Master and Student

Martel stood up with a relieved smile to see Alistair and Juliana stepped inside his room. He would have hugged his teacher, but the overseer's presence made him feel reserved, so he chose to express his emotions in words. "I am so glad to see you alive and well. I feared the worst. Please, sit and rest. You must be tired after your ordeal."

"We've done nothing but sit for nearly three fivedays now," Alistair laughed, though they took the offered seats. "How did you get us out? The inquisitors were rather tight-lipped about the whole thing. They just left us here and told us you had demanded to see us."

"I put some pressure on them to get you released, that is all. For all their faults, they know not to test me." Martel gave each of them a scrutinising look. Their clothes were dirty, their complexion suggested a lack of sun, and neither seemed to have been fed particularly well. But that could all be remedied now they were free, and most importantly, they had both moved without showing signs of injury or discomfort. They could probably both use a bath, but after all his time spent in army camps after forced marches, Martel barely noticed such things anymore. "I am grateful to you both that you refuse to fight against us. It would have made our battles much harder, and I would have been grieved to hear if you became wounded or worse."

"I do not imagine such considerations would have given you pause. We refused to fight because we will not enter battle with other Asterians," Juliana explained with a stiff expression, "not because we agree with your actions."

"We don't disagree either," Alastair interjected. "The war against Khiva has been a travesty for more than a decade. A reaction like yours was bound to happen, as is evidenced by how many soldiers follow you."

"And yet I feel an accusation in the overseer's words," Martel remarked with a clenched jaw.

"You took this city with remarkable speed. Did you ever pause to give negotiations a chance?"

He scoffed. "We made reasonable demands, and they demanded my head on a platter. The only diplomacy they would understand is strength, and so I showed them that."

"You started a civil war. Flawed though it may be, the High Council is the legitimate government of this land, and you have made them prisoners. You had five legions outside this city," Juliana stressed. "Surely at that point, they would have listened."

"You are remarkably well-informed for someone in prison during all of these events," Martel replied coldly.

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"Even inquisitors like to talk."

"Sure, they sent a proposal. If we would simply bow to their will and execute five of my prefects, they could find it in their hearts to forgive us," Martel spat.

"That was an opening offer."

"I do not barter with the lives of my men."

"And how many of them died when you took this city? How many of the garrison were slaughtered?"

"The garrison," Martel sneered. "So-called legionaries happy to laze about and grow fat on the land while we died in droves at the front. I am to feel guilty because they had to endure for one night what we suffered every single day?"

"I see nothing of the boy who came to the Lyceum those years ago," the overseer remarked softly.

Martel ignored her words. "I had no choice regardless. We could not take the city by siege, and the High Council knew this. Any day, a fleet might arrive to fill the city with soldiers, or the northern legions would reach us and fall upon our rear. They were never going to negotiate, so do not blame me that I didn't either."

"Well, you have certainly learned war, though not from us."

"Juliana," Alastair interjected, hitherto silent throughout their exchange, "we are both tired and eager to go home. Would you wait for me outside and let me speak briefly alone with Martel? I'll join you shortly, and we can go home."

An expression crossed her face until she finally stood up. "My gratitude that you secured our release, captain." She left.

***

Once alone, Alistair looked at Martel. "You must forgive her. She's an idealist. She believes that diplomacy might have worked because she has to believe that. She doesn't want to face how corrupt the Empire is, how self-serving our rulers are."

"It's fine. I don't expect to have further dealings with her, and her opinion is not important to me."

"For what it's worth, I refused to fight because if it had to come to battle, I would rather you won." The old battlemage gave him a resigned smile.

"I appreciate the risk you took. I'm glad you did not suffer the consequences of taking a principled stand."

Alastair's next words came slowly. "From what I gather, you have both the emperor and the High Council in your hands?" As Martel nodded, he continued, "Have you considered what you will do? At some point, there must be a government."

"Of course. But until the northern provinces agreed to peace, it seems premature to make such decisions."

He nodded to himself. "What of the emperor? While it is tempting to blame him for everything, his power was always limited. He could not have ended the war or met your demands without the approval of the High Council."

"I know." Martel exhaled. "But if he is set free, he will undoubtedly be used to prolong this civil war and undo everything I have accomplished. He has just enough power to be a problem without being a solution, it would seem. I don't know what to do with him," he admitted.

"What of yourself? Assume that a settlement is reached, and the civil war comes to an end. How do you see your role going forward?"

As absurd as it might seem, Martel had never considered that. He knew that his current rank was provisional; once their demands were met, there was no further need for a captain prefect of the five legions under his command. "I don't know that either. What makes you ask?"

Alistair shrugged. "Teacher's instinct, I suppose, trying to guide the student. I should not let Juliana wait any further. Goodbye, Martel, and thank you." This time, Martel gave his old mentor an embrace before they parted, leaving Martel alone with questions to ponder.