Chapter 559: Brief Respite
Brief Respite
Martel and Eleanor went straight to the legate's house. The other prefects had gathered in the atrium, discussing the same news that Eleanor had brought him. Though one of them was able to tear himself away from the topic; with a disdainful smile, the decurion looked towards Martel. "This is a council of war; who sent for the alchemist?"
Demonstratively, Martel turned his back towards Dominic. He lacked the mood and the energy for any witty retort. "What do we know?" he asked of Lucius, engaging the old prefect in conversation instead.
Lucius shrugged. "Reports of Khivans marching against the outpost. Only the legate or maybe Sir Lara knows more. She's tight-lipped, though. No point asking her."
Martel looked towards the legion prefect, whose expression exhibited exactly what Lucius had said. Nothing to do but wait, which Martel did while studiously ignoring Dominic. Martel was already galled that he had been pulled away from his workshop, and this was not the place to lose his temper because of needling remarks made by the decurion.
Finally, Legate Varus appeared, and everybody snapped to attention, Martel a moment later than the rest. "I shall be direct," the legate spoke. "Reports of large troop movements towards the outpost has reached me. We estimate this to be a Khivan regiment at near or full strength."
From what Martel remembered, a full Khivan regiment numbered a thousand. The cohort at the outpost would be half that; probably less, given most cohorts in the legion were not at full strength.
"Does this include cannons?" Sir Lara asked, and everyone's eyes moved from her to the legate.
"Uncertain. None has been sighted by our scouts, and given the terrain, it may not be worthwhile for them to drag such heavy equipment to the fight. Regardless, our men are outnumbered." The legate looked around the room and the prefects gathered before him. "I'm sending our mounted cohort to provide immediate assistance, and the fifth cohort to follow in a forced march. Both of you will depart tomorrow morning."
The decurion bowed his head in recognition, as did Sir Avery moments later.
"I expect with your forces, you will drive the Khivans back and make them regret their assault. Should we have underestimated the numbers, further reinforcements will be dispatched, but we cannot rule out that this is a diversion, and so we must maintain our defence of this town. To that end, every other cohort is to maintain highest readiness either for battle or to be dispatched. Any soldier found derelict in duty or unready to march at moment's notice will receive double punishment."
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The remaining mageknights, other than Eleanor, mumbled and nodded in acknowledgement.
"Finally, our battlemage is to make his way to the outpost immediately without delay. The Khivans will no doubt attempt to encircle our forces, and I expect the pair of you to make it before that happens. Place yourselves under the command of Sir Valerius." He glanced at Eleanor and Martel.
"Of course, legate." Eleanor inclined her head.
As for the battlemage, he disagreed. "With respect, sir, the blue plague is still upon the camp. If I am to be torn away, patients will die, and it will take longer to deal with the outbreak," Martel tried to argue. Given the number of sick, and assuming half of them would die without aid, that meant up towards a hundred soldiers or even more.
"You are a prefect of the Tenth Legion, not some snivelling apothecary!" the legate roared. "Do not dare to ever mention such trivialities when we are at war! Dismissed!"
"Yes, sir!" the prefects replied in unison, save for Martel. He tried to ignore the obvious gloating expression on Dominic's face as they all filed out of the small mansion. contemporary romance
Outside, all the prefects except Eleanor hurried away towards camp, while she turned towards Martel. "I will get us horses. We have several hours of daylight left, so if we make good haste, we might arrive the day after tomorrow. We need to pack quickly and be on our way."
Martel wanted to argue if the legate was sending close to a thousand men in addition to the near five hundred at the outpost, he could not imagine his presence would make much difference. Perhaps in open battle, but not if they were to fight among the trees, the forces clashing in a hundred skirmishes. He much preferred to stay and continue working with alchemy, tedious as it were, as he knew that would make a difference for certain.
At the same time, he understood arguing was pointless. Eleanor could not change their orders, and while the battle hardly hinged on Martel's participation, every mage could make a difference speeding victory along. His magic might save more soldiers by fighting the Khivans than his alchemy could save patients from the blue plague.
Deep down, Martel wanted to stay because he preferred how his magical talent had been used in the workshop rather than at the outpost. Making elixirs had been a respite, but he should have known it would be short-lived. "Give me a moment to close down work at the workshop. I will go pack provisions for us both afterwards."
***
By now, the pair had experience making this journey, and they swiftly made their preparations. Martel lingered a moment in his workshop, giving Egil various instructions that mostly amounted to resuming his duties from before, none of which required alchemy. Likewise, the helpers preparing ingredients were released from their duty; they would all have to return to their cohorts anyway, preparing to defend the town and camp should it be necessary. As the last thing, Martel poured the remains of his ruined potion into a hole in the ground, covering it with dirt afterwards.
Horses, supplies, water, armour, and weapons he and Eleanor quickly gathered what they needed and began their travel. Seventh bell had yet to ring when they left camp, bringing spare mounts to speed up their journey in the hope they would reach the outpost before the Khivans did.
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