Chapter 410: A Performance to Remember

Chapter 410: A Performance to Remember

A Performance to Remember

Martel dug out his expensive clothes, given to him last year by Maximilian. He felt a little odd putting them on; he was used to wearing a robe rather than a doublet, and not just in terms of comfort. His red, embroidered garments marked him as a wizard; people recognised his power and afforded him respect accordingly. In comparison, his luxurious garb only signalled wealth, which he did not have nor did he particularly wish to be associated with. But at least he would eat and drink well tonight, and he was happy to do Maximilian a favour in exchange.

As fifth bell rang, Martel joined his friend outside the Lyceum, where a carriage with the emblem of Marche already stood. "There you are, Martel. Let us get moving."

They both stepped inside, and the driver set the carriage into motion. Like Martel, Maximilian was dressed as exquisitely as money could buy.

"Are you ready for tonight?" asked the young viscount. "Tonight is important to my father, more so than usual."

"Of course. It's very simple magic. Just do as we agreed, and it'll be fine," Martel reassured him.

Maximilian grunted, but gave no other reply. His fingers drummed against his own knee. His usual exuberant mood seemed restrained by nerves, which Martel found a little amusing. It appeared that the mageknight felt more at ease walking into combat than attending a celebration hosted by his own family.

Martel assumed it was pressure exerted by his father that weighed Maximilian down. Another reason the fire acolyte was happy to be a commoner. The schemes and entanglements of the nobility seemed exhausting, and both of his friends were under such demands by their fathers. Maximilian to join the praetorians, and Eleanor to become an officer, both that they might rise in the ranks and gain influence for their houses.

Sweating, not from heat but exertion, Martel increased the intensity of his spell until it set the wooden shield on fire. This accomplished, he released the spell entirely, and the bridge of flames disappeared, leaving only those devouring Maximilian's protection. The mageknight began sprinting forward, throwing his shield aside. Martel raised a wall of flames in front of him, though like his first magic, he kept them cold. With a mighty leap, Maximilian jumped through the fire and struck an imposing blow with his blunted blade.

Using the last of his spellpower, Martel summoned his shield, and it stopped Maximilian's weapon an inch from his neck; to outsiders unfamiliar with magic, it looked as if the mageknight had halted the entire momentum of his powerful swing, sparing the battlemage rather than slicing his neck open.

Martel dismissed any remaining magic. Maximilian pulled back his sword and turned around to bow at the audience, who responded with cheers and applause.

"Absolutely brilliant," the mageknight whispered. "I wager that is the best they have ever seen in my father's house."

"I got some advice from our friends at The Golden Goose," Martel admitted with a satisfied smile. Seeing their host approach them in the centre of the otherwise empty circle, he stepped away, uninterested in any further attention.

As for Count Marche, he slapped one hand on his son's shoulder. "As always, the House of Marche are delighted to have you as guests! Tonight is even more auspicious than usual, as I have an announcement to make." He paused, allowing people to stick their heads together with curious murmurs to follow. "I am proud to announce the engagement of my son, Maximilian of Marche, to the daughter of the honourable Legate Fontaine, Lady Eleanor Fontaine!"

From the crowd, the legate appeared with his daughter by his arm, joining the count and his son. All of them smiled, bowing their heads as the guests clapped and shouted in approval.

As perhaps the only one, Martel remained quiet. He felt bothered, though he could not say why. Perhaps it was the reminder that their lives were moving along different trails. Maximilian would stay in Morcaster, Eleanor would join a legion to advance as an officer, and he would be sent wherever the Empire wanted him to bleed. Seeing her with a shy smile and a blush in her cheeks, either from emotions or cosmetics, Martel looked away, wondering when he might be able to leave the celebration.