Spare a Thought
The eting in the small tavern did little to ease Martel's state of mind about the task ahead; on the contrary, the idea that three different factions would cooperate made him doubt the whole venture. Given the deep distrust that each of the Nine Lords and their minions showed each other, Martel had his misgivings concerning their ability to coordinate this act of sabotage, involving no less than three mages, all doing their own kind of magic.
Martel only felt good about one thing, naly his own part of the plan. Thankfully, he could control fire from a reasonable distance, and he would presumably not have to enter the construction yard itself to carry out his task. Should the others get into trouble, they would have to handle it on their own; he owed them nothing, and he would make use of his position for a swift retreat, if necessary.
Of course, his previous experiences with these people suggested that they might conceal the actual plan from him, and he would sohow end up being bait once again. But at the slightest sign of this, Martel would set them on fire and leave. And if the Friar made any noise over this, or threatened Sparrow, Martel stood ready to incinerate him as well. He would honour his commitnt, but he would not be treated like a lamb for slaughter.
With this resolve in mind, Martel went to the workshops the next morning and focused on practising his enchantnt, forgetting about Nine Lords, betrayal, and setting people on fire for the ti being.
***
Martel arrived at the Hall of Elents in a good mood, despite last evening. His enchantnt skills steadily improved; if this continued, he would be able to make long lasting stones for heating and light within a month or two. Maybe a bit sooner, maybe a bit later, but eventually. Likewise, he knew he had taken an important step towards learning the lightning bolt spell. He could command the involved elents equally; now he just needed to combine them, which was a technique he had previously learned when doing simpler spellwork.
"Always good to see a student in high spirits," Master Alistair remarked with a smile.
"It feels good to make progress, in several areas, even," Martel replied. "And in so ways, I think learning these different skills support each other. Enchantnt helps with the precision needed, and learning how to channel magic through a diamond has probably made better at wielding air."
"Very likely. It's a pity your fellow students aren't as quick to learn as you are. No doubt they could benefit like you have, but unfortunately, the legions are not patient." His teacher's smile turned sad for a mont. As for Martel, it did not matter to him how the other acolytes fared. "At least it has done you good. I figured that making you practice with the staff of a stormmage would be useful for this spell as well."
Martel frowned. "It was your idea?"
"Oh yes. Mistress Moira initially wanted you to practice with a sapphire, since your first study at the school had been water magic. But I convinced her that air was a better choice, since you were focusing on it in my lessons as well."
Martel did not know how to respond. He had assud that Moira taught them whatever he was ant to learn and otherwise did not care about her students. It was strange to consider that she not only put thought into what Martel should learn, but also consulted with Master Alastair.
"Regarding your fellow acolytes… I don't know how things are between you and them," Master Alastair continued. "In my ti, we had so rather intense rivalries. Maybe that's needed, to make you all perform at your absolute best. Or maybe it's simply inevitable when a group of young wizards are together under such circumstances."
Those circumstances had a na, Martel thought, and a cruel tongue, but he kept his opinion to himself.
"Even so, I would encourage you to show them kindness. You may have arrived at the school much later than them, but your talent and superior skill would make you a natural leader."
As natural as a shepherd's dog herding cats.
"Furthermore, they must work twice as hard to learn the sa spells as you, and it takes them twice as long. At the sa ti, they face the sa future as you. Deployed to the legions with little knowledge of when they might see their hos again. Just sothing to bear in mind," Master Alastair told him.
"Alright. For now though, should we practise?"
"Stealing the words right out of my mouth! Ti to combine the elents, boy."
Nodding, Martel held his hands in front of him, as if holding a bowl of water, and he summoned air and fire to mix together in a whirlwind of flas.
***
Once the bell rang, Martel left the Hall of Elents and went to his room. After slaking his thirst, he grabbed his notes on Tyrian runes and continued onwards to the library. Nobody else was present, not even the frostmage who always sat in a corner with her nose buried in so book. Fetching the relevant tos for their current studies, Martel sat down and began reading.
Half an hour later, Eleanor arrived with her own notes under her arm. She greeted him with a quiet smile, looking refreshed despite her weapons practice the previous bell.
"You don't have to be quiet," Martel told her. "It's only us."
"Oh, I see." She looked through the titles of the books on the table that Martel had collected before she suddenly giggled.
"Sothing amusing?"
"I just recalled sothing Maximilian did during training. Not worth retelling."
"Right. Well, he's good fun. I'm glad you get along so well."
"Of course, why would we not? Ah, there it is." She picked up a volu and cracked it open. Martel looked at her for a long mont as she sat down to read before returning to his own book.
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