Firebrand: The Firetouched: A LitRPG Adventure, page 1
FIRETOUCHED
©2023 D.E. OLESEN
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ALSO IN SERIES
The Novice
Fire-Touched
The Acolyte
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CONTENTS
Summary
1. Playing the Fool
2. The Bond of the Ring
3. Blooded Anew
4. The Eye of the Storm
5. Gathering Clouds
6. Revanche
7. Adventures in Law Enforcement
8. Time and Harvest
9. From the Tenth
10. Where the Storm Resides
11. Desecration
12. Point
13. Who's Got the Touch
14. The Promise of Spectacle
15. For a Few Drinks More
16. Copper and Cat
17. Axe and Fist
18. An Offering of Blood
19. A City Marked
20. Sacrifice or Sacrilege
21. Unrooted
22. Good Inquisitor, Bad Inquisitor
23. Cursed Lessons
24. A Good Foundation
25. A Bitter Drink
26. Entrapment
27. Introduction to Etiquette
28. The First Starlit Eve
29. Entanglement
30. Sowing Seeds
31. Bear Trap
32. Cold Counsel and Hot Discussions
33. Help from Above
34. Hangovers
35. An Offer She Can't Refuse
36. Meeting the Recruits
37. Taking Charge
38. The Copper Mage
39. The Pact
40. Pillars of Sand
41. Safety in Numbers
42. Keeping Time with Friends
43. Friendly Secrets
44. Wasted Hours
45. Sight in the Dark
46. Hung Up
47. The Iron Coin
48. Court Summons
49. Bitter Winds Blowing
50. Expanded Curriculum
51. Passive Relations
52. Lessons Outside of School
53. Pawns in Play
54. Unexpected Encounters
55. On Quiet Feet
56. Delving into the Old
57. The Undercroft
58. The Nine Lords
59. His Day in Court
60. It's a Trap
61. Rematch
62. Spells in the Dark
63. Reminders
64. Late Appointments
65. Buried Beneath
66. Searching Blind
67. The Fellowship of Feathers
68. Service for Hire
69. Picking and Entering
70. Slippery Paths
71. One Does Not Talk About Sparring Guild
72. Close Encounter of the Cold Kind
73. Limping In
74. The Shape of Things
75. Who Talked About Sparring Guild
76. Scouting for Talent
77. Familial Duty
78. Quandaries as Posed by an Urchin
79. Silver Friends
80. Where All Roads Lead
81. Double the Mage
82. Present Help
83. Selling Services
84. A Trio of Knives
85. The River Pearl
86. Expanding Circles
87. Silver Letters
88. Fire and Ice
89. Getting Baited
90. Clean-up Job
91. Three's a Crowd
92. The Price of Friendship
93. Playing at Defence
94. Thief Catcher
95. Close Friends, Closer Enemies
96. A Hope and a Prayer
97. Fits Together like Clockwork
98. Something Unexpected
99. Talking Pillows
100. Tell a Hawk from a Heron
101. Athelings and Apprentices
102. It's All About the Money
103. Strength in Numbers
104. Lessons in Law
105. Examination
106. Deliberations
107. Some Light Breaking and Entering
108. Tribulations and Tribunals
109. New Stomping Grounds
110. Smallport
111. First Blood
112. Silence Is Silver
113. A Light Step
114. Covetous
115. Clocks and Locks
116. Midnight Ride
117. Fire Fight
118. Touched by Fire
119. No Good Deed Unpunished
120. Wisdom or Bravery
121. Clothes Make the Man
Thank you for reading Fire-Touched
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LitRPG
SUMMARY
Martel, a young lad of sixteen, arrives in the Asterian capital of Morcaster to study magic at the Lyceum. With the simple aim of becoming a weathermage and returning home again, he discovers a major obstacle; he is fire-touched. Such mages are known for their temper, rash actions, and the destruction that often follows in their wake, making them disliked and feared by others.
Furthermore, all mages gifted in fire are meant to study that magic exclusively and become battlemages, conscripted to the legions. Aided by his sympathising teacher, Master Alastair, Martel must hide his true nature or face being sent to the frontlines in the war against neighbouring Khiva. Lastly, due to his advanced age compared to other novices, he is only afforded two years to graduate, or he must repay the ruinous costs of tuition, room, and board.
Coming from a small town, Martel finds Morcaster vastly different. The sight of homeless orphans distresses him and reminds him of his own sister, who starved to death during a famine. He becomes an unlikely ally to Weasel and his gang of urchins, visiting them in the copper lanes, the slums of Morcaster. He also discovers the shadow side of magic, as a maleficar stalks the slums each full moon, killing victims in sinister rituals.
