Mark of the Fool
Chapter 681: An Argument for an Audience

“Erm, I’m not being flippant, it’s just—” He gestured to the customers standing in line. “—these people are buying breakfast before they have to get to work; a lot of them don’t have extra time, so I was simply thinking that we could stop interrupting their morning.”

There.

A reminder that many of his customers were on their way to work, and didn’t have time to waste on religious zealots taking up their morning, making them late for work, or having to leave without getting something to eat.

More irritated looks drilled into the Uldarites.

“Holy Fool—Er, Alex.” One of the Campus for Uldar members stepped forward. “You’re talking about someones’ day being interrupted while Uldar’s people struggle and die back home? Look at this place! You live in comfort while the other Heroes risk their lives every day!” His voice began to rise. “You’re a coward and—”

“Hold on.” Alex raised a hand. “You’re going to scare my sister with all that yelling, and we also have other children waiting in line here for their breakfast—” He glanced at the customers, some of whom had their families with them. “—so could you…”

He kept his voice steady and even, choosing two of his next words on purpose.

Not to defuse, but to infuriate.

“...please calm down?” he finished, using words he knew never to use during an argument. There were few phrases lesslikely to calm someone down than demanding that someone calm down.

Predictably, the Campus for Uldar member did not calm down.

“You’re not taking this seriously at all!” he shouted. “Our people fight and die, while you live here in luxury!”

“No, he doesn’t!” Selina’s voice stopped him. Fire burned in her eyes. “I hardly see Alex anymore. He’s always working on magic and golems and stuff to help our home and people like you!”

The young girl pointed at the university student, who took a step back in surprise.

She’d taken everyone by surprise with her forceful words.

“He’s always away on the expedition back to Thameland, fighting Ravener-spawn!” she cried. “Him, and our friends are always there, fighting for everyone! Every time he leaves, I get so worried that he’s not going to come back. He’s not living in comfort here! He’s fighting hard for all of us!”

Alex looked down at Selina, bursting with pride.

The old priestess’ eyes rested on the young girl and she smiled sadly. “My child, you know little of what you speak. Uldar’s plan says that the Fool must fight alongside the Heroes—”

“He has been,” Theresa took over from where Selina left off, looking at the priestess closely. “He, Claygon, and I have been fighting alongside the Heroes for months. We’ve been making sure that the army has fewer dungeons to deal with, and less Ravener-spawn in the fields and forests of our homeland. Alex, Cedric, Drestra, Hart and Merzhin have fought together. I’ve been there beside them. I’ve seen it.”

‘Good job, Selina and Theresa!’ Alex wanted to shout.

A number of Uldarites were looking at each other, their discomfort plain as they whispered to one another, suddenly faced with a revelation that now shook their assumptions…one that made their point seem less about life and death, and more about their allegiance to what they thought they knew.

Alex was close to smiling, but stifled it. ‘They must have learned about me from rumours going around Generasi, not from the secret church. Seems they don’t have much information and just showed up here without a plan. This is getting better and better.’

“I don’t know what kind of twisted truth you’re telling, but there’s only one thing that matters: you should not be here,” said a Campus for Uldar member who stood next to the priestess. She was a young blonde with harsh grey eyes and a vicious sneer. “If what you say is true, then you should be even more ashamed of yourself. Fighting alongside the Heroes should be your life; they don’t get to come back to a comfortable bakery. I imagine that they’re out in the wilderness right now, living rough, constantly at risk of Ravener-spawn attacks! You get to come back here to a comfortable bed and…and…”

The young woman’s harsh expression crumbled as tears sprang to her eyes.

She pointed a shaking finger at Alex. “While you’re here, good people like Carey London die at the claws of Ravener-spawn! I was at her funeral,” She sobbed, “...and I saw you there…you should be ashamed of yourself for even attending her service while you were here in Generasi cowering and running from your holy duties!”

“That’s right!” cried another Campus for Uldar member, Alex recognised him from his magic lore class. “I’ve seen you on campus, but I didn’t take you for a coward, pushing your duties on others! You slink around campus laughing, drinking, taking classes…while people like Carey give their lives!”

The rage was back, slamming into Alex like a demon’s burning hammer.

‘Laughing? Drinking?’ he thought. ‘Who do you think has been trying to preserve Carey’s memory. And you're dead wrong if you think Ravener-spawn were what killed Carey! No, it was the same bloody church she’d dedicated most of her life to! A life she’d spent on the very thing that killed her!’

Alex seethed, fighting to keep his mouth from blurting out the truth, from spilling every secret he’d vowed to keep.

But, Claygon spoke first.

“You were…at Carey’s funeral…” his voice changed to that of a kindly woman. It was a voice well suited to a priestess of Uldar. “I saw you…there…I was there too…”

“Exactly!” the teary-eyed Campus for Uldar member sobbed. “I—”

“Yes…but where…were you? Where were you…when Carey needed you?”

From the silence that followed, it seemed as though everyone had stopped breathing. In that stillness, Uldarites seemed to shrink, casting their eyes down, exchanging guilty or confused looks. Customers were also exchanging glances. Some glared in annoyance, while others smirked at what had gone from being a quick stop to grab a meal, to high drama; entertainment that was spicing up their morning and feeding the daily gossip.

