An Elental Education
Martel arrived at the apothecary for his morning shift to find large bundles of plants waiting for him. Had this been last month, it would not have been surprising. All big events in the city, whether benign or malign in nature, inevitably led to people getting hurt one way or the other; this in turn depleted the infirmary's supplies of apothecary redies, requiring long hours to replenish them. As a simple helper rather than formal apprentice, Martel had just done his usual work during the harvest festival, but he knew both Mistress Rana and Nora ran themselves ragged during such tis.
Looking at the bundles, it felt like a return to that, though to Martel's knowledge, nothing of major consequence was taking place in Morcaster. He recognised strangleroot, used in many recipes for its ability to reduce fever, along with lungwort and coltsfoot, which helped with coughing. "That looks like busy work."
Nora had scarcely acknowledged his arrival other than a quick glance over her shoulder. She was already busy working her way through the herbs. "Plenty more when this is done. Start drying those roots, will you?"
Martel nodded – a bit useless unless Nora had eyes in the back of her head – and grabbed the nearest plant, pulling water from it to dry it out. "Is Mistress Rana going to help you at so point? Else you'll be going at this for days."
"She's not at the Lyceum. She's out scouring for plants that are harder to get."
"This late in the year? Can't be much that's blooming."
Nora just gave a shrug. "She didn't bother explaining. It's sotis a coin toss whether she lets know what's going on."
"I'm sure she'll let you know when it's necessary. You're her apprentice, after all."
"I suppose. Maybe that's how it works in Sindhu."
"Could be." Setting the mostly dry herb aside, Martel picked up another.
***
"Show one more ti, and I'll be satisfied," Master Alastair promised with an expectant smile.
Martel nodded, happy to comply, even if it took quite so effort and energy each ti. Practising regularly, he had mastered the spell. Rather than stretch out both hands to slowly summon lightening, Martel simply extended his right hand; within monts, sparks crackled before a bolt of lightning flashed out, escaping the Hall of Elents through one of the narrow slits used to pull air into the room. There was a slight chance that sowhere on the streets of Morcaster, a roasted bird would drop from the sky.
"Excellent. How do you feel?"
Martel found himself a little short of breath, but otherwise in good shape. "It certainly tires more than casting similar spells, but I don't feel exhausted or anything like that." He had summoned the lightning twice for Master Alastair now, and he still felt able to cast more spells if needed. It was a far cry from his first attempts that had left him weak as a newborn afterwards.
"Very good. I think that's the last I can teach you. I know of no other spells that are worth teaching you."
"Really? We still have so ti before I must leave," Martel considered.
"I would rather you spend the last few months focusing on the lessons of Mistress Moira," Master Alastair suggested, and Martel did his best to keep a blank expression at hearing her na. "I know she'll be teaching you how to improve the range of your spells."
"We just begun yesterday, in fact."
"I see. Well, that'll prove invaluable. You'll want your spells to beat the range of Khivan guns or Tyrian arrows. I suspect that's also sothing that'll be tested during your final examination."
Martel frowned. "You don't know what it'll be?"
He shook his head. "Mistress Moira might know, but I usually only teach novices, and they generally keep the examinations for mageknights and battlemages a secret. They also change them over the years. When it was , decades ago, we were tested in small groups with mageknights, but I hear now battlemages are examined on their own."
"Alright. I'll be sure to practise the range of my magic."
"Good. So, this ans my ti as your teacher of elental magic has co to an end." The old battlemage's expression beca slightly sad.
"That's strange to think of. You've been my teacher from the first day." Martel suddenly felt the weight of his debt of gratitude to Master Alastair. He had helped him unlock his magical abilities, but more than that, he had continued to train Martel of his own volition after he beca a fire acolyte; without the spells taught to him by the Master of Elents, Martel might not have survived his ordeals these last two years in Morcaster.
"You have grown swiftly in magical prowess, my boy. Perhaps starting late was not the disadvantage we first assud. In any case, you can no longer be considered my student, for I suspect you shall surpass swiftly enough. But I will always be your teacher, lad."
Martel had never heard words like this before, and he did not know how to respond in words, so he gave the old wizard a hug. Even at scarcely eighteen years, he was taller than his teacher, who laughed a little and patted his back as he pulled back. "Thank you, Master Alastair. For everything."
"My pleasure, lad. And a privilege. Now, besides your focus on fire magic, I suggest you enjoy your last days in Morcaster. You can't know where the Imperial administration sends you, but an army camp won't have much entertainnt, and your friends will most likely be sent elsewhere."
"I will," Martel promised. He already knew that Maximilian would stay in the city and beco a praetorian; as for Eleanor, he did not know which legion might have the good fortune of receiving her, but it seed unlikely that they would be assigned to the sa one.
"And co by the Lyceum the first ti you're on leave, if your path takes you to Morcaster."
Martel blinked, feeling more emotional than he had expected; when he ca to the Hall of Elents this afternoon, he had not realised it would be his last ti. "I will."
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