Fiery Reminders
The merchants’ quarter lay just south of the Imperial palace district, making for a journey short enough to be made on foot. Although Martel had grown comfortable with riding, horses would have drawn a lot of attention, which the two hooded figures leaving the palace preferred to avoid.
As they reached where expensive residences became warehouses and smaller estates suitable for merchants, Martel thought about his few visits to this district. Of all the nine areas of Morcaster, he had probably been here the least. One sojourn remained particularly noteworthy, though; it was in an alley between two warehouses that Martel and the others had freed Atreus of his curse. Martel wondered where the Archean wizard might be in this moment.
“Hey, what will you do once all this is over? Assuming we can end the civil war,” Martel asked. “Remain as legate?”
“No.” While he could not see her shaking her head under the hood, he heard the rustle of fabric. “I thought that was my ambition, but it was really my father’s. Now I have obtained it, though not in any manner he expected. And I have found that it is either administrate tasks, which are cumbersome and dreary, or leading men into battle, which has lost its lustre of glory for me. No, the moment peace is assured, my prefect’s pin is gone.”
“So what will you do instead?”
“The treasury owes me a hefty sum at this point. I shall take all my pay and travel. I have been few places besides Morcaster and the eastern front. Neither hold much interest for me, so I should like to see somewhere else. Sindhu, the Western Isles, probably Aquila, where my family hails from.”
They continued in silence. Her words made Martel think about another district he had visited far more frequently, namely, the harbour. Sitting on the docks, either alone or in Shadi’s company, as they watched the ships enter and leave, trying to guess their origin or port of call. All the times he had dreamt of taking such a journey.
Their conversation also made him consider another matter; he and Eleanor might part ways before too long. They had spent nearly every day together for almost two years now, surviving countless dangers by each other’s side. He had grown so accustomed to her presence, her aid no matter the situation, he could not quite grasp the thought that she might be gone. But if he chose to stay in Morcaster, it would be without her, and he had no right to ask her to remain, considering how much she had already sacrificed for him. He felt closer to her than any other person in the world, and he knew the feelings she inspired in him, which glowed like embers deep inside of him, covered up for now. If he chose Morcaster, she would be gone from his life, which was another price he had to be prepared to pay.
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“This is it.” She pointed at a warehouse ahead of them. Small and unassuming, it had a strong gate, but no guards other than the patrol from the garrison, which would pass by now and then.
Martel nodded and stepped forward. He reached out with his magic until he could feel the wood of the gate separately from the stone of the building. With a burst of spellpower, it combusted. He followed up with a gust of wind, letting the flames spread inside the warehouse to begin consuming the goods stored within.
They withdrew to the shadows of the alley, watching as the fire patrol arrived. With so few residents in the immediate area, they struggled to form a human chain that could bring water in sufficient quantities. Yet miraculously, it seemed the Stars shone upon their efforts. After consuming much of the contents, the flames seemed satiated. They ceased to spread and dwindled of their own accord, and the legionaries had no trouble putting out the fire. Laughing and slapping each other on their backs, they did not notice the hooded figures who slipped away, going north toward the Imperial district.
***
“Stay back, citizen!” shouted one of the guards at the main gate of the palace. “At this hour, all decent folk are home in bed! Certainly not skulking about in this area.”
Martel pulled down his hood. “You’re right, but we are not decent folk.” Next to him, Eleanor smiled as she made the same motion.
“Captain, legate.” The legionary’s face grew pale. “Forgive my words. I thought – well, I didn’t know…”
“At ease, soldier. You only did your duty. In fact, I admire your restraint seeing two hooded people approach your guard station. Keep up the good work, men,” Martel told them.
They all saluted in response. “Sir!”
The pair continued, crossing the palace grounds. The faint moonlight gave an eerie mood, reflected in the white columns that flanked their approach. Martel recalled coming up this road, surrounded by soldiers to do battle with the Praetorian Guard. For some reason, the memory made him feel sick to his heart; if he had lacked motivation to end the civil war before, he found it now in abundance. Thinking back on that night, the assault on the palace had been a necessity, and Martel had never questioned it or been troubled by it in the slightest. Now, the thought of engaging in such slaughter with other Asterians, or anybody at all for that matter, wearied him beyond words. Especially if it could be avoided.
Their entrance to the palace itself caused a stir; legionaries began to run deeper into the complex. “What’s happening?” Martel asked brusquely.
“The legion prefect, sir, she’s here! She’s been looking for you, though I don’t know why,” the nearest soldier replied.
With a confused look exchanged between the two, they hurried onward until they saw Lara approach them with the same haste. “Captain, captain!”
“What is it?”
She reached them and lowered her voice. “Sorry, captain, they could not find you, so they sent for me at the fortress.”
“Yes, yes, now what’s going on?”
She took a deep breath before replying. “It is the emperor’s nephew, Prince Flavius. He has disappeared from his quarters.”