“What do you mean?” the crying woman demanded. “I said I was there, at the funeral! Uldar should strike you down for—”

“No,” the golem cut her off. “That is…not what I meant. Carey…was dead…at the funeral…that’s not when she needed you…she needed everyone when she was alive. But you all shunned her. When she was risking…her life…I was…there…when she fought our…enemies. Your…enemies. I was there…fighting…beside her. I was almost destroyed by…our enemies. I was there…helping her…I was there…and Theresa was there…we were there…when she died…”

Claygon took a step forward. “And…so was father. Father…almost died trying to save her too. He was there…but it’s…odd. You said you were there when Carey needed you…but I do not remember seeing you at her side when she was fighting…I do not remember seeing you there when she died…where were you?”

Dead silence.

With every word, the Uldarites visibly shrank further, growing paler as Claygon spoke.

“Could you leave?” a customer suddenly said, an older man with a receding hairline. “Listen, this bakery’s had enough problems; first someone tries to sabotage it on the day it opens, and now this? Look, all of this has been fine gossip. It made my morning, but now it’s getting irritating. Coward? Fool? I don’t know what’s going on, but what I do know is that Alexander Roth fought on Oreca’s Fall, and he and his team saved a lot of lives. They helped people in the countryside when they were attacked, and they’re even helping your own countrymen apparently. Why don’t you all either buy something or go home. And if you’re going to buy something, get to the back of the line, which is outside!”

He pointed at the door.

Cheers of agreement rose from the other customers; the majority looked as though they wanted the confrontation to just end, and for these troublemakers to vanish.

The old priestess looked around the room, her expression growing darker and darker.

“Should I call the guards?” Troy suddenly called, sticking his head around the kitchen door. Alex wondered how long he’d been listening.

“That’s not necessary,” the priestess nearly spat. “We will return; the Fool must fulfil his duty, but…obviously this is not the time.”

“Oh, before you go!” Alex said, teleporting to his room, grabbing his staff, and teleporting beside the old woman.

Those in the dining area startled at his sudden disappearance and reappearance.

“Let me just do one thing,” he said, looking at her solemnly and raising the aeld staff.

He began channelling his mana.

“What are you doing?” the old priestess demanded, her eyes bulging as the aeld’s crystalline blooms flared with both power and light.

She backed away, wobbling on her cane, several Uldarites cried out in alarm. “Someone call the guard! He’s attacking her!”

But Alex paid their hysterics no mind, drawing on the magic of…

…Mana to Life.

Pointing his staff at the priestess, he transformed his mana into life force, pouring it into the old woman’s body, watching as vigour washed over her.

“What? What’s happened to me—my pain is gone…” she murmured.

“Those poultices you’re wearing are to stop pain and help with healing aren’t they? Alex asked her.”

“How…how did you know that?” she said slowly.

“I can smell them. I recognise some of the herbs from magical botany.” Alex said. “I don’t know why you haven’t healed yourself with your miracles, or asked Uldar to heal you, but I couldn’t just let someone of your age keep suffering in pain. Even if you did come here to see me put in chains.”

His voice was calm, but firm.

“You…this minor injury was not worthy of Uldar’s attention,” she snapped. “I was fine. I had no reason to waste one of his precious miracles on so minor a thing.”

“That’s up to you,” Alex said. “But, I’m glad I spent my mana on something, that was apparently, beneath Uldar.”

He let a hint of his contempt for the dead god slip into his voice.

She glared at him, …but the damage to her cause wascomplete.

He had healed her with his own power—a woman who had, by her deeds, declared herself his enemy—yet he’d shown her kindness in the process.

It was the final nail in the Uldarites’ coffin.

In the end, he’d appeared calm, brave and kind…all the things they’d claimed that he wasn’t.

Bored children in line began making rude noises, making it obvious that the waiting Generasians were now done with the show.

“I say, if someone doesn’t call the guards, then I will!” cried a customer with thick mutton chops. “Out, out I say, and let good, honest people go about their day! Save your preaching for your church!”

The Uldarites began slinking away like lurking serpents suddenly exposed in tall grass. The priestess’ eyes narrowed. “This is not over, Holy Fool. I will see that the city knows a fugitive of Thameland hides within its walls.”

“I committed no crime, so go talk to them if that’s what you feel you need to do,” Alex said simply.

“The crime is against Uldar himself,” the priestess cried. “And he will have you.”

‘You’d be surprised,’ he thought.

Turning her back on him, she walked through her crowd of followers as they moved aside to let her pass. Some threw Alex nasty looks…though others looked almost apologetic. As one, they left the Roth Family Bakery, its door slamming behind them.

“Bastards,” Theresa whispered.

Alex turned to the crowd of customers and gave them an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry.” His hands were spread helplessly. “You’ve all been very patient, and I thank you for that. For everyone who’s been waiting in line? We’ll be throwing in a complimentary croissant with your order, and my best wishes and hopes that the rest of your day is less exciting than mine’s been so far.” He laughed modestly.

Folk thanked him, some offered their sympathies, while others asked what in the world a ‘Fool’ was.

With help from the Mark, he answered, giving them an abridged version of a very complex story, carefully worded to avoid certain details, like Uldar being dead. In a turn of irony, as the Mark was helping Alex tell his story in the most sympathetic way, it was also letting people see the Fool as valuable, not as some useless menace like the Uldarites had claimed.

‘Just happy no one punched me in the face this time,’ he thought, rubbing his jaw at a memory.

‘Cedric had a pretty mean hook!’