Regnar's Reunion

As the fiveday came to an end, Martel woke on Solday feeling good. He had put all that with Lady Pearl and Ruby behind him; he was not going to be caught up in the affairs of the Nine Lords anymore, or let them take advantage of him again. He was learning alchemy, he had started learning Tyrian runes, and although he had not been able to enjoy the spring festivities much thanks to his busy schedule, watching the play at the Four Flagon Tavern with Maximilian and Eleanor was a memory worth revisiting. And with lots of spare time today, along with the invitation from Regnar, he might even catch another performance.

Martel considered asking his friends to join him, but the mageknights had class until late afternoon, and if things became awkward with Regnar, perhaps it was better to go alone. It would let him leave soon after lunch, and he could spend some time with the actors before their next show.

***

Crossing the streets of Morcaster, Martel noticed the festivities still in full swing; perhaps even more so, considering this was the last day. Although the sun remained up, people had already started drinking; every tavern that Martel passed by seemed full of patrons. Leaving the centre of the city to enter the bridge district, this only intensified. Evidently, revellers were making the most of what remained of the festival. And while this particular quarter did not have the abundance of open squares, lending themselves to stalls and entertainers that filled the market district, Martel still encountered much to please the eyes and ears. Approaching the Four Flagon Tavern, he even noticed one of the actors performing an amusing monologue, which Martel caught the tail end of.

"… And if you found that to your amusement," the orator continued, "come see our new play at the Four Flagon Tavern! It promises to be a spectacle like you have never seen, with daring tales of bold heroics, all of it augmented by magic! Performance begins at last bell!"

Judging by the size and mood of the crowd, seats would be full. Martel waved at the performer, and she smiled in return before she launched into another monologue. Having seen that one before, Martel continued the last stretch to reach his destination.

Unlike most public houses, the Four Flagon Tavern was at best half full with customers; presumably, most would arrive tonight before the performance, perhaps starting their celebrations elsewhere before moving to this locale. Appreciating the short wait for getting served, Martel got himself a drink. He was not particular thirsty, but seeing everyone else with a tankard in hand made it seem only right for him to have one as well. Once duly armed, Martel crossed the common room to move down the stairs.

He ran into the young boy, Ian, just as he reached the cellar. "Hullo, lad," Martel greeted him.

The child, perhaps ten years of age, looked up from his work, sweeping dirt from between the benches. "It's the wizard from the fancy school," Ian replied with a grin. "I never got the chance to ask, how did you like the play the other night?"

"It was amazing. I can't remember the last time I laughed so much."

"Yeah, it's my favourite! Though tonight should be great as well. I've seen all the magic Regnar has prepared, it's going to overwhelm everyone in the audience!"

"I'll be sure to catch it soon. Is Regnar back there?" Martel pointed towards the stage.

"He should be, yeah. You staying for the show tonight?"

"Maybe. If I feel I have the time."

"Else you can always come back another night," Ian told him. "We are here for good now, after all! No more constant travelling around."

"Which is why you have to sweep," Martel said with a smile. "This isn't some market square. You're happy to be staying then?"

"I really am. Travelling around is useful to get away from people that don't like us, but it also means I never have friends for longer than a few days. Other than the rest of the band, of course."

Being friendless was never easy. "I'm glad you're staying. Alright, you better get back to your broom." With a wink, Martel moved past the boy.

Approaching the stage, he saw the actors busy setting up for their performance. Backgrounds were exchanged, furniture moved around, and other preparations made. Even the old hedge mage gave a hand, hauling a chair with a token effort. "Martel!" he exclaimed. "I'll be right back," Regnar claimed, directed at the others working.

"Any excuse to get out of helping," someone mumbled.

Ignoring any remarks, Regnar jumped down from the stage – Martel wondered if someone his age should really be doing that – and approached the acolyte. "Come with me, boy, let's sit and talk."

They walked behind the stage, where the space held all sorts of items intended for the theatre. Every manner of clothing, primarily, but also weapons, many kinds of chairs, tables, chests, and the like, looking either fit for a lord's hall or a serf's hut.

Regnar plunked himself down on a throne and dug out his pipe, igniting it with the tip of his finger. "Good seeing you again, lad."

"Yeah, same. Even if I'm still annoyed at you pulling that trick on me last time." Martel was not going to get angry about it, but it needed to be said.

"Aye, I figured as much. Hence my farewell taking the form of a note. Traveller's habit, leaving before the consequences catch up to us," Regnar admitted. "But we're not ungrateful. You've looked after us like you're one of us, which is why I wanted you to know about our new home. If ever in need, you just come here, and we'll look after you likewise."

"Well, I probably won't be in Morcaster for long, but I appreciate that." He raised his flagon in response, like a salute.

The hedge mage glanced over his clothes. "Not just a fashion choice, then. You're a battlemage?"

Martel nodded. Somehow, it felt heavy to confirm it out loud. He thought that he had made peace with it, but maybe he had just been too busy to think much on it. He took a sip from his ale instead.

"Well, given how you wield fire, I'm hardly surprised. I'd offer to take you with us when we next go, except we're no longer going anywhere."

"Thanks anyway."

"But you should come by while you're still in Morcaster, as much as you want," Regnar impressed on him. "While meeting another mage is commonplace for you, it's a rarity for me."

Considering his low count of friends, Martel was not going to dismiss someone willing to increase that number. "I will." He cleared his throat. "So, how come you joined the others late?"

"Ah, part of our deal for this place. The tavern is owned by a wealthy family of aristocrats. Besides rent, they wanted me to perform a few magical tasks for them."

"Anything interesting?" And hopefully not illegal.

"Just verifying some old artefacts were indeed magical and not fakes, checking wards on their estate and so forth. The head of the family just died, so lots of family squabbling over heirlooms and inheritance."

Something bothered Martel about this, like the feeling of being watched even if he could not spot anyone. "What family?"

"Ah, some typical noble name for this city. Thierry, it was. Got a big estate up in the northeastern district." Regnar inhaled deeply on his pipe.

It took a moment for Martel to remember, and another before alarm bells began ringing. Ruby had mentioned that name. Lady Pearl was dependent on this fellow, and now he was dead.

Another piece came to mind. Flora had mentioned another task, wanting Martel's help because – she expected to be fighting magic.

The acolyte looked at Regnar. "We need to go."

"Huh? What's the matter, lad?"

Before Martel could reply, someone on the stairs yelled across the cellar. "There's trouble afoot!"

Everyone scrambled to their feet. The actors gave up their work arranging the stage and moved through the theatre, Martel and Regnar following behind them.

As they came up to the common room, Martel noticed the change. Most of the customers had cleared out, and instead, a band of Night Knives stood on the floor, armed to the teeth.