Firebrand

Chapter 495: Amaranth

.r543589b24f154896af66f055e6421f83{ display: none; }

Amaranth

Returning to his routines at the warehouse, Martel placed the runestone in an inner pocket and forgot about it; instead, he resumed his duties as alchemist and student. Several fivedays passed in the usual blur, creating potion after potion or practising the range of his magic back at the Lyceum.

Though eventually, Martel noticed a change of pace. After a month and a half since the beginning of the pestilence, work in the warehouse became less hectic as they occasionally ran out of reagents and had to wait for new deliveries, sometimes arriving from other cities or nearby towns. Rather than him, Mistress Rana, and Nora labouring continuously all waking hours, they divided the work between them, giving each of them respite now and then during the day.

"Someone at the door to see you, Master Martel," said the guard on duty as he approached the alchemists and their workstation.

Looking in that direction, Martel was pleasantly surprised to recognise Eleanor standing in the dim light coming from the outside. He glanced at Nora, who waved him away. "Go ahead. I'll take over for you."

Grabbing his cloak, Martel placed it around himself and joined Eleanor outside the warehouse in the early afternoon sun, weak as it was. "What brings you by?"

"I needed other surroundings than the castle and the arena. Have you eaten yet? I thought we could find some place nearby."

"That's a nice idea." Martel certainly would not mind a hot meal rather than the usual cold offerings given to those working in the warehouse. "I don't have any coin on me, though." In fact, he had none at all; Mistress Rana had still not paid him his wages. contemporary romance

"Not to worry. I have plenty for us both. Come on." She threw her head in the direction of the street, and they began walking in search of something to eat.

***

Given the cold weather this close to winter, they opted for a tavern with closed walls where they might sit inside, rather than the half open variety that served quick meals in and out to the workers of the city. Watching Eleanor find her coins and pay for their food reminded Martel of why he was currently penniless. As they sat down to eat, his hand found the Tyrian stone inside his pocket. Considering its rarity, he figured that Eleanor would find it interesting, so he pulled it out and slid it across the table.

She finished chewing and picked it up. "Where did you get this?"

"As it turns out, my misadventures in the city have the occasional advantage. I met someone who deals in artefacts like this, and he sold it to me. Hence the reason why my purse is currently empty."

"That looks like the rune of unbinding, if I'm not mistaken." Eleanor traced her finger across the symbol. "This must have been made by someone powerful. But why did you buy it?" She looked up at him.

"No specific reason, honestly. It just seemed a rare find, too good to let it slip through my fingers. I was really hoping to find something else," Martel remarked, enjoying the hot food.

"Such as?"

"Oh, I was... trying to find something that might help your sister. I had hoped for some kind of Archean artefact with a topaz, but no luck so far. Sorry," he added, regretting that he had brought any of this up. "I didn't mean to remind you."

"Do not be sorry," she told him, her voice almost strangely light. "My parents never speak of her even as she lies in a room down the hall. I suppose it hurts them to do so, but it feels as if she is being forgotten. That I am losing her a second time." Eleanor slid the stone across the table back to him. "I am glad somebody thinks of her."

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it.

Martel accepted the token, placing it back in his pocket. "I should bring it to Master Fenrick, if I can remember," he said, changing topic. "Between classes and alchemy, there's been room for little else in my head lately."

Eleanor nodded. "Same here. I have never trained this hard in my life. At least it will be done soon. Our examination is next fiveday, on Manday. At least it is for us mageknights, but yours will probably be around that time as well."

"What happens after that? I don't actually know."

"Well, the Imperial administration will assign us our postings, but that is still a month away. Until then, we stay at the Lyceum, I suppose. Continue practising until it is time to leave."

The siege of Nahavand awaited; a thought that Martel had no desire to dwell upon. "We should get together, Max as well. Maybe once we've passed our examinations. We've earned that much."

"I would say so, you especially." She smiled. "Maybe next time you are back at the Lyceum."

***

Once they parted ways, Martel hurried back to the warehouse, feeling a little guilty for his extended break while the others laboured in his absence. Yet as he returned, he found only Mistress Rana at work. "I'm back," he said quickly, looking over their worktables to take stock of the situation and whether everything was ready for him to begin brewing.

"No need to rush," she said, which was a different tune than what he had expected. "I told Nora to take some time for herself as well."

"Oh, there's not much amaranth left." Martel ran his fingers through the small pile to get an estimate of how many potions they could make with what remained.

"That is the issue. Unlike the other ingredients, it's hard to source. Probably, I will soon have no further need of you and Nora down here, simply because there won't be anything for you to do."

Martel knew such a day would have to come sooner or later, yet it felt almost strange to hear it would be soon. He had grown so accustomed to his current routine. But he welcomed the news; while the work done here was important, he had no desire to do it any longer than necessary. "Does this mean the disease is on retreat? Can the quarantine be ended soon?"

"No. New patients are brought to the monks and nuns in the same number as before. So far, it shows no signs of slowing down. It will be several fivedays at least," Mistress Rana estimated.

"But what will they do if we don't have enough to make more potions?"

"They'll have to pray, I suppose. Not much else they can do."

Any feeling of relief that he might soon be done in the warehouse was suppressed by the knowledge that the disease would continue to spread, and they would be absent their most potent weapon to defeat it. Martel knew not to underestimate the lethality of this pestilence; on occasion, they saw the smoke rising from the pyres in the copper lanes where they burnt the bodies of the dead. Yet he had taken comfort in the knowledge that, if need be, he knew how to make the elixir that stopped the disease in its tracks. Soon, that might not be of any use to him.

His mood subdued, Martel went to work. He made several potions, watching the dwindling supply of amaranth; when he had the opportunity, when both Mistress Rana and Nora had gone to sleep before him, he finished his last elixir and placed it in his belt.