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579. Head Above Water
🕑 Added 2024-02-19 08:00:04 +0000 UTCUnwilling to cross the entire city on foot with all their luggage, Martel and Eleanor hired a cart and a driver. They placed their belongings and themselves in the back and began the journey northeast towards the noble quarter. Dressed in his red robes with flaming embroidery, not to mention the ruby-tipped staff in his hand, Martel looked the very image of a wizard, and as they drove through the streets, the sight of a mage in the back of a cart drew plenty of stares. But only until he had passed them by; there was always something stranger coming right around the corner in Morcaster.
The path took them across the square in front of the Lyceum, and Martel felt all sorts of emotions seeing the castle, enough to overwhelm him. His time with the legion had most days been so exhausting, he had barely had time or energy to think about his former school. Now, as the wagon rumbled past its gates and towers, he realised how much he missed it. Even if so many of his days have been spent alone; he had still made two friends, one of whom had been by his side ever since, he had been blessed with such mentors as Master Alastair or Mistress Rana, and he had met kindness shown by the likes of Master Jerome.
As they drove through the gate to enter the courtyard of the mansion belonging to House Fontaine, Martel briefly reflected on the stark contrast with the walled encampment outside of Esmouth. Their driver seemed uncomfortable, perhaps feeling out of place; as soon as he had received his pay, he drove off swiftly. Grabbing their belongings, Martel and Eleanor trudged up to the front doors and knocked.
"Lady Eleanor!" exclaimed the servant who opened.
"Inform my parents of our arrival, if you please."
The servant ran off, and the two mages stepped inside. Martel felt self-conscious allowing his worn travel chest to touch the marble floor, and they spent a brief while in silence until they heard footsteps resounding through the open space. From atop the great staircase leading to the upper floor, a girl some years younger than Eleanor appeared, and she hurried down to jump into her sister's arms.
"You are home!"
Eleanor squeezed the girl before pulling back. "Genevieve, you remember my friend, Martel."
The girl gave him an embarrassed smile, and he bowed his head. While he had seen her on a few occasions, she had been unconscious, and he doubted she would have recognised him without Eleanor's introduction. She probably had no idea who he was.
More footsteps followed, this time at a slower, but still firm pace. Eleanor's mother arrived first, descending. "Dear child!" She greeted her daughter the same way that Genevieve had, and Martel felt almost awkward being present for this private moment between Eleanor and her family.
At last, the legate of Legio I Urbis appeared. While dressed as a typical nobleman, his bearing and movements revealed him to be a soldier; Martel recognised the posture and gait by now. He placed his hands on his daughter's shoulders, giving them a squeeze. "Welcome home."
"Thank you, father."
The legate turned and extended his hand towards Martel, who reached out and grasped it. "Sir Martel."
"My lord legate."
Eleanor glanced from one parent to another. "I invited Martel to stay with us during our leave. I assume that will not cause any problems?"
"Of course not," her mother swiftly replied. She turned towards the servants who stood lined up against the walls. "Prepare my daughter's room and a guest room for the prefect." Martel watched as his luggage was hauled away, feeling weird about a stranger handling it. "Also, prepare the baths. You must both long to wash away your journey. And when you are ready, supper shall be served."
Warm water and savoury meals, just as Eleanor had promised. Martel could not complain. "Very grateful, Lady Fontaine."
***
Martel sank into the water. Even before he stepped into the basin, he could feel the heat permeate the space, both physically and magically. It wrapped itself around him, welcoming him into the hall. As the water finally surrounded him, he let out a sigh. If the legion camp could only build something like this, he would almost be fine with his posting.
After a while – Martel had lost track of time – somebody else entered the bath. Looking up, Martel found himself staring at his host. Undressed, the legate stepped down into the pool and leaned against the edge on the side opposite of Martel. "Tell me, Sir Martel. I hear there has been fighting surrounding the outpost built by the Tenth."
"Some." While the man was a legate, his responsibilities did not extend to the Tenth Legion, and Martel was unsure how much he should reveal. "The Khivans tested our defences and found them capable to the task."
"My daughter wrote to me that they used cannons, which suggests a rather serious effort to regain control of the area."
"True, they did. And they failed."
The legate leaned his head back into the water, closing his eyes. "What of Eleanor? How is her performance?"
"She is the strongest mageknight in the legion. Nobody works harder than her."
"I'm not interested in empty flattery, Sir Martel."
"Nor do I offer any. The other mageknights, they spend their time training soldiers. In our first year, I daresay Eleanor has done more fighting than any of them throughout their entire service in the legion. Age is irrelevant when she has nonetheless gathered more experience than them," Martel argued.
"Good to hear." In the silence that followed, Martel wondered if he should speak, or simply take his leave rather than risk further conversation. Before he could decide, the legate spoke again, still with his eyes closed and head tilted back to touch the water. "If something happens to my daughter, I will hold you personally responsible."
Martel could not blame him for that. "So will I."
~
Martel's character sheet (no change).
