A Lesson in Leadership

The loss against the mageknights, especially given he would be punished for it, weighed on Martel's mood. Sleep did little to improve that; he faced Glunday feeling irritable the moment he left his bed. Entering the Circle of Fire for his first lesson of the day, he wondered if the other acolytes could sense his foul demeanour, or if their reserved behaviour simply reflected the typical atmosphere of the classroom. Certainly none of them seemed anguished that Martel would spend his evening getting roasted by Moira.

The aforementioned woman entered, glancing around. "Still a lot left to work on. Your performance was possibly even more pitiful than last, despite me providing you the perfect spell to remedy this."

"A spell is only as good as the caster," Martel mumbled, wanting to snipe at Harriet but still hesitant to start an argument. He knew his teacher would not care about excuses or whose fault it was that they lost.

"You will be practising your flame walls next lesson, maybe this one as well," Moira continued, giving no indication whether she had heard Martel. "But first, your form could still use some polishing. So, we will begin with individual duels. Harriet and Martel, Edward and William. Get in position."

A smile tugged at Martel's lips. A chance for revenge. Harriet was good, swift to evade and often with a sure aim, but Martel was especially motivated to land every spell. He did not care if he took any himself; she would get to feel his magic.

"Attack!"

***

At the end of the first lesson, Martel was satisfied. He had beaten Harriet in several duels, inflicting more hits than she had. While his legs and stomach hurt, he knew she would feel worse. The furious looks she gave him as they left the chamber only confirmed this.

Second lesson began as expected, all the acolytes practising their flame wall spells. While dull, Martel admitted that his speed could use improvement. In a fight, every moment counted. Raising the wall sooner rather than later could make all the difference. In his skirmishes fighting alongside others, such as with the Night Knives, Martel had never paid much attention to tactics. He had done as commanded and otherwise simply sought out the best targets for his spells.

But even if yesterday was a failure, he understood the tactical value of spells such as this. He had seen a hint of this, during the ambush in the Undercroft, when Flora had raised a wall to separate their group before the attack while also preventing their retreat, forcing them to fight in the open. It could be used for much more than simply blocking off escape routes or preventing pursuit. So, although Martel was loath to give Moira any recognition, he kept his head down and practised the spell.

***

Two full bells in the Circle of Fire felt tough enough in itself. After the supper bell had ended, Martel dragged his feet up the stairs for a third; detention awaited him. Moira was already present – eager to dole out punishment, it seemed.

She had her back towards him, but as he entered, she turned around. "Why did you lose yesterday?"

Martel had not expected to be questioned, but any conversation that stole time away from his detention was good. And he was more than happy to answer this particular question in detail. "Harriet failed on the flank. Her spell was weak, allowing the mageknights to outmanoeuvre us. And since I'm confident she did better during our own lessons, I think she did it on purpose to make us lose."

"That was my observation as well. Why?"

Martel looked at her, unable to keep annoyance from his face. She had to know why. "Because she would not be punished for a loss. Only me. She did it to hurt me." As his teacher cracked a sardonic smile, Martel realised something else. "Which is what you wanted. You created this situation."

"Indeed I did. And why, do you think?"

He hesitated before speaking, but he was tired of pretending he had any respect for her. "To have a reason to punish me."

Moira gave a shrill laughter. "I don't need excuses for that, boy! No, I'm trying to teach you a lesson about leadership, which is not an easy thing."

Martel suspected she simply told herself that to justify her actions. "What lesson? What about leadership?"

"When you join the legions, you'll be granted the rank of prefect. Sure, you're not supposed to lead any cohorts, but you will find yourself in situations where soldiers, who hate you for being more powerful and privileged than them, are your only chance of surviving a skirmish with the enemy. Having some inkling of how to motivate them would be a useful lesson, so they don't simply desert you. Or worse, offer up your head to the Khivans for a nice bounty."

"How was I supposed to know any of that?"

She slapped him across the face. "Why did I have to tell you in the first place? Why are you not using all your wits to fight these battles? If you keep putting your pride before survival, boy, you won't last a month at the front."

His cheek feeling the sting, Martel badly wanted to pour all his spellpower into a fire ray and let loose.

"And today, rather than seek to make amends with Harriet, you jumped at the opportunity to make matters worse between you. The Stars really do give the most talent to those least deserving."

"But that's your doing! You're constantly pitting us against each other, trying to make matters worse!"

"Yes, I am. Because outside these walls, you'll be tested a hundred ways. You will be frustrated and under threat, you'll disagree on everything with your fellow soldiers, and you need to learn to put all that aside. And until you do, I'll make this lesson stick the only way I know. Prepare yourself. We are fighting."

Martel spent the remaining bell experiencing the power of a battlemage.