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Mark of the Fool - Chapter 327

Published at 21st of November 2022 06:39:33 AM


Chapter 327: New Sources of Power

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Isolde and Alex exchanged a look as Professor Jules chose the two teams. All around, whispers and murmuring buzzed through the air like a swarm of bees. It wasn’t everyday that royal representatives came calling.

But Alex had few thoughts to spare for his land’s king.

After all, most of his life King Athelstan was just a face he’d seen on objects like coins. Since coming to Generasi, he’d met and become friends with an actual prince: so the thought of meeting royalty didn’t amaze him like it once would have. And besides, the folks coming to Greymoor weren’t even the king himself, they were royalty’s unroyal representatives.

Meeting them quickly passed from his mind.

Now, the thought of meeting the Heroes again? That was worth some thought.

“Looks like we get to see our new friends again, eh?” Alex said.

Isolde went quiet for a moment, her eyes looking into the distance as though something had caught her interest. She nodded her head. “Oh yes, indeed. I do wonder though if they will bother speaking with us this time. They really have no reason to since I doubt Professor Jules will force you to guide them about again, and without that, what reason would they have to spend time with us again? We were passing colleagues that night: they might simply greet us and then move on with their duties.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

“It is the way of things, often with nobi—” she paused, turning her attention to Professor Jules.

“—Isolde von Anmut—” Professor Jules read the noblewoman’s name from the list, catching Alex’s attention when she said, “—Carey London—” then continued adding to the team.

Carey—who’d been in the middle of a conversation with a colleague—acknowledged that she’d heard the professor with an enthusiastic nod, then with a smile, bid her fellow researcher a good day, and went to gather her gear as the professor continued adding to the team.

“—Alexander Roth—” Jules called.

“Ah, looks we’re both on ‘Team Explosions’,” he said quietly as he and Isolde went for their masks and protective equipment.

She made a face. “Don’t call it that. You’re cursing us.”

He raised an eyebrow. “We’re literally going to watch explosions occurring from mixing two of the mostmysterious materials in all the planes. Team Explosions kinda fits perfectly.”

Isolde took her mask off a hook while glaring at Alex. “But such a name implies disaster and uncontrolled detonations.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re a woman of science. Don’t tell me you’re getting superstitious.”

“Alex. We are wizards. Half of what we do is science, and the other half can only be described as strange and terrible chaos that we barely manage to wring into the shape of ‘science’.”

“Yeah…fair point. Still gonna call us Team Explosions, though.”

She rolled her eyes. “I hope your legs fall off on the walk there.”

Now it was his turn to glare. “Don’t say that. They just might.”

A wicked little smile crossed her lips. “Now who’s being superstitious?”

“By the Traveller, ” Alex groaned, his legs wobbling as he trudged along the path. His muscles burned. His bones felt like jelly. “How far is this place? It feels like we’ve been walking for hours!”

“It has been ten minutes, Alex,” Isolde said, her voice light and cheery.

“What? That can’t be right, the sun must be baking your brain.”

She glanced up at the sun shining brightly in the clear blue sky; a rare sight in Greymoor, especially so close to winter. “No, I think not. The temperature is quite cool.”

“Then something else must be baking your brain, there’s no way we’ve only been walking for ten minutes.”

“Likely eleven now.”

He frowned, then called out to Professor Jules who marched at the head of the column of researchers, Watchers, and medical staff. “Professor! How long have we been walking?”

The professor checked the time-keeping bracer covering her forearm. “Eleven minutes. Just over halfway there, Mr. Roth.”

Isolde grinned.

He glared, then turned to Claygon who was beside him. “Hey buddy, could you give me a hand?”

The golem bent down, scooped up his creator like a child and cradled him in his lower arms.

Isolde looked absolutely mortified. “Alex, are you really going to allow yourself to be carried like a baby for the rest of the walk?”

“Goo-goo, ga-ga,” Alex pretended to suck his thumb while reclining in Claygon’s arms.

