Expanding Circles

Pelday morning, Martel counted his wealth. Thanks to his work with the Night Knives, he now stood at twenty-five pieces of silver and four pennies. Close to the wanted sum of thirty, yet still a while away. Waiting for chores to open up with Master Jerome would take many days unless something had changed drastically. Another task with the mercenary band would ostensibly net him the remaining coin, but he had no idea when that would be. Lady Pearl had not given them a new assignment, so that might take several days as well.

Waiting for an undetermined amount of time did not suit Martel. The only alternative was to do as before and borrow the money. Both Maximilian and Eleanor were dry wells, so Martel turned to the last person in Morcaster that he felt comfortable asking.

He waited until the bell had rung and their lesson ended. "Master Alastair," Martel said, but then his courage failed him. Asking his fellow students was one thing; approaching a teacher just felt wrong.

The Master of Elements looked at him, standing inside the hall where he taught. "What is it?"

Adopting the same strategy as with Eleanor, he simply let it all spill in one rapid exclamation. "My brother is sick, and he needs a potion. My mother wrote to me to ask for money. I have almost gathered the whole sum, but I need a little more. Could I borrow some from you?" Martel looked away.

"How much do you need?"

"Four silvers and six coppers."

"Come with me." His teacher left the Hall of Elements, leading Martel westwards down the corridor.

They reached the faculty wing. Master Alastair raised a hand to signal for Martel to wait before he entered his private chamber. Moments later, he returned and placed a golden crown in his student's hand.

"Thank you so much, master!"

"Good health to your brother. Now, I do not make a habit of this, just so we're clear."

"Of course, master. I'll pay you back as soon as I can."

"In your own time. Now, I have another class to teach. See you this afternoon."

***

In the evening, the acolytes of the Lyceum gathered in the Chamber of Earth, or a handful of them at least. Martel counted close to a score tonight. Many of them were mageknights, but acolytes of every element could be seen as well. Martel stood among them as the only novice, though in the dim light of the torches, nobody paid much heed to the brown colour of his robe. After his performances the last two times, none seemed against his presence. Or if they were, they kept quiet about it. Jasper shot Martel a look that could be interpreted as hostile, but that was the extent of it.

As the mageknights made up nearly half of the group, most of the sparring pairs involved them and an elemental mage. Even if Martel's curiosity had initially been to improve himself against wizards of other elemental gifts than his own, he did not mind going some rounds against a mageknight. It seemed that if he were to continue doing tasks with the Night Knives, he would mostly be faced with ordinary warriors, fighting with steel but no magic.

Training against a mageknight came closest to resembling that while providing an even greater challenge; no matter how skilled a warrior might be without magic, they would never be able to match a fully trained mageknight in terms of speed and strength. Not to mention, possessing magic of their own made them more able to resist spells flung by Martel, forcing him at times to react quickly or change strategy rather than rely on the same old tricks every time.

***

The mageknight lashed out with his sword, and Martel found himself hard pressed to keep defending himself. It was pointless to retaliate with his staff, as his opponent had a shield and would easily block any strike thanks to his superior speed. Martel had already received a couple of blows from futile attempts, and his elemental magic had not fared better either. Apparently, the mageknight had watched Martel's efforts the other nights, as he dodged the different attempts to trip him up.

Receiving a blow to his stomach, Martel felt the wind leave him. He struggled to maintain his balance and composure while aware that he was moments away from losing the match.

As the blade came sweeping at him, Martel evaded with an inch to spare, but he knew the sword would turn around and come back at him in a moment, and he could not hope to dodge a second time. Instead, he poured his remaining spellpower into a gust of wind. Rather than aim at his opponent's body, which he could protect with his shield, Martel directed the wind against his sword hand instead. Taken by surprise, the mageknight fumbled in vain as his weapon flew out of his grasp.

Looking from his lost sword towards Martel, the mageknight appeared frustrated for a moment before his face turned into a grin. "You got me," he admitted. "That will teach me to improve my grip. Master Reynard has reproached me on that more than once."

The name of the teacher annoyed Martel momentarily, but he let it pass. His opponent was Alain, whom Martel knew from his ill-fated lessons with the Master of War. They had also shared the trip to the Stone of Archen together. Until tonight, they had never really spoken; as a mageknight acolyte, of noble blood, and compatriot of Cheval, Martel had always assumed that Alain would show him nothing but enmity.

But he recalled seeing Alain with his family at the celebration in the Imperial palace, wearing their house insignia of a hawk. Given the small retinue, Alain came from a family of minor importance, who probably could not pick and choose their friends freely. Certainly in this place, Cheval being absent and Martel having proven his worth, Alain had treated him cordially. Perhaps there was hope yet that Martel could expand his circle of friends beyond Maximilian.

Noticing Jasper staring at him with a scowl, it seemed probable that the circle would remain small overall. Ignoring the acolyte, Martel took position opposite Alain again as he contemplated other tricks for winning the next sparring round.