Chapter 386: Between Golden and Silvery Light
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Chapter 386: Between Golden and Silvery Light
Between Golden and Silvery Light
As with his visits to the Circle of Fire, Martel likewise looked forward to the end of his hours spent in the gymnasium. Not that Reynard harassed him the way Moira did, at least not anymore, but Martel remembered how the Master of War had treated him initially and also tried to prevent him from becoming an acolyte.
The other three fire acolytes stood gathered in an uneven circle, and Martel joined them. Even if hardly on friendly terms, they were all in the same boat during these lessons, and they sometimes needed to work together. Best to put up at least a façade of camaraderie, or failing that, avoid antagonising them.
"Mistress Moira is here." William gave a barely perceptible nod towards the stands, where the old woman had taken a seat. Always a foreboding sight.
"Wonder what she's plotting now?" Harriet asked.Ñøv€l--ß1n hosted the premiere release of this chapter.
"You think we can stop training in these?" Edward shook his arms, jangling the chain links of his armour.
"Keep dreaming," she snorted.
Reynard entered, carrying a bundle of swords in his arms. Taking a guess from recent lessons in the Circle of Fire, Martel extended his magic towards the weapons and felt a chill. While hard to tell by sight, Martel's other sense revealed that the blades were edged with gold.
Lessons done, Martel went to his room before supper and surveyed his wealth. Thanks to his regular payment for work done in the apothecary, he had a tidy sum of more than thirty silver pieces, even after paying Julia's rent the other day. He could send another silver letter to his mother; she had not asked for money nor indicated any need for it, but Martel assumed that they could use it. It might buy a few luxuries for his siblings, such as finer fabric for clothes; or should one of them fall ill again, they would have the coin to buy a remedy immediately.
Martel would delay for now, though, just in case he found himself suddenly needing the money himself. He also wanted to get more alchemical supplies to keep practising his few recipes. Once he had forty or fifty eagles, he could consider sending half. It had been a while since he received a letter from home; he might as well wait for that and read their news before posting a letter back along with the coin.
***
In the late hours of the night, a drunkard stumbled through the streets in the harbour district. He left the wide streets, full of life and light, to cut a path through the narrow alleyways. Although the moon was full, it was a cloudy sky, obscuring its shine. The intoxicated man – a day-labourer by his clothes – halted his progress several times to lean against the nearest house wall and gather his strength before continuing.
At one of these stops, something caught his attention. Squinting his eyes and peering into the dark, he noticed another person lying flat on their back in the alley. "Didn't make it home, eh?" He laughed. "Got to know your limits." With a second look, his eyes glanced over the garments of the supine man, who wore broad linen trousers, an open shirt, and a headband typical of Sindhian sailors. "Enjoying shore-leave a bit too much?"
The drunk chuckled to himself before it seemed another thought struck him. Looking in either direction of the otherwise empty alleyway, he bent down and began rifling through the sailor's pockets. Pulling out a few pennies, he smiled to himself.
The cloud obscuring the moon chose that moment to abscond, and a few stubborn rays of light made their way in between the houses to illuminate the narrow street. They revealed a sight that made the workman's smile freeze.
The sailor's expression likewise seemed frozen with open eyes that stared without ever seeing. Furthermore, where his shirt opened up, a symbol could be seen branded into his flesh.
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Chapter 386: Between Golden and Silvery Light
Between Golden and Silvery Light
As with his visits to the Circle of Fire, Martel likewise looked forward to the end of his hours spent in the gymnasium. Not that Reynard harassed him the way Moira did, at least not anymore, but Martel remembered how the Master of War had treated him initially and also tried to prevent him from becoming an acolyte.
The other three fire acolytes stood gathered in an uneven circle, and Martel joined them. Even if hardly on friendly terms, they were all in the same boat during these lessons, and they sometimes needed to work together. Best to put up at least a façade of camaraderie, or failing that, avoid antagonising them.
"Mistress Moira is here." William gave a barely perceptible nod towards the stands, where the old woman had taken a seat. Always a foreboding sight.
"Wonder what she's plotting now?" Harriet asked.Ñøv€l--ß1n hosted the premiere release of this chapter.
"You think we can stop training in these?" Edward shook his arms, jangling the chain links of his armour.
"Keep dreaming," she snorted.
Reynard entered, carrying a bundle of swords in his arms. Taking a guess from recent lessons in the Circle of Fire, Martel extended his magic towards the weapons and felt a chill. While hard to tell by sight, Martel's other sense revealed that the blades were edged with gold.
Lessons done, Martel went to his room before supper and surveyed his wealth. Thanks to his regular payment for work done in the apothecary, he had a tidy sum of more than thirty silver pieces, even after paying Julia's rent the other day. He could send another silver letter to his mother; she had not asked for money nor indicated any need for it, but Martel assumed that they could use it. It might buy a few luxuries for his siblings, such as finer fabric for clothes; or should one of them fall ill again, they would have the coin to buy a remedy immediately.
