Father Eusebus

The man chosen by the Grand Chamberlain to instruct Marcus was a priest of Melqart, the solar god and protector of merchants, by the name of Victor Eusebus. The priest, of middle age and shorter than the old minister by half a head, had a terribly ordinary face, so much so that one tended to forget him soon after crossing paths. In reality, he hailed from the high nobility of the Empire and was of the same generation as the Grand Chamberlain. This meant that he had entered the Academy at the same time as the Grand Chamberlain, long before he held this prestigious position. They had met there and become friends, which was another function of the Academy.

The old minister had sent him a magical letter, and it was without hesitation that he had accepted to come from his distant Murcia, a region located at the southern border of the Empire known for its vast olive groves and citrus orchards, its enchanting scents, and its splendid temple dedicated to Melqart, said to be more beautiful than that of Cartagena.

The man faced Marcus and observed him attentively. He found the resemblance between the emperor and this young boy fascinating. If he hadn't been informed, he might have believed that he was indeed in the presence of His Majesty. However, it only took a little time spent with him to notice that they were two different people.

In reality, it had taken him less than a minute. His gaze was not kind, his tone was not kind, his posture was not good, and above all, his knowledge was very insufficient, if not almost non-existent. He was like a blank sheet of paper.

They had already been acquainted for several hours, and just as long as he had been showing him the letters of the alphabet. With patience, he tried to teach them to him.

"No, no!" he exclaimed, tapping the dark wooden desk with his wand. "Look at how I traced the letter gimel! The angle is not right, it is too open! Start over!"

Marcus was losing patience as quickly as his teacher. His hands hurt from writing. He had filled entire pages with barely decipherable scribbles, which he had piled up in a corner of his desk. His pen, a small silver jewel engraved with a very complex rune for its proper functioning, had become unbearable to him. The sound of the pen's tip scraping against the paper made him think of a squeak.

Damn it! He's never satisfied! It's fine as it is!

"You're going too high, stop before. There, there. It's passable. Start over. Too closed. In between. Good. We're getting there. Another time. Passable. Do ten like the last one. Now, the letter daleth. It's simple, it's the triangle. Start with the vertical line, then the other two so that they are the same length. There. That's very good. It's like gimel but with the lower bar missing. The letter he now."

"Damn it! Why are there so many letters in this damn alphabet?! I'm sure some of them are useless!"

Suddenly, a door burst open in the neighboring room. Marcus looked up, but the teacher gave him a tap on the top of his head to order him to concentrate.

"Ouch! That hurts!"

"Focus."

"That's what I'm trying to do! But it works better if you don't hit me!"

"You talk too much and you don't write enough."

"Tsk!"

Marcus clicked his tongue and leaned back over his exercises. He didn't know how things were at the Academy, but he was sure students weren't hit for so little. The emperor entered the room in his hunting outfit, covered in dust, and glanced quickly at what his double was doing. A grimace formed on his face.

"I hope that's not your best writing."

"Fuck."

"Excuse me?!" a rough and deep voice protested from behind Marcus, making him jump. He didn't need to turn around to know that the emperor's chief minister was behind him. He was more afraid of him than of the emperor, whom he could only see as a slightly older kid. Rodrigue Barde of Tolède was not only an old man, he was a powerful magus with great physical strength.

During the first few days, he had hit him on the head with his big fists and cane on the back every time he crossed the line, especially with the emperor. After a few hits, he had learned to hold his serpent tongue, but it was clear that he would need more to behave properly even in the absence of the Grand Chamberlain.

"Ouch! Stop hitting me on the head! It hurts and I'm going to end up stupid!"

"If you don't want to be hit, don't give a reason to be beaten. Ahem! Did His Majesty have a good hunt?"

"Oh, very good, yes! This deer made us run for hours! We almost circled the entire forest, I think. Lord Duke of Olivera managed to kill two huge boars during that time. Father Eusebus, how are things going here?"

"Your Majesty, we are making progress. Slowly, but we are making progress. This is the first time I have had to teach the basics to a boy of this age. Marcus now knows the letters, but he still needs to memorize them thoroughly and trace them correctly. We are at that level."

"Very well. I thank you, Father Eusebus, for your cooperation," the emperor said, removing his own jacket even though it was the work of a servant.

"It is my honor to serve you, Your Majesty," the priest replied humbly, bowing deeply.

"Keep it up. Marcus has a long way to go to catch up with first-year students. Moreover, not being able to read and write is a big obstacle for his mission."

"I will do my best!"

"It's not you who worries me, Father Eusebus."

The priest, dressed entirely in white except for his belt and hat, turned to Marcus, who seemed about to collapse onto his sheet. Despite all his efforts, he was taking too long for the priest's liking to learn how to write.

I didn't think it was this difficult! If I had known...

"Let him rest," decided the emperor, seeing the sun setting in the distance. "I think he has worked enough for today. I count on you to continue his education tomorrow."

