Time and Harvest

Master Jerome raised an eyebrow as Martel appeared in the workshop for his Solday duty of assisting the artificer. "Are you still sparring with that mageknight boy?"

"Maximilian, yeah, I am." Martel did not feel up for explaining that he was attacked last night, as that would inevitably only lead to more questions and more lies. Easier to just use the excuse handed to him.

"One might think you were training for the legions. Or is he using you as his punching bag in preparation for the Golden Harvest? He really should spare your head all those blows."

"No, we're just practising." The novice frowned. "Wait, what's golden harvest?"

"Ah, just the name we use for the festivities this time of year, when the yellow grain is brought in. I guess you call it something else up in Nordmark."

"We just call it harvest." Despite the lack of a fancy name, they certainly celebrated this event back home. Solstice was fun and all, and Father Julius made a big mention of Sol during those times of the year, but harvest determined whether they would have enough to eat during winter or not.

"It begins next Solday, lasting a whole fiveday." Master Jerome scratched his forehead. "Did nobody tell you?"

"Well, I guess I knew that harvest is soon. Why, am I supposed to do something?"

"No, no, not at all. But you do have all classes in the afternoon off so you can attend the festivities."

"What, every afternoon the whole fiveday?"

Master Jerome laughed. "Indeed. Well, I suppose they would have told you when the time comes. You're still a novice. I sometimes forget that, so this part won't matter as much for you. But during the Golden Harvest, there are various games held, where the acolytes of the Lyceum may compete."

"I suppose next year, that'll be relevant for me," Martel considered.

"Could very well be, though I admit, the games are mostly aimed at mageknights to show off their skill." The artificer shrugged. "I guess some mages are more valued than others, even if all they do is destroy rather than create."

He sounded a tad bitter, and Martel thought it best to avoid touching the topic further. "What's my task for today?"

Master Jerome smiled. "Yes, let's get to it." He threw his head in the direction of another chamber. "I already have two students making ink. Go check if they need any supplies."

~

Martel looked for Maximilian in his chamber, but none answered the knock on the door. He had tried in vain yesterday as well to find his friend, in order to tell him about Leatherfist, but had not seen the mageknight at the meals. He knew that Maximilian spent many of his spare bells in the city, but it seemed unusual that he should be busy several days in a row.

By chance, crossing the dining hall, Martel looked out at the courtyard with the arena and found several mageknight acolytes busy exercising. It reminded him of his own evenings spent that way in preparation for his fights at The Broken Crown, and he was only happy to leave that behind. While he could certainly see the advantage of empowerment magic, he felt sufficiently advanced in that skill with his shield and abilities, and he needed to focus on elemental magic instead. Even so, taking an interest in what happened in the arena proved fortunate, as he noticed Maximilian among those training.

Martel approached, careful to stay outside the ring of sand as more than one mageknight practised archery. He picked up a pebble and flung it at Maximilian, using magic to improve his poor aim and hit his friend on the shoulder. The mageknight growled, looked around until he spotted Martel, and approached him.

"You can just walk over and talk to me," Maximilian grumbled.

"I feel better staying back here with all these arrows flying around. Anyway, you won't guess what happened to me the other night," Martel said, almost excited.

"Something to do with those blots on your face? Did you go fighting again?"

"Not so loud," Martel hissed. He glanced around. Nobody looked at them or seemed to have the slightest interest in the conversation. "I didn't go fighting. Well, I did, but not on purpose. Leatherfist ambushed me as I walked home."

"Damn. Optimistic of him. Since you're on both feet, no teeth missing, I presume you showed him the folly of his ways?"

Martel nodded. "I did, only it wasn't so easy. He had a necklace of gold coins to protect himself, and he even glued some to his glove, punching straight through my shield."

The mageknight frowned. "Crafty little bastard. What did you do?"

Martel grinned. "Floated a big rock above his head and let it fall. Gold can't protect him from that."

"Hah, good show!"

The novice looked at the other mageknights still practising. "You're at it late. I thought you guys already trained in the morning?"

"We do, but with the Golden Harvest coming up, we all want to be at our sharpest."

"Isn't it late to hone your skills? If it starts in a fiveday. I don't recall you doing archery before."

Maximilian gave him a look. "I have practised plenty, thank you," he said brusquely. "But if you recall, lately our time spent together was for your benefit, training you, not me."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." Martel wonder if perhaps he became a little self-absorbed at times and felt guilty.

"Well, you can make up for it. I need someone to help me. Not tonight, I am knackered, but tomorrow night."

"Can we do it the evening after? I ought to visit The Copper Drum and tell the fighters about Leatherfist. Just so they know what happened to him." He also had a letter he needed to deliver in the city.

"Fine," Maximilian grumbled. "But no further delays." He began walking back towards his bow and arrows. "Harvest waits for no man!"

"I thought that was the tide?"

The mageknight shrugged. "Nature is an impatient lady in general."