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569. A Heart of Bronze
🕑 Added 2024-02-09 08:00:05 +0000 UTCAs Martel and Eleanor were on their way for their daily outing, they could not help but notice the activity in the middle of the outpost. Using rope, mules, and legionaries, efforts were undertaken to roll the captured cannons out of camp. All of this was overseen by Wulfstan, which made Martel curious, given their conversation yesterday. Evidently, the spy had a vested interest in these weapons, which was understandable; they gave the Khivans an advantage that so far had held the Asterian legions back. The question was what Wulfstan intended or hoped to gain.
"I see you're taking our trophies," Martel said, sidling up to Wulfstan. He spoke in a jesting manner, hoping that a display of camaraderie would make the spy more likely to say anything. "I don't suppose you intend to return them?"
"Doubtful. They're going all the way to Morcaster, where they'll be examined by both mages and craftsmen alike. So far, we know very little about these weapons. We can't even answer why they make them from bronze rather than steel," Wulfstan remarked.
That was a curious question, Martel admitted. But he could not see how it made a difference, or how knowing this would help the Asterians fight against these weapons. "What do you hope to learn about them?"
"No idea, which is what makes this exciting." The spy wore a sly smile on his lips. "If you'll forgive me, Sir Martel, I better make sure my little caravan is ready to depart." He hurried onwards, out of the camp towards an assembled group of carts and draught animals, carrying wounded legionaries, empty supply crates and barrels, and now also cannons back to Esmouth.
***
Patrol proved the same as yesterday. The Khivans stayed elusive. Even if they still remained in the region, they did not seem willing to attempt further ambushes of a battlemage and his protector. Martel wondered if they knew that he was the reason they had lost two cannons on the first night of the assault; they must have figured that it could not be coincidence two of the barrels cracked at the same time, and there could be no other explanation than magic.
But whether they knew specifically to blame him was another question. Perhaps they had suspected he could provide such hindrances and thus been so keen to kill him in the days preceding the assault. Then again, as the Khivans did not practice magic at all, perhaps they were wholly ignorant about his specific powers, and for all they knew, all sorts of wizards might be holed up in the outpost. Unless they had spies, of course, just as the Asterians did…
As Martel speculated on all this, they reached the end of their patrol and returned to the familiar sight of the outpost with its still missing gate. Once they were back inside the camp, they parted ways, as Martel had a personal matter to attend to.
He continued towards deeper into camp until he arrived at the tent belonging to current commander on post – in this case, Sir Avery of the fifth cohort. Unlike the other tents in camp, this was tall enough that a man could stand inside, and it also contained a few pieces of furniture. One of them being a cot, on which the mageknight rested. "Sir Martel, what can I do for you?" she asked as she opened one eye to look at the visitor.
"I should like to borrow your writing set. I received a letter from home I should like to give a reply to," Martel explained.
She closed her eye again and gestured vaguely towards the small writing desk. "Go ahead."
"Much obliged." Martel took the seat and grabbed the quill.
Dear mum,
Thank you for the news from home. I think Tora is a wonderful name, and I can't wait to meet her. I am sure she is a sweet and lovely child. Tell Keith and Clara congratulations on my behalf, both on their wedding and their child. I'm sorry to have missed it.
Matters are quiet here. The enemy did attempt an assault, but they were easily driven away. We outnumber them greatly in this area, so they are quick to disperse and flee as soon as we discover them and fight back. Otherwise, with the weather being so lovely, and us being camped inside a forest, I almost forget we are at war at times. Often, our days are pleasant, and my only concern is how to pass the time. I receive more salary than I know what to do with, especially as there is little it can be used on here. Don't forget if you ever need coin, you can withdraw from the Imperial Treasury in my name.
I hope you had a pleasant solstice. I was invited with the other prefects to celebrate it at the home of my legate. He is the man commanding the legion if you don't know the title. It was nice enough, though not as merry as the celebrations back in Engby.
I have met some people that remind me a little of home. There is a band of Tyrians here, serving as scouts. While they keep to themselves, their leader is a jovial fellow. I taught his people a little of apothecary work, and he showed me some magic in return. I know, some would be wary of northerners, especially one who knows magic, but they fight on our side, at least. They are also good hunters, bringing meat back to camp, so we eat like emperors. Don't worry about that.
Love,
Martel
The letter finished, Martel grabbed an envelope and wrote the name of his mother along with the town and region. "Thank you, Sir Avery," he said, looking towards the mageknight.
"Not a problem. You can leave it with the other correspondence. It shall be sent tomorrow with my report." Still with her eyes closed, she waved her hand in the direction of a small pile of letters stacked a small table. Martel closed up the envelope and placed it there with the others before he left, returning to Eleanor for supper.
~
Martel's character sheet (no change).
Comments
Michael Blue
It would be funny if Martel directly contributing to having cannons be analyzed in Morcaster led him to getting an accolade higher than anything the decurion has
