Mark of the Fool
Chapter 671: Secrets in Luthering

‘Mother Charity’.

The irony of the name made Professor Jules sick to the core.

It implied goodwill, mercy, and other kindly virtues; virtues attached to compassionate deities, mortals, and rulers. Did this Mother Charity represent any of those qualities, or did she represent a monstrous god who gladly sent children to fight monsters of his own making?

Professor Jules wanted to show Lord Reginalrd—and every other member of this delegation—exactly what she thought of Uldar’s ‘charity’.

Instead, she held strong.

She was a modern wizard, after all, and wasn’t about to let herself give into barbarism, especially when her students needed her to protect them.

‘I failed Carey,’ she thought. ‘I will not fail Alex too.’

“I’ll meet with this priestess, if that’s what your procedure requires,” Professor Jules said primly.

“Good, good,” Lord Reginald looked relieved. “There is no need to create bad blood between two great realms; such a thing would only spoil lucrative partnerships and ruin trade. I am sure that both reason and faith will win the day!”

“Reason is already winning the day, and I don’t have much use for faith at this moment,” Jules said quietly.

Delegation members murmured their disapproval and sent more than a few glares her way. She returned them without hesitation. In her long life, she’d faced shoggoths, demons, and other creatures well beyond mortal understanding; it was going to take a lot more than some dead gods’ agitated pawns to make her flinch.

“Your words about faith are somewhat disrespectful,” one of the delegation members—a woman of middle age with blonde hair turning grey—said, her voice like steel.

“Tell that to Carey London,” Jules said flatly.

The woman raised an eyebrow in confusion. “And who would that be?”

Professor Jules glared at her. “Exactly! This meeting is done. We’ll provide you with a messenger construct to inform your priestess we’ll be coming and to be ready; I’ll meet her in the morning.”

“We could travel together,” Lord Reginald offered.

“No, be our guests here,” Professor Jules said quickly, dreading the thought of spending more time in these peoples’ presence than she had to. “You must be tired from your journey. Rest. We will find our own way.”

###

The morning light found Professor Jules once again sipping scalding coffee.

This time, she wasn’t striding through the halls of the Research Castle in Greymoor; instead, she sat astride her skeletal steed, flying high above forests and hills below them.

At her side flew Watcher Hill, leading a column of troops ready for battle, whether battle took the form of words, or blades.

“Could I convince you to blow up this priest if she gives us trouble?” Jules asked.

“Again, as tempting as that would be, it’s beyond our mandate,” Watcher Hill said. “I will admit, professor, it is very tempting; after the treatment we received at Uldar’s Rise, I’d like nothing more than to send some of these accursed priests to the after-world to meet their dead god. As much as it pains me, though, I don’t think blowing them up would be a tactical solution at this time.”

Jules’ teeth ground so hard, her jaw hurt. “I can’t believe they’re doing this. It’s not enough for them to kidnap one of my students, now they’re looking to take another one.”

“I’ll support you no matter what you do, Professor,” Watcher Hill said, flight magic carrying her through the morning air. “I wouldn’t advise starting a war, but the Watchers will defend you.”

“Thanks,” Professor Jules said sincerely. “They’re just very, very lucky that Baelin isn’t here; if he was, I could see most of that delegation being dust by now. But, I’ll try my best to fill part of the gap he left, even if I can’t blast them to component atoms.”

Falling silent, she and the Watchers soared through the skies over Greymoor until—finally—they passed the last outpost marking the border between their lands and the rest of the Barony of Devon.

Waving to guards stationed on the watchtower, they kept going, moving through the wilderness until Luterhing was in sight. If Jules had to choose just one word to describe the village, it would be rundown. Clearly, Uldar’s war had had a devastating effect on much of Thameland.

By the gates, several armoured figures waited, watching both the road and skies, and as Professor Jules and her entourage got near, she recognised the familiar figure of Sir Sean Swift. The knight and his troops looked to be in one piece since Alex, his companions, the Heroes of Thameland, and the deleo had avenged them against the Ravener’s monsters.

They were the lucky ones.

The wizards slowed, dropping altitude, flying straight for the village gates and Sean. His knights began scrambling, raising crossbows, assuming they were under attack from flying Ravener-spawn. Watcher Hill’s troops halted and hovered in place, weapons pointing down, not moving until the Thameish soldiers finally recognised them as allies.

Whether or not they remained allies would depend on how Jules’ meeting with ‘Mother Charity’ went.

“Hail,” Sir Sean raised a hand, greeting the wizards who’d landed before him.

“Hail,” Jules dismounted from her skeletal steed, commanding it to stay. “Have you recovered from your wounds, Sir Sean?”

The tall, ageing knight gave her a grim nod. “The priests patched me up, by Uldar’s grace. I only wish I could say as much for my soldiers.”

“We’ve all lost comrades,” Watcher Hill said, walking up beside Professor Jules. The other Watchers flanked the two women, staring impassively at the knight; Hill had made a point of choosing the largest warrior-mages to accompany them; making for quite an intimidating sight.

“Come then, I’m to escort you to the church,” Sir Sean said, glancing at the Watchers. “Shall we be on our way?”

“An escort?” Professor Jules said, raising an eyebrow. “Are we about to be arrested, Sir Swift?”

“No, nothing like that, and if things were to turn so grim, they’d need another knight to do that dirty deed; I’m in your debt.” his armour clinked, boots sinking into muddy ground. He looked at a plot of land on their right where Professor Jules remembered an old dilapidated building once standing.

