In Style

With all his recent troubles, and his dedication to properly learning empowerment magic, Martel had paid less attention to his elemental skills lately. He felt guilty about it, as he had done this before and been called out by Master Alastair for it, but it was unavoidable. He was meant to spend some of his spare bells practising a variety of exercises to hone his elemental magic, but those free hours were quickly devoured by fight nights and sparring with Maximilian.

Still, Martel did not wish to disappoint his teacher, so he did his best to pay attention during the lesson and at least appear to be a dutiful student. Of course, that only lasted until a thought occurred to him concerning his next fight, or how much his back hurt from all his landings on the arena floor, or how hungry he felt all the time from many his physical activities.

His mind was engrossed on how to sharpen his ability when raising his shield while also using magic to attack when he absently pulled on water and fire to appear between his hands. The distraction meant he did not even notice what had happened at first.

"Martel."

His teacher's voice snapped his attention back to his surroundings. He looked at the space between his hands. Instead of flaming sparks or droplets of water, a cloud of steam hung in the air.

"You did it, lad."

Martel looked at Master Alastair. "I did?"

The balding man gave a smile. "Two elements conjured as one, creating something new. Well done."

The novice grinned and used a puff of air to dissolve the steam before conjuring it again.

~

Martel's joy lasted until he remembered his other tasks for the day. He had postponed it yesterday; he could not delay further. As uncomfortable as the prospect made him feel, he had to go see Kerra of the copper lanes and find out what she wanted. He doubted she planned an ambush or the like, but even so, he showed her note to Maximilian and asked the mageknight to accompany him. Ever helpful, and rarely disinclined towards danger and the possibility of fighting, the young viscount agreed.

Rather than cut straight through the market district, they walked west before turning south, reaching the slums without going near the harbour. While it felt a little excessive, there was no harm in taking the precaution. It did mean that they spent nearly two hours before they finally reached the establishment known as The Copper Drum.

The place looked much the same as last, with people drinking and gambling at most tables. The lutes of a string were plucked in feeble contest against the clamour of the hall, not to mention the hammers of carpenters working in an adjacent room.

"Where is this cat of yours?" asked Maximilian.

"Let's ask." They approached the bar, and Martel got the attention of the man serving drinks. "I'm here to see Kerra. She expects me."

The bartender exchanged words with a guard, who left.

"While we wait." Maximilian dropped a handful of pennies on the desk and received two mugs of ale, one of which he pushed towards Martel.

The novice shook his head, rolling his eyes a little, and pushed the tankard back towards the mageknight, who shrugged and began drinking.

The guard returned soon after. "Come along." As they turned around, he pointed at Martel. "Just you."

"I will wait for you," Maximilian told him, not looking particularly disappointed with his two mugs of beer.

Martel followed Kerra's man into the complex. They walked through twists and turns of narrow hallways until he suspected the place had been built to confuse intentionally. The doors all looked the same; he only recognised his surroundings once he stepped into Kerra's chamber.

The Copper Lady sat behind her desk, practically dressed while also heavily ladened with golden jewellery. Clearly, she did not take chances.

"What is it you want?" Martel asked.

She gestured for him to take a seat. "While I am not one to stand on formalities, I do feel more at ease if we are both sitting down." He complied, making her smile. "Good. I hear you are doing well over at The Broken Crown."

"I'm winning, if that's what you mean."

"Yes. Unfortunately, Tibert is a suspicious fellow. The other night, he had you followed home."

Martel could not hide the sense of alarm from his face. "So he knows?"

Kerra wagged a finger at him. "I told you to go through the copper lanes, didn't I? My men sent the spy packing. Your secret is safe. For now."

"Is that what you wanted to tell me?"

"I wanted to warn you. You should hasten our plan. Tell Tibert you want to fight Leatherfist next time."

"Your plan," Martel mumbled, wanting to correct her yet afraid to do so loudly. "I'm fighting Lothar tomorrow. But the night after that…"

"Excellent. Another thing. You should leave your mageknight companion at home."

"What? Why?"

"Because he only recognises subtlety after it has tripped him up. He enjoys his drink, and he bets on your fights," Kerra pointed out. "This is not a game, yet he treats it as one. If he lets out the wrong word at The Broken Crown, the entire ruse is done for."

Martel could not tell what annoyed him most; that Maximilian acted recklessly, or that Kerra seemed to know everything. "I'll tell him to stay home."

"Good. You are nearly at the destination, Martel. A little more, and all this is over."

"Fine. But I can't keep doing this," the novice declared, for once daring to stare the Copper Lady straight in the eye. "I'll fight this Leatherfist, and I'll win. No matter what happens after that, with you and Tibert, it's none of my business."

"Of course." She smiled affably. "That was our agreement."

~

They walked home, Martel feeling burdened whereas drink seemed to have uplifted Maximilian. The mageknight hummed and sang a popular tune, switching between one or the other depending on when he remembered the lyrics.

"Max," Martel finally said, though he had to repeat himself before he got his friend's attention.

"Yes?"

"I think it's best you stay home from the fights. We don't want to draw attention unduly."

"And who will watch your back?" the mageknight protested.

"Well, I'm fighting alone in the ring whether you're present or not. It's nearly done, anyway."

Maximilian eyed him with suspicion. "Is this that Kerra woman's idea?"

"I was followed home the other night," Martel told him. "If I hadn't gone through the copper lanes, where Kerra's men chased him off, Tibert would know everything by now."

"Did you see the man following you? Or is that what she told you," Maximilian questioned.

"Look, I'm almost done. Two more nights, hopefully."

"I don't like this copper woman," the mageknight grumbled. "Her entire plan never seemed solid in the first place. A lot of steps for you to tread, just so she can win some money from this bald mug polisher."

"I don't care," Martel remarked wearily. "I'll do what she asks, and that'll be the end of it."

"And if she persists? If she demands another favour after this one, and another, lest she spills her mouth to the Lyceum?"

"We'll burn down her Stars-damned tavern with her inside of it."

Maximilian nodded thoughtfully. "If we are going down, we might as well do so in style."