Mark of the Fool
Chapter 645: The Grieving Guardian

Alexander Roth had lived a good part of his young life with swords hanging over his head.

After his parents died, he worked hard in McHarris’ bakery, saving every coin to help the Lu Family afford his and his sister’s keep. Everyday, the man would abuse him, and everyday the spectre of being fired loomed above him like a deadly sword, ready to fall and split his head in two.

After he’d been Marked, a sword still swung above his head, waiting to strike if his secrets came out: if the church or the Thameish authorities learned that he was one of Uldar’s Heroes, and what he’d done with an orb in the Cave of the Traveller. Now, several swords were closer to striking him than ever before.

And all he could do was try to find ways to get out from underneath them before they started dropping.

Alex walked along the road in the fae wilds, thinking about everything that had happened and leading the strikeforce away from Uldar’s Rise. They’d left a number of Watchers behind who’d been charged with keeping the curious and—more importantly—any surviving members of Uldar’s secret church away from the portal.

The weary group would be back at the Research Castle soon, then Professor Jules could assign a larger contingent to guard Uldar’s Rise.

She had a lot to do with some of the swords currently hanging over the Fool of Thameland’s head. Soon, she’d know everything that had happened since she’d last seen them: the battle at UIdar’s Rise, Carey’s death, the hidden church, the First Apostle, Merzhin’s apparent defection from Uldar’s forces, that Thameland’s god was dead and might’ve betrayed the realm.

It was a lot to put on anyone, and for more than one reason, he was worried about her reaction.

…there was also something personal he had to tell her.

He glanced over his shoulder at the mercenaries and Watchers talking to each other as they moved along the fae road.

His jaw clenched and released.

Everyone had heard the priests’ declarations, and the song of their holy symbols during the battle: there was no hiding the truth, no hiding the fact that he was the missing Fool of Thameland. No one had said anything so far; they were all tired and preoccupied, other revelations from last night were so stunning, that his Mark wasn’t really a big priority. Understandably, finding a god lying dead on his throne, after all, was enough to drive all thoughts from most minds.

But, Alex knew that at some point, at least some of them—would begin to talk. Then, it was just a matter of time before his secret started spreading…and stopped being a secret. And from there, someone in Thameland would eventually find out.

But, even if—somehow—none of the Generasians talked about it with anyone else, he was willing to put a lot of coin on the First Apostle making sure the crown and priesthood knew. That’s definitely what he’d do.

Like it or not, it was only a matter of time before the priests and Thameland knew who he was. What he was.

‘One of the worst parts of this is that I have no idea how much time I have,’ Alex thought. ‘Information takes time to travel…I might have months…or maybe weeks. Hells, it could even be days. Either way, the grains of sand are running through the hourglass. I have to be ready when the last grain falls.’

But, the first thing he had to do before that happened?

Was tell Professor Jules who he was.

Things would look a lot worse if she found out from someone else, and guaranteed, she was going to find out. She might be angry, or she might take the news well; either way, she had to hear it from him.

After that, he’d have to take care of his business plans.

Shale would need more golems, and he’d promised Lucia some constructs. He was planning on buying another property and opening another branch of the Roth Family Bakery; business kept growing and Troy was telling him that people who didn’t live or work nearby were asking about plans for other locations around the city.

‘My name’s been spreading, but I have to keep it growing before that last sword falls on me,’ he thought. ‘I can’t rely on Baelin being around to keep the wolves away, so, the best chance I have of keeping myself from being shipped back to Thameland, is if enough people in the city, government, and school don’t want me shipped off. So far, I’ve done a pretty good job making sure I’m valuable to Generasi, but I need my position to be rock solid.’ He sighed. ‘But, first things first.’

Alex reached into a pocket of his satchel, taking the far-speaker out. He looked down at the device as his sense of dread grew; once he hit that rune, there’d be no going back.

“Are we in range to contact Professor Jules?” Watcher Hill asked, noticing him holding the device.

Alex nodded. “I guess we’d better let her know we’re on our way and get…certain permissions.”

He glanced at Merzhin, who was walking between Hart and Cedric. The Saint of Uldar looked dejected. Conflicted. Sick. He looked lost, completely oblivious to the fact that he’d soon be in Greymoor, a place no priest had ever been before. That was, if Professor Jules went against Baelin’s orders and allowed him to set foot on university property.

Taking a deep breath, Alex pressed the rune.

The communicator buzzed.

Professor Jules’ voice crackled from it. “Hello? Hello? Mr. Roth, is that you? Are you there? I’ve been awake all night! How did the operation go? Is Carey there? Let me speak to her!”

Dead silence.

Alex swallowed. “Uhm…professor, I’m calling to ask you for permission to bring Saint Merzhin to the Research Castle for the debrief.”

Now it was the far-speaker that went silent.

“What?” Professor Jules sounded confused. “Baelin expressly forbade priests from coming here. He wouldn’t like it at all. Why would you want to bring a priest here?”

“Let me.” Watcher Hill reached for the far-speaker, which Alex gladly handed to her. “Professor Jules, can you hear me?”

“Yes, I can, Watcher Hill,” the professor’s voice came across clearly. “What’s this about bringing the Saint to the Research Castle? Baelin would never agree to this.”

