Note: Character is male

martel_ilpraima@education.chaosdeathfish.com

The eldest son and heir of the Duchess of Khern in the Three Lands of Summer, Martel was a terribly serious, sensible, straight-faced sort of first-year. Fortunately the University soon knocked that some of that out of him and it is rumoured that he even has a sense of humour now. His full title is Lord Marquess of Khern but he will never, ever correct you on it¹⁾.

The Three Lands of Summer were, some years previously, the Five Lands of Summer, and a while before that the Four Lands of Summer and the Righteous Republic Of Autumn, and it’s almost certain that by the end of Martel’s time at the University one of the Three Lands will have split off into at least four more, or possibly become the Two Lands of That Nice Bit Of Spring When It’s Warm But Not Too Hot.

After his experience herding students around during the accident, Martel was occasionally heard to say that carrying out his plans to unite the Three Lands was a walk in the park by comparison. He returned from the University after his Graduation with a bag of tricks, an assortment of useful friends in high, or at least interesting, places, and an advisor/close personal friend who he met at the University in the year above him. Terven and Martel were always very close and those who knew them best could see the nature of their relationship perhaps even better than they themselves could at first. Martel ensured that all his brothers and sisters were well educated, at the University or otherwise in the City depending on their magical aptitude.

The rule of Martel Il'Praima was characterised by quick thinking and diplomatic action. There were very few wars because talking is more efficient, and Martel had a talent for talking. His court was stable, with key positions filled by a mix of those who will be appeased by it and those who are competent at their jobs. The role of Chancellor was filled by one of his oldest friends, Bernadette Walmsley, who had a similar outlook on organisation to Martel and a booming voice that was impossible for anyone in the court to ignore. This proved useful when keeping squabbling to a minimum.

At a time when all were expecting him to announce his marriage to either the young Dutchess of Aotea or the Countess of Pyria, Martel did perhaps the only thing in his rule that was for himself as opposed to purely for the good of his country. It seems likely that his friends were involved in pushing him to this action but it is also clear that it was what was in Martel's heart to do and he merely needed the reassurance of his comrades to allow him to put his own happiness first. His marriage to Terven gained him nothing politically but those closest to him said that they had never seen him happier than on his wedding day.

The day itself was well attended by many of his old friends and colleagues from the University. In hindsight it can also be seen that many of the titles and positions he bestowed in honour of the day paved the way for the eventual uniting of the Kingdoms a year later. The support he garnered that day, and his subsequent deft political manoeuvring, led to him being the only logical choice to be crowned King of the newly minted Land (singular) of Summer.

Martel died at the age of 102 peacefully in his bed, surrounded by his adopted children and the many grandchildren and great-grandchildren that were his family. The influence of Martel and Terven lived on in them and the Land of Summer continues to thrive and prosper to this day.

Initially there was chaos, which was only to be expected, really. Jubilation only began to kick in when numerous people had checked that yes, that really was the City out there, and yes, they really were back.

Gradually, other members of the University filtered in. Word seemed to have got out in some mysterious way even to those who’d been holed up since the start, and before long the hall was full of students of all ages, lecturers, researchers, a number of pets and/or familiars, and assorted ambulatory fruit.

There was a lot to do.

Terven found his way down to the hall before Martel could extract himself to go and look for him. There wasn’t really time for a reunion (there hadn’t really been time for a reunion since they’d been reunited, to be fair) and he was mostly quiet, keeping to Martel’s side as he rushed around trying to make sure everything important was being taken care of.

So it came as something of a surprise to Martel when Terven calmly, but firmly, took his hand, and towed him out of the hall.

“What is it? Is something wrong?”

“No.”

Terven wasn’t hurrying, but there was something implacable about the way they were leaving the hall behind. Martel glanced over his shoulder worriedly.

“I shouldn’t leave yet, we need to do a proper headcount, and set up some sort of debriefing session to get as much information together as possible - check we’ve got all the faculty and they know what’s happened - find the headmaster, I don’t understand why he wasn’t here for the battle - then there’s that ship to take care of, I don’t want anyone to just jump in it and head off if we could avoid it - and oh, hell, what happened to the Terpsichore-Phlanges? We’ll need to–”

“It can wait. Or someone else can deal with it.”