It was gone now—likely salvaged for walls and fortifications—a new graveyard replaced it. Most of the grave sights were fresh.

“You slew the great, dirty Ravener-spawn that killed my soldiers.” The knight’s voice was as grim as the graveyard. “I want you to know I’ll always be grateful for what you did. No matter what happens, I don’t want any bad blood between my house and your people.”

Jules watched him for a moment.

‘Your people come to us, looking to kidnap a twenty year old student…yet everyone keeps talking about not wanting bad blood,’ Professor Jules discreetly shook her head. ‘Sir Sean has always seemed to be a steady man. He’s probably as caught up in all this mess as we are.’ She glanced at the sky. ‘How many damn people did you sweep into your net of selfishness, Uldar? So pointless.’

But she didn’t say that, what she actually said was, “There’s no bad blood between us, Sir Sean.”

“Good,” he said. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry to hear what happened to that young woman you were searching for. I know you moved the heavens to try and save her.”

“You’re not as sorry as I am, Sir Sean. Not as sorry as I am.”

He gave her a long, knowing look. “Fair enough. I’ve lost men and women under my command; no one can know what that’s really like unless they’ve gone through it.” The knight saluted soldiers walking past them, pressing a gauntleted fist to his breastplate.

They saluted in kind.

“These soldiers trust me, and sometimes I fail them. It never gets any easier.”

“I feel for you, sir knight,” the professor said. “But Miss London was a student, not a soldier under my command.”

“She did die like a warrior, though,” Watcher Hill said, her voice sounding caught between sadness, pride, and admiration.

‘That’s little comfort,’ Professor Jules thought. ‘We deserve to die in our beds, surrounded by those who love us, with all of our life’s achievements at our backs, not young and screaming on some dirty battlefield.’

But she knew better than to voice those words; it was neither the right time, nor the right company.

“I hope that young woman’s at peace, then,” Sir Sean said, lowering his head.

“I hope so too.” Professor Jules felt a lump forming in her throat.

“May Uldar take her into his embrace and guide her to the after-world,” Sean prayed.

A blade of white hot rage stabbed the alchemist.

Her face flushed red.

But she kept silent.

Uldar guiding Carey to the after-world? That was rich. The professor had been to Uldar’s Rise, had gone into the dead god’s sanctum and seen his corpse. She’d even taken a sample of the dried, black ichor on his body…a body that was about as impressive as any other cadaver she’d dissected over her long alchemy career.

It certainly wasn’t anything worth dying for.

Her jaw clenched. She found herself wishing she could dissect Uldar’s corpse for materials, like any other specimen…like his very own Ravener-spawn.

‘He’d actually be of some bloody use then,’ she thought.

But, since she couldn’t voice those thoughts either, she just walked beside the knight and Watchers in silence, the village square—and church—growing closer.

Sir Sean suddenly cleared his throat. “Forgive me, but I’ve got to ask you something.” He gave her a piercing look. “Did you always know that the Fool was hiding among your ranks? Did you know it whenI first met you?”

Professor Jules recalled the conversation he was referring to. It had taken place the first time the expedition had come to Thameland:

“Oh…and just one more thing. If you should happen to find anyone hiding on your lands, it would do me a great favour if you search them thoroughly and hold them, or bring them here to our priests.”

Sir Swift had drawn a piece of parchment from a case on his belt, unrolled it and presented it to the expedition. On the scroll was a detailed drawing of a grinning jester’s face. “If you should find anyone with this symbol on their bodies, capture them. This symbol is The Mark of the Fool. It glows gold and marks the body of a missing member of Uldar’s Heroes. They’re most likely long dead, but if they happen to be hiding in some hole out there in the moors while others fight and die in their stead, then I ask that you submit them to my custody: they’re wanted by the king of Thameland and the Holy Church of Uldar.”

His eyes had been like steel. “If they’re not dead, then it’s more than time they started doing their duty. After all, who are they to deny Uldar’s plan?”

“I thought the church wanted to test Alex to see if he is the Fool?” the professor asked.

The knight’s jaw shifted. “Listen, I’m not stupid; the church is sure he’s the Fool or they wouldn’t be going through so much effort. Mother Charity is convinced he’s the Fool, she told us they checked his town’s birth records and found that he was born the same day as the other Heroes. The letter your metal flying thing brought to Mother Charity last night made it clear that you wouldn’t hand him over, but you were willing to talk to our priests. That pretty well confirmed it. Why would you be giving us so much trouble if you didn’t know he was the Fool?”

Jules’ face turned sour.

She should have expected this; any talk of wanting to ‘test’ Alex had been nothing but smoke and lies. The hidden church knew who he was.

“I only found out recently,” she snorted in disgust, irritation rising at Alex. The logical part of her mind knew why he hadn’t told her, but that didn’t stop her from being more than a little annoyed at him.

Sir Sean looked at her and sighed. “Sorry, I was a bit forward with my question, but I just had to know. I believe you. And I’m sorry you were fooled by him—I apologise on behalf of all of Thameland. The Fool deceived all of us, and I’ll be glad when that bastard fugitive is dragged back home.”

“If that’s what you think, you’ve obviously taken too many blows to the helmet, sir knight,” she growled at him.

Watcher Hill looked at her in surprise.

Sir Sean stopped dead, his face going pale. “I beg your pardon?”

“You don’t get to beg me for anything. You talked about having gratitude?” she asked. “Then you’ll be quiet. You’ll listen, and I’ll tell you the truth about the Fool.”

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