At his school, Martel befriends the jovial mageknight Maximilian, as boisterous and battle-ready as he is oblivious to his surroundings. Another friend is the mageknight Eleanor, intelligent, temperate, but also reserved with her own secrets.
In the city, Martel quickly bonds with Shadi, the daughter of a Khivan immigrant. Both of them must contend with the attitudes of the local Asterians, such as the powerful Duke Cheval and his son, but also ordinary people; many treat the Khivan population of Morcaster with suspicion or outright hostility, exacerbated by the Khivan war now in its tenth year.
Unable to own land and generally deprived of rights, the Khivans must all rent homes in the only district of Morcaster where they are allowed to live. This leaves them at the mercy of unscrupulous landlords who constantly increase the rent.
Fearing that Shadi's father might take her back to Khiva because of this, Martel tries to cheat at gambling to quickly raise enough coin to pay their rent. He is discovered by Kerra, the criminal chief of the copper lanes. To avoid the Lyceum being told of his activities, Martel is forced to enter the prize fights in the pit of The Broken Crown, run by Tibert, Kerra's rival and counterpart in the harbour district.
Using magic to cheat, Martel wins his fights, but at the final brawl, he is unmasked as a wizard. Riots erupt in the tavern, but aided by Maximilian, he barely escapes. Realising this was Kerra's plan all along, regardless of the danger to him, Martel is furious; yet taking revenge will expose his actions to the Lyceum, whose headmaster would happily expel a Tyrian-blooded novice.
Accepting this, he can take solace knowing he has collected the coin to pay for Shadi's rent. As an unexpected price, though, Eleanor rescinds her friendship, unwilling to watch as Martel takes risk after risk; sooner or later, he will not be able to outrun the consequences.
ONE
PLAYING THE FOOL
After the harrowing events at The Broken Crown, and his narrow escape from the mob baying for his blood after he was unmasked as a cheat in the prize fights, Martel felt no desire to enter the city or deal with anything other than his studies. So, he stayed at the Lyceum for the next several days. He attended classes, ate his meals, and practised his spellcasting to prepare for being tested in water magic soon; if he wanted to train as a weathermage or seamage, he needed to impress Mistress Vana, his prospective teacher in those arts. He had been at the Lyceum for eight months; in another four, he would take his novice examination to become an acolyte, hopefully specialising in water.
On occasion, Martel passed Eleanor in the corridors, or their eyes met briefly in the dining hall; that was the extent of their interactions. He saw Maximilian at some of the meals, always declining the mageknight's invitations to hit the taverns, and otherwise kept to himself. He did not bother trying to make another friend; at present, all his classes were with other novices several years younger than himself.
He also made sure to pay attention in Master Fenrick's classes, though since he enjoyed the subject, that was hardly a chore. Martel might not be able to remember everything he was taught, but simply being made aware of a particular subject allowed him to read more about it in the library at his leisure.
"I believe I hear the bell ringing, which concludes not only this lesson, but also our topic concerning the stars. Next fiveday, we delve into the bleaker matter of maleficars." Master Fenrick gave half a smile seeing his novices exchange looks. "I thought that might get your attention. But you'll have to wait. See you this afternoon."
For Martel, the brief message held more than the promise of an interesting lecture; a month had passed since the event with the maleficar in the slums, and Martel had not paid it a single thought since.
Martel was not getting involved. He was not going to barge through the copper lanes, hunting down a dark sorcerer, who certainly would be far more powerful than anything he could handle anyway. He would not do anything to attract trouble.
But – he did have friends in that district, whom he knew the maleficar had targeted. Quite possibly, the warlock remained a threat to Weasel and his gang. Although Martel had visited them last fiveday, it had only been for his own sake. He had been too preoccupied with the upcoming fight to even consider if the children needed help. He had not even asked about Sparrow. It reminded him of Weasel's accusation about how Martel only helped to make himself feel better.
At least Martel had silver to spare, and gifts quelled a guilty conscience. Going to market, he picked up a handful of the more common herbs that he imagined they could use in their provisional apothecary.
Going into the merchant quarter, Martel made sure to avoid the harbour as he moved towards the slums in the south-western part of Morcaster. Soon, the familiar house beckoned.
The children greeted him with their usual enthusiasm, questions, and remarks before he even reached the backdoor. The novice laughed, begging them to hold on at least until he was inside and had gotten rid of the bundle in his arms.
