Firebrand

Chapter 491: Noble Privilege

Chapter 491: Noble Privilege

Noble Privilege

Martel's regular routine of doing only alchemy and sleeping resumed, interspersed with his occasional return to the Lyceum for class. He and Nora worked mostly in silence; even the talkative apprentice seemed to have run out of conversational topics, or perhaps weariness had left its mark on her as well.

In general, the only sounds in the warehouse came from tools chopping or grinding ingredients, the subdued crackling of flames from the few fireplaces in use, the bubbling of potions brewing in a cauldron, or snoring from the corner of the building. Martel had become so accustomed to the noise, he barely noticed it anymore.

"I'll bring some food and supplies to Mistress Rana," Nora declared, for once having something worth saying. The alchemist was still in isolation after having ventured into the copper lanes to reach an arrangement with Kerra about restoring order to the district.

Martel looked up from his cauldron to glance in her direction. She had just finished an elixir, packing the vial into a potion case before moving on. "Oh, sure."

Placing different bits of food inside a piece of cloth, Nora looked back. "Has – has Mistress Rana paid you these last fivedays for your work?"

"Not a penny. Not surprised if she forgot with everything going on, or maybe she just hasn't had the opportunity. She's always here, unless she's going into the copper lanes or in isolation."

"I guess. I could use some coin, but it's not like she can get me any while she's still isolating herself. I'll ask when she is back here again, I suppose."

"Yeah," Martel replied in a distracted manner, his attention back on his cauldron.

Occupied with his alchemy and adding reagents to his brew, Martel did not notice the sound of a dozen boots marching into the warehouse.

"What are you doing here?" Nora asked.

That caught Martel's attention at last. Turning his head, he noticed six armed men. They wore the insignia of some house, marking them as household guards to some nobility; Martel did not recognise the crest. The various apothecaries at work had all noticed something underway and pulled back, putting distance between themselves and the intruders. Only Nora stood in front of them, placing herself between the soldiers and their small alchemical laboratory.

"We serve the count of Islemont. Your alchemist, the Sindhian woman, sold our lord a handful of the potions that you make in here. We are here to pick them up." Even as he spoke, his eyes surveyed their workplace, lingering on the empty flacons yet to be filled.

"Unless the quarantining of the copper lanes has been breached and disease is running rampant through your household, I can't imagine you have need of these elixirs compared to the poor souls inside the district, who are actually ill," Nora responded. Behind her, Martel prepared himself for a confrontation, eyeing the six potential opponents, but he would give Nora a chance first to persuade them to leave.

"I'm not here to barter with an apprentice," the guard snarled. "The deal was made with your mistress. Stand aside, girlie, let us take what we came for, and we’ll be on our way again."

"Over there," said another of the warriors and began moving towards the potion case. "That looks right, doesn't it?"

Martel quickly advanced with fire engulfing his hand. "You take one more step, and I'll make you regret it."

The guard looked at his leader, who nodded to him; encouraged, he stepped forward and reached out for the elixirs.

Martel released a fire bolt straight into the man's stomach, making him bend over with an outburst of pain. Immediately, all his comrades drew their swords.

In response, the battlemage held out his hand with flickers of lightning jumping between his fingertips. "That spell was a warning. You take your man and leave, and he'll be fine. But my next spell will be lethal."

"If you have business with Mistress Rana, I suggest you return when she's present." In Nora's hand, an icicle took shape looking as sharp as a dagger.

The guards looked at each other; two of them took their wounded companion by the shoulders, and they all retreated.

Martel kept his spell ready until he saw them disappear before he allowed the energy to dissipate. "That was weird," he mumbled. "I didn't expect someone would come here and try to steal from us, least of all guards from some noble house."

"Plagues and pestilence put a fright into people," Nora responded. "They don't always think with reason. Probably a lot who'd feel safer if they knew they had the cure at hand."

"I don't think the timing was a coincidence either. They came while Mistress Rana is still in isolation, probably thinking that would make the theft go easier."

"They didn't account for us," Nora said in a chipper fashion, almost sounding like her usual self, though her tone of voice immediately grew concerned again. "But if that's true, they might bide their time and be back. You're going back to the school tonight, right? I'll be here alone." She glanced at the apothecaries, who had resumed their work. "I doubt they'll be much help."

"The city guard is nearby. They usually got ten or so watching the gate just down the street," Martel considered. "Not much trouble for them to have one man standing watch here, and if there's trouble, he can alert the others by the gate to come help."

"You think they'll agree to that? Even if it's just one person, the city guard seem really stretched thin."

Martel blew out his breath. "Let's find out. Finish my potion, will you?"

***

Martel walked down the street, approaching the rebuilt gate leading into the copper lanes. This time, the timber beams had been reinforced with iron. A handful of guards stood posted outside as usual. He did not recognise them, but evidently, they recognised him.

"It's the prefect," one of them mumbled, elbowing his comrade. "The battlemage."

"Who is in command?" Martel asked as he reached them.

"I'm the optio on duty, sir," one of them declared.

"You know the warehouse where the alchemists work? Some thugs tried to cause trouble. I want you to post one man outside as a guard, and the rest of you stand ready to intervene, should further trouble arise."

"Very good, sir." He saluted in recognition of the command, slamming his fist against his chest.

Martel gave a simple nod in response and returned to the warehouse.