Getting Baited

Besides the Pelday evenings, Martel was also making the most of his Malday afternoons. In the alley behind the insula where the Night Knives resided, he sparred with them as well. He did so using his staff rather than offensive magic, as their training had a specific purpose; for the first time in his life, Martel wore chain armour. It lay heavy on him, weighing many pounds, and made his arms feel slow. It also necessitated layers of fabric and leather, unless he wanted the iron rings to gnaw on his skin. Thanks to that, even on the second day of winter, Martel quickly felt hot from the constant exertions.

He could still use magic, of course, to add a bit of empowerment to his movements. While Flora had deemed it best they avoid using visible magic in this place, given the curiosity of the neighbours, nobody could tell if Martel expended some spellpower to make himself fast enough to keep up with Marcus. But as he was not a mageknight, Martel was rather inexperienced using his powers this way, and the effect was limited compared to how much it strained his magic.

Seeing Martel struggle, Marcus did not ease up, but seemed to only go harder on him. Martel suspected that the warrior enjoyed the opportunity to repay the novice for their first encounter, which had left him without boots or socks. At least his weapon was blunt; his smirk cut deeper.

Martel could not say how long they trained on the cold street hemmed in between buildings that blocked the sun. It felt like a whole bell had passed, wearing the heavy chain armour, but he knew he lacked the stamina for that, so probably between a half and a full hour. He had gotten used to his Khivan clock measuring time for him precisely. A pity the device was far too expensive and delicate to carry around.

Finally, Marcus stepped back and lowered his weapons. "This was half of an exercise routine among the Night Knives, but I'll show mercy since it's your first time, and I don't expect much from someone studying books all day."

"I barely ever read," Martel protested. "Most of my time is spent doing practice or work."

"Fine. Next fiveday, we'll do the full routine." The warrior smiled, sheathing his blunt sword.

Martel groaned, wondering if he had just taken easy bait.

They walked up to the apartment in the insula to remove their armours and wash away the worst of the sweat. Already, Martel envisioned the warm baths in the basement of his dormitory tower, especially a delight on cold days.

"Martel, I am visiting Lady Pearl tonight. She might have more work for us. I assume you're interested?" Flora sat by the desk, sorting through correspondence.

Finally, he thought. "Definitely."

"Excellent. If she does, I'll leave a message for you at the Lyceum. You can come by tomorrow and we'll discuss the details."

"Sounds good." Besides repayment of his debts, having some coin between his hands would be good, just to make life a little more comfortable and to handle some errands.

"Now hurry up and change. You're making our office stink." The earthmage made a shooing motion with her hand, directing Martel to the inner chamber where Marcus had already begun to disrobe.

***

Once back at the Lyceum and after a beneficent bath, Martel felt sore but pleasant, and he had worked up an appetite. Filling his plate as soon as supper was served, he found himself a seat and began enjoying his meal. No better spice than hunger – except maybe rosemary when it came to potatoes, though sadly not on offer this night.

Soon after, Jasper sat down opposite him. Martel could not recall that the earth acolyte had done so before; certainly not when Martel was the only one at the table.

"How's the food?"

"Same as usual," Martel remarked. There was not a great deal of variety in the meals served by the kitchen. Bits of chicken seasoned with salt and pepper alongside rice and beans tonight, as always served with bread.

"You did great last night," Jasper continued, apparently not that interested in discussing flavours. "Really showed that frostmage how it's done, using fire to stop her attacks. You must have done well during the introduction to fire magic."

No doubt Martel would have done very well – if he had taken that course. Mistress Juliana had wisely kept Martel away from that. "Bit of luck to it last night. I mostly train water and air, but it's good to branch out."

"Yeah, me, I was out of the Circle of Fire pretty fast when I took the class. Not much interest in someone so closely attuned to earth," the acolyte remarked, giving a shrug. "What was the teacher's name again? Angry old sort, always yelling."

"Oh, I don't remember either." Martel shovelled food into his mouth, trying to seem disinterested in the conversation.

"Always stroking that white beard while screaming, always angry like those fire types tend to be. Did he do that with you as well?"

"I suppose. I wasn't there long either," the novice claimed, clearing his throat. "Definitely glad to be done with his classes."

"I bet. I think we all were. Few things as scary as a six foot tall battlemage shouting in your face, and you know he can set you on fire if he gets mad enough," Jasper laughed.

Martel faked the same reaction while eating the last of his food. He had planned for a second serving, but the earth acolyte's company made him feel uncomfortable. Something felt insincere about the way he made conversation. Maybe because he had noticed the others becoming more accepting of Martel at the sparring matches, and he desired to ingratiate himself. If so, Jasper would have to find a different target.

His meal finished, Martel got up. He nodded to Jasper as a quiet farewell and left the dining hall, blissfully unaware that the teacher of fire magic at the Lyceum was a woman.