Depositing the herbs on the table in their common room, he looked around, once the children gave him a moment to breathe. "Where's Weasel at?"
The small chief appeared as if summoned from the shadows. He had a habit of doing that. "Back again? Who do you need followed this time?"
"Nothing of the sort. Just a few gifts." Martel motioned towards the plants he had delivered. "And I wanted to ask about Sparrow." He hated the thought of how being abducted by the maleficar must have left scars in the girl's mind.
"Oh, you remembered about her, did you?"
"Everything's a barb with you, isn't it," the novice retorted. "How is she?"
"Sparrow's fine. Not your concern anyway."
"I guess not. But if you've had any more trouble with whoever took her, you'd need someone with knowledge of the arcane," Martel pointed out. However ill-suited the novice might be to tangle with a maleficar, the children were surely in a worse position to deal with such a nefarious individual.
"We've had no trouble. Barely any news. Well, discounting all the trouble in the harbour!" Weasel's mouth turned into a rare grin. "Big prize fight with this leather-gloved fellow, turns out his opponent could use magic! Huge brawl broke out, and the mage damn near burned the place down."
That was an exaggeration, Martel knew; his little wall of flames had been barely more than sparkling lights. "What's it to you?"
"Nothing. I keep my nose to myself. Stay out of other people's business."
"Unless you can make coin from it, I wager."
Weasel shrugged. "That would make it my business, after all."
"Well, I have nothing to do with prize fighting. Not my business either." Basically true, counting from the last couple of fivedays.
"That's good. Now that it's moved to the copper lanes, I wondered if we'd start to see you hang around our little part of town."
Martel frowned. "Wait. They're doing fights here now?"
"In The Copper Drum." Weasel's face lost its smug expression. "If you intend to go, make sure to leave our name at home. We don't want to cross paths with the Copper Lady. Better for our health."
Martel did not intend to go, yet he could not help but ask. "When's the next fight?"
"There's one every Solday, I think, and sometime else in the fiveday. Don't rightly remember."
Martel was not getting involved. His business with Kerra had concluded. There was nothing to be gained by pursuing this.
But – tomorrow was Solday, and he wondered if the Copper Lady had played him for a fool in more ways than one.
TWO
THE BOND OF THE RING
Solday was also the day of Martel's test in water. Having been through the introductory lessons over the last handful of fivedays, the time had come for Martel to prove his ability with the element. With the other novices, he returned to the Vault of Water where Mistress Vana awaited them.
She stood on one of the pathways that crossed the basin, itself taking up nearly all the space of the subterranean chamber. The eerie light from magical lamps cast their strange illumination across her face; the importance of the moment almost made the shadows on her expression seem ominous. "It's simple. One by one, I will ask you to mirror each effect in the water as I create it. Let's start with the oldest." She looked at Martel.
Stepping forward to the edge of the water, he felt slightly nervous; as fire was his particular gift, water lay furthest from his natural abilities. Whereas conjuring a flame came to him as instinct, wrestling with water was always a conscious effort.
Mistress Vana began, extending her hand over the basin to raise a column of water in the air. Martel did the same, a little relieved as the element responded to his command. His column came in a rougher shape, resembling a hill rather than a pillar, but it rose up all the same.
As if wielding an invisible knife, Mistress Vana severed her own column. Half of it fell back into the pool, while the remaining water stayed afloat, reshaping itself into an orb.
Licking his lips, Martel made his attempt. The water under his control became disturbed, sloshing back and forth to hit his shoes. But he was able to tear some of it up and away from the pool, detaching it and gathering it in the air like a misshapen jar.
She continued with several more effects, continuously moving and shaping the water. His nervousness slowly dissipating, Martel replicated everything she did, albeit with less grace. It was clear that he was no prodigy in water, but all the same, the element obeyed him. Finally, Mistress Vana declared herself satisfied; he had passed.
Martel spent a good while considering whether to go to The Copper Drum or not. On the surface of it, it posed no danger. Kerra's final note after the affair at The Broken Crown had said as much, that she considered their business concluded. He had no specific reason to avoid the place, other than his own opinion on the proprietress of the tavern.
But Kerra had already made a fool of him, blindsiding him completely. Could this be some kind of a trap? Her note had extended an open invitation, which he had ignored. What if she had made Weasel dangle bait in front of him to lure him towards The Copper Drum? Given her sway, it would not be hard for her to discover Martel's friendship with the urchins, nor would it be the first time that Weasel let him walk into an ambush.
