“Martin!”
“”Aagghh!” As the door to the room slammed open, Martin dropped his stylus onto the tablet, dinging it. “No! No, no, nono, nononono, noooooooo….”
“I’ll pay you back later! For now, pack your bags, we’re heading to Jegel!” Marten swept through their room like a blue storm, grabbing things from the shelves and his personal workbench and throwing them to his bed. A small pile of clothes were gathered as well, and he began compressing it all into a backpack.
Martin, mouth frozen open in shock, turned between his alleged friend and the runic board aghast. Furiously gesturing in silence, his mouth couldn’t form any words. Rolling across the floor, the black stylus had three bands of color around the top, green, blue, then green again. The tip shone dimly as smooth and opaque green crystal formed around it.
An inscription stylus, custom ordered for the metal tablet in front of Martin. Designed to lay down a triple-layer inlay while etching, the layering styli were not very advanced. They could only be activated once, and needed to be maintained by mana, after which they would become inert. Not to mention even the two-layer kind made in bulk fetched a heavy asking price. Only to show who was the better Martin did Varris use up so much money.
On top of that, there was the cost to smooth out the divot on the tablet. Luckily it wasn’t nearly as expensive, but it was by no means cheap either.
However since money flowed from Marten and Marton like water, Martin had no doubts that he could be paid back. Given how eccentric Marten could be, it wasn’t even a surprise for something like that to happen, and he barely started the process of inscription as well. What he felt shocked about was their destination.
“You’re really thinking about going to Jegel?”
“Not thinking, and not just me. We are going to Jegel. I must speak with my dear Nessy at least one last time before I can accept this!”
“You do realize how damn creepy it is to just show up don’t you?” Martin let out an exasperated sigh. “Marton will end up in a hot mess if we’re found out, and if we’re taking Martin, we will definitely be found out.”
“No matter how tall the wall, it shall be climbed! No matter how far the distance—”
“Yeah, I get it. When are we leaving?” Despite his face saying the ordeal would be a huge pain, Martin conceded. The Marts stuck together. He also enjoyed collecting embarrassing stories to tell about the others, and this was prime material.
“At midnight. Prepare yourself, my dick-ish friend, and redeem your trespasses against my love!”
“Midnight? Why not midmorning like normal people?” He asked to empty air. Marten had already left the room to search for the self proclaimed leader of The Marts.
Search is a very poor term for what to do when searching for Martin Woodrow, also known as ‘The Reason We Have Earplugs’, or his more imposing moniker ‘Titan of Lockheed’. Stepping out onto the breezeway of the second floor, vague shouting noises could be heard from one of the amphitheatres. Looking down over the school grounds, Marten spotted a thin stream of comers and goers to the second stage. The sight of bright red and blue apparel confirmed the location.
Heading downstairs and outside, he pushed past the line forming. New arrivals to the academy protested, but the older ones stepped aside for him. Anyone with enough presence to speak with him wouldn’t have waited in line. Fennin and Myra waved in their bright red caps and blue vests, pushing him through before closing ranks to charge the line entrance fees. The two followed The Marts around, making bank off of their schemes, and lending a hand when needed. Mostly they made sure that they charged an appropriate amount for those with nothing to do, who spent their time coming to see Martin.
Descending the steps towards the stage, Marten would have rolled his eyes if he weren’t in such a serious mood. A slab of stone at least three meters on the side and half a meter thick lay on the ground. From the elevated seating, the students who entered looked down and could see the surface clearly. On top, a man with wild eyes danced with a sword in hand, striking at the stone, sending sparks through the air. Stone chips cracked through the air, though they were unable to damage the stage and shattered without leaving a mark.
“Martin! Cease your foolishness! We have business to attend to!” Marten shouted, leaping upon the stage.
“FOOLISHNESS?” The sword stopped swinging, sheathing itself into the scabbard at his side in the blink of an eye. “What is it that you call foolishness my friend? This is for a challenge of HONOUR and GLORY! By my name as Martin Woodrow, I sweat and bleed to show that Hadrian Varris who is the TRUE Martin of The Marts!”
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“Stow your pride! You and he shall argue ‘til the end of time. There is a more urgent matter at hand, the fair maiden Vanessa has left; yet there are still words unsaid between us. I ask of you to accompany me on the journey.”
“The beauty Vanessa has left? My condolences brother, but that is that and this is this! If she has left without word, then the bonds between you were weak! A man’s pride takes place over what has never been!”
“TOO WEAK‽ What does your pride know of love Woodrow? NOTHING!” Marten stamped forward, his frame lean and unimposing compared to Martin’s build of a warrior. “You speak of honor and pride, but confronted with the plight of your brother, you abandon all notion of such things. This—” Stomping again, his boots cracked the edge of a line. “Is a mere pissing contest between the two of you! There is nothing to be gained! Nothing to be lost!”
