A Comedy of Decisions

Martel barged into the office so early, Lara had not showed up yet. Only a bemused Eleanor watched him, eating her breakfast at her desk. "Good!" he exclaimed. "You're here."

"It is so early. Have you eaten yet?"

"Food is a distraction. Tell me, if you could enact any decision you wanted, no limitations, what would it be?" He looked at her eagerly.

"I suspect the duchess spurred some thoughts in you. Very well, let me think." She frowned in contemplation. "I would expand Smallport extensively to have more warehouses and better mooring for larger vessels. It would ease trade up and down the river, better connecting the cities upstream with Morcaster and Sindhu beyond."

Martel nodded to himself. "Not a bad idea."

"Building in a river delta would be terribly expensive, though," Eleanor considered. "It would also be a project to last years."

"Right, but I have been thinking," Martel said, almost tripping over his own tongue. "When the war is over, we will disband at least two legions. Maybe three. If we withdraw from northern Nordmark, that is another two legions. All the money saved from no longer paying and equipping so many soldiers can be spent elsewhere."

"That is true, but spending public funds is the greatest source of arguments there is. If you make such decisions now before the envoys have arrived, they will not support you or your Senate," she warned him.

"My first choice would be to deal with how we feed the poor of the city," Martel told her with an excited voice. "Orphans, invalids, or just the unemployed needing a hand. Right now, it's done by the different monastic orders or temples, right?"

"Yes…"

"But it varies depending on how much they have to spare, donations they've received, and so on. And most of them are in the northern districts, including the great Basilica, whereas all the poor people who need this tend to live in the southern districts," he continued, pacing around the room. He had spent most of last night considering how to best approach this issue. "It's a long journey back and forth for them, the guards might harass them, and the citizens of the upper quarters don't like them either. So, what if we built houses across Morcaster who'd feed them daily, scattered across the districts where the need is?"

"That is a pleasant thought, Martel, but it would be a permanent expenditure. A costly one, at that." She looked at him with doubt.

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"The temples can help pay. It's where their money would go anyway, except this is more efficient."

"I'm sure the Faith would love to hand over their purse strings and the charitable work that makes them feel good about themselves to the Imperial administration."

"If they actually cared about the poor, they'd also care about obtaining the better result," Martel argued. He sat down in Lara's chair. "Anyway, it's just one idea. We've been patrolling in the copper lanes, right?"

"Yes. We have more soldiers than we know what to do with. Any excuse to keep them busy."

"I can only imagine it has improved the situation. Now consider if we erected streetlamps in that district as well," Martel suggested, leaning forward.

"We barely have enough skilled enchanters to replace our current lights," Eleanor argued. "Unless enchanting is your planned profession after the military?"

"It might get dull after the first few thousand lightstones," Martel admitted. He looked up as Lara entered.

"Oh, forgive me, captain, legate. I did not mean to interrupt."

"It's fine. I'll let you work." Martel got on his feet and walked out, but he stopped in the doorway to look back. "Eleanor, don't forget, today is Solday."

"And?"

He smiled. "We have a performance waiting for us tonight."

***

Martel caught very little of the spectacle. Some kind of comedy judging by how much people laughed. His mind was deeply entrenched in its own thoughts about improving the city, a topic and theme far more interesting to him, and he continued to ruminate over his ideas from yesterday and his conversation earlier with Eleanor. Still, just being present in the crowded room with its noise and odours wore him out as the evening progressed, and by the end, he simply sat and waited for it to be over.

Once the performance was at an end, he and Eleanor went into the back and met Regnar. "The arrows have been sold," the hedge mage told them.

"Good. Thank you." Martel had received no warning from Weasel, so he was not alarmed yet. "See you next Solday." He and his protector went out the backdoor to return to the fortress they called home.

They walked in silence for a long time. Martel's energy from earlier in the day, born of excitement, had evaporated by now. He looked forward to getting home, even if he knew it would take him a long time to find rest. He was probably not the only one. "Are you sleeping well these days?" he asked.

"Well enough. And you?"

"Same." They continued onward for a while before he spoke again. "Are you alright?"

She glanced at him. "Why would I not be?"

"Everything we've been through, all your current duties… The rift between you and your father. It must take its toll."

"It does," she admitted. "But no worse than what you have gone through."

"I haven't lost my family the way you have. I admire your strength that you can stay away." In her position, Martel did not think he could have done the same.

"I guess the legion truly is my family now."

He had to smile, though in unhappy fashion, knowing she referred to the oath they had both sworn when they were first assigned to the Tenth. Less than two years had passed, and everything had changed since then.

"I have you," she continued. "That will have to do."

As they walked through a narrow alley, where the shadows of the towering buildings hid them from surrounding eyes, Martel reached out to briefly squeeze her hand. "It will."