The Friendship of a Mercenary

The first lesson of Malday came and went easily, Martel practising his staff fighting against the other acolytes. They still posed no threat to him, but he had stopped trouncing them; it only fostered bad blood, and matters had been reasonably cordial between them all lately. No point in upsetting that without cause.

A message found Martel as he stepped out of the dining hall after lunch, changing what had begun as an ordinary day into an unpredictable one.

Martel,

Meet me across the square.

You know the place.

I'm there during fourth bell.

Flora

Martel looked at the great clock in the entrance hall, showing an hour after noon. Halfway through the fourth bell; she had probably arrived just before lunch to deliver the message and now waited for him. Unsure what to expect, Martel figured it was best to find out. He only delayed long enough to burn the note between his fingertips before he left.

***

She sat at a table with a tankard in front of her; Martel gestured at the tavernkeeper to receive one as well before he joined her. Beforehand, he had glanced across the room just to take note of who else was present. Everyone seemed like ordinary commoners, and nobody carried arms. The audacity to ambush a battlemage just across from the Lyceum did not seem to fit the style of Flora or the Night Knives.

"Thanks for joining me." The words were cordial, but her voice sounded cold.

"I always do when invited." Martel did not feel nearly as casual as he attempted to appear; he took a sip of his ale to hide his expression and buy a few moments to feel less nervous.

"Me and the fellows did a job the other day. It did not go well. You see, I expected the others to have one mage on their side, but not two. And especially not for one of them to be a battlemage." She stared at him with an accusation in her eyes.

"Sounds like it was the wrong task for you to do."

"You're playing a dangerous game, Martel. Refusing to join us on a job is one thing, that's fine, but selling your services to the other side? Right in Lady Pearl's backyard?"

Martel gave a shrug. "I'm not playing games of any kind. I know the actors down in that theatre. You attacked my friends while I was present. You expect me to stand aside and do nothing?"

"If you had any sense, yes! You knew we had come on behalf of Lady Pearl. You know what it means to make an enemy of her. You've burned your bridges, and for what? You think those painted fools can resist, keep their lousy little theatre?"

"They've done nothing wrong. If burning a bridge means protecting innocent people, I'll set fire to every damn plank of wood in Morcaster." Finding his nerve, Martel returned her gaze without flinching. Power seemed to be the only language these people understood. Thankfully, he possessed it more than most. "And I'm fire-touched – those aren't idle words."

"Don't push your luck. You go directly against Lady Pearl, she'll find a way to retaliate," Flora warned him. "You'll never see it, and it won't be traced back to her. She doesn't keep her position by ignoring threats."

"That's the sentiment she's taking too far. They're a bunch of actors and a hedge mage in that tavern," Martel argued. "None of them pose any danger to her, yet she's scorching the earth in reaction."

The earthmage shook her head with a sarcastic smile. "You're being naïve. It doesn't matter if that's true. Lady Pearl will never allow an unpredictable mage in her midst who's beholden to her greatest rival."

"Well, she doesn't have to worry. I already told them they should leave, and they've agreed to do so," Martel informed her.

A sceptical expression met him. "Just like that? She'll find it hard to believe. I already do."

"That's because you think of them as spies and assassins rather than what they are, ordinary people wishing to avoid conflict," came the irritated response. "Just give them a day or two to pack up, and your Lady Pearl will have her wish."

Flora crossed her arms. "This better not be a ploy. If this is simply buying time to enact some scheme, you'll be considered guilty as well, regardless of your involvement."

For a moment, Martel hesitated. Could the hedge mage actually be part of a plot by Lady Pearl's enemies? He dismissed the thought immediately. Even if Regnar might do something like that, it was not in his nature to endanger the rest of his company. He would have kept them out of it. "Just give it time. They'll be gone soon enough."

"I'll relay that, but don't think our eyes are closed. Given you spend most of your time here, at the Lyceum, it'll be easy to return to that tavern when you're absent. And that hedge mage doesn't stand a chance on his own," Flora said sharply.

Martel looked at the woman he had considered a friend, of sorts. They had fought together. None of that seemed to matter now, only her latest task. She was truly a mercenary, placing coin above any notion of friendship.

"That won't be necessary," he finally said. "But you should be careful about provoking a battlemage. We're known for our temper." Martel got on his feet, fed up with threats. He had faced Flora once before, and their powers in battle seemed even at that time; since then, his quiver of spells and his magical prowess had greatly increased. He saw no reason to fear her, and if she brought her entire mercenary band against him, Martel would stake his life on Maximilian and Eleanor being more than a match for the whole lot. He turned around and began to leave.

"Still naïve, I see." Her voice reached him, but he refused to give her the satisfaction of the slightest reaction, so he continued walking with the same stride, showing no sign that he had heard her parting words.