Mark of the Fool
Chapter 693: The Greasy "Merchant"

“What about the Irtyshenan Empire?” Alex had asked Professor Jules. “You said they still bind elementals to use in golems?”

Professor Jules had sighed. “In a sense…their wizards devised a means to effectively destroy an elemental’s mind upon its binding, like if one had simply injected acid through the skull and into the brain. With the mind destroyed, the elemental spirit is still there to power the golem, but it has no mind to resist, or actually move the body and process instructions. So, through some very clever design, those alchemists constructed a control system within the golem itself. An individual must sit inside the ‘golem’s’ body to move and control it, which still provides a powerful, magically resistant body.”

Alex had blinked, considering what professor Jules had said. “That sounds awful…but great for whoever’s controlling this…golem, or I guess ‘mechanized suit of armour’. They’d be dangerous, while being safe inside a magically hardened body—empowered by an elemental—that's resistant to magic. And, the golem’s body would be directly controlled by a sapient intellect. That…that’d be pretty terrifying on the battlefield.”

“It is,” Jules had said. “Which is why the Empire continues to make them—out of the best materials, using their best crafters—even if the process is very long, expensive, involved, and cruel. I understand that knightly houses there are built upon being able to field these elemental war suits, just as the houses of knights in other realms are built around being able to afford armour and warhorses. It is why they enjoy the privilege of land, title and serfs.”

Alex had frowned. “This…this Empire doesn’t sound like a very nice place.”

His professor had given him a look. “There are few places that are, Mr. Roth. Especially if you look long enough.”

Alex had learned that the hard way, even about his own homeland.

Here, he neither had to look long nor hard to see that this was not a pleasant place.

“Die now, barbaric vermin!” one of the knights shouted, her voice exploding from her armour and carrying over the forest.

She punctuated her words by cracking a deadly whip of barbed steel and lashing her enemies with it. Rune-marked shrieked as the weapon cut them to the bone, dropping them to the reddening snow.

Barbarians surged toward her—crying out for blood and vengeance—as their axes did their own terrible work. Runes flared on flesh as the fighters met the line of shield bearing Irtyshenans—growing arm muscles and sheathing weapons in crackling red power—driving barbarian warriors into the shield wall.

Metal screamed on metal.

Iron buckled.

Impacts shuddered through shields, shattering limbs.

With barely a sound, a dozen Irtyshenans fell, barbarians quickly cleaving them to pieces.

But the golem knight lashed out again—her whip screaming through the air—flaying rune-marked like filleting fish. Dying bodies met the cold ground.

‘It’s…complete…carnage…’ Claygon’s voice echoed in Alex’s mind.

‘You’re right, buddy,’ he thought.

There came a snort as the rune-marked leader spurred his demonic steed forward. The beast reared, releasing a sound: part whinny, part wolf’s howl, and part human scream. It sprang forward with all the power of a stampeding herd.

Its master unslung a two-handed axe—crusted with red-blazing runes. He charged for a golem knight, taking a path that took him right through the Irtyshenans’ shield wall, his steed’s hooves trampling warriors to paste. He rose in the stirrups, his axe raised high.

The towering golem knight barked a challenge. “I will turn you to pulp, you red branded scum!”

He raised his halberd, swinging at the rune-marked.

The blade met the rune-encrusted axe, spraying sparks like fireworks. A screech came. The rune-marked warrior twisted his axe’s haft, the enormous halberd went wide.

Demonic hooves churned fresh snow, bringing the rune-marked into the knight’s guard.

The golem-knight released the haft of his weapon with a single hand, striking out with a colossal, iron fist. The rune-marked leapt from the saddle as the fist connected with the mount.

Iron feet carved a trench in the snow as the golem-knight was driven back, his fist’s impact bursting the mount’s form like glass.

The dying beast’s master leapt forward, the axe chopping a chunk out of the knight’s helmet, but shattering the weapon.

The rune-marked landed behind the knight. The golem slowly turned.

Both towering warriors glared at each other for a few long moments.

Then the rune-marked raised the ruins of his weapon. “Retreat!” he roared.

The barbarian horde paused, and backed away from the Irtyshenans, soon joined by their black armoured leader. Arrows and crossbow bolts chased them as they quickly melted into the trees.

Sounds of movement echoed through the forest.

Theresa swore. “Listen. There’s a lot of them,” she whispered. “There were probably hundreds.”

“Yet, they still…retreated…why?” Claygon’s voice was soft.

“They were outmatched,” Alex whispered. “They killed lots of soldiers, but they couldn’t even touch those three knights; their leader sacrificed his steed and weapon, but the only damage he did was to a helmet. They could have lost their entire force trying to stop those knights.”

“I…see…” the golem’s voice dropped to a low growl, like a beast trying to mimic mortal words. “They…are strong…”

“Not compared to you, though,” Alex said. “But they’re faster than you, and look like they’re more experienced. Anyway, we’re not here to pick a fight with them.”

“It is still…good…to prepare…since…they seem to be…patrolling the forest…and we might…run into them…”

“You’re right,” Alex agreed. “But the bigger problem’s those rune-marked. If there were hundreds of them in that warband, then how many are in this forest?”

He watched as the Irtyshenans gathered the dead in two rows—their own fallen, and those of their enemies—before looting all of the corpses. They worked silently and with practised movements, stripping every piece of gear from the dead.

When the grizzly task was finished, they backed away, letting the three golem- knights come forward.

The whip wielder stood to the left.

The halberdier to the right.

And between them was a golem-knight standing a full head taller than the pair, her golem armour was inscribed with an abundance of golden filigree throughout. She bore two weapons in hand. The first was a unique crossbow, strung with pure light and force energy, and topped with a bolt of force magic upon it. The second, an intimidating spiked flail covered in magical glyphs that increased its impact, while thinning an enemy’s blood so they would quickly bleed out. The ball on the weapon was enormous, fully capable of bringing down a castle portcullis.

The knight in the centre spoke. “We have lived. We have died. We have spilled the blood of our lessers, yet lost the blood of those from the true civilization. We thank the gods for their mercy in our victory. We pray that we hunt down our enemies for vengeance. And we curse those who struck us down, and curse our own weakness. For the Empire!”

“For the Empire!” soldiers and the two other knights shouted as one.

“Burn them,” the leader commanded.

A battle mage stepped forward, setting aflame both pyres while speaking quiet words of power. The bodies erupted in unnatural flame, blazing in a column while the survivors prepared to move on.

“Bonus coin to any warrior who brings me a rune-marked head,” their leader snarled, leading her troops into the trees. “Too much of our blood has been spilled. The barbarians must pay tenfold.”

There was only silence in response, but it was clear that they’d heard her loud and clear.

“We should go,” Alex said. “The quicker we take care of our own business in this forest, the better. Something nasty’s brewing here.”

###

The town of Turksini loomed on the south side of an icy sea. It was a grim place with thick grey walls capped by sharp spikes rising from atop them. A dark wooden gate, shod in iron and guarded by half a dozen warriors wearing thick furs over their armour, barred the unwelcomed from entry.

Two rangy guards stood above the others, clad in finely forged plate bearing symbols that Alex recognised; a mountain with a halo burning overhead. The symbol of Mount Tisarios.

The symbol of the Empire’s jealous gods.

Alex couldn’t help but feel a bitterness in his chest when he looked at it. ‘I wonder if their gods still help the people, or are they lying dead in their palaces?’

He didn’t voice his thoughts, as he and two of his companions carefully approached the gate.

After the warriors had moved on, Alex had teleported his three companions away, searching until they found the town of Turksini. They’d materialised in the nearby wilderness, buried Claygon in the snow—and left the aeld staff with him—until: “I’ll come and get you once we finish in Turksini, buddy,” Alex had said as they’d buried the golem. “It’s better that I don’t walk into town with a war golem and glowing staff.”

“Understood…father…” the golem had said as snow covered him.

Now, they were approaching the town, seeking information from the townsfolk about the forest and monsters that dwelled there. Alex could also test his language skills using the Low Irtyshenan tongue.

“The guards are looking at us,” Theresa whispered.

“Let me do the talking,” Alex said. “If they say anything to you in the common tongue, stick to our story.”

“Got it.”

“Halt,” commanded a guard in Low Irtyshenan, stepping into their path. “State your business here, travellers.”

“Afternoon,” Alex said, spreading his arms with exaggerated enthusiasm; in that moment he appeared every inch like a travelling trader. He carefully infused a light Generasian accent into his Irtyshenan. “This is Turksini, yes? My companions and I are here to hunt; I am told the forest is full of monsters, which can be taken apart for rare alchemical goodies!” He grinned, winked, and leaned over, whispering loudly. “I know of a mushroom-like creature that grows in this forest, and if its spores are treated just right…oh my! It brings just the right kind of ‘stamina’, yes? The men I know will pay a lot for it.”

He’d quickly crafted a personality; open, yet crude.

With a reason for being there crafted; reasonable, yet greasy.

His body language crafted; familiar, yet obvious.

The effect? He could already see the guard’s suspicion and curiosity draining away from mistrustful eyes.

“It is nearly winter, foreigner,” the man said. “We do not get many foreigners here this time of year. Our Irtyshenan winter is…not merciful to foreign barbarians.”

His tone for the word ‘barbarian’...held condescension, but not direct disdain, like he was simply stating a well known fact.

“I know, I know,” Alex said. “But if people are too unmanly to come here when the winter bites, then that is more of a haul for me, right?”

The man looked at him again before sighing. “Well, foreigner, so be it. The forest is full of savage beasts and filthy barbarians, and we’ll not be out there looking for you when you don’t return.”

“Ah, I have survived many scrapes and scraps before! It is alright…” Alex paused, letting a flicker of feigned fear pass over his face. The guard noticed and smiled.

“Yes?” the man said.

“Well, it is just…perhaps, it would be good to hear where some of these savage beasts and forest barbarians are located in the woods, no? Is there anyone I could ask…not that I am afraid, mind you…” he paused, letting a clear case of nerves reach his voice. “But I think that it would be good if I knew where the barbarians and beasts lie, just to…plan my hunt accordingly, you know?”

The guard smirked openly now, just as Alex had hoped; in the smirking man’s eyes, the young wizard looked like some muscle-headed, overconfident young adventurer. He was someone to be looked down upon, not suspected.

“You’ll want to ask at the trading post,” the guard said. “Maybe Old Illiana can talk some sense into you. Trust me, boy, you will want to take your companions and go back down the road where you came from. Or maybe catch a ship and go hunting on the ice flows up north. They’re more forgiving than this bastard of a forest.”

As though on cue, a scream ripped the air, sounding like some animal being slaughtered. The shrieks peaked, splitting the silence and distant crashing of the icy sea.

The guard smiled. “See? To those unprepared, this place is a hell.”

Alex glanced at Theresa, but they managed to keep from smiling.

After all, they’d both spent time down in the actual hells.

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