Shall we?"Read latest chapters at novelbin.com OnlyTogether, they left the camp.***Reaching Esmouth, they found the locals had begun their own celebration. A bonfire was built on the town square, though it would not be lit until nightfall. Judging by the singing, the townspeople had not exhibited the same patience with regards to drinking. Watching the pair of prefects cross the square, some of them even had the courage to raise their mugs and shout their well-wishes for a merry solstice.Entering the legate's house, they discovered the mood inside to be of the same cheer as outside, perhaps aided by the same means. In the atrium, tables filled with drink and food stood prepared, and the other prefects had already begun sampling the delicacies."The last sheep of our herd arrived, joined at the hip as usual!" Lucius, the oldest prefect present, appeared a few steps ahead of everybody else in terms of imbibing.They each received a goblet to help them catch up. Eleanor was quickly spotted by their hostess, the legate's wife, who grabbed her by the arm and led her over to the other women, all of them mageknights. As for Martel, a handful of the male prefects include him in their circle, which also included Henry.Dominic gave a condescending smile. "I am the decurion. My soldiers are not wasted on such efforts.""I suppose all the trees would get in the way of your little ponies," Martel considered, his expression showing the same emotion as the mageknight. "A pity. Fortunately, all our infantry is more than up for the task.""Hear, hear!" yelled the other mageknights, raising their goblets in salute of Martel's words, drowning out any response that the decurion attempted.The conversation quickly took a different turn, and Martel lost interest again. Instead, he looked over to find Eleanor in conversation with the legate. The noise prevented him from hearing any words spoken, but by her demeanour, she seemed unhappy. Just as he wondered whether he should walk over to support her, the legate moved away from her abruptly and addressed the small crowd. "Night has fallen! It is time for the ritual."***The entire gathering filed outside into the garden of the residence. It was a pleasant summer night. The wall of the mansion shielded them from the noise of the town, with its own celebration taking place. The guests spread out to surround the bonfire prepared, waiting for the ceremony to begin."I tried talking to the legate," Eleanor whispered as she appeared next to Martel."And?""He categorically refused changing our orders. In fact, we are to leave immediately tomorrow morning. By his estimate, we are inflicting thrice the casualties we are incurring," she practically hissed. "Can you believe it? A war of attrition, using us as the means!"Martel could believe it. This legion would not be fighting battles on a large scale, not in this terrain against this enemy. The legate had no use for a battlemage other than this, wearing down the enemy as much as possible until a golden bullet inevitably put an end to him. Which would also be pleasing news to Duke Cheval, a friend of the legate.He was spared coming up with a response by the arrival of the local priest, carrying a torch. It occurred to Martel he did not even know the name of Esmouth's clergyman. He knew the town possessed a temple, of course, as he heard the bell ringing. But he had never once gone to pay his respects or leave an offering. He knew Eleanor had been a few times, and he had meant to join her. Perhaps a prayer to Sol and a gift would be a wise investment for a soldier to make. He might try to do so tomorrow, though Martel's magic along with Eleanor had so far proven sufficient. Perhaps he should put his trust in that instead, he considered, watching the priest light the fire.
