This received more muttering from the second years. Fletcher suspected that they would have been happy for the first years to take part if they would be filling all the second lieutenancies, the lowest and most common of ranks.
‘The King has offered an added incentive to this year’s tournament. The winner will also receive a place on the King’s council and be given the right to vote on matters of state. He wishes to have a representative that comes from the next generation of battlemages. If a commission as a high-ranking officer doesn’t motivate you, I know this will,’ Scipio announced, giving the room a solemn look.
Fletcher saw Othello clench his fists as Scipio spoke, though whether it was the council seat, the commission or both that had affected him, Fletcher couldn’t tell. Tarquin and Isadora were especially incensed by Scipio’s revelation, whispering excitedly despite a warning glare from Arcturus.
‘Which divisions will the commissions be in? Will the first years be at equal risk of being put in the dwarven and criminal battalions?’ asked a tall, second-year commoner, standing up from his table.
Othello bristled at the implication, but Scipio beat him to the punch.
‘You’ll go in whatever division you’re damned well put in! And don’t speak out of turn!’ the Provost roared. The boy sat down hurriedly, despite dissatisfied murmurs at the answer. Scipio seemed to relent at the grim faces that stared at him from around the room.
‘They’ll have just as much chance as you do. That’s all I will say on the matter,’ he said.
A dainty hand was thrust into the air and the fingers fluttered for attention. Scipio rolled his eyes and gave an irritated nod. Isadora stood and curtsied prettily.
‘Excuse me for interrupting, Provost Scipio sir, but what is she doing here?’ she said, pointing an accusatory finger at the elf.
‘That was the next announcement I was going to make,’ Scipio said, walking over to the silver haired girl. ‘The peace talks between Hominum’s envoys and the elves’ various clan chieftains have been a long struggle, but recently we have had a breakthrough. Instead of paying the tax, the elves plan to join the fight themselves, sending their own warriors to be trained as soldiers, just as the dwarves have done.’
As he mentioned the dwarves, Scipio gave a respectful nod to Othello, who gave him a level nod back.
‘But there is still a lot of distrust, as is to be expected,’ Scipio continued, walking back to the entrance to stand by the other teachers. ‘So, in an act of good faith, a chieftain’s daughter has been sent to train as a battlemage, the first of many elves that we hope will be incorporated into our military over the next few years.’
He gave the elf a forced smile.
‘Her name is Sylva Arkenia, and you should all make her feel as welcome as possible. We were never really enemies with the elves, though it may have felt that way. Let us hope this is the first step in a long and fruitful alliance.’
Sylva’s face remained expressionless, but Fletcher noticed Sariel’s tail wagging under the table. He wondered at the courage of this young girl, to leave her country and home to fight in a war that was not her own, amongst people who distrusted her ilk. As he planned his apology to her, Scipio’s voice cut in once again.
‘Now, be off with you. Lessons start in a few minutes. Oh, and Fletcher,’ Scipio said, turning his eyes towards him. ‘Come and see me in my office. Immediately.’
24
Scipio’s office was as hot as it had been the last time, but today the shutters on the window had been opened, leaving a bright beam of light that cut between Fletcher and the Provost’s desk. He had been staring at Fletcher through steepled fingers for the past minute, and Fletcher was beginning to feel uncomfortable.
‘Why did you lie to me, boy?’ Scipio asked, his eyes flicking between Ignatius and Fletcher’s face.
‘I did not mean to,’ Fletcher said, then, after a moment, adding, ‘Provost Scipio, sir.’
‘I asked you where you got that demon, and you replied that Arcturus had sent you. Do you think that answered my question? Do you think that the answer you gave did not have certain implications? Didn’t you think that after I spoke to Arcturus I would know the truth?’ Scipio’s voice was calm and composed, a deep contrast to the bellowing man he had seen in the canteen just a few minutes before. Fletcher wasn’t sure which he preferred.
‘I . . . don’t know why I said it. It was true that Arcturus had sent me, but I knew what you meant. It was wrong of me to lie to you. I just wanted to be allowed to study here so badly. I am sorry, sir.’