Covetous

Solday was the last day of celebration. Unlike summer solstice, the winter counterpart was a more subdued affair. Commoners mostly celebrated at home, restricting it to a single day. Only the nobles dedicated several evenings, as they all invited each other to these feasts, using attendance to measure loyalties.

Unaware of this, Martel had his own considerations as he once more lay in the warm pool in the basement of his dormitory tower. While bathing twice in two days seemed excessive, Eleanor had once explained to him in no uncertain terms the necessity of a full wash before any such event as the one tonight.

Given the ease with which he could bathe, not to mention the comfort of warm water in winter, Martel no longer resisted the thought. On the contrary, he could grow accustomed to this. Getting out of the hot pool, Martel collected his things and moved to the cold basin to wash and finish his bath.

Feeling his mind roused from the cool sensation of the water, Martel made his decision about tonight. While he knew he took a risk angering the powerful duke, he could not stand aside and watch the nobleman evict family after family from the Khivan quarter, Shadi's included. If any evidence could be found in the man's study of illegal rent-raising, Martel would find it. He owed it to Shadi to at least try.

***

With the same procedure as yesterday, Martel arrived alongside Maximilian to the home of Duke Cheval. Just seeing the building gave Martel a knot in his stomach, but for once, it only strengthened his resolve. He was not doing this for himself, but for others.

They entered the main hall, decorated with green boughs of pine tree. It gave the stone surroundings a gentle touch, reminding Martel of spring to come after winter's end. He almost forgot that he stood in the house of a man he deeply disliked. He should have known about the duke, given how his son behaved.

Across the hall, Martel's greater height allowed him to catch a glimpse of said son. Guillaume of Cheval stared back with an angry demeanour, but he made no move towards Martel, demonstrably turning his back. Following Maximilian deeper into the hall as other guests pressed from behind to enter as well, Martel glanced around to see whom else he might recognise.

Very few, as it turned out. While he did know some of the house insignias, thanks to five evenings at the Imperial palace, he had little recollection of the people who wore them. He did recognise Alain as the latter appeared with his parents and siblings, and presumably a few other students of the Lyceum would be present, at least those with noble blood.

After a while, their host appeared on a balcony overlooking the hall, his family by his side. He raised one hand to gain silence and addressed the crowd. "Welcome, dear guests! As the year reaches its end, we look towards the new. Change is never easy, but it is also the only way to find opportunity. Embracing the new while preserving the old, all the traditions that have made our Empire great, remains the challenge, year after year." He made a brief pause. "But you did not come to hear me talk. I suspect you came for wine and music." Polite laughter could be heard. "I am happy to oblige."

He clapped his hands, and servants appeared bearing trays of empty cups while others followed with pitchers, allowing the guests to take the former and have it filled by the latter. Meanwhile, a troupe of musicians entered and began playing their instruments.

"Finally. I am parched." Maximilian pushed forward to immediately grab a cup from a tray before doing the same to a pitcher, taking it out of the servant's hands. "Nordmark, what is keeping you?"

With a shrug, Martel joined him after securing his own cup, extending it for Maximilian to fill.

***

Once the wine had done its work, the musicians changed melody and began playing tunes for dancing. Maximilian soon disappeared from Martel's side, joining the fray on the floor. With all the commotion and people moving about, the novice considered to make his retreat and seek out the duke's study. Nobody would miss him, and few if any would take notice of someone who wore no house insignia.

He glanced around just to make sure nobody was watching him, especially Maximilian, who conceivably might be the one person to cause a ruckus if he saw Martel leave. Fortunately, the tall mageknight was easy to spot on the dancefloor. He seemed engrossed in the act, perhaps because his partner was Eleanor.

As always, seeing her in a beautiful dress with elaborate hair and discreet cosmetics to accentuate her eyes, such a contrast to the mageknight's tunic she usually wore, made Martel forget to breathe for a moment. He felt strange having this reaction; he ought to be accustomed to seeing her like this. It reminded him of when he attended the summer solstice in her family's home, or rather the preparations beforehand, when she rubbed oil into his hair. He imagined that if he had been the one dancing with her, the scent of lilies would surround him.

"You are not dancing." Alain joined him.

"Neither are you."

"I sprained my ankle yesterday. What is your excuse?"

"I don't know the steps." This was true; Martel had only learned the one dance of the many favoured by these nobles, and they were currently in the midst of another.

"A pity. The way you look at the dancefloor, you seem envious."

"We all want things we can't have," Martel replied, quoting something his father always told him whenever he had complained about being denied something. "But I can get more wine," he added with an attempt of a smile, raising his empty cup to signal his attentions to Alain.

The mageknight laughed at him and nodded in farewell as Martel pulled away. Once he had moved deeper into the crowd of onlookers, he made his way towards a corridor and left the hall.