‘A shield would not be much use against a demon, but that is neither here nor there. You need to understand that the nobles will do anything they can to get rid of you. Better to take a beating than rise to their bait. Trust me, I know.’ Arcturus sounded bitter. He looked as if he was going to continue, but then thought better of it and shook his head. He stood suddenly and beckoned Fletcher closer to the desk.
‘We need summoners, Fletcher, but they do not need to be battlemage officers. A summoner in the rank and file is just as good as one in the officer’s mess, in the grand scheme of things. Commoners being trained alongside nobles is not a popular practice. Many believe that you should have a separate academy. Do not give Scipio a reason to demote you.’
Fletcher nodded grimly. He couldn’t help but glance at the papers on the desk. Arcturus made no move to hide them.
‘The reason I sponsored you, Fletcher, was because you remind me of myself. More importantly, it is because I know who you are. Or what you are, at least.’
He swung the papers round for Fletcher to see and ran a finger along them.
‘There are few Fletchers of your age listed in Hominum, and none of them have the surname Wulf. You are not on any official census that I can find. Am I right in saying that you are an unregistered orphan?’
Fletcher nodded his head, not understanding.
Arcturus sat back down, nodding to himself as if Fletcher had confirmed his suspicions. He pointed at the chair opposite him. Fletcher sat and watched as Arcturus stared at him through hooded eyes.
‘Do you remember Tarquin suggesting that I am a half-noble?’ Arcturus asked, smoothing his hair back and readjusting the bow that held it in place at the back of his neck. Fletcher assented and, after a long pause, Arcturus continued.
‘Ten years ago, a young noble was on his way to Vocans, coming from his home in the northern territories that border the elven lands. He was spending his first night in Boreas which, as you know, is not too far from your Beartooth Mountains.’ Fletcher was not sure if he should be glad or upset that Arcturus had mentioned Beartooth instead of Pelt. There were hundreds of villages there, but word travelled fast. Arcturus would put two and two together if he found out a young fugitive had escaped from there.
‘This noble boy had been gifted a Canid by his father, Lord Faversham,’ Arcturus continued. ‘But he did not want to read his summoning scroll until he arrived at the school, where the teachers could supervise the transfer. He therefore left his summoning scroll in his saddle bags and bedded down for the night.’
Arcturus stopped for a moment, rubbing Sacharissa’s ears. The demon rumbled with pleasure and nuzzled his hands.
‘That night, a stable boy decided to rob the noble for all he was worth. He had nothing to his name. He was an orphan who had been raised in a workhouse, then sold to the stable master for twenty shillings. He didn’t even own the clothes on his back. The theft was a last, desperate bid to get enough money together to escape and make a new life for himself. But fate had a different plan for him.’
Fletcher furrowed his brow. This story sounded familiar, but he could not place where he had heard it before.
‘The boy could read somewhat. He had taught himself so that he could learn about the world, devouring every book left abandoned by passing travellers in the tavern that owned the stables. So when he found the scroll and summoning leather that came with it, he laid them out and read them, more out of curiosity than anything else. Fortunately for the boy, he still struggled with his reading, so he said each word under his breath as he read them. Nobody was more surprised than him when he summoned a Canid pup, with black fur and shining eyes. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.’
Fletcher looked from Sacharissa to Arcturus, then realisation dawned on him.
‘You were the first commoner to own a demon since . . . well, since forever!’ Fletcher gasped. ‘If it wasn’t for you, none of us would be here! Your discovery tripled the number of battlemages!’
Arcturus nodded gravely.
‘But hang on,’ Fletcher said with confusion. ‘What does this have to do with me? Or you being a half-noble?’