The Copper Mage

Solday yielded another opportunity to gather information. Working to make ink, Martel waited until Master Jerome stopped by to check on his progress. "Master Jerome, are there any ways to protect yourself against hostile magic?"

"That all depends. You could dress yourself in gold from head to toe, but expenses aside, that would also make it hard for you to wield your own magic." The artificer laughed a little.

"What if you don't have any magic of your own? You're just a normal person."

"I guess that makes gold all the more useful, though of course, it won't protect against anything else. Much too soft for real armour. Inquisitors got it right, I suppose." Master Jerome frowned his brow in thought. "Gold on the bootstraps, belt buckle, cloak clasp, and so on. Not to mention their weapons."

"Is that really enough for protection? The clasp on a cloak isn't big. That leaves a lot unprotected," Martel argued.

"Not as such. If made from pure gold, the effect is much greater than what you might get from coins and such." He chuckled as he spoke again, "By now, I can tell each time the Imperial Mint debase the coins. They tickle less in my fingers."

Martel frowned. "What does that mean, to debase coins?"

"Good question. How do I – wait, let me see if I have one on me." Master Jerome dug out a silver coin from his pocket. "Why is this valuable?" He held it along the edges between his thumb and index finger, letting Martel see the two-headed eagle stamped on one side.

"Well, it's made from silver. That's a valuable metal."

"How do you know it's silver? Maybe you can tell as a mage, but if you were an ordinary peddler at market. How do you know if this is silver and not some lesser, cheaper metal?"

Martel had never considered that. He looked at the coin and its Imperial eagle staring back at him with all four eyes. "The mark? It has the emperor's seal. So it must come from the Imperial Mint."

"Indeed. That is your guarantee that this coin contains silver. But imagine the following situation."

Martel put away his tools for mixing the reagents for the ink and gave the man his undivided attention.

"Imagine you are the emperor. You have enough silver to make a hundred coins. But you require one hundred and ten coins to pay your troops. What do you do?" Master Jerome looked at him with a wry expression, as if he knew something funny that Martel did not.

The novice wrinkled his forehead, having never had such considerations. "I pay my soldiers less? Or send some of them home."

"That is what you and I would do. But the emperor wants as many soldiers as possible. So, he simply mixes some copper into the coins, just a little bit in each until he has ten more coins than the silver could provide," the artificer explained.

Frowning, Martel tried to wrap his head around it. "But that's cheating! The emperor wouldn't do that."

"Wouldn't he? Who is going to stop him? Or punish him?"

~

Once his work and improvised lesson in Imperial finances had come to an end, Martel practised his elemental magic for a while, though he also found time to take a nap. It took him nearly two hours to walk to the copper lanes, especially since he still avoided the harbour, leading to a more circuitous route, which in turn meant he always arrived home at the Lyceum rather late.

After he had rested, and once he had eaten his usual fill at the evening meal, Martel made his way to The Copper Drum for the third round of training with Kerra's guards.

~

"Magic gives me different advantages against you, which includes range," Martel explained as he stood in the courtyard, more than twenty pairs of eyes on him. "I can throw my magic against you at a distance, while you need to reach me before you can use your gold-touched weapon to land a blow."

"What if I throw this at you? Will that help me overcome your range?" Sigrid hefted her metal knuckles in her hand.

"You might give me a nasty bump on the head, but that leaves you awfully vulnerable to a scorching ray of fire," Martel retorted. He let a few flames flicker up and down his arms just for effect.

"So we have to avoid your attacks while we get close to you, is what you're saying," another guard remarked. He was taller even than Martel and burly of build.

"Yes, but you have to be aware of your surroundings. Everything here is something I can potentially use against you," the wizard explained. "You, run at me. But be ready that you will fall," he told the youth in the group, youngest of everyone present save Martel himself.

After taking a few steps back for extra distance, the boy began running towards him. With a quick stomp of his foot, Martel sent magic through the ground to push one of the cobblestones up for just a moment, long enough to trip the runner, who fell forward.

The others laughed seeing this while the boy got on his feet and dusted himself off.

"Everything around you can be used against you, even the earth you stand on. And if you thought it was funny to watch him fall, maybe the rest of you should try the same, see if you can do better," Martel challenged them.

Before they could continue, he noticed they all stood straighter, looking more serious. Turning around, he saw Kerra joining them.

"Do not let me interrupt," she said. "I am simply here to see that I'm getting my money's worth."

"But you're not paying me anything," Martel replied confused.

She laughed. "All the more reason to be vigilant."

"Wait, you're not being paid? Why in Nether's name not?" Sigrid asked.

"It didn't seem right," the young wizard mumbled. "If one mage is giving you trouble, another should help you out."

"Because he's a good lad, that's why," Lothar chimed in.

"That he is." Kerra looked at him, and for once, there was no hint of a playful smile or mocking undertone in her expression and voice. "He is one of us. Our very own Copper Mage," she added, and the wry smile returned.

"Cheers for the Copper Mage!" someone cried out, and the rest joined in.