Master and Mageknight

Martel felt irritable each morning. The walls of his bedroom were thick, as could be expected from a fortress, and it kept out every sound. He kept the window open, but it faced the courtyard, where nothing happened at night. This did not trouble him on his first nights, as weariness ensured he slept, but now, the silence kept him awake. That in turn made his mind turn the same thoughts over and over, which only made it harder for him to fall asleep.

The days were not a big improvement. As normalcy set in, at least until the northern legions arrived either to negotiate or fight, more and more took the courage to see the captain prefect. Most of their issues should be handled by the Imperial administration or the various magistrates, but for those who did not trust or had already tried that method, Martel was an alternative; given his legions controlled the city, nobody could deny him anything.

Martel had chosen clerks among the legionaries who could read to determine who had genuine cause to see him, which filtered out most of the supplicants. Still, every day the number grew of people waiting, and some had genuine grievances that required his attention; usually matters pertaining to his soldiers and their conduct, or how to best use dwindling resources. The conquest of the city had slain a number of elemental mages, whose services were now missing, handling the water system, stone for construction and repair, and the like.

Others who gained entry to Martel's study did not seem to have a valid reason, and he began to suspect that his clerks might be accepting coin in exchange for audiences. Listening to the inane ramblings of merchants complaining about their rivals being exempted from toll made Martel want to torch every warehouse in the city.

"Send in the next," he told his guard once he had thrown the merchant out and his ears had recovered. Hearing footsteps, he looked up to see Kerra step inside. She had definitely bribed her way in here. He noticed she had golden jewellery around her neck, and using his sense of heat confirmed that she also wore it elsewhere on her body. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"We have an agreement. I supported your little takeover of the city, and you would extend your protection." She gave her half-smile. "I have need of it now."

Martel could not help but laugh. "You think I owe you something? You used me as bait, twice. It's a miracle you didn't kill me."

"As I recall, I provided you with magical protection if you're referring to our jaunt underground. Just as I need you to protect me now."

He stared at her with disdain. "You are nothing but a petty criminal. Get out."

"We had a deal!"

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Guards, draw your swords." They did so without hesitation, pointing their blades at her. She backed away from them all, into a corner. "You think all that gold will keep you safe from me? I don't need magic to kill you. I have five legions. One word from me and they'll toss you out that window."

"I came here with friendly intentions," she hissed.

"Leave. If I see you again, I won't be so kind. Guards, throw this woman out of here."

"Yes, sir." They sheathed their weapons and beckoned for Kerra to leave or be forced to leave; with an angry look at Martel, she left.

***

Since Martel's day was ruined, he decided to handle another task that was certain to leave him frustrated. After fortifying himself with a meal, he went to the dungeons. By now, few prisoners remained. Quarters in the fortress had been found for the emperor and the family, allowing them a small measure of comfort. The same courtesy had not been extended to the only remaining praetorian knight. Walking up to his cell, Martel stared through the bars at his friend.

Maximilian laid on the straw that served as his bed. he had been stripped of his armour, though his surcoat had been returned to him, and he still wore purple. In addition, golden manacles surrounded his wrists. "Our new lord and master approaches," the mageknight said with a voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Max, they tell me you have attacked the guards three times now. They'll just stop feeding you if it continues."

The prisoner sat up straight. "My name is Maximilian of Marche, and you will address me with the respect I am owed."

"If you would be calm and promise to stay out of trouble, I could defend releasing you into house arrest."

"How generous. See how magnanimous the captain prefect is in victory! He did not even wait for me to beg for mercy before extending it."

"I'm only here because Eleanor asked me to talk to you," he said with a tired voice. "It's easy enough for me to leave if you're satisfied with your current conditions."

"You took everything from me." Any hint of jest, malicious or not, could no longer be heard as Maximilian spoke. "My future, my honour, the woman I was to marry. Still, you come to see me humiliated in full. Nothing less will satisfy you."

"This may surprise you, but you have not played any role in a single decision I have made for a long time. Just promise me that you will be peaceful, and I'll let you go home." He looked at the mageknight, already beginning to look sickly pale.

"I already made a promise. To defend the emperor."

"Which you did. You even succeeded in covering his escape from the palace if that makes you feel better."

Maximilian made a spitting sound, though little water emerged from his mouth. "How could an odious cur like you ever understand oaths or promises?"

"You're right. I also swore an oath to the emperor, and disobeying it turned out far better for me than obedience ever could. But I can see that asking you to meet me just a little of the way is pointless. Maybe I'll let you leave once you have more time to calm down." He turned and began to walk away, though he looked over his shoulder to deliver a final remark. "You should have become a healer, Max."

"A cell or a house, a prison is a prison!" Maximilian yelled at him. "But I'll never bend to you, Scarecrow!"

***

As he returned upstairs, Martel looked in on his subordinate rather than go to his study. "Lara?"

"Yes, sir?"

"The mageknight in the dungeons. See if a room can be found for him, as you did for the emperor. Keep him somewhere with a window and sunlight." Martel avoided looking at Eleanor, staring at the prefect instead.

"Very well, sir."

He nodded and left, going back to his own study, where he sent the guard outside that he might sit in solitude.