Mark of the Fool
Chapter 575: Another Beginning to the Games

“I have to tell you, it has been far too long since we have seen the Games of Roal.” King Aksuma said, feeding Najyah. “The last time we saw them was when Sembrouthes was here attending the university…what a spectacular sight they were. I was so impressed by them that we started an annual contest for our young people to test their strength against each other. It truly helps the young ones build hardiness.”

He paused, as if lost in a memory before continuing. “I remember there were a great many unique beasts on display at those Games.” He laughed. “But, there is one particularly fond memory I have of a colourful fellow who folk paid to wrestle bear-mammoths.”

“You mean Mad Stan, your majesty?” Alex asked.

The king snapped his fingers. “Mad Stan, yes! How could I forget his name? Is he still a fixture at the Games?”

“Well, your majesty, he was there last year and people were still paying him to wrestle his bear-mammoths.”

“Ah, that is delightful! His event alone is well worth the visit!” the king laughed.

A servant knocked on the door, entering when the queen granted permission to enter.

The group was in a sitting room, relaxing on thick, down-stuffed couches, and enjoying light refreshments.

As Tiz entered, she gave a deep bow.

“Your majesties, the meal will be ready shortly,” she announced.

“Wonderful!” Queen Ishtar clapped once. “You and your friends will be joining us, of course.” She looked at Khalik, who looked at the others and they quickly agreed.

Alex wasn’t about to say no to stuffing himself on more food prepared by the royal chef, while also supporting his good friend. It was a win-win, no matter how he looked at it.

“Your majesties,” Isolde said. “How long will you be staying in Generasi?”

“You are a very well-mannered, young lady, my dear,” the queen complimented her. “We will be staying until the end of the Games.” She gave Khalik a pointed look. “And you will not be ignoring us while we are here, Khalik.”

“I would not dream of it, mother,” the prince said.

“Mhmmm,” she sniffed. “We have heard that before, my son. When we visited Sembrouthes, he spent more time with his friends than he did with the parents who he hadn’t seen in over a year. He also said he would not ignore us, but this time, we came prepared.”

“We have a powerful weapon to thwart any notion of, ‘I am much too busy for mother and father today,’ that might take over your mind.” Khalik’s mother smiled like sunlight breaking through the clouds after a storm ended.” His father grinned, seeming to be enjoying himself as he watched his son.

“His name is Roba,” she continued. “He is the very skilled and discrete teleportation wizard who brought us here from Tekezash. Fortunately for us and for you, Khalik, his time is ours for the duration of our visit, so we can move around as freely as we desire.” As his wife spoke, King Aksuma seemed to be fighting laughter. “Which means that even though we are staying out here in the countryside, we can easily visit you. And we will… A lot. After all, we have two years to make up for, and at least another two where we will hardly see you while you continue your studies.”

Khalik smiled helplessly. “Well, that is good mother, but remember that I will have things to do—”

“Two years, Khalik.” She looked at him with very wide eyes. “You would not abandon your mother, would you?”

His father instantly turned away, his body almost vibrating as he tried to stifle his laughter.

“I…I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, then paused.

He glanced at his friends, as though drawing on their presence for strength, and then he looked back at his mother. “Actually, I have someone I wish for you to meet. She lives in the Generasi countryside.”

His mother raised an eyebrow. “She?”

Isolde exchanged a look with Khalik, Alex saw Queen Ishtar catch that look.

Alex couldn’t help but think there was fire in those eyes.

###

The Games of Roal’s opening ceremony began just before noon, they’d been favoured with weather equally as perfect as last year’s.

A teeming crowd gathered in the school’s stadium, overflowing into seats outside. Teams of wizards floated in the air, creating giant illusions to display the opening ceremony for those outside the arena.

This year, though, there weren’t as many undercover guards blending in with the crowd as there had been during the previous Games. Overall, there were still plenty of Watchers and Generasi guards patrolling on foot and through the skies, but less than in the days of Leopold and the chaos he’d unleashed on Generasi. Watchers hovered over the stadium, but this year they weren’t hunting a demon summoner, though they were ready for whatever came.

The mood in the air was freer, a welcome change from last year when the tension in the crowd was so high. Folk were more relaxed, yet a melancholy tinged the excitement in the air.

Alex sat with his own memories of last year’s Games.

He was in the stadiumwith most of his friends: Thundar, Theresa, Selina, Claygon and Isolde. Khalik and Sinope were noticeably missing, but Kybas was sitting nearby.

The actual little goblin—not Selina—was throwing the occasional glance in his direction.

Everyone’s attention turned to the stadium floor as horns suddenly trumpeted, announcing the beginning of the opening ceremony.

A line of Watchers of Roal walked along a long red carpet, bearing a longsword lying in the centre of a litter, its blade shining in the sunlight; the scabbard beside it looked to be crafted of gleaming fish scales.

Theresa shook her head.

“What is it?” Alex whispered.

“Roal’s sword,” Theresa whispered back. “When they brought it out last year it looked like the most powerful sword in the world. But, honestly? Now, I think the Twinblade could give it a run for its coin. That’s the thing, Alex: I have swords as powerful as hers.”

“Yeah, you do,” he said with pride. “It really changes your perspective, doesn’t it?”

The precious sword was taken to a central platform—that had been erected in the middle of the arena—where a tall glass cauldron filled with seawater—according to the announcement describing the opening events—rose.

A Watcher raised the sword high above his head, speaking the solemn words.

“And so we open these Games of Roal, celebrating our founders’ life and her victory over the invading sea-demigod Oreca!” His voice boomed over the crowds.

A circle of Watchers surrounding the central stage drew their swords, then drove their staves into the stones in a slow rhythm.

