[log] but no one can assume the higher ground

[apostatised]

Potentially against his better judgement, Martel's recently taken on another student - Anna, a sharp-eyed little thing from the nexus, plotting murder she's calling justice and he's calling vengeance in his head - and today he expects to see her, in the afternoon. There's a full morning's work that requires him before he can bathe and change his clothes (it's very physical work), and tell Ewar to collect the girl from the nexus doorway to see him in his study.

With the castle's required renovations more or less complete (the warding waits for Master Snape; Martel has more patience than some people realise), it's not an unimpressive place, and the casual touch of magic is fairly plain about it. If only because the unnatural choice in lighting is impossible to miss. On time, Martel doesn't wait; he works. (It's fascinating how much paperwork is actually manufactured by his endeavours, but he'd been aiming for Vanion's own desk once upon a time - he's not unprepared.)

Comments

[anna-cornovia.livejournal.com]

That gets him a startled look, unguarded wide eyes. She glances down quickly. "Forgive me, sir."

[errantknights.livejournal.com]

"Bringing back the dead is an unfortunate habit of the nexus, and I'm not offended." He offers her a seat - by the fire, it's cold in Arum this time of year - and considers how to explain. Most of the details are unpleasant or simply best not discussed in polite company, but if she's going to be his student, there are some matters it's simpler to get out of the way first.

Still not sitting - there's a book or two he wants for this, there was a purpose to coming down here - he starts, "Let's say I have intimate experience with mixing politics, religion and personal feud."

[anna-cornovia.livejournal.com]

Anna sits, obedient, and watches him closely, her face open and serious. Listening is one thing she's good at -- at least when there's something she wants.

[errantknights.livejournal.com]

"There are types of magic-" his voice is deep and steady, halfway between professorial and someone about to strike, "-that are intrinsically damaging to the psyche of the practitioner. I misjudged; betrayed my family, King, country and two separate pantheons in the process."

...look, when Martel does something, he doesn't do shit halfway.

[anna-cornovia.livejournal.com]

She draws breath to answer; and shuts her mouth. Old Tregereth said much the same thing, repeatedly -- you don't want to meddle with that, lady dear -- but he's clearly leading up to something, and she's here to learn, not to brag. She clasps her hands again, tightly.

[errantknights.livejournal.com]

In that same semi-dangerous conversational tone, Martel does go on, "As I was stripped of the more significant of my powers, my knighthood and my titles, I was furthermore banished - which I flouted some years later, after establishing myself as the best of the best as far as mercenaries on the continent go." It would be bragging if he hadn't turned almost clinical in his recount.

"There was a war - a god whose pay I was in for the opportunity to punish who'd wronged me - and my brother, presently Prince Consort to the Queen, killed me, killed the god, more than likely destroyed the city we were in and rather efficiently got his own vengeance for who I'd destroyed rather negligently on my way."

Martel pauses, briefly. "I'm reforming. There isn't redemption for that, and certainly none after death. What I'm saying to you is there are lines in the sand, whatever your cause. Learn where they are. If you cross one I don't like, you will learn not to. If you cross one there's no coming back from, I'll kill you myself." Not something he'd ordinarily say to a student, but Anna reminds him ... incredibly worryingly of himself. "You have your option to leave, if you'd prefer."

(Surely she's imagining the mild note of challenge.)

[anna-cornovia.livejournal.com]

Well. That got her attention.

Anna lifts her folded hands to her mouth for a moment, watching him with sober dark eyes; then lowers them again, still unhurriedly. Her expression has not altered, but she's a little paler now. "I understand you, my lord."

[errantknights.livejournal.com]

"Good," Martel says, whatever that was sliding behind the blinds again and just leaving genuinely unsettling intensity in its place.