"You can count on me! I will be there first thing tomorrow morning."

"Hmm, and I also count on your discretion. It is vital."

"If questioned, I will say that His Majesty seeks to learn more about Melquart," the priest replied, bowing.

Although the emperor was not the kind of man to abuse his power, the Melquart priest knew what he risked if he was not careful. The slightest mistake could be fatal to him, despite his friendship with the Grand Chamberlain.

There was still some time before supper, so after a short break, Marcus was invited to do his best to continue working seriously on his writing. The Grand Chamberlain and the emperor, both as cunning as each other, had offered him a way out of tonight's meal if he showed satisfactory results before it was time to go down to the banquet hall.

Of course, the old minister and the young emperor had carefully avoided informing him what constituted satisfactory results.

To escape this new ordeal, he still hadn't recovered from the previous meal, he applied himself like never before to each letter. From an outsider's perspective, Marcus looked like a forger trying to craft a perfect counterfeit coin.

In reality, the emperor and his minister had no intention of sending Marcus in his place to attend this meal. It was just a little trick to motivate him in his studies and to get revenge for all the times he had been insolent.

What a relief it was when he saw the emperor leave when a servant announced that the meal was ready to be served! He almost cried out with joy. He didn't get the chance, because the Grand Chamberlain entrusted him with more exercises.

The emperor and the Grand Chamberlain only reappeared much later in the evening, but he didn't realize it because he was already snoring on his bench. In addition to the good meals, it was certainly the most important positive point in his eyes in his situation: he no longer had to fear anything happening to him while he slept.

However, Maxime did not go to bed immediately, as he still had work to do. He stayed in his study for a little over an hour, lit only by a few magical candles, which was much less than usual before going to bed. While his double feasted pretending to be him, he was able to make good progress.

Finally, he undressed, put on a nightshirt, and slipped into the clean sheets of his immense canopy bed, large enough for three people. He blew out his candle, and immediately the room was plunged into total darkness. All the emperor could hear was the ticking of the clock and Marcus's peaceful breath.

With a hint of jealousy seeing his double already asleep, he closed his eyes to face the new day that was about to dawn.

The following day should have been his first day at the greatest academy in the empire, if not the world. In reality, there were excellent ones elsewhere, notably in Memphis at the heart of the Sultanate of Egypt, in Persepolis, or in Bianliang in China.

At this very moment, the new students were discovering the faces of their classmates and the buildings they would attend for a decade if they were good enough to pass each of their exams on the first attempt. Among these young students, not yet magi as a minimum qualification was required to bear this title, was Annabelle.

Marcus and Annabelle had only seen each other once since their enrollment. But that had been a coincidence and before his meeting with the Grand Chamberlain.

Unfortunately for him, Marcus could not leave the palace. It was almost as if he considered himself a prisoner.

This did not mean that he did not receive an education. Since the day before, Father Eusebus had been exhausting himself teaching him the Phoenician alphabet, still used in the Empire and more generally across the lands once occupied by the ancient Carthaginian empire. Thus, this alphabet was used in North Ifrikya, in Hispania, in Celtika, in Italy, in Germania up to Persia.

As agreed, Father Eusebus had presented himself at the palace gates at the first hour and had resumed his lesson where he had left off the day before. He was very satisfied with his student when he noticed that he had worked seriously in his absence to memorize the letters of the alphabet. Thanks to this exemplary and necessary work, he was able to move quite quickly to the next step, which was the study of possible combinations to form syllables, and then words.

Ah, is that how it works? It's quite simple!

"So, Marcus, does it spell like this?"

"Indeed. However, be sure not to leave too much space between your letters. Here, it's the opposite, they are too close. You have to find a balance and stick to it. Of course, there are different writings. How can I explain? We can form the letters I taught you differently to make the writing more beautiful."

They change the letters?!" exclaimed Marcus, turning violently to his teacher as if trying to surprise him.

Why do they do that?! It's complicated enough as it is! If they also modify the letters, I'll never get through it!

"Indeed. We're talking about calligraphy. The word comes from Greek: 'calli' comes from the word kalios and 'graphy' from graphô. It literally means 'beautiful writing'. There are many different calligraphies around the world, and even within the Empire, as it is natural to seek to make one's writings visually beautiful. But let's not worry about that for now. Let's focus on the basics first, and then we can go further. You don't build a house by starting with the roof."

Under Father Eusebus's supervision, Marcus worked hard and made significant progress. However, he still had some persistent difficulties with the use of feminine and masculine in conjugation. His teacher was generally very satisfied and, even if he didn't say anything to his face, very impressed. He had thought the day before that it would be easier to teach a donkey given his lag, but that morning had proven to him that a few years would be enough to fill his gaps.

He couldn't stay with his student all day because his friend the Grand Chamberlain had planned other teachings for this young man. He had been explained that he should have been at the Academy to receive a quality education and that His Imperial Majesty had deemed it appropriate to grant him the same education as the other first-year students.