Firebrand

Chapter 514: The Final Letter

The Final Letter

For a few days, Martel lived in the frail hope that Mistress Juliana had been misinformed. After all, he was a battlemage; too rare and valuable to be thrown away because of a personal vendetta. Sending Martel to the Tenth would be a waste of his powerful skills; the same went for whichever hapless mageknight was chosen to be Martel's protector and sent to meet the same fate. It was hard to believe that the Imperial administration would tolerate such waste. And yet, it was harder to believe that anyone could undo Duke Cheval's schemes or resist his influence.

Passing through the entrance hall, Martel was hailed by Henry, the airmage manning the desk. "An official letter for you." Accepting the missive, Martel saw the Imperial eagle upon the red wax. Despite having delivered the letter, Henry remained, almost tripping in place. "That your official summons?"

"I assume so." Martel stared at Henry, unsure about this attempt at conversation. While they had once been on friendly terms, the airmage had barely spoken to Martel ever since the latter was revealed to be fire-touched.

"Great. I still haven't received mine. Examination is next month."

"Alright."

As Martel moved to turn away, Henry quickly spoke again. "I heard about what you did down at the copper lanes. Not just helping out with alchemy, but that you ran inside to extinguish a fire, even if it put you at risk to get sick. I just wanted to say that was really impressive."

Martel disagreed; fire posed no threat to him, and at the time, they still had plenty of potions left should Martel have contracted the disease. But he saw no reason to reject the compliment, nor did he care to discuss its merits, so he simply nodded in acknowledgement and walked away.

Breaking the seal to read it immediately, Martel's eyes ran over the words quickly.

Master Martel,

The Imperial administration is proud to congratulate you on your entry to His Imperial Majesty's legions with the rank of prefect. You have been assigned as battlemage to the Legio X Astra, currently posted at Esmouth. You will be sworn in tomorrow at third bell, the fourth Solday of this month, at the fortress of Saint Marcellus. Attendance is required. The day after, the fifth Pelday of this month, you are to appear by second bell at the third pier to board the vessel Red Emerald, which will take you to your post. Failure to appear will be considered desertion, punishable by death.

In the name of His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Corvinus the Third,

Felix Aurelius, military magistrate

There it was, black on white, clear as day. Martel was in the Tenth Legion.

***

He quickly returned to his chamber and sat down at his desk to write a letter of his own.

Dear mum,

I have received my posting. I am now a prefect in the Tenth Legion. This is good news, as the legion is posted far from the siege of Nahavand, where most of the fighting is. This means I probably won't even see combat. And should it happen, as a battlemage, I have a mageknight assigned to me as protector. I don't know who yet, but since they are all highly skilled warriors capable of powerful, defensive magic, I'm bound to be safe no matter the situation.

I have been told by Master Alastair that rather than have all my salary paid to me, the Imperial Treasury can store it for me. This is useful, since there won't be much for me to spend money on, living in an army camp. It also means that you can access it, should need be.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

You will have to travel to Morcaster, and you should bring not only this letter, which states my permission for you to access my payments, but also letters from people like Father Julius and Master Ogion, verifying yours and my identity. Should they still give you trouble, you should go to the Lyceum and ask for Master Alastair, who will gladly help you on my behalf.

I know that travelling to Morcaster is quite the journey, but this will be much better than the old method of me sending a silver letter. It would just take too long for any letter from you to reach me over in the eastern provinces, let alone waiting for a reply. You'll be able to go to Morcaster and return before any letter from Engby would even reach me, probably.

I'm sorry this letter is short. I have many preparations to make before my journey. I'll be sailing to my posting, which will be exciting. I've never been on a ship before. Let my siblings know I think fondly of them all. When you have the chance to write, you should simply write your letters to Legio X Astra. The Imperial post will know how to get them to me.

All my love, Martel

The letter finished, Martel took a new sheet of parchment and wrote down a note in the manner that Master Alastair had instructed him.

I, Martel of Engby, prefect of Legio X Astra, authorise the Imperial Treasury to pay out all salary owed me to my mother, Hilda of Engby, in the event of my death. Should she be unable to collect, the same authority is given to any of her children.

***

His correspondence complete, Martel let out a deep breath. He would see both missives posted this afternoon, just to get it done. But first, he was curious about what letters his friends might have received. Maximilian was named a praetorian, undoubtedly, but Martel wondered what legion Eleanor might have chosen. If she had joined any of the legions at the siege, she would also have to travel by ship up the Savena River, and they might be on the same vessel. At least they could share that journey before splitting up.

Making his way towards her chamber to see if he could catch her, Martel spotted Maximilian in the hallway between the dormitory towers. He also noticed that the mageknight was in a furious state. "You! I suppose you are satisfied!"

Before Martel could question anything, Maximilian strode past, using his shoulder to push the battlemage up against the wall. "Max!" He watched the mageknight stomp off, feeling upset and a little hurt, but he knew it was pointless to talk to his friend when he was in such a mood. Trying to push his annoyance away from his mind, Martel continued towards the girls' dormitory tower.

When he reached Eleanor's floor, he noticed her door standing ajar. "Eleanor?" he asked gently, slowly pushing the door open until he saw her sitting on her bed, looking distraught. "What's wrong?"

She stood up and took a deep breath, composing herself. "Just an argument."

"I saw Max storm away. Pushed me aside and everything. Is he the cause of this?" Martel's frustration returned, angry that Maximilian would upset her.

"Of sorts. He is furious that I decided to change career. I have volunteered for protector duty rather than becoming an officer."

Martel's first thought was a tinge of disappointment; as a praetorian, Eleanor would remain in Morcaster, and they could not travel together on the ship to the Savena River. He realised this was an absurd reaction, and relief filled him at the thought that Eleanor would not go to war, but stay safe. He no longer had to worry of one day receiving the news that something had happened to her in battle. "But wait, why is Max angry? He should be thrilled that you're staying in Morcaster."

"I am not joining the Praetorian Guard." She picked up her letter from her bed and handed it to him, and Martel began to read.

Lady Eleanor Fontaine,

The Imperial administration is proud to congratulate you on your entry to His Imperial Majesty's legions with the rank of prefect. You have been assigned as protector to the Legio X Astra, currently posted

Martel looked up again. "Eleanor, I told you not to join the same legion as me!" He glanced down at the parchment again. "And why would you not become an officer? Who in the Tenth Legion even needs protection " As he once more looked up to catch her eyes, her expression made him realise the answer. "Why would you do that?" he asked with a quiet voice.

"How long do you think you will survive without me?"

"They would have assigned another mageknight to guard me," he argued.

"Yes, someone lacking the skill to become a praetorian. Who has received the worst posting in the Empire because of you. Whose only chance to escape that posting is in the event of your death. How skilled or motivated do you think they would be to keep you alive?"

Martel wanted to protest, but he realised he had no arguments. He knew she was right, but he dearly wished he could point out another way; a reason why she did not have to do this.

"I have already had plenty of Maximilian yelling at me, so do not dare to chastise me as well!" Her voice grew soft as she added, "Not when I did this for you."

Bereft of words, Martel simply stepped forward and swept her up in a tight embrace. He realised this was a gesture of friendship unlike any other he had ever known or would know. "Thank you," he mumbled into her hair.

She gave no response other than placing her own arms around him.