Martin grabbed a hold of Marten’s shirt with both hands, and lifted. Shaking him as they stared at each other, there were jangling noises, and clatters as tools fell from various places.
“A PISSING CONTEST‽ What do you know in your lovesick delirium? How can an honourable challenge between men be compared to a romance that has yet to even be? Falling to women’s charms so easily, perhaps it is YOU who knows nothing of love!”
“You dare blaspheme my love! Nothing will stop me from going to her; I came here to find a brother to stand by my side, yet all that can be found is a boisterous fool who puts himself before those he called companions!” Marten took a deep breath, “That Hadrian Varris is the true Martin! Martin Varris, with whom you compete has already declared himself by my side! If he is not more honorable than you, than there is no worth in being honored!”
“Y—you…” Martin dropped Marten, who struggled to regain his balance. The large and bearded warrior looked to the sky after dropping to his knees, shaking his fists. “AAAARGGH!! What honour could I possibly have; my rival has already disregarded his pride to help Brother Marten. I am ashamed of my conduct. This head is lowered to you, with boundless apologies. I shall ready myself for departure post-haste; I will bear any pain and suffering to rectify the impiety shown today.” Standing to his feet, the two men hugged each other tightly, Martin’s burly arms crushing Marten a bit more than the other way around.
At that moment the audience burst into shouts and applause. There were cheers and whistles at the reconciliation of the two. While students came for whatever odd thing Martin Woodrow was doing at the time, there was always the slight hope someone would barge in to try and speak with him.
Such things weren’t staged at all, it was simply a natural result of the Titan of Lockheed conversing with someone similarly bombastic. So far over the top and exaggerated in both speech and motions, if it were an act it would be too fake. But for those whose ears could stand the volume, it was a beautiful reality more vibrant than any fiction.
Their tears drying, the two men walked side by side, and Marten explained the situation. Martin had been wholly serious in paying back his impiety with effort and pain, quickly rushing off to his room to prepare.
Night came quickly, and Marten impatiently honed his tools, making energy tokens as he waited. He etched without drawing guides onto the surface of the stones first; freehanding inscriptions was a rare skill, but neither did Marten see it as one of much use. Outside of combat, there was plenty of time to lay out lines for etching in preparation. He just found some utility in being able to sketch out designs faster when inspiration struck.
When the sun set, Corinth remained bright. Lamps emitting the light from the daytime, they were self-sustaining except during long winters. Luggage packed, he and Martin headed to the entrance of the academy. They met with Martin, who refrained from shouting, but did go on to his rival about his honorable actions.
“I think my pride’s taken a hit just listening to you, so I guess we’re even.” As usual, the serious Hadrian and the dramatic Russan bickered back and forth. Not long later a sleek black automobile rolled up, almost silent against the paved entrance to the academy. The windows were tinted a dark black, seamless on the glossy body of the car.
The driver’s door opened, and Marton stepped out, dressed up. A sleeveless black suit, with the left side of the blazer extending down to the knee. Four holsters on each side along the lower abdomen, each revealing the hilt of a small knife. Three knives were embroidered pointing to the center of the chest over his heart, and the image was mirrored on the right side. He pulled his tie down before speaking.
“I have business in the area when we are done. Load up the trunk and we shall be off. Unona is already inside.”
“Come on boys, I want to see how this goes down.” The sultry barista poked her head out of the car and waved them on. “I can’t wait to see Jegel, I hear they have a dazzling pool at the center of the campus.”
Placing their belongings in the auto, The Marts hopped into the back. There was quite the luxurious amount of space, and the seats were incredibly soft. Despite this, both Martins clenched their teeth, gripping onto the handles on the doors.
“Haha, look at you fools. I never expected Marton to have an automobile, but look, it’s my first time and I’ve already settled in. It’ll be the same for you two, the drive is quite comfy.” Unona poked fun at the two nervous passengers, their fear halting for a second to both give her a look of pity as the car started on its way.
“It’s not that we haven’t ridden in it before.” Marten shook his head, bracing himself as well. “It’s that we’re leaving the walls of Corinth today.”
“I thought you boys frequently went out, or are all those stories you tell lies?”
“No, it’s just that once we’re out of the city, Marton turns into a terrible driver.”
“It’s not terrible.” Marton interjected. He waited a few beats for them to pass out of the metropolis gates before continuing. “It’s fast.”
With a sweep of his arm he locked the four other levers into place, and the black auto began emitting a droning buzz. Expensive fuel made from liquifacted energy crystals poured over an array of runes. The density of energy giving off a slight glow, the conversion runes transferred the power to the linked rune. The surge reached the linked rune on the axle, and all of a sudden the automobile shot forth into the night.