“I understand, but by way of the emergency authority invested in me during this rescue operation, I hereby give special dispensation for the Saint to be allowed into the Research Castle. As the second most senior member of the expedition, you have the authority to co-authorise it. Will you?”

“I’m not sure…” Professor Jules said, her voice unsteady.

“It’s critical, professor,” Watcher Hill said. “I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

For a time, silence was the only answer from the far-speaker. And then…

“I will…allow it, but what’s happened?” Jules’ voice held a note of foreboding. “How did the rescue operation go?”

“A lot has happened, professor. A lot,” Watcher Hill said. “It would be better if we tell you everything in person.”

Alex heard something through the far-speaker.

A broken intake of breath.

“I understand,” Professor Jules’ voice wavered. In her tone, Alex knew there was a question she was too afraid to ask. “I will see you all soon. Come straight to the map room. I’ll be waiting”

The far-speaker went dead.

Watcher Hill and Alex looked at each other.

They knew that the hard part was just beginning

###

Professor Jules looked like the world had just opened beneath her feet to swallow her whole.

Her face was pale.

Dark circles sat beneath eyelids that were puffy and ringed in red, her white hair seemed whiter. The aged alchemist seemed worn out, like she’d been carrying the weight of the world on her narrow shoulders.

She was slumped in a chair, staring at her feet, her shoulders drooped. Her fingers gripped the sides of her head as her slight frame shook.

“Miss London is dead?” She whispered again, more a statement than a question, as if acknowledging the news to herself. “Watcher Hill, please confirm this.”

The map room’s occupants—Claygon, Theresa, Brutus, Alex’s cabal, the Heroes, Grimloch, Tyris and Watcher Hill—were silent.

Alex spoke first. “Carey died protecting us and Thameland; she…” His voice broke. “...wanted me to tell you not to be too harsh with yourself and Baelin. She said she came to Generasi to learn to be a wizard so she could free Thameland from the Ravener. She knew wizardry was dangerous, and she was willing to give everything to achieve that goal. It was her choice, professor, and she didn’t want you to despair or for us to fight among ourselves, blaming each other. There’s too much to do for that.”

Professor Jules was silent for a long time. “This is my fault.”

“Professor—” Alex started.

“No, don’t, Mr. Roth.” She slowly sat up, tears staining her face. “It was my responsibility to keep Miss London safe, as it was Baelin’s. I told him this could happen. When we discovered what we did about dungeon cores, I warned him this could end badly. I warned him that this could put you and Miss London in danger, not to mention Drestra. And what did I do?”

Her hands gripped the arms of her chair tighter. “I let that crazed old monster have his way. I let a man who came from a time of spears and mammoths—a time where folk needed to hunt wild beasts to eat—dictate what the boundaries of safety should be for all of you. I should have insisted that you were returned to safety, back in Generasi. If I had, then—in all likelihood—Carey would still be alive.”

“Professor, if I may—” Watcher Hill started.

Jules cut her off.

“Miss London’s family will arrive sometime this week. I’ve already had to tell so many families that their loved ones died after the attack on the Research Castle, but this? I knew better. I knew Carey was being targeted and yet I let her walk into the jaws of death. I let the old goat convince me. How do I look into her parents eyes and say that I am sorry their daughter died? How do I tell them we did what we could when I knew there were specific dangers targeting her, and that I let her be exposed to them?”

“Erm, Professor Jules, is it?” a small voice spoke up.

The professor looked to where Merzhin was standing. He’d never looked so small as his eyes drifted down to her feet, not meeting her gaze. “Most of the fault lies with me. I am the one who could have stopped her from being taken. I am the one who could have saved her. I—”

“No,” Tyris interrupted him, her voice like flint. “You don’t get to do that. You know whose fault this is? The damn monsters who kidnapped her. And they’re still out there, needing vengeance and justice rained down on their heads. Listen to Carey’s last words: we can blame ourselves later. I know I will. Right now, we have to focus on what comes next.”

“What do you mean?” Professor Jules asked, her voice weak. “What else has happene—” She paused. “Hold on now, how did you all know her last words? You said she died before you could reach her.”

“It’s a long story, Professor,” Alex said. “Just…strap yourself in. It’s going to be a lot.”

And so they told her everything.

They recounted the battle, and detailed who they’d faced. They told her of Carey’s sacrifice, as well as her resurrection. They told her of the Traveller’s increasing divinity. They told her of the First Apostle and how he and the other faithful had escaped. They told her of Uldar, his sanctum, his death and that he’d made the Ravener.

Alex showed her the book the god had recorded his processes in. “We’re going to need your help figuring this stuff out, as well as Baelin’s, but we don’t know when he’s coming back.”

Professor Jules stared at Uldar’s notebook. “You mean to tell me you found the god of Thameland’s cadaver? And—oh my goodness…I was not prepared for this. You left his sanctum under guard?”

“Yes, we did.” Watcher Hill said.

“Then, I’ll have to send more Watchers to reinforce your guards. And we’ll have to think about how to handle this? Do we tell the king? This could be an international incident…you know what? We’ll need time to sleep on this and process all of it. All of you, go get yourselves some rest. I need to think,” Professor Jules said.

“Um, before I go,” Alex said. “I need to talk to you, professor. Alone.”