“In her name,” The Watcher holding Roal’s sword roared. “We celebrate the coming together of magic, might and skill to battle the world’s dangers! The sword?”

“A weapon!” the Watchers roared in unison.

“The spell?”

“A weapon!” they roared again.

With that, the warrior on stage turned the sword, plunging the blade into the seawater. It slipped into the liquid without a splash. He released the hilt and—by magic—the water clung, holding it firmly in place, hilt facing the sky.

“For the five days of these Games, the water will embrace Roal’s sword!” He declared. “Enjoyment to all spectators! And best fortune to all competitors! And honour to those who fell last year!”

Cheers rose from the crowd as they had the previous year, but seemed more subdued than Alex had remembered.

Another Watcher floated above the central platform: Gemini, the Leader of the Watchers. She looked grimly over the crowd from a single eye, her other eye socket obscured by a cerulean eyepatch, the image of a golden sword and staff embroidered in its centre.

Taking a deep breath, her enhanced voice boomed over the stadium. “The Games of Roal have always been a time for celebration of Roal’s triumph over Oreca, freeing the people of Generasi from his divine tyranny. But we do not pay enough homage to the many who sacrificed their lives assuring that Roal had a clear path to duel Oreca; those who lost their lives battling his remaining priests after his fall, and those who helped to rebuild afterward.”

She pointed to illusions high above, they transformed, becoming moving depictions of those who’d lost their lives to the demon attack. “We will not make that same mistake again: this year, and for every year to come, we will remember. Today, we begin a new tradition and will start the Games of Roal with a moment of silence for those who lost their lives last year. May their names live on forever.”

Silently, she lowered her head.

The Watchers followed her example.

A hush fell over the crowd.

Alex said a mental prayer to the Traveller. ‘Please guide the fallen, if you can, just as you guide me, and as you guided Kelda.’

His mind returned to the previous year and he looked around, combing through the crowds, almost expecting to see the figures of Amir, Leopold, Donovan and Ursula lurking among them.

Thankfully, such a thing was impossible.

Leopold had cloaked himself in friendliness, but he’d really been a rabid cultist in league with Ezaliel. Now both he and his abyssal knight master were dead. For his misplaced aid to his friend, Amir now rotted behind prison walls, and would remain there for years to come. When he was finally freed, he’d be exiled from Generasi and could go where he wanted, if that meant journeying into the world to try and make something of the remainder of his life, so be it.

Alex saw no sign of Ursula and Donovan among the crowd, but—if he was in their shoes—for as long as he drew breath, he’d never come to the Games again.

He shook those thoughts away: better to turn his mind to those who’d tried to save lives, than the one who’d cost them.

‘Hannah, again, help those who died during the battle with the demons,’ he thought. ‘And if you can, help those who are fighting the good fight wherever they are. Help those who sacrificed for what’s right…I know you know something about that. And uh…also please help us too. We’re going to give our all this year.’

With that slightly selfish addition to his prayer, the moment of silence ended, and his thoughts turned to the Games ahead.

He looked up at the VIP box, noting a conspicuous absence: Baelin’s seat was empty. He hadn’t seen much of the chancellor since their last quest into the Hells. For the time being, Baelin was too busy repaying favours to his cabal members.

Alex glanced up to the sky, wondering where among the stars the archwizard might be.

Was he battling some ancient entity?

Forging a new grand artefact?

Dealing with pantheons from worlds so far that Alex couldn’t even see their stars in the night sky? Such thoughts were humbling, but also startling, in a sense.

‘One day, I’ll master Hannah’s power, and one day we’ll finally put the Ravener down—then I want to explore the stars, just like Baelin does. And just like Hannah did,’ he thought. ‘It makes everything feel…so small.’

He imagined being as old as Baelin, dealing with gods and entities older than worlds, all while running a school for young wizards and caring for some of them like they were his own grandchildren.

How does he do it? How does he manage to look at someone like Alex—whose lifespan was less than a mayfly’s compared to the ages he’s lived—and feel that his problems mattered? Was it like a child finding an ant struggling to drag a grain of food to their hill, then deciding to help it along?

Would that be how he looked at the world one day, when he was old enough and powerful enough to travel from star to star as easily as most people go from their bedroom to their kitchen?

‘Hannah also travelled from world to world,’ he thought. ‘But in the end…what was important to her wasn’t all those many worlds with all of their wonders and magic and monsters…it was a tiny, average town called Alric.’

Alric didn’t have the shining towers of her home world. It didn’t have the great magics of Generasi or any of the magnificent worlds she’d written about in her journal.

Yet, she’d looked at that small town, and its people, and decided that they were worth her spending the rest of her life—that she could have used to travel anywhere across the planes—to fight for.

‘In the end, Thameland’s problems don’t really matter much to the people of Generasi,’ he thought. ‘But they matter to me, Theresa, Selina and those I care about, and those who care about me. I suppose, what you choose to care about is what you choose to care about. Even if that’s prizes for winning competitions…and my friend’s time with his parents.’

Though Baelin was absent from the VIP box, Khalik and his parents were there, sitting among the richest and most highly placed of Generasi’s citizens. Sinope sat beside her partner, looking as regal as Khalik’s parents.

He hadn’t seen much of the prince since his parents had arrived, so he hadn’t had the chance to get details about how their first meeting with Sinope went.

The curiosity was killing him, but he couldn’t do anything about that but be patient and wait.

But when the time came, he’d be grilling Khalik like Officers Ferrero and Gustavo had grilled him when they were looking for the demon summoner.

For now, though, it was time to take a look at the prizes up for offer.

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