“Good lord…such a lack of dignity. Of decorum.” She sniffed.

“Good thing I’m not a noble, then,” Alex said, remembering she’d been saying something. “Wait, you were saying something earlier about the way nobles are. About quick greetings then moving on?”

“Ah, yes, that,” Isolde cleared her throat. “…much social interaction among nobility comes with certain…expectations behind them. Certain manipulations. Nobles will greet each other fondly and act as though they were old friends at a summer ball. They feel someone out by testing the waters, getting to know them and testing their measure, then decide whether or not a relationship can be beneficial if pursued.”

Her expression turned a little sad. “And if there is nothing to be gained, they move on. Another encounter might only be deserving of a quick hello for the sake of appearances: simply put, time spent talking to someone who one can gain nothing from, can be considered time wasted not speaking to someone of more immediate political value. My family has learned such a dance over time.”

Alex listened, wondering where this was coming from.

“Ugh, I do have a strong dislike for such behaviour,” a familiar voice spoke.

Alex craned his neck to look behind Claygon: Carey was near, listening to their conversation. She had a sour look on her face, like she was thinking of something unpleasant.

“Do you have experience with such things?” Isolde asked with a raised eyebrow.

Carey raised her hand palm down, tilting it back and forth. “My family has served Thameland as mayors, magistrates, barristers and other positions of government for nine generations. And, even though we have contact mostly with local nobility, we do know a thing or two about politics! One’s friend today is tomorrow’s stranger. Or even enemy. At a party in the capitol once, my father approached the Mayor of Ussex and greeted him, introducing himself as part of the London family. The man smiled, nodded and said—”

Carey cleared her throat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, but I’m afraid I don’t want to talk to you because there’s more important people here. Which was rude by most people’s standards!”

“Indeed, that is truly blunt, even for one who wields great political power.” Isolde shook her head. “And the Heroes wield such power. They might be our age, but I’ve seen even those from humble origins rise to fame in the Rhinean Empire and assume the same dance of…social bartering. Or they become so enamoured with themselves, that they do not bother with others. They might pretend to show an interest they do not truly feel, but at the end of the day, they are focused only on themselves.”

Alex frowned.

“Oh I wouldn’t think that’s true!” Carey's voice rose. “The Heroes wouldn’t be so pompous, one would hope!”

“They didn’t seem that way to me,” Alex said. “I think you’re being paranoid, Isolde.”

“Perhaps…perhaps not,” she said, looking away from Alex.

He frowned. There was an odd look on her face…did her expression have anything to do with her concern about the Heroes rejecting them when they came back to the encampment? He noted her body language. Arms crossed. Head bowed slightly. Stride length increasing.

Stress? Anxiety?

Anxiety over what?

Then a sneaking suspicion dawned on him…one he was too wise to say out loud. One better filed away to maybe bring up later.

For now, he’d pay close attention to his friend.

By the time they reached the new test site, Alex’s legs had scarcely recovered, punishing him when Claygon put him down. He’d never skipped leg day in his exercise routine, but he was wishing he had. No matter what Khalik said.

If he could have floated the last few steps to the site, he would have, each step had become merciless, unending torment. His knees shook, his thighs burned, and his jaw clenched and relaxed repeatedly, as he tried to distract himself by looking over the test site.

It really didn’t look like much; a wide, barren, flattened area of sand blackened from days of test explosions. Reinforced hills had been raised in a circle around the test area, designed to absorb explosive force and funnel it into the sky.

A hundred paces away, a squat bunker built of stone enchanted to resist impact and absorb concussion, was carved into a hillside. A narrow horizontal window ran along the front of the bunker from where researchers could view the testing ground. It was sheltered from the elements; layers of force magic fortified the window, so powerful that Alex could feel them from where he stood.

No doubt they were Baelin’s handiwork.

‘If only the chancellor had made a teleportation circle to get us from camp to here,’ he thought, eyeing the long flight of stone steps leading down to the bunker’s rear entrance. Claygon was obviously way too big to fit in