Chapter 346: Tricky Courage
Tricky Courage
While his hands did the monotonous work of preparing ingredients in the apothecary, Martel's mind considered his trip to the temple yesterday. It had been fascinating for several reasons, though few of them had anything to do with the theft. The acolyte was deeply curious about the relic, its history, and what kind of power it possessed to leave such a lingering presence. He also wondered at the enchantments done by the Archeans; it seemed predicated on using writing, similar to Tyrian runes, and for once unlike how Asterian magic worked. At least, Martel had never heard about Master Jerome using symbols of any kind for his enchantment work.
That at least showed a path forward for his investigation. If he could understand better how the chest had been enchanted to become unlocked, maybe Martel could figure out how the thief had done this. Discovering the method might lead him to the actual thief. Secondarily, he figured that asking Master Fenrick about the nature of relics might also yield a clue of some kind.
Someone cleared their throat in the manner suggesting they expected to be noticed. Torn from his thoughts, Martel turned his head to see the alchemist of the Lyceum staring back at him with crossed arms.
"Glad I am worthy of your attention," she remarked.
"I beg your pardon, mistress," Martel quickly said, placing his tools on the worktable.
"No matter. Here is a list of ingredients for you to study. We'll do a new recipe tomorrow."
Eagerly, Martel reached out and grabbed the piece of parchment. This meant his whole evening was spoken for; the list contained many items, not all of them herbs. He would have to conduct his questioning when he had a spare bell this afternoon.
***
Martel's plan quickly met an obstacle; just because he had free time, it did not follow that the same was the case for his teachers. Master Fenrick had classes, including in the evening, teaching astronomy. As for Master Jerome, he was busy on a big project, spending half his time out in Morcaster assessing materials and discussing it with other craftsmen.
A little annoyed at first, Martel eventually accepted that other people had lives too. He had class with Master Fenrick tomorrow; he could try and ask him then. As for Master Jerome, it would be Solday, the day after, where Martel helped him in the workshop, providing an opportunity as well.
This did postpone his investigation for a few days, but in the end, this was not Martel's headache. He had promised to help, but he would not run himself ragged about it. The Friar and the Keeper would just have to wait.
Though among Martel's initial questions, he might still find an answer to one of them. Going to the faculty wing of the Lyceum, the acolyte searched a little until he found the right door and gave it a knock.
For a moment, he figured his plans had been frustrated yet again before he finally heard shuffling feet. Eventually, the door opened.
"Yes?"
"Father Andrew, sorry for disturbing you. I have a question I thought you'd be the right one to answer."
"Ask me in class." The old priest already began turning away, closing the door, though it happened slowly enough to allow Martel an interjection.
"I don't have class with you anymore," the acolyte pointed out. He wondered if Father Andrew recognised him at all.
"Alright. What is it?" A pair of wrinkly eyes squinted at him.
"Yesterday, I visited the Temple of Saint Laurentius. I saw the relic, his hand. I wondered, what is the story behind that?"
"You should have asked the priests while you were there. They'd know better than anyone, wouldn't they."
Fair point, but not an option at the time. "I should have, Father Andrew, I'm sorry. But do you know?"
"Of course I know," scoffed the old priest. "He was a holy warrior who lived some three hundred and fifty years ago. He died in a battle north of here, a place now filled with ruins."
Martel took note of the time; it was before the fall of Archen. Maybe Laurentius had been Archean himself. It did not matter for the investigation into the theft, but Martel felt curious regardless. The old wizards from that fabled city clearly possessed many kinds of magic now unknown; Martel wondered if yet another kind of forgotten spellwork lay behind the relic's strange aura. "What battle?"
"Against a fiend of the Nether. He slew the wicked beast, but as it died, its body exploded with fire, burning away his body, save his hand," Father Andrew related.
This only gave rise to more questions. Martel thought about the statue of Atreus in the courtyard, which likewise mentioned a battle against a fiend. "Was he a mage?"
"No, you wicked boy! You all think only mages can do something like that. No, there's no mention of Saint Laurentius ever receiving any training like that or using magic of any kind. He fought with courage, not trickery."
Yet the relic clearly had some kind of magical properties or presence; otherwise the Keeper would have noticed it the way Martel had upon entering the crypt. And Martel knew of others who might not be trained as wizards and thus had good reason to keep their magical talent hidden. Could this Laurentius have been a hedge mage? It might explain why his hand had acquired such an aura. Hedge magic seemed unpredictable. contemporary romance
"Is that all? I have evening prayers to say."
"Yes, Father Andrew, thank you. I won't disturb you further."
"Quite right you won't." The old priest closed the door, leaving Martel to ponder what he had learned.
The idea of Laurentius possibly being a hedge mage intrigued the acolyte, but he had no way of pursuing this. The only one who might know anything about this would be Regnar, who would not be back in Morcaster any time soon. And anyway, this did not help Martel with the investigation. He would have to wait until tomorrow. For now, just as Father Andrew had prayers, Martel had alchemy waiting for his attention. With Mistress Rana's list in his pocket, the acolyte went to the library.
