Firebrand

Chapter 601: Filial Duties

Filial Duties

Eating breakfast with Eleanor, Martel reflected on his conversation yesterday with Starkad. "Did you hear about the Tyrian scouts? Going east."

"That is the direction in which we need scouting."

"No, I mean, they're going much further. Far beyond the outpost as well. Starkad told me."

"I'm not sure he should share such information so freely."

"I'm a prefect, so are you. It's hardly been made common knowledge. Anyway, my point is that we can expect being sent in that direction as well, in force."

She nodded slowly. "That fits with how the Thirteenth Legion has remained camped outside Esmouth rather than returned to its previous posting."

"You think it's a good idea? Us taking the offensive, I mean. It didn't go well for the Khivans when they tried."

Eleanor gave a shrug. "They had a river to cross, which hampered them greatly. And they did it in the middle of winter. While it did allow for the element of surprise, it also caused further obstacles. They have been battered and bruised, leaving them less able to resist our advance," she considered. "If there is to be a time for us to march inland into Khivan territory, I suppose now would be it." She looked at him. "Does this worry you?"

"I don't know," he admitted. He set his plate of food aside. "I thought last summer was about as bad as it can get, but we got through it. And in these little engagements in the forest, you and I hold the advantage against the kind of enemies we face. If this campaign leads to battles on a larger scale, like in the marshes I'm just not confident in what to do, or how to best support you."

"Martel, I am your protector. It is my task to support you."

"I suppose officially, but we both know how it actually is. You're fighting in the thick of it. Best I can do is support you with my spellwork, but I'm not sure how to do so in an actual battle with thousands fighting on either side."

"We will find a way. Probably similar to the fighting in the marshes, you and I supporting a cohort. We shall cross that bridge when we reach it."

They finished their meal in silence, only broken when a legionary approached them. "Prefect," he greeted Martel, "a letter for you arrived on yesterday's ship." He handed over and disappeared again.

By the handwriting, Martel recognised Father Julius's script. He immediately felt guilty that he had not written in a long time; the events of winter, along with losing all previous correspondence when the camp of the Thirteenth was raided, he had not known what to write and kept postponing it, until he had all but forgotten that his mother probably would like to hear from him.

Stolen story; please report.

"If you'll excuse me," he told Eleanor, waving the letter about before he disappeared into his tent.

***

Dear Martel,

We have heard frightening news that the savage easterners have overrun much of the frontier lands, reaching as far as Marche. Father Julius claims that if this were true, the siege of Nahavand would have been broken, which an old woman like me cannot say much about, having no knowledge of war. But I know that you are posted in those lands, along with your legion, and surely that means you are involved with the fighting? Please write back if nothing else to let your poor mother know that you are still alive.

It seems silly to mention trivial matters that have happened in Engby, but it would be even more silly to send them in a separate letter, or only write about them once you have made your reply and let us know you are well. So here are just a few items of interest. Your niece continues to grow and show every sign of being a healthy child. Already, Clara is pregnant with the next one. I'm not sure when she had time to make this happen, considering the house is always full, but there is no mistaking the signs.

Your brother does not exactly show his emotions, but I believe he is glad of the news. No doubt, he hopes for a son who can help him in the forge and one day take over. He could get an apprentice, of course. I know the miller has more sons than he needs, and both milling and smithing are respectable trades that there would be no harm in accepting his boy as an apprentice. Still, I think Keith is prepared to wait, at least until this child is born. It would not do to take on an apprentice only to have a son soon after.

Mira is betrothed to the baker's boy, which I never thought. It has been at least a year since I last saw them together. I thought for all intents and purposes, she had forgotten about him. Well, I had a good talk with her, just to ensure we will not have a second pregnancy in addition to Clara's. Or they will have to stay with the baker family, as our house surely cannot hold more people. Not that it seems urgent, anyway. The boy is very young, a bit too young for my liking. They might change their minds yet, either of them. I told the baker I would only approve if they waited at least until next year's summer solstice. If that is too long for them to wait, marriage is too long a commitment for them as well.

Everything is well with Juliet. She continues to be a fine brewster. William has talked about joining the legions. I slapped his cheek and hopefully slapped the thought out of his head, but it is not like that boy has ever listened to his mother. John is doing so well with his letters, Father Julius has written a letter of recommendation for him. He does not wish to join the clergy, as it turns out, so we will look for an apprenticeship for him, perhaps in Littleborough. Then he will not be so far away from his mother that he can never visit, or that it will take months for him to send letters.

Love,

Your mother

Martel smiled, as he always did receiving these letters. Although the penmanship belonged to Father Julius, he could hear his mother's voice speaking the words. He knew that he should write back soon; he could not justify delaying. While his mother ought to know that she would have been notified in the event of his demise, she deserved to hear from her son.

At the same time, he did not wish to write of a peaceful winter and nothing more, only for news to arrive soon after of the legions making their own incursion into Khivan lands. He would wait just a little and learn what he could about what lay ahead, that he could write accordingly to keep his mother calm, whenever news of the legions' advance inevitably reached Engby as well.

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