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552. An Intelligent Suggestion
🕑 Added 2024-01-23 08:00:03 +0000 UTCAs Martel woke the next morning, he spent a moment pulling himself together before he finally got up. He did not look forward to three days of horseback riding, or the thought of being back at the outpost with the daily patrols once that journey ended. At least he would have a few days alone in the company of Eleanor, and last night had been pleasant, save for his brief encounter with the decurion.
Once they were both ready, they made their way towards Esmouth and the stables. This time, knowing he would be at the outpost indefinitely, Martel had packed as many as his essentials as he could. He left his tools in the workshop, as Starkad had promised to ensure Martel remain supplied with remedies as needed.
"Can you give me a few moments? I'll meet you by the horses," he told Eleanor as they entered town. She gave a brief nod, and they separated. Acting on his thoughts from yesterday, Martel went to the temple for the first time.
It was a simple building, not too different from the shrine back in Engby. A single room containing an altar along with an adjoining building behind for the priest to reside in. A novice was up and about, probably him who had rung the bell this morning; the priest, whose name Martel still did not know, had enjoyed himself at the celebration until late.
Seeing a mage in the shrine, the novice did not speak or draw any attention to himself. Martel acknowledged the boy's presence with barely a nod before he knelt before the altar. He thought about praying, but he had never been taught any prayers for going into war. What would be acceptable to pray for? That Sol would preserve him in battle or that he would have victory against his enemies? Maybe that he would not meet any enemies at all. Suddenly feeling despondent, questioning his reasons and himself for being here, Martel ended up leaving a few gold coins on the altar before he quickly got up and left.
Making his way to the stables, he noticed three horses saddled up outside. Assuming it to be a coincidence, a post rider making their departure at the same time as him and Eleanor, he realised his mistake as he came closer. Alongside the mageknight stood a man Martel recognised after a second glance. It was the mysterious Asterian who had arrived in Esmouth together with the Tyrians – whom Josephine at the brothel had warned him about.
Reaching the other two, Martel looked from one to the other with a question on his face. "Prefect," the man spoke, "I have already identified myself to your companion, but let me introduce myself to you. I am Wulfstan, and I will accompany you to the outpost." With a smile, he swung into the saddle of the nearest horse.
Refraining from replying, Martel packed his belongings and staff into the saddlebags of another horse. Meanwhile, he looked questioningly at Eleanor, who approached him. "He showed me his papers. He is military intelligence," she told him quietly. Or, as Martel would have put it, he was a spy.
***
For the duration of the journey, the travellers barely spoke except to handle practical matters such as meals, making camp, setting a watch, and so on. At first, Martel had been hesitant even to trust this man with keeping watch while he and Eleanor slept, but she did not show any objections to that. Martel guessed that she was not apprehensive about what he might do, but rather what he might hear.
Martel was unsure what exactly somebody working in military intelligence might do, and now was obviously not the time to ask Eleanor. He knew what a spy was, of course, but he would have thought such a person would be dispatched to the Khivan side of the front to spy on the enemy; he could not quite understand why this Wulfstan insisted on travelling with them.
While it eventually occurred to him that someone working in military intelligence might also be hunting spies among their own ranks, it was obviously absurd to consider Martel or Eleanor as suspects. Besides being mages, whom the Khivans hated, they were also constantly engaging enemy soldiers and quite frequently killing them.
The silence only broke properly on the last night, initiated by Wulfstan. "For two people being such good friends, you are certainly quiet."
Neither of the mages answered; Martel wondered what the spy actually knew about them, and whether he was simply trying to make them reveal information about themselves.
"Maybe it is what elevates you both that suppresses your mood. I have heard about your many skirmishes around the outpost."
"Is that why you have come?" Eleanor asked. "To investigate our activities?"
Wulfstan laughed a little. "Stars, no. Is that why you are so reluctant to speak? No, it is coincidence that we travel on this road together. My business is with the Tyrians."
While that made sense, Martel did not feel convinced.
"Though I shall confess my curiosity. When I heard a battlemage had been assigned to this legion, I was baffled, to say the least. I wonder what strings in Morcaster were pulled to make that happen, and why."
Martel saw no reason to enlighten him.
"I will say I find it to be wasteful. Having a fire-touched battlemage running patrols, risking his hide for the sake of killing the Khivan. No aspersion is intended on the skill of his protector, of course." Wulfstan looked briefly at Eleanor. "A testament to your abilities that you have both survived the number of skirmishes as detailed in the daily reports."
"If the legate honours you with such access to this information, why not raise your concerns with him and convince him to change our orders?" Eleanor asked.
He laughed again. "The legate has no interest in my opinions. I'm sure he's quite relieved to see me gone. But I have wondered at something – perhaps simply because I am uneducated in military matters."
"Yes?" Eleanor finally said.
"You go on patrol with ten legionaries. But I cannot imagine they are anything but deadweight. Compared to your magic, they can scarcely add much strength to the fight, and surely they must make it easy for the Khivans to notice you first and make their ambush."
"A good reason why the legate should rescind his orders to us, as those legionaries often end up not as deadweight, but simply dead," Eleanor replied coldly.
"Forgive my poor choice of words." Wulfstan raised his hands with a contrite demeanour. "I simply meant – why not conduct your patrols alone? You will find it much easier to avoid detection."
It was an obvious suggestion, and Martel felt silly he had not considered this himself. "Why don't we?" he asked, looking at Eleanor.
"Regulations state that a patrol must consist of at least ten legionaries," she answered dismissively.
"But there must be exceptions," Wulfstan argued. "If an outpost lacks the numbers, or it is conducting an nightly operation where the fewer, the better, commanders must be able to make that decision."
"Yes, but neither of those conditions apply. I doubt Sir Theodore or any of the other mageknights would simply accept we ignore regulations and leave their legionaries behind, conducting patrols on our own. While the legate has his own reasons for sending us out, the prefects in place rely on their soldiers acting as eyes in the area, maintaining vigilance around the outpost."
"You are prefects," the spy pointed out. "If you decide to leave on your own, what can another prefect do? They do not hold command over you."
"They can complain to the legate or legion prefect," Eleanor said dryly, "and argue that we endanger the outpost by refusing to lend our presence to the daily patrols, as we have been ordered to."
"And what would happen then?" Wulfstan looked from one mage to the other. "It seems to me the worst they can do is ordering you to resume patrolling with the legionaries. I don't see how you lose anything going at it alone."
For a moment, neither of them replied. "We should sleep. I will take first watch," Eleanor finally declared.
***
They reached the outpost early the next day. Relinquishing their horses, the three temporary companions separated; Wulfstan gave them a hearty farewell for now, considering they were bound to run into each other again in the small camp. The mages gave muted replies and left for their own tents with their belongings.
"Is he right?" Martel asked once they were finally alone. "Could we just ignore the legionaries and go at it on our own?"
"I'm not entirely sure. Sir Theodore is bound to complain once he realises this, as will any other mageknight who takes command. And I question the motives of this Wulfstan – why would he suggest this to us?"
A reasonable question, but Martel did not see what they had to lose. They would be fulfilling their orders; if this would somehow be considered a breach, they would at worst be disciplined and told to resume patrolling with the legionaries. "I'm tired of returning to this camp with bodies in tow," he admitted at length. "I'm willing to try this if you are."
"Very well. We are afforded a day's respite, considering we have been travelling today. Tomorrow, we shall go into the woods alone."
~
I'm currently sick with fever, so uploading chapters may be slightly erratic or missing the character sheet until I'm better.
Comments
Michael Blue
Feel better!
Thanks for the great chapter and best wishes for a prompt recovery !
