Gracious as a Scarecrow

With his obligations towards Lady Pearl fulfilled, Martel could focus on his schoolwork again, in particular alchemy. Eager for any advantage he might gain unlocking the Sindhian craft, Martel's thoughts turned towards the library, which might contain tomes on alchemy that could help him; he had not investigated the books on the upper floors, where the real knowledge was shelved. Unfortunately, by the time he returned to the Lyceum, the librarian had left his post, and Martel still needed him to get past the inner doors. Hopefully soon, he would begin learning Tyrian runes.

Thus, Martel's visit to the library took place the next day, in between his lessons in fire magic. With a little assistance on where to look, Martel found the shelf containing all the volumes of alchemy. Choosing the largest one, he sat down and began to read.

It did not take him long to realise his error. The book dealt with Asterian alchemy, which focused on the elements and how they related to various ingredients, combining them to obtain the desired outcome. All very interesting, but useless for someone learning Sindhian alchemy. This accomplished nothing besides confusing him further, and he closed the pages. Not feeling particularly hopeful, Martel looked through all the other tomes on the topic. Same result. They only dealt with how Asterian alchemists worked. Sighing, Martel replaced the books on the shelves and left the library.

***

His second lesson in fire magic came and went. They still practised basic spells, which seemed unnecessary to Martel. He could not imagine himself improving much anymore when it came to casting a fire bolt. The magic came to him swiftly and reliably; if his attack missed, it was more to do with his aim. Maybe that was what they were supposed to train, but Martel would much rather learn more spells or at least practice his existing ones. But he suffered no illusions that he could in any way persuade Moira to change her teachings. The mere suggestion might earn him detention.

At supper, he ate with a voracious appetite thanks to all the training, paying little attention as Maximilian pontificated on various matters.

"You coming to the Chamber of Earth tonight?" The mageknight stopped talking, keeping his eyes on the fire acolyte.

Chewing on asparagus, Martel slowly swallowed to buy some time until Maximilian's question sank in. "Oh, I hadn't given it much thought. I practice combat six bells a fiveday, which feels like enough. Besides, the sparring done in the chamber is too casual to learn anything."

"Well, some of the mageknights are still sore about the other day. One of them, Julian of Sangmer, claims he can beat you if only given the opportunity."

Martel frowned in thought. From what he remembered, Julian was a protector, so the fire acolyte had never fought against him. He had fought alongside him, and the mageknight had failed to impress. Not necessarily a bad warrior, but hardly impressive compared to others or a threat to someone of Martel's skills, the way Eleanor would be. "Pretty sure I could take him down in three spells or less."

"Now you have to prove it," Maximilian claimed with a smirk on his face. "Or will you let this pompous bastard continue to claim he could beat the infamous Scarecrow without breaking a sweat?"

Martel glanced across the dining hall to where Julian sat, stuffing food into his mouth. He sounded like another noble who thought that his blood somehow made him a better mage, despite all evidence to the contrary. "I guess I got time to cast three spells."

***

In the evening, Martel went to the Chamber of Earth as promised. He found the usual assortment of acolytes, numbering a score in total. About half of them were mageknights. Of the elemental mages, Martel was the only one in red. The other battlemages seemed to share his sentiment that there was little gained practising down here, compared to the gruelling hours that Moira put them through.

Many of the acolytes present glanced at him as he arrived, with a variety of expressions. Some looked excited or expectant, while others seemed disdainful or arrogant in their demeanour towards him. Martel ignored them.

Maximilian appeared by his side, handing him a staff. "Ready to show them the error of their judgement?" The mageknight already wore a grin.

Martel hefted the weapon in his hands. "Where is he?" The sooner this was done, the sooner he could go back to his chamber and do his Sindhian exercises.

Julian pushed his way through some of the acolytes to stand in front of the battlemage. He was of average height, but with a broad build, carrying an axe. Strong, but inelegant in his movements. Fighting more like a bull than a cat, which worked for a berserker, but not a protector. "Ready to fight me, Scarecrow?"

Martel sighed. He thought he had escaped that nickname, but he realised its absence was only because most of his classes as a novice had been solitary. Now as an acolyte, he was unfortunately subjugated to the regular company of his peers. "Just attack and let's get this over with."

Julian acted or reacted as expected. He quickly stepped forward, almost running to close the distance between them as he raised his axe for a heavy blow. Even blunted, it would leave a painful mark if it connected as intended.

Martel raised his shield to take the blow and pushed his staff forward and down to entangle itself between the mageknight's legs. The axe was held back by the magic, and with his clumsy momentum, Julian could not stop in time to regain his footing. The only thing left for Martel to do was to take a step to the side, avoiding the mageknight crashing into him. Instead, the stocky warrior fell flat on the ground, his own weapons preventing him from breaking the fall.

"Only took one spell."

As the acolytes laughed, Martel handed the staff back to Maximilian.