contemporary romance
Chapter 229: Lessons in Law
Lessons in Law
When Martel woke in the morning, and the rush of emotions from last night had faded, his first thought was whether it had worked. If Jasper did not believe his threats, he might reveal his knowledge to punish Martel and the others. But as the day progressed with no sign of this, Martel allowed himself to relax. The nagging of constant concern over whether his secret would be revealed began to fade.
Yet its place was soon taken by his worry over Shadi's situation. This could not be solved through magic, whether used as force or to make coin. Just like with Jasper, Martel needed to gather information before he could determine a course of action. Fortunately, Malday provided an opportunity to draw from the source that seemed most likely to yield anything of value.
"Father Andrew, seeing as you know so much about different things, are you also familiar with the law?"
"I am no solicitor, if that's what you ask. Nor am I an expert of religious law, never cared much for the Inquisition," the old priest mumbled. "You in trouble?" He whipped his head to look at Martel with surprising agility.
"Not at all, father. Someone I know is having trouble with their landlord. He keeps raising their rent."
Father Andrew nodded a little, though Martel could not tell if that was because he agreed or felt drowsy. "Not many know the law, which some people exploit. Their contract should state the terms, though I don't believe raising the rent more than once a year is legal no matter what."
"What would happen if a landlord did that anyway?"
"If a court finds him guilty, he'll have to pay back what he took along with a hefty fine, I imagine. But if someone can't afford rent, nor can they afford a solicitor," Father Andrew pointed out. "Though this talk gives me an idea."
"What's that?"
"It will do you some good to practice your arithmetic. Now write down the following. A man pays twenty silvers a month in rent…"
Groaning in his mind, Martel grabbed the quill on the desk.
***
Afternoon saw Martel continue his exertions, except they changed to a physical and more voluntary nature. In the alleyway behind the insula, his staff met Marcus’s sword, teaching him how to fight without magic but while wearing chain armour. While it still tired Martel, he no longer found the weight unnatural or a hindrance to his movements.
After perhaps half a bell or so, Marcus stepped back and sheathed his sword. "How did it go, your problem with the boy in the green robe?"
"I haven't had trouble with him yet. I think he got the message."
The warrior nodded. "People who wield fear as a weapon will also easily be subjugated by fear, once you turn it back on them." He spat on the ground, perhaps due to exertions, perhaps due to disgust. "Meet a man with steel, not trickery, I say."
"And what about magic? Does that count as steel or trickery?"
"The second, I would argue. But if you are on my side, I won't complain." He gave a wry smile. "As long as our enemies do."
Martel laughed before his mind turned to serious matters. He still had debts to repay, all of them to people he respected and cared about, and it bothered him to strain their leniency. "Any new tasks on the horizon?" fre ewebn ovel
"Could be. Flora is always talking to someone. Think we might get something next fiveday, but she'll send you a message. That won't be a problem anymore, I take it."
"Indeed."
***
Afterwards, Martel continued southeast towards the Khivan enclave. This time, he was grateful to avoid seeing any more evictions, even if he feared they still took place regularly. At least he was spared the sight and any potential trouble, though he kept his hood up and his face down in case anyone with a grudge against Asterians passed him on the street.
As she opened the door, Shadi looked at him in surprise. "Martel! Is something wrong?"
"On the contrary. I hope. Can we talk?"
She allowed him entry and closed the door behind him. "My dad's not in a good mood," she spoke quietly, glancing towards the workshop in the back room. Following her gaze, Martel saw the watchmaker sitting by his bench, polishing tools with angry motions. "Let's go upstairs," she suggested.
Martel followed her to the upper floor, where he had never been before. It was a single room underneath the slanted roof, forcing him to be careful with his head. Two beds stood in either end with a large chest as typically used for clothes or linen and a few other pieces of furniture.
Shadi sat down on what he assumed was her bed, and he did the same. "I've been thinking about your situation. With the rent and your landlord."
Her shoulders slumped. "Martel, that is not your problem to solve. Please, don't trouble yourself."
"You're being exploited by a ruthless, greedy man who I suspect is breaking the law. He doesn't care about your plight because he thinks you're powerless." Martel felt himself getting angry at the thought. "I won't let him get away with it."
"But what can you do? I don't see how magic can do anything. He's rich, with guards. If you threaten him or steal from him, the city guard will protect him. And I don't want you getting into trouble," Shadi impressed upon him.
"I won't," he promised. "Probably. But I think he is breaking the law, and if we can prove that, it should go a long way towards handling your problems."
"How? I told you, the courts don't care about the word of a Khivan."
Her distraught demeanour made him feel awful and only strengthened his resolve to do something. "Which is why we need more than your word." Martel looked straight into her eyes, his expression serious. "We need the contract he signed with your father. To that end, I'm going to break into his house."