Martel would delay for now, though, just in case he found himself suddenly needing the money himself. He also wanted to get more alchemical supplies to keep practising his few recipes. Once he had forty or fifty eagles, he could consider sending half. It had been a while since he received a letter from home; he might as well wait for that and read their news before posting a letter back along with the coin.
***
In the late hours of the night, a drunkard stumbled through the streets in the harbour district. He left the wide streets, full of life and light, to cut a path through the narrow alleyways. Although the moon was full, it was a cloudy sky, obscuring its shine. The intoxicated man – a day-labourer by his clothes – halted his progress several times to lean against the nearest house wall and gather his strength before continuing.
At one of these stops, something caught his attention. Squinting his eyes and peering into the dark, he noticed another person lying flat on their back in the alley. "Didn't make it home, eh?" He laughed. "Got to know your limits." With a second look, his eyes glanced over the garments of the supine man, who wore broad linen trousers, an open shirt, and a headband typical of Sindhian sailors. "Enjoying shore-leave a bit too much?"
The drunk chuckled to himself before it seemed another thought struck him. Looking in either direction of the otherwise empty alleyway, he bent down and began rifling through the sailor's pockets. Pulling out a few pennies, he smiled to himself.
The cloud obscuring the moon chose that moment to abscond, and a few stubborn rays of light made their way in between the houses to illuminate the narrow street. They revealed a sight that made the workman's smile freeze.
The sailor's expression likewise seemed frozen with open eyes that stared without ever seeing. Furthermore, where his shirt opened up, a symbol could be seen branded into his flesh.
Chapter 386: Between Golden and Silvery LightBetween Golden and Silvery LightAs with his visits to the Circle of Fire, Martel likewise looked forward to the end of his hours spent in the gymnasium. Not that Reynard harassed him the way Moira did, at least not anymore, but Martel remembered how the Master of War had treated him initially and also tried to prevent him from becoming an acolyte.The other three fire acolytes stood gathered in an uneven circle, and Martel joined them. Even if hardly on friendly terms, they were all in the same boat during these lessons, and they sometimes needed to work together. Best to put up at least a facade of camaraderie, or failing that, avoid antagonising them."Mistress Moira is here." William gave a barely perceptible nod towards the stands, where the old woman had taken a seat. Always a foreboding sight."Wonder what she's plotting now?" Harriet asked.Nvl--1n hosted the premiere release of this chapter."You think we can stop training in these?" Edward shook his arms, jangling the chain links of his armour."Keep dreaming," she snorted.Reynard entered, carrying a bundle of swords in his arms. Taking a guess from recent lessons in the Circle of Fire, Martel extended his magic towards the weapons and felt a chill. While hard to tell by sight, Martel's other sense revealed that the blades were edged with gold.Lessons done, Martel went to his room before supper and surveyed his wealth. Thanks to his regular payment for work done in the apothecary, he had a tidy sum of more than thirty silver pieces, even after paying Julia's rent the other day. He could send another silver letter to his mother; she had not asked for money nor indicated any need for it, but Martel assumed that they could use it. It might buy a few luxuries for his siblings, such as finer fabric for clothes; or should one of them fall ill again, they would have the coin to buy a remedy immediately.Martel would delay for now, though, just in case he found himself suddenly needing the money himself. He also wanted to get more alchemical supplies to keep practising his few recipes. Once he had forty or fifty eagles, he could consider sending half. It had been a while since he received a letter from home; he might as well wait for that and read their news before posting a letter back along with the coin.***In the late hours of the night, a drunkard stumbled through the streets in the harbour district. He left the wide streets, full of life and light, to cut a path through the narrow alleyways. Although the moon was full, it was a cloudy sky, obscuring its shine. The intoxicated man a day-labourer by his clothes halted his progress several times to lean against the nearest house wall and gather his strength before continuing.At one of these stops, something caught his attention. Squinting his eyes and peering into the dark, he noticed another person lying flat on their back in the alley. "Didn't make it home, eh?" He laughed. "Got to know your limits." With a second look, his eyes glanced over the garments of the supine man, who wore broad linen trousers, an open shirt, and a headband typical of Sindhian sailors. "Enjoying shore-leave a bit too much?"The drunk chuckled to himself before it seemed another thought struck him. Looking in either direction of the otherwise empty alleyway, he bent down and began rifling through the sailor's pockets. Pulling out a few pennies, he smiled to himself.The cloud obscuring the moon chose that moment to abscond, and a few stubborn rays of light made their way in between the houses to illuminate the narrow street. They revealed a sight that made the workman's smile freeze.The sailor's expression likewise seemed frozen with open eyes that stared without ever seeing. Furthermore, where his shirt opened up, a symbol could be seen branded into his flesh.