“But I really ought to–”

“It can wait.”

Terven was, in general, a mild-mannered sort; Martel had never heard him raise his voice, and he seemed to keep quietly to the sidelines in most situations. But every so often, he seemed to make up his mind about something, and all at once became like the tide, inexorable and irresistible. Like when he’d calmly taken all of Martel’s books away from him during exam week last year, and calmly told him that he’d be carried out of there bodily if he didn’t get some rest, and calmly listened to a tirade which Martel was, in hindsight, thoroughly ashamed of, and then calmly used a teleportation spell on him, sending him to his own bed with an expression on his face that brooked no argument.

He was wearing a similar one now, so Martel subsided in his protests, although he couldn’t stop his mind racing, enumerating tasks and wondering how much would go wrong if he stopped paying attention for so much as an hour. Had anyone thought about sending out messages to the City regarding their return (it would be obvious to everyone who had eyes, but mightn’t some formal announcement be in order)? And his family! He needed to get a message back right away - quite aside from personal concern, his disappearance could have stirred up half a dozen political issues, any one of which might have been enough to start another war!

“Actually,” he said, trying to change direction without letting go of Terven’s hand, “I’d better go into the City and–”

Without seeming to exert any actual force, Terven kept him on course. It was obvious now that they were heading up to the third floor of the East Wing - the postgraduate residential section, and presumably Terven’s rooms.

“It’s going to be a madhouse out there for at least a few hours,” Terven said. He seemed to know what Martel had been thinking. “You won’t get a letter off and it’ll take days to get there when you do. If you wait until things calm down in here, we can find someone to whisk you back long enough to reassure everyone.”

“Well… all right, but I could still be useful if I–”

“Martel, have you at any point in the last week stopped to rest?”

Martel shrugged defensively. “I slept last shift, you know that full well.”

“Yes, you pretty much passed out halfway through a sentence and slept for a couple of hours, at maximum, in a rather awkward position in that chair by the bed. And when did you last have anything to eat?”

“Er…”

“That’s what I thought.”

They had arrived on a long corridor with wooden doors down one wall and tall windows on the other. Martel stopped, so struck by the sight of the City that he couldn’t have moved if he tried. This time Terven didn’t try to move him on; they stood side by side looking out at the deceptively peaceful streets. Martel had never particularly taken to the City - it wasn’t home, it was just an interesting place to visit when he wasn’t studying - but right now it was so familiar it was almost painful.

“I’m not sure I believed we’d really get back,” he said softly.

“I did.” Terven’s hand tightened on his, and when Martel looked up, he smiled. “You said we would.”

He turned and led Martel the few remaining steps down the hall, where his door opened at a touch - he’d learned some spell that removed the necessity for a key, one of the useful but oft-overlooked pieces of magic that he was so good at - and Martel found himself inside before he could come up with any sort of response.

What could he even say to that? The way Terven had looked at him just then had started his heart hammering uncomfortably. There were some things he’d been very carefully not thinking about, like the way their letters to each other had got longer and more intimate over the summer, or the way his pulse had raced when he’d first seen Terven across the great hall, before everything went so terribly wrong - or the awful pit that had opened up in his stomach when he’d realised Terven was missing with the others, and the agony of leaving him behind, trapped in crystal…

It was too much to deal with, and he didn’t plan to deal with it right now. He opened his mouth to turn the conversation firmly to mundanity, but that, apparently, wasn’t part of the Plan According To Terven, because as the door swung shut behind them, Martel found himself suddenly pressed back against it and being thoroughly, passionately kissed.

Some part of his brain protested the unexpected turn of events. Clearly it needed to stop, right now, so they could deal with all this sensibly, but rather to Martel’s surprise, that part of his brain was immediately shouted down by the part that wanted to kiss back. With some enthusiasm. A lot of enthusiasm.

Anything else would be rude, really.