Gathering Clouds
In his haste at arranging a fun evening with Shadi, Martel had forgotten that on Glunday, he had class at sixth bell, making it impossible for him to reach the Khivan enclave by seven. Fortunately, Master Alastair was willing to let him skip the class and make up for it by doing his exercises at another ti; it paid to be in the teacher's good graces.
When the seventh bell rang from all the temples across Morcaster, Martel stood at the fountain by the square in the Khivan quarter in the doublet and shirt once given to him by Maximilian. Shadi joined him monts later, wearing a dress rather than her usual practical clothes.
"Let's get sothing to eat first. We got ti. My treat." Martel still had a solid chunk of silver left from his own fights, and he could not think of a better way to spend them.
"That sounds good. Where should we go? We can find sothing by the harbour on the way."
"Let's find sothing here. I'm in the mood for a Khivan al." He was really in the mood for avoiding the harbour, but this explanation sounded better.
Shadi made no objections, and they went to a local tavern, serving spiced lamb with onions, tomatoes, and certain vegetables that Martel had never heard about before coming to Morcaster. All in all, a delightful al made only better by the presence of his companion.
~
As could be predicted, The Copper Drum was full on a fight night. Even though they arrived in good ti, they had to swiftly make their way to the hall and find a balcony while they still had a chance. The waiting ti beca a little awkward, as the close proximity of other people made it hard to relax or carry a conversation, but finally, two fighters entered the pit.
"The big fellow is called Butcher. I don't know the other guy, he must be new." Even though they stood next to each other, Martel almost had to shout to be heard over the clamour.
"He sounds grueso," Shadi remarked as they watched the two n pick up their staves and attack each other.
"He's really nice once you get to know him," Martel considered, making her laugh.
"The other guy is fast, he keeps getting hits in."
"He does, but they don't make much impact on a guy like Butcher. He's slow, but tough to crack, and he hits really hard."
"You know a lot about him, do you often watch fights in this place?"
"No, this is my second ti. But I fought Butcher once, so I know what it's like," Martel explained.
She raised her eyes from the match to look at him in surprise. "I thought you did your fights in the harbour?"
"I did. Well, it's complicated. Oh, look!" Down in the pit, Butcher smashed his staff against his opponent's head, finishing the tussle. The crowd reacted as could be expected, enjoying the spectacle.
"He won! That was more exciting than I would have guessed. I wasn't sure I enjoy sothing like this."
"Want to go et the victor?" Martel asked. Around them, people began leaving, alleviating the pressure keeping them penned in.
Her eyes widened a little. "You think we can?"
"As long as I promise to buy him a round of ale, I'm confident we can," he laughed.
~
With a tankard in his hand, Butcher smiled as he looked from Martel to Shadi. "Are you one of them mages also?"
"No, not at all," she replied with a trace of laughter. "No, I leave that to him."
"That's probably for the best, one of them is more than enough."
"Hey," Martel protested," I'm the one plying you with drinks."
"Where did you learn to fight, Master Butcher?" Shadi asked.
"In the legions, sa as every fighter here. In between all the marching, or building roads to march on," he laughed and took a heavy sip from his mug. "The clever ones got better work. Everyone who could write, for instance, spent their ti in camp as clerks. The grunts like , we did all the hard labour. If I never have to swing a pickaxe in my life again, I'll die a happy man."
"Life in the legions sounds tough," Martel remarked.
Butcher nodded. "But you got a talent, lad, and a future." He winked at Shadi. "Stick to this one."
She laughed. "I intend to."
~
Once night fell, they decided to break up for the evening. Shadi's father expected her ho, and Martel had promised to walk her back, which ant he would be ho at the Lyceum even later. Leaving the jovial fighter and The Copper Drum behind, the pair ventured outside.
Sumr rain fell quietly on the streets, and neither had clothes particularly suited against precipitation, but it did not dampen the mood. Despite the weather, they walked in a carefree fashion, almost making a ga of jumping around on the cobbled stones to avoid the small puddles forming on the ground.
Martel laughed and made easy conversation, but inside, his nerves were making their presence known. He had asked Maximilian for advice on how to proceed in these matters, long ago, and he did not quite rember everything the young viscount had told him. He did recall one suggestion that it was best to try for a kiss just before saying goodbye; in case the request was rejected, he had a ready excuse for leaving anyway rather than be stuck in an awkward situation. While this felt a bit like planning for failure, Martel had no better idea. Thus, with every step through the copper lanes towards the Khivan quarter, his nerves grew worse.
They were barely halfway, not quite yet at the harbour district, when they passed by one of the derelict buildings that could be found throughout the slums. Distracted by his companion, Martel did not notice the shadow that appeared from inside the debris.
He only realised they were not alone as a leather glove reinforced with tal punched him in the face.
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