A Light Step

After he had undressed, Martel hurried to step into the warm basin. Tonight was the solstice celebration at Maximilian's home, so Martel made use of the Lyceum's baths to get a good scrub in before he changed clothes.

But first he leaned back to enjoy the warm water. A few other boys made use of the pool as well, but they did not disturb him. It gave Martel the opportunity to consider tonight. During the summer celebrations, he had performed magic not once, but twice in a hall full of people. Given that Maximilian and Jasper had managed to guess his secret, he obviously had to be more careful. If Maximilian wanted him to participate again, he would just have to lie and claim he had exhausted himself practising spells. No matter what, he would avoid attention.

As the hot water helped him relax, this line of thought gave him an idea. If he was serious about trying to find the contract for Shadi and her father, or just anything that might help them avoid eviction, it would help him to prepare. However, he obviously could not practice sneaking around the duke of Cheval's palace.

But he could do so tonight at Maximilian's home. While not the same place, Martel assumed both had guards and areas restricted for guests. He could use tonight as an opportunity to practice getting about unseen. And should he be discovered, Maximilian could vouch for him, letting him avoid trouble. Closing his eyes, Martel allowed himself to sink underneath the water before he emerged again.

***

At fifth bell, the carriage arrived to take Maximilian and Martel to the feast. As they travelled, Martel had to resist the urge to constantly fiddle with the tight collar of his shirt or other parts of his outfit; he would never get used to this kind of clothing. "Max, you don't expect me to perform magic like I did last time, right? Because I'm really tired from practising."

"Of course not, a repeat would be plebeian. No, I will fight a duel with Eleanor. It allows us both to show our skill, and it seeds the ground for our union."

Another thing Martel still felt weird about. He stayed quiet as the drive continued, eventually reaching the stately home belonging to the count of Marche.

***

The first time Martel had seen this place, he had felt overwhelmed. Now that he had seen the Imperial palace, he knew that some lived in even greater wealth and luxury. Still, he admired the rich decorations, the artistry shown everywhere, and the amounts of food offered to guests. Martel made sure to taste the different kinds of fowl, fat and exquisite even in winter. And this was not the full meal, but simply treats to welcome the guests. Maximilian laughed at his eager eating, slapping him on the back.

An hour later, when everyone was presumed to have arrived, the count of Marche appeared on a balcony overlooking the great hall, where his guests had gathered. He gave a speech, which Martel did not pay attention to, already thinking about his own little activity. He slowly moved backwards until he stood against the wall. A few more furtive steps before he slipped out of the hall into a corridor.

As he began walking, servants appeared from the opposite direction, carrying trays with more food. Martel prepared himself to be asked about the reason for his presence when they simply passed him by, eyes downwards. Of course; he was dressed as a noble, and regardless of ancestry, he was still a guest of the count. Only the guards could be expected to question him.

Martel knew the route to Duke Cheval's study in his mansion, so to give himself the same challenge here, he decided to reach the room with the artefacts from the Western Isles, where he had once been offered that bitter coffee by the count.

It lay in the inner part of the complex, where no guests were supposed to be, and where sentinels could be expected. Walking with confidence until the stream of servants had passed him by, Martel finally slipped into a smaller corridor.

Catching his breath, feeling nervously excited at the thought of sneaking around, Martel tried to calm himself. He would have to stay sharp and especially keep his ears open so that he might hear others in time to hide.

With cautious steps, focusing on avoiding noise as he walked, Martel continued down the small corridor. It lay between the larger hallways, acting as a quick passage for servants to move swiftly around the mansion. Now it served the same purpose for Martel.

He reached a crossroad where it intersected with one of these bigger hallways, and he heard the lazy gait of heavy boots coming from the side. An old lamp cast a frail light inside the passageway, and Martel quickly reached out with his magic to quell the flame even as he retreated into the appearing darkness. Shortly after, a guard walked by at a leisurely pace.

Waiting until it was quiet, Martel crossed over to continue down the servants' corridor on the other side of the hallway. This was not the same route he had taken when going to the chamber with Maximilian, obviously, but Martel believed he now approached his destination.

Leaving the servants' passage, Martel almost walked straight into a guard who stood posted down the hallway. Pulling back, he wondered what to do. A distraction ought to work; the question remained how to best accomplish this.

Carefully sneaking another glance, after he had extinguished the nearest lamp, Martel noticed a large painting on the wall. With a strong gust of wind, he pulled it down to land on the floor with a heavy sound. Flinching, the guard leaned his spear against the wall and hurried over to inspect the fallen object. Meanwhile, Martel quickly snuck forward.

As he approached the next large hallway, he recognised it. Being more careful than last, he extended his magic to search for any large sources of heat, such as human bodies. Nothing came back to him; the hallway was empty. Moving forward, he swiftly approached the door into the chamber decorated from the Western Isles. It was locked. A quick touch and a spell on the keyhole, same as he had done in the house of Oswald, gave Martel entrance. His little training run had been a success.

***

"It is I."

Hearing Juliana's voice on the other side of his chamber door, Alastair crossed the room to open up. "Come inside."

The overseer did so, joining the Master of Elements in his private quarters. "The headmaster moved faster than I did." She held up a letter in her hand.

Alastair took it and glanced over the list of names. "The tribunal?"

She nodded. "At least half are guaranteed to be swayed by him. I might have stood a chance to convince the rest to support me, but the meeting is held in a few days. If I could not influence who sits upon the tribunal, I doubt that I can persuade any of them before we meet, or during, for that matter."

He gave her a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry. For all your work for this school, you deserve better treatment."

"I will not argue that."

"Martel deserves to know. This leaves him in a most precarious situation."

Juliana exhaled slowly. "I know. He must expect to be expelled. I will tell him on Pelday when the solstice celebrations are over. Let him enjoy those until then."