Four Walls and a Heart: Charms of Albion, #3

By Celia Lake

In 1884, Gil wakes in the Temple of Healing with a life changing injury. Nothing in his life is ever going to be the same. He now has to figure out where he'll live and what he'll do. All his choices are all miserable in their own way.   

 

Magni becomes curious when his old friend's name comes up several times. After discovering Gil's return to Albion and his injuries, Magni is more than willing to visit, remembering how Gil was the spark of wit in gatherings while they were both apprentices. But of course, Gil would never be interested in him as anything other than a friend in a time of need.

 

When Magni has to leave town for a few weeks due to a complex case, he rents a house at the Brighton seashore. He even welcomes Gil's company, as Gil regains strength before another needed surgery. Neither of them expected the minor mystery of the house across the street and a fortnight in close quarters to change both their lives. 

 

Four Walls And A Heart is a m/m novella of 40,000 words exploring Gil and Magni's romance in the summer of 1884. Set in the magical community of Great Britain, it is full of books, architecture, seaside amusements, and navigating living with a new disability.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Celia Lake
• Release date: Sep 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223369547

Celia Lake

Celia Lake spends her days as a librarian in the Boston (MA) metro area, and her nights and weekends at home happily writing, reading, and researching. Born and raised in Massachusetts to British parents, she naturally embraced British spelling, classic mysteries, and the Oxford comma before she learned there were any other options.

Book preview

Chapter 1

JUNE 10TH, 1884 AT THE GUARD HALL, TRELLECH

Magni ran a hand through his hair, then rummaged for his handkerchief. He had perhaps twenty seconds before he would be called up again. He was entirely junior here, and yet these men knew him. They’d already weighed and measured him long ago, literally as well as metaphorically. If he’d been found wanting, they’d trained that out of him years since. He’d come to the Guard fresh out of Schola, finished his apprenticeship at twenty-five, and he should not find this nearly so nerve wracking two years and change later.

He was a full member of the Guard, with four official commendations to his name, a respectable reputation, and a particular knack for duelling. That last was part of the point here. A fortnight ago he’d been invited to join this circle of some of the best of the fighters to keep his skills honed. It was an honour, and it was definitely a challenge. Today, he hadn’t fallen on his face in the first round. They’d brought it to a respectable draw after neither of them made a touch in three minutes. He was good, he’d known that. But what he didn’t have, yet, was the experience all these men and women could draw on.

By the time he had the handkerchief back in his pocket, Captain Merrick was stretching. Come on, Torham. Let’s see how nimble you can be. They confirmed the same terms of one touch or three minutes. Then it was the salute to land, sky, and heart, and they began. Magni hadn’t done many bouts with Merrick, who’d been busy at a posting in Southampton for most of the past two years. The man had a quick sharp approach to things that seemed counter to someone who’d spent so much of his professional life around the great ocean vessels.

Magni didn’t win, but he didn’t embarrass himself, either. He managed to shield against all the charms, got a bit of his own back, and kicked up enough fuss to put Merrick at a disadvantage twice. Only briefly, of course, a second or two, but enough that Magni was sure of it. When time was called, they immediately saluted again, and Captain Merrick offered his hand. Next week, same time?

A pleasure, sir. Magni had been as well tutored on the etiquette of this sort of thing as he had everything else about being a Guard. He’d not come from a Guard family - not like Captain Merrick, or Winson, or Fillary, or most of the others here. Everyone except Claris, she came from a family much like Magni’s, yeoman farmers and crafters, competent and solid, but not familiar with the Guard’s traditions and customs.

He and Captain Merrick backed off to the side again, and took their turn washing up in the basin. Magni, as junior, took it off to dump outside by the drain when everyone else was done. As he came back, Fillary looked him over. A word after the weekly?

Sir, of course. Fillary wasn’t a Captain. Yet. He was five years older than Magni, ferociously competent at everything he touched, and sharp-witted to go with it. The bookmakers had set good odds he’d make Captain by Midsummer. It occurred to Magni that Fillary might be looking to build out his own staff, in that case, or might have a particular case in mind. There weren’t too many reasons for a one-on-one meeting, not outside the people in chain of command or a current project.

Magni’s routine schedule, besides his duty shifts, involved the regular Tuesday meeting, like today, and then every fortnight or two with his former apprentice master. Captain Davis didn’t do much work outside an office anymore, but he kept his hand in gathering information. And besides, he made a point of feeding his people up, something other than the Guard refectory food, which was filling but boring.

And Magni hadn’t had any particular cases recently. The luck of the draw had brought him routine sorts of things. Last week it had been shoring up a bank of a river to avoid a flood. The week before, it had been cows who kept escaping. That by itself was not ideal. It was best for everyone if the cows stayed put. It was worse in this case because the farm they came from was thoroughly Silence-warded, which meant none of the locals knew how to get them back home. The week before that, he’d found himself on escort duty in London for a couple of travelling diplomats. Then, the same thing in Trellech, waiting outside doors in the Ministry quarter for what seemed like aeons.

This week’s meeting didn’t have any particular news, other than the updates from the Mahdist War. It had begun badly in 1881, and everything seemed to be going worse and worse in the Sudan ever since, at least from the British perspective. The news from those parts seemed to be getting more dire every day.

Magni listened, attentively - he tried to give his attention properly, whenever called on. However, something drew his attention away from the announcements, a flicker of a memory. Where had Clement Hedges been posted? And Gil Oxley? He thought Myron Hermitage had come home. Magni dragged through his memory, before remembering that yes, he’d run into Myron at the Boar’s Head two months ago. A shared club was handy from time to time.

A moment later, there was an elbow in his ribs. Claris had nudged him, and Magni quickly straightened, catching the tail end of a comment. Torham, Peters, and Rewan. There was a slight pause, Merkham, as well. That was Claris.

Magni blinked and cursed under his breath. He hadn’t meant to miss that. Claris leaned over. Major Bellamy wants us to stay, twenty minutes or so.

Owe you. He had a friendly collegiality with her. They’d both unbend a little when they were off-duty and able to have a drink. She knew he had absolutely no interest in women as anything other than colleagues, and apparently found that reassuring in a drinking partner. Not, she said, that any of the Guard had ever been difficult that way. Their oaths didn’t make it impossible, but the oaths bound tightly enough to make any of the more active sorts of unwanted propositions exceedingly unlikely. As Claris had pointed out, though, the less active ones were still damnably annoying, besides whoever else might be in the pub at the moment. Having Magni at her table meant Claris wouldn’t be bothered and could relax. And it meant he got someone to drink with who had a good sense of humour, stayed pleasant when she’d had a few, and had a range of conversation handy.

She nodded, turning her attention back to the last bits of the meeting, watching who left with whom. The patterns could provide a lot of information, in the meeting hall as easily as the duelling salle. Magni could see today, for example, a number of the usual pairings shifting. He and Claris waited until most of the others had left before joining the knot of people up front.

Once everyone was assembled, Major Bellamy led the way to one of the meeting rooms off the main assembly hall, just big enough for a dozen people. They automatically took order of rank, with Magni and Claris at the tail end. Once inside, no one sat until Major Bellamy nodded once. Take your ease.

Which meant sitting, but forward on the chairs, attentive. Major Bellamy glanced around. We are looking at some reassignments in the coming months, a chance for everyone to deepen skills. We’ve fewer apprentices coming in this year, as you know, which means more cross-training for the moment. That was a combination of factors, as Magni understood it. The Army was drawing off more people who might have apprenticed, including some like Oxley who’d taken a leave from his apprenticeship in the Guard to go to the Army. That wasn’t unheard of, especially this decade or so, but it meant the Guard was constantly worrying about having enough hands for all the places they needed to be.

Major Bellamy went on. For now, we’d like you to think, as you go through the next fortnight, about which of your skills we are using to their fullest. Consider which you would like to develop, and what you feel you can offer to the Guard in new ways.

So, putting a fair bit of the burden on them, then. Only that wasn’t entirely true, either. Most people did better work when they were doing something they enjoyed and found meaningful, Magni had learned that very early on indeed. And certainly, their seniors would be observing them closely now. Not that they’d ever stopped. All this was, really, was a warning that change was coming.

From there, Major Bellamy laid out several new cases that would take some time. None of them criminal, directly, though one involved financial discrepancies that would probably turn into charges if it went the way the signs were suggesting. None of them, however, particularly intrigued Magni. He’d do fine with a couple. When the others volunteered for this or that, he waited it out.

He’d expected Major Bellamy to ask him, but instead, all Magni got was a I know Fillary had a word in your ear. Go ahead, Torham, we can finish up here. That was not what Magni had expected, but he knew how to mask it, and not let it show. Instead, he gave the proper polite nod, and went off back to the main room.

Fillary was leaning against a wall, looking deceptively casual. Need to be anywhere promptly, Torham?

Major Bellamy told me to come out and talk to you. Magni considered his options here, and how much to cover his lack of information. I’m guessing you have something in mind for my time, given what he told us? Accurate enough, and it should get him the details he wanted.

Fillary clapped him on the shoulder. I do. Cuppa? I booked Three South for the hour. That was one of the small meeting rooms, which meant a table, two chairs, and enough room to squeeze past the one to get to the other. If you’d grab something from the cart.

Of course. Seniority mattered. Cream, one sugar? As did the art of having memorised everyone’s tea preferences within the limited range on offer at the Guard Hall if relying only on the cart supplies.

And a biscuit, if there are any left. Fillary took off at a good clip, his shoes tapping on the stone of the floor. Magni detoured up the stairs to the cart at the end of that hallway, and got two cups of tea, and one biscuit. There was only the one. He arrived at the meeting room a hair after Fillary, and set things on the table before taking his own seat.

You have an excellent memory, Torham. That’s one of the things I like about you. Fillary leaned back, far more relaxed now they were in private. You come well-recommended, in fact.

Magni considered his options and offered a careful Sir to that.

You needn’t stand on formality. Long and short of it is, I should get my promotion soon. If not in the fortnight, by the end of the summer. I’ve been told to have my eye on people to bring up under me, and you’re the first I’m talking to.

Now, that was a bit of an honour, and Magni appreciated being told it. In what capacity, may I ask?

You may, and should. There are two parts to it. We’re looking at training and development of skills, across the entire Guard, on the one hand, and on the other, building less used skills and knowing who has them. Agnew, our current Duelling Master, is coming up on retirement age. Mandatory, especially in his role, and with good reason. He’d consider you as junior, there, to take on his mantle in a year or so. Get your feet under you, understand how things have been done to this point. It wasn’t a role that necessarily went to the best duellist, though obviously whoever had it needed competence. The Duelling Master also had to be someone who could enforce the rules of the salle, train up people who were more on the nervous side about their skills, and put skill and safety before ego. Being considered was quite the compliment.

Magni could barely resist leaping up and shouting ‘let me, let me’, but he somehow stayed seated with an interested but not impossibly undignified look on his face. I’d be delighted to discuss it further, sir. And make sure it suits.

Formality? This time Fillary’s eyes were dancing.

If I’m to be reporting to you, might as well begin as we mean to go on. Magni waited just a hair, the right amount, this was a dance he was far more sure of all of a sudden. Sir.

It got him a broad laugh. "Oh, we’re going to do very well together. Now, the thing is, for the moment,