Firebrand

Chapter 66: The Right Touch

The Right Touch

Solday, usually Martel's easiest day of the five, proved busy. After working in the apothecary and assisting Master Jerome, he had to get a message to Shadi that he would not be able to meet. It cost him a trip into town and one of his few pennies to Badger, who happened to be the first of the street children that he met. His message dispatched, Martel returned to the Lyceum where Eleanor waited for him in the entrance hall.

"Good, you are back. Did you handle your errand?"

He nodded. He had not seen any reason to explain the specific nature of the errand. He gestured towards the bundle in her hands. "That for me?"

"Indeed." She handed it over. "But first things first. Head to the baths and get a good scrub in. Get dressed afterwards. I will stop by your room in an hour, maybe a little later. My father's horses should be here by then to take us to our destination. Understood?"

"Aye, commander," Martel grinned, to which she only rolled her eyes.

~

The novice lowered himself until the hot water reached his chin, enjoying the sensation of the heat relaxing his muscles. Back home, bathing happened maybe once a fiveday in the local stream, usually before going to the temple. And that was only in summer, where the cool water was a relief. In winter, they dragged water from the brook inside and heated it over the kitchen fire. With six children to wash, the water quickly turned dirty.

In comparison, having a large pool of heated water constantly available felt like the greatest luxury Martel had discovered at the Lyceum, and he made use of it nearly daily. He wondered if Master Ogion had something like this in his house back in Engby.

When he had washed, Martel quickly cooled off in the cold pool of water and dried himself before he returned to his room. Finally, he unpacked the bundle from the tailor. Adding the new doublet to his other clothes from Maximilian, he found it a perfect fit. More than that, a beautiful tree in green spread across his chest on a red background.

He quickly got dressed and wished he had a large enough bowl of water to act as a mirror. He did not know why Eleanor had chosen the tree for him, but he liked the image, and he wished he could see himself wearing the new doublet.

A knock on the door. Martel had spent longer in the bath than he had realised. He walked over to unbolt and open it. Outside, Eleanor greeted him with a smile. She wore a dress in red and green he had not seen before, along with a few pieces of jewellery. As always, all of it complimented her well. In her hand, she held a small jar. "Go sit down. Facing the other way." She pointed past him and his chair inside the room.

He followed orders, wondering what she intended. As sweet fragrance filled the air as she opened the jar in her hand. "That smells good!"

"That is its sole purpose." He could hear the smile in her voice as she stood behind him and poured oil into his hair. With deft, quick movements, she administered the scent, her fingers massaging his head.

It struck Martel how intimate her touch felt, even if it was simply a practical process to her. Nobody had really touched him with kindness since he had arrived in Morcaster, her fingers moving through his hair almost like a caress. Suddenly, he wished the moment would never end.

Yet it did. "There we are. This is yours to keep." Eleanor tapped the jar against his drawer, leaving it there.

"No, that's yours," he protested.

"Martel, that scent would not work for me at all. I have no use for it. Now come along, our carriage awaits."

~

After two celebrations among the nobility, Martel thought he had a sense of their wealth and extravagance. Arriving at the estate belonging to the house of Cheval, he had to revise that opinion. Driving into the courtyard, nothing less than a grand palace appeared before him, fit even for the emperor. Beyond that, it was decorated with such ostentation, Martel felt overwhelmed. The walls and ceilings were covered with elaborate frescoes, and exquisite statues flanked their approach every ten feet towards the grand hall. The beauty and craftsmanship on display, which in itself signalled a wealth beyond his imagination, left him speechless. Smiling to herself, Eleanor took Martel by the arm and led him forward after announcing their names to the majordomo.

The feast hall only reinforced the initial impression. Alcoves filled the walls, each holding another finely sculpted statue. The ceiling boasted painting after painting, showing elaborate figures in all sorts of scenarios from gruesome war to peaceful idyll. Martel stared until his neck began to hurt.

"You may want to close your mouth at some point," Eleanor laughed.

"I've never seen anything like this," Martel confessed. "It's like a whole different kind of magic. It's so beautiful."

"Yes. Yes, it is," she said softly.

"What the blazes are you doing here?" With a face as angry as his voice, young Cheval stalked over to stand in front of them. "How dare you foul the halls of my home, half-breed!"

Eleanor took a small step forward to stand between the other mageknight and Martel. "He was invited. And you are not the master of these halls."

"You made a mistake," Cheval fumed. "I will have the guards flog you for trespassing!"

A servant in livery appeared. "Master Martel? His lordship the duke wishes to see you immediately."

The novice looked from the servant to Eleanor. Refusal did not seem an option. "You are his guest," she told him quietly. "And a ward of the Lyceum and therefore the Empire. You have nothing to fear."

Martel wished he could share her confidence, but regardless, he nodded at the servant and followed.

~

While Martel disappeared deeper into the palace, more and more guests arrived. The greatest noble houses of Aster, whether hailing from Morcaster or Aquila originally, all came rather than spurn the invitation from the powerful ruler of Cheval. Dukes, counts, barons, their spouses, children, various other relatives, or even simple courtiers came along, everyone clad in a wealth of garments and jewellery that would make a Tyrian raider salivate at the sight. Another solstice celebration, second only to that of the Imperial palace, was underway.