Firebrand

Introduction to Etiquette

Martel tried to push the thought of the Imperial palace away; nothing he could do about it, so there seemed no point in worrying about it. Solday morning kept him busy assisting Master Jerome and working in the apothecary, and he would try to enjoy his afternoon before tomorrow came, when all his evenings for the whole fiveday would be accounted for.

His plans survived until noon, when he found a message waiting for him in the entrance hall. It briefly read,

Martel,

See me this afternoon

or this evening.

Mistress Juliana

The novice immediately felt guilty, even though he had no clue what this was about. Perhaps a bad sign that he could think of several reasons he might be in trouble. Rather than delay, as his anxiety only rose with each passing moment, he decided to find out. A few minutes later, he knocked on the door to the overseer's chamber.

"Enter."

Martel did so. He found the room same as his previous visits, with lots of missives and papers on the desk. As for the overseer herself, she sat in a soft chair and beckoned for Martel to take his own seat, which he did. "You wanted to see me?"

"Maximilian of Marche informs me you will join him at the Imperial banquet next fiveday."

Frail hope sprouted in Martel's heart. "If it's a problem, if I have to attend class, I will obviously be staying home. Nothing matters more to me than my studies."

"No, it is fine. Several other students will also attend."

Martel's hope withered away.

"I understand you have attended other celebrations among the nobility, but this is the Imperial court. I thought it prudent to warn you."

Oh no. "Warn me about what?"

"Everyone at court is either a player or a pawn in the political games that rule our Empire. I assume you understand which position you have."

Martel could infer it from her words, but her stern gaze made him befuddled. "What kind of games?"

"Every member of the Imperial court is concerned with power. Their own, specifically."

"I thought they were busy ruling the realm," Martel said, suddenly feeling naïve. "For the good of everyone."

Mistress Juliana exhaled slowly. "I think you need this conversation more than I realised. Now, while everyone must be assumed to be self-serving, these nobles and courtiers band together in factions for greater influence."

"I don't understand. Why do I need to know this?"

"Patience," she told him. "The most powerful of these factions, with several seats on the High Council, is led by the duke of Cheval. They favour war with Khiva and the continued expansion of the Empire." She narrowed her eyes. "You know who the High Council is?"

"They advise the emperor?"

"More than that, they often make the decisions. Another faction believes our current stalemate with Khiva proves that we are falling behind and must initiate reforms, but I will spare you those details."

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"Mages are rare, Martel, and there are some positions only we may fill. Physician to the emperor, captain of the Praetorian Guard, or most officers in the legions."

"But I'm not a mageknight," he protested. "I'm not even an acolyte!"

"But you show promise, and these people plan years ahead. If they believe you may hold an influential position someday, they will seek to gain you for their side. And if they fear you may strengthen their rivals, they will act swiftly to remove you from the board altogether."

"But what can I do? Can't I just stay away from this banquet?"

She shook her head. "Your name has been added to the guest list, and nobody refuses an invitation to the Imperial palace. Besides, rejecting Count Marche's invitation after you already accepted it will be a grave insult. Exactly what you should avoid doing."

Besides that, he could not disappoint Maximilian, after all the times that the mageknight had come to his aid. "So what should I do?" If Martel had felt trapped before, he could practically feel the noose around his neck by now.

"You stay in the background. Say and do as little as possible. If anyone asks, you have made no commitment to Count Marche. You are simply accompanying his son as a friend," Mistress Juliana impressed upon him. "Avoid attention, especially from anyone who seems influential or powerful."

At least that was simple and straightforward, though to Martel, anyone at a celebration in the Imperial palace would seem influential and powerful. "Mistress, what about Count Marche? What faction does he belong to?"

"None, from what I know. He may be considering which will yield him the most influence, or perhaps he has hopes of leading his own. Regardless, he is unpredictable. Watch every word you tell him."

Martel disliked the notion that he could not trust the intentions of his best friend's father, but he would be a fool to ignore Mistress Juliana's advice. "I'll be careful," he promised. "Thank you."

Something that might resemble a vague smile appeared on her face. "I will see you at the celebration."

~

Martel had barely finished his supper when Maximilian suddenly appeared by his table. "There you are. Come along." Without waiting, the mageknight turned around and began walking away, leaving the novice to hurry after him.

"What's going on?"

"Magic may make the mage, but clothes alone will not suffice to make you presentable. The emperor's feast will involve dancing, and it is high time you learn," Maximilian explained as they left the dining hall.

"Stars, no," Martel exclaimed. "Can't I just say I've got a sprained ankle?"

"Do not be silly. There will be many young noblewomen in need of a dancing partner. They already know you are a great mage, or they will know, but you must also show yourself to be a person of quality," the viscount claimed. He turned right, leaving the corridor to enter the gymnasium.

"Max, I am not taking dance lessons from you." Despite his objections, Martel still followed along.

"I never expected you would." The mageknight stood aside, revealing another person already present on the sands.

Taken by surprise, Martel stopped in his tracks.

In response, Eleanor approached him. "I am doing this as a favour to Maximilian."

Martel understood; she was not going to do him any favours.

"Excellent! I look forward to seeing your prowess," Maximilian declared and left.

She took position next to Martel. "I will teach you the simplest one, and that will have to do, given our lack of time. Watch my feet." She took a step forward, moved her left foot as well, and gathered them both together. As she did, she softly spoke, "And one, and two, and three."

She repeated the motion several times, eventually getting him to copy her.

"Good. Now we try together." She moved in front of him. With firm movements, she placed his hand on her waist and took hold of his other. "When I say one, begin to move." She looked at him.

His hand holding hers felt warm, and he was somehow more nervous than during the entire conversation with Mistress Juliana, but he nodded.

"And one –"

On the first syllable, Martel's foot shot out to hit her shinbone.

"Too eager."

"Sorry!" he said, feeling mortified.

"It did not hurt. I had my shield raised."

Now he felt a little hurt. He had been so nervous, not to mention focusing on his feet, he had not even noticed the faint shimmer of magic surrounding her.

"We will try again. This time, wait for the beat. Ready?" Eleanor waited until he nodded. "And one –"