If the Prize is Right

When Martel woke, it was not only the beginning of a new day, or a new fiveday; it was the start of the spring festival. He had paid this no heed, given his busy schedule. He could not imagine having the time to go out night after night; staying up late meant lack of sleep, which impacted his performance in class, which would get him detention.

Still, just the excited talk around the tables already at breakfast had an effect on him. Everyone seemed in a better mood, happy to have winter behind them and a whole fiveday of festivities and entertainment ahead. Perhaps Martel could spare a few hours, just a short trip into the city to enjoy himself and the company of his close friends; he had earned as much, he felt.

He did have Julia and his alchemy; he would have to find time to stop by at least once, just to make sure she was fine. It might make sense to wait until he learned more useful recipes before spending too much silver on ingredients and the like; while the potion of warmth was useful for Julia, she seemed disinclined to use it, and the weather was getting warmer anyway.

Reversely, the potion of cold might be nice to have on a hot summer's day, but for now, it felt a waste to produce a lot of those. Maybe he could ask Mistress Rana to teach him something specifically; he recalled how she had once given him a small vial that worked as a powerful pain relief. Potions with such effects felt like something very useful to learn.

But all such speculations and pursuits would have to wait; the first lesson of fire magic awaited him, and as the bell rang, Martel jumped from his chair and hurried to the Circle of Fire.

***

Later that day, he found a message waiting for him. Just a note, no envelope, and he did not recognise the handwriting.

Master Martel,

You are courteously invited to our spring festivities at the Four Flagon Tavern in the bridge district, newly opened. We hope to have the pleasure of your company soon. The first round is on the house.

No signature. How strange. For a moment, Martel wondered if it was a trap of some sort before dismissing the notion. Too much time spent with Nine Lords and Night Knives made him see enemies everywhere.

But just in case, it would not hurt to show up with a mageknight by his side. It had been a while since their last night out, after all. "Max, hey, Max!"

The mageknight turned around, waiting for Martel to approach him in the hallway. "What is amiss?"

"Nothing amiss. I've been told of a new place opening up in the bridge district." Martel glanced down at the note. "The Four Flagon Tavern. Supposed to be a good crowd there, with the festivities and all. Want to go tonight?"

To Martel's surprise, his friend did not jump at the chance, nor did he give an outright reason against. Instead, Maximilian seemed strangely unsure of what to say, which was most unlike him. "I like the idea, but I was thinking tonight – you've been doing so well in the sparring matches, are you not intrigued to go tonight?"

Martel shrugged. "I don't see much to be gained. I feel I have learned what I could. I'd rather spend an evening with a bit of fun for once."

Maximilian scratched the back of his head, looking apprehensive. Martel could only recall seeing him this way before when hiding something. "Right, I get that. I was just talking to some of the other mageknights though…"

"Max, what's going on?" Martel crossed his arms, waiting for an answer.

"Alright, the others did not want me to tell you, because they thought it might influence the fights. Basically, some of them have been trying to arrange duels between you and anyone foolhardy enough to take you on. Every time I can announce that you are coming to fight, it makes me a hero."

"What, like in The Broken Crown? Max," Martel simply exclaimed, packing his disappointment into the final word.

"I understand why you might feel bothered, but really, everyone is impressed by you. The odds of you losing are reaching four to one by now!"

Martel stared at his friend. "You're gambling on me fighting?"

"Just a little, to add some excitement." Maximilian cleared his throat. "Now that you are saying it out loud, I see why you might dislike the notion."

"Wait. I want you to set up a fight tonight."

The mageknight looked at him in surprise. "Really? Against whom?"

"Any pair of warriors ready to lose."

***

Martel stood in the Chamber of Earth, getting the measure of his two opponents. One was Julian, whom he had handily defeated before. He did not know the other. Unlike last time, Julian seemed less self-assured, looking at Martel with grim determination. The warriors had taken position in front of him, side-by-side; it was easy to imagine that as the fight began, they would approach him from his left and his right at the same time.

"Fight!"

Martel raised his shield as the first thing, knowing he would take at least one blow. For his second spell, he cast a flame wall. Splitting the small battlefield in half, he trapped Julian on the same side as himself, letting his burning wall surround them in a circle. As expected, Julian's axe struck him straight on the head, but his shield kept him safe. Knowing he would still be inferior in a fight based on weapons, Martel unleashed a fire ray to quickly take out one opponent, just in case the other found the courage to jump through Martel's wall of flames.

The fire ray brought Julian to his knees. He lashed out with his axe, but Martel stepped back to avoid it, all the while keeping both of his active spells running. He felt the strain, making his mouth dry and his head pound as two magical effects both demanded his attention, but he held fast. In front of him, Julian threw aside his weapons and yielded.

Dispelling both his effects, Martel saw his other opponent as the wall of flames disappeared. As Martel was prepared for this to happen, he reacted first, landing a fire bolt. He had to parry a swift retaliatory attack before he could launch his second bolt, and it proved enough; the mageknight gave up as Julian had done. As people cheered and applauded, Martel claimed victory.

Maximilian walked over, slapping him on the shoulder. "Damn impressive, Nordmark!"

"Thanks. And my bet?"

"Let me collect your winnings for you," the mageknight grinned.