The First Starlit Eve

Maximilian had been busy. Martel's new wardrobe arrived early Pelday afternoon. Besides a few more white shirts – not made from silk but still expensive fabric – his drawer was now filled by several pairs of trousers, shoes, and some doublets. Martel was relieved to see that the latter had an emblem of a green tree upon them. After his conversation with the overseer, he realised that if he wore clothes with the insignia of Marche, that would send the kind of statement he had been told to avoid. Maximilian must have talked with Eleanor about more than dancing, since the tree resembled the emblem on the clothes Martel had once received from her.

Dressed in his new clothes, wondering how they got his measurements so well, Martel stood in the entrance hall when Master Farhad's great clock announced that sixth bell had arrived. As Maximilian joined him, likewise clad in expensive raiment, they walked outside to await the carriage.

"You promise I'll not be expected to do anything?" the novice asked.

"Did the dance lessons go that poorly?"

"Not that," Martel scoffed. "You know, magic. I won't have to fight anyone or get beaten up."

"No, of course not." Maximilian coughed. "Probably."

The novice glared at him. "What are you planning?"

"Nothing, I swear! But if I introduce you as a powerful mage, people will expect to see magic. Just relax, everything will be fine."

Not feeling convinced, Martel followed his friend into the carriage as it arrived to bring them to the celebration.

~

Even with four horses pulling, it took them a while to reach their destination. They had to cross the Basilica square and go further north-west than Martel had ever travelled on his own. Eventually, the road sloped gently upwards towards the hill of the emperor's palace.

They had scarcely reached the grounds before the carriage stopped to be inspected. Besides a handful of legionaries from the city guard, two praetorians stood by the great gate. They wore purple cloaks as sign of their high rank, and Martel knew they were mageknights, trained and able to deal with any threat. Like with inquisitors, he saw two daggers in their belts. One made from steel, and one made from gold.

Although Martel felt a little intimidated, the inspection lasted mere moments; the insignia of Marche upon the carriage, along with the praetorians recognising the son of Count Marche inside, got them through quickly. As they drove past the walls surrounding the palace grounds, Martel could not help but stick his head out the window to watch.

A sight to make the stars fall from the sky met his eyes. Built in white stone and marble, the Imperial palace rose in every direction but behind him. Countless columns greeted every visitor in a semicircle. As they approached, Martel saw chiselled figures winding up every single pillar. Likewise, the gates into the palace itself, which looked to be cast from bronze, had multiple panels retelling stories unknown to him.

Another pair of praetorians flanked the great doors. As they left the carriage, Martel had a better opportunity to take a closer look. While the purple cloak drew the most obvious attention, their armour looked exquisite, and he believed he saw the faint shimmer of magic upon the steel.

By his side, Maximilian laughed and gave him a little push between the shoulder blades, beckoning for him to enter up the stairs.

~

They were not the only guests, of course. Others arrived at the same time, and Martel saw plenty of people as they traversed the wide hallways of the palace. The interior mirrored the exterior, with columns and statues resting upon marble floors. Martel felt dizzy, trying to fathom how many hours of labour had gone into every inch of this place. More than that, the pair of praetorians posted every hundred paces or so made the novice realise the power of the emperor, to have so many mageknights protecting him.

They finally entered a large hall, many times greater than any at the Lyceum. Maximilian gave him a quick jab with the elbow and directed his attention upwards. Looking in that direction, Martel saw that the ceiling consisted of a giant dome, so great it made him wonder how it did not collapse upon them.

His amazement turned to awe as he saw the entire ceiling had been painted like the night sky, but the stars moved. Not only that, but he recognised the positions from his astronomy class. This was an accurate presentation, showing the celestial objects exactly as they would have appeared outside, if the sun had set. Magic had to be involved, but Martel could not fathom the enchantment or complexities involved in making this reality.

"Everyone always marvels at the Dome of Stars," Maximilian grinned.

More guests kept pouring in. Despite his fine clothing, Martel noticed one difference between him and everyone else; they all wore jewellery. Most had rings and necklaces, and some of the women had small tiaras in their hair and gems attached to their ears. Even Maximilian wore his signet ring.

The House of Marche arrived, notably the count, his wife, and other children. Maximilian walked over to join him, his sister giving him a hug around the waist, and Martel trotted after, not knowing what else to do with himself.

~

An hour or so later, a set of grand doors opened. To the sound of trumpets, ten praetorians marched in. Martel saw the shimmer of magic as they shielded themselves, and almost like a suit of armour, they surrounded the man that appeared between their ranks. For the first time, Martel laid eyes on the emperor of Aster.

Of average height, he led a comfortable life given his well-nourished state. His beard was short and groomed, and he wore purple robes stitched with silver that almost crackled with magic. Rings adorned his every finger, and he wore a silver crown. From what Martel knew, the emperor did not possess magical gifts, but he wore enchanted objects worth half the city, it seemed.

Parting the crowd, the praetorians carved a path for the emperor to ascend the throne in one end of the hall. While his guards took position around him, a herald stepped forward and began calling out the names of the assembled nobility. One family after the other, the lords and ladies of the Asterian Empire stepped forward to kneel in obeisance towards their ruler.

Martel glanced over the number of people present. "This will take a while," he whispered to Maximilian.

"Indeed."

"What happens afterwards?"

"On the first eve, usually a bard sings in honour of the emperor, his reign, and the victories of the Empire. After that, finally food and drink will be served, and people may talk among themselves. I suggest you eat fast, as you and I will not be staying long," Maximilian explained. "We have class early tomorrow, after all."

Martel looked at him, a little surprised. "Really? And that's all?"

"I told you this would be easy," the viscount replied with an overbearing voice. "Now relax and enjoy yourself. Once the wine arrives, anyway."

~

Elsewhere in the hall, standing far back, the overseer of the Lyceum and its Master of Elements stood, observing the same procession. They exchanged quiet remarks on occasion, otherwise drawing little attention.

Watching as the count of Marche and his family stepped forward to approach the throne, with Martel and other of their attendants detaching to stay behind, Alastair leaned towards Juliana. "Did you tell Martel what to expect?"

She nodded. "I explained the dangers. Hopefully he knows to keep quiet and avoid attention."

"Did you warn him that if he makes a false move, the headmaster will use that to have you ousted from your position?"

"He knows the cost to himself if he is expelled. I saw no need to add another burden by making him feel responsible for me as well." She glanced at him. "After all, teachers are responsible for their students, not the reverse."

"The next five evenings will be long to get through," Alastair predicted, blowing out his breath. "I hope they bring out the wine soon."