Firebrand

Chapter 602: One More Summer

One More Summer

Martel did not have to postpone his reply for long. Already the next day, a messenger interrupted his morning sparring with Eleanor, summoning them both to the legate's home for a council. They both washed up as best they could on short notice and changed clothes before leaving the camp.

"At least we merited an invitation this time," Martel remarked with a wry expression as they crossed the bridge into Esmouth.

"Probably only because the legate has direct orders for us," Eleanor replied, which put Martel in a subdued mood. That never boded well.

"The scouts only just left the other day, though," he pointed out. "They can't be back already, they wouldn't even have made it to the outpost."

"No. This is probably an early meeting simply to prepare every prefect of what lies ahead."

At least Martel would have time to write his mother back.

***

They gathered with the other prefects in the dining hall of the small mansion. Servants offered cups of wine to everyone as they waited until finally, Legate Varus appeared. He carried a map in his hand, which he unfurled and placed onto the table. Martel had noticed that these military officers seemed enthralled to maps; they could not hold a discussion or council without one, regardless of actual need.

"Prefects of the Tenth Legion," the legate began. "After our great victory against the Khivan invaders, the first true victory in many years, the time has come to strike back."

"Hear, hear!" shouted the most eager prefects, including the decurion.

"It is still early, as we await more ships with supplies and for our foreign scouts to return. But we have already basic knowledge of the land, of course." Varus tapped his finger against the map. "The town of Namin will be our first target. Small enough to be taken without trouble, big enough for two legions to quarter in."

"So the Thirteenth will join us?" asked Lara.

"Yes," the legate confirmed. "Under my command." He looked self-satisfied as could be. "The campaign has been well chosen. A small river, a tributary of the Savena, flows past Namin and will provide water for our march. The land is flat, making the town easy to approach and for our legionaries to conquer."

Presumably that also made it difficult to defend, Martel imagined, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

"Sir Avery, you will lead the fifth cohort as our vanguard. When passing by the outpost, take Sir Valerius and the sixth with you," Varus commanded.

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"Yes, sir."

"Five days' march, the land slopes upwards. You will establish a camp on that ridge, guarding the area while the remaining legion joins you," he continued. "I will send Sir Dominic along with two centuriae of his mounted cohort to help patrol the area. You have overall command until he arrives."

"Understood, sir," Avery replied. Martel glanced at the decurion, who looked pleased with himself.

"Bring the legion's battlemage and his protector with you. Make what use of them as you can," the legate finished. Martel kept any of his thoughts from shoving on his face; last summer had been a trip to the Nether, and it looked like this year would be no better.

"Yes, sir."

"That is all. You will march once the scouts return. Make your preparations until then."

This time, all the cohort prefects replied, "Yes, sir!"

***

Returned to his tent, Martel dipped his quill in ink and began to write.

Dear mum,

Thank you for the letter and the news. I'm sorry that I haven't written in so long. As you mentioned, a small Khivan army crossed the Savena River, which caused a lot of confusion and disruption. Eleanor and I had to forego our leave and return to the legion. But as I'm sure you have heard by now, the Khivans were thrown back without much difficulty. It was a desperate move on their part, considering they were fighting on our side of the river. We had a few battles, but hardly noteworthy. We simply pushed them back until they were forced to flee back across the water.

Since we have them on the run, we will be making our own raids into their territory. I am sure rumours will exaggerate what is going on, but do not let it confuse you. We will be remaining close to our own lands. Besides, as a battlemage, I'm too valuable to be wasted on simple punitive attacks. I will have to travel with the legion, but my task will mostly be to help defend our camp, since we don't expect facing any significant resistance.

Tell William he is a fool for even considering joining the legions. Maybe I make it sound like a lot of idle time, but I am a prefect. I earn good pay because I have magical skills, and I'm not required to do the work that keeps the legion running. William would start at the bottom as a common legionary.

If he had a good head for letters or arithmetic, he might get one of the better positions in the camp administration, but from what I recall of his few times with Father Julius, that is not likely. So he would be put to work digging ditches, fetching water and firewood, and every other kind of manual labour needed. It's back-breaking work, hour after hour. And that's not including doing training and exercising with his cohort every morning, not to mention day-long patrols or many hours of keeping watch. Tell him that any other work would be better suited for him.

Tell Mira my congratulations on her betrothal. With luck, that is one wedding I'll be able to attend. And tell the same to Keith and Clara on their second child. I hope to meet their first one soon, though I probably won't be able to get leave again for a while. At least not long enough that I can make the journey to Nordmark. But I shall look forward to hearing more news. Remember that you can withdraw all the coin you need in my name from the Imperial treasury.

Love,

Martel

Finished with the letter, he let the ink dry and found an envelope instead to write his mother's name and home upon. When ready, he glanced at the letter one last time, including the last paragraph, before he folded it together. In his heart, he knew that he would not be home in time for weddings, births, or Stars forbid, burials not for the next many years. But if he survived to just make it home one day, he would not complain.

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