Mark of the Fool
Chapter 651: The Slap

Convergent development.

A phenomena where two different individuals or groups craft a similar—but different—solution to try to solve the same problem.

Two cultures who live near large bodies of water might produce slightly different designs for boats.

On the surface, the vessels might appear similar—both would be made of wood, concave in shape, and able to float—but the differences could be very important.

A boat developed by folk from a riverside village might have a flat bottom so it could be easily poled through shallow waters near river banks. A society living near the sea would need larger boats with deep hulls and keels to let them move through the ocean waves. On one level, they would both be ‘boats’, but they were developed using slightly different principles for the same purpose, while serving similar, yet different needs.

The deep-hulled boat would run aground if placed in a shallow river, while a flat-bottomed boat would quickly capsize on a wave-wracked sea. And, adding to their designs wouldn’t solve those issues: putting sails on a flat-bottomed vessel could never make it any less likely to capsize.

‘In a way, Kelda probably tried to add sails to a flat-bottomed boat,’ he thought. ‘Uldar made the Marks, and any methods of alchemy or divinity he used were his own invention. Kelda didn’t have access to his notes; so whatever plans she came up with to fix her Mark, would’ve been based on modern techniques, which would be different from Uldar’s. It seems that she tried to add sails to a flat-bottomed boat then take it out to sea.’

His heart stung for a moment, if he was right, then Kelda destroyed her soul without understanding that she was missing something crucial. Whatever method she could have ever come with would never have worked without Uldar’s original notes. Every bit of magical knowledge she’d have access to would have been incompatible.

Despite trying her best, she never had a chance.

Alex paused, looking back on his life, thinking how fortunate he’d been in many ways.

Sure, there’d been lots of times he’d considered himself the unluckiest man in Thameland; his parents had died without warning, and he’d been working for one of the nastiest men in all of Alric. And as soon as the opportunity he’d been wanting for for most of his life had come along—an opportunity that meant freedom and the chance to immerse himself in a world of magic—he’d been Marked as Uldar’s Fool.

Back then, it had felt like bad luck was shadowing his every footstep.

Yet, in other ways? His good fortune had been remarkable.

If he hadn’t run into Cedric in Coille forest, he most likely would have reached the coast, been immediately grabbed, and be now rotting away in some Ravener-spawn nest somewhere in the Thameish countryside. If Cedric hadn’t left the priests behind and headed out on his own and cleared the Cave of the Traveller of silence-spider soldiers, then he, Theresa, Selina and Brutus wouldn't have been able to use it.

The hive-queen’s attack had seemed like terrible luck at the time, but if they hadn’t come across her, then he would have never discovered the secret of the dungeon cores.

When Carey was kidnapped by those priests, he couldn’t have imagined anything positive coming from such evil actions, yet, it was because of them that they found the hidden arm of the church, Uldar’s Rise, the sanctum of the dead god, and Carey found her way to Hannah.

And without that?

He wouldn’t have known about the Mark of the General.

They would never have known about Uldar’s notes.

And without those, he wouldn’t have any hope of transforming his Mark.

“Do you think you could figure out how the mana manipulation technique works, professor?” Alex asked. “Well enough for me to practise it, I mean.”

“Whatever for?” Val’Rok said. “It’ll be worth recreating for the historical value, but the likelihood of it advancing the art of mana manipulation is low, Alex. The best place for these documents are in someone’s collection, a specialty museum, or the school library.”

“You’re right, you’re right, but you never know what you might learn from a different perspective,” Alex pointed out.

“You might be right, but remember, judging from the notations on these pages about the technique, it’s probably millennia old. There’s thousands of years of mana manipulation development that would be incompatible with this, and even if you did gain some new insights, the likelihood of them improving your mana regeneration is low. You’d be better off leaving studying these old techniques to old men like me, you should be working on new techniques that you can actually get something out of. At your skill level, I’d suggest—”

“Professor,” Alex interrupted him, thinking quickly. “It’s a Thameish technique from what’s probably a lost branch of alchemy; learning how some long dead countryman of mine manipulated mana would be fascinating. Besides, if we discover any more knowledge from similar ruins, then we’ll be able to better understand their value.”

Val’Rok thumbed his chin in thought. “Hmmmm, I suppose that could be a good use of your time, but, just make sure you keep on your current academic path; we don’t want you turning into the archaeologist of wizardry, now! Trust me, there’s no funding in it.”

Alex was about to reply when the sound of a heart-rending scream tore through Val-Rok’s door, sounding like they were coming from downstairs.

Alarmed, both wizards rushed to the door, the professor flung it open and they raced down the steps to the hallway below. Most of the office doors on the lower floor were open, professors and graduate students alike were peeking through their doorways.

All eyes were looking down the corridor at a closed door where a woman’s anguished cries and a man’s deep voice alternated between sobbing and enraged yelling from behind it.

“Oh no, oh no, no, no,” Professor Val’Rok moaned when he understood which door the sounds were coming from. “So it was today, then.”

“What?” Alex glanced at him. “That’s Professor Jules’ office.”

“Yes,” Val’Rok said grimly. “Today’s the day she was to inform Miss London’s parents of her death.”

The younger wizard gasped. “I thought they weren’t supposed to be here for another day or two.”

“Vernia arranged for a teleporter to fetch them the rest of the way; storms are forecasted over the Prinean for the next week, and their ship would have been delayed. She thought it would be cruel to leave the poor things in the dark about their child even longer.”

Alex shuddered. “Well, she’s suffering for it.”

Now the woman—Carey’s mother, Alex assumed—had joined the man in his outrage.

“What manner of school is this?” she demanded. “We were told you kept your students safe!”

“We took every precaution—” Professor Jules began.

“Every precaution?” Carey’s father roared. “Our daughter is dead, and you dare speak to us of precautions? Thameland was evacuated for a reason, what was Carey doing in a warzone?”

“Did she not tell you that she’d joined the Thameish expedition?” Professor Jules asked.

“Of course she told us!” Carey’s mother screamed. “Don’t besmirch our daughter’s name by implying she would keep such an important matter a secret from us!”

“We did not approve, but we thought that a school—a ‘school’—as reputable as yours would keep your students alive!”

“I knew we shouldn’t have sent her here!” her mother wailed. “Uldar is punishing us! Forgive us, father of Thameland, we tried ever so hard!”

Heat burned in Alex’s chest. Uldar was dead and even if he was alive, it was not his place to forgive anyone. He was the one responsible for Carey’s death, him and his followers.

All he wanted to do was walk into Jules’ office and tell them the truth…but he couldn’t.

Not yet.

Depending on what the future held, maybe not ever.

And that stung.

“Do not bring Uldar into this!” her father railed at his wife. “This is because of this school’s negligence that—”

“We should have kept her home. This is your fault!” Carey’s mother cried.

“What, Gloria, what are you—”

“Matthias, simply because she had mana did not necessitate her becoming a wizard! She could have stayed home and learned Wrexiff’s political landscape. She might have been a mayor or—”

“Gloria, do not let tragedy turn you from the light of Uldar and the warmth of family,” Matthias said, his voice softening. “Uldar tests us and our faith, and this is the sort of deviltry that would break lesser followers of his grace! We must stand firm. This is not our fault or Uldar’s. This is the fault of this damnable school! I wish to speak to the chancellor, Professor Jules! I wish to speak to him at once!”

Silence followed.

“He’s away, at the moment,” she said quietly. “The school will be having a public funeral for Miss London and the other members of the Thameish expedition who lost their lives in that attack. We will—”

“He’s away?” Carey’s mother cried. “Our daughter was in danger—among Ravener-spawn—and he was away?”

“Bring him here!” Matthias shouted. “I shall not stand to have him hiding away after our daughter’s death! He must take responsibility!”

“I can’t contact him,” Professor Jules said. “I’m…I’m sure the chancellor would be distraught if he were here, and he would phrase this better than I. But…I’m sorry. I’m sorry this has happened to you. Miss London was well-loved at the school and she will be dearly missed by all of us. I can’t begin to understand the pain that you must be—”

“That is right! You do not understand,” Gloria’s voice was like ice. “Uldar, give me strength. We will be having a funeral for our daughter at home, there is no need for yours.”

“Please, Mrs. London,” Professor Jules said quickly. A chair scraped in her office. “All of us at the university, including her friends, wish to say goodbye. Will you not allow them to say goodbye?”

Another pause.

“Gloria…we should let them have something. The administration in this school obviously all need sacking, but the students are not to blame. Let’s let her friends say farewell to her. I am sure that is what she would have wanted.”

“O-oh…oh…oh!” suddenly Gloria cried. “Have you identified her properly?”

“Pardon?” Professor Jules said, her voice dropping.

“Oh no, not this,” Val’Rok groaned under his breath.

“Wha—” Alex started, but Gloria’s voice continued.

“Where is her body! Could it be possible that our baby was misidentified? We must see her body at once! It might not be her!” the woman’s voice pleaded.

“Oh by the Traveller,” Alex swore softly.

“I am afraid…that her body was in no state for recovery,” Professor Jules said, reluctance chilling her voice. “The nature of…her death made it impossible.”

Alex winced.

“What are you saying?” Carey’s mother demanded.

More silence.

There came the abrupt sound of a clap.

Professor Jules gasped.

Alex was already moving toward the door when Professor Val’Rok grabbed his shoulder. “Don’t,” he warned. “You’ll only make things worse.”

Part of him wanted to pull away, but another part knew he was right.

He would only make things worse if he rushed in there.

Gloria was wailing again.

“I apologise for my wife, she should not have struck you,” Matthias said, coldly. “Our way is to let Uldar punish those who wrong us. And he will, madam. He will. And you can assure your chancellor that this is not finished.”

Chairs scraped along the floor.

Everyone in the hallway scattered, quietly closing their office doors behind them. Alex and Val’Rok rushed back upstairs, peeking down from the landing. Soon, Professor Jules’ door opened and two pairs of footsteps echoed through the hall.

A man sniffled.

A woman sobbed like her heart was breaking.

Their steps receded, heading from the hallway and down a flight of stairs.

Soon, the sound of footsteps were gone.

Alex and Val’Rok looked at each other, then quietly made their way from the landing and into the corridor leading to Professor Jules’ office.

The door was still open, and they found her sitting at her desk, staring at nothing. A red mark marred her cheek.

She hardly glanced at them when they entered the doorway. “I deserved that,” she said. “I did.”

“I don’t—” Val’Rok started.

“Don’t. I know you want to comfort me, but that is not what I need. It would only make me feel worse.”

“What do you need?” Alex asked.

She looked at them, tears shining in her eyes. “Right now, I would hate to be alone. Absolutely hate to be alone. I have to finish planning Miss London’s memorial service and…oh, I could dearly use friends right now.”

And so Alex and Val’Rok entered the alchemy professor’s office and kept her company for a time.

It was only when Professor Jules’ tears dried that he found out when Carey’s funeral was to be.

And it was to fall on a strangely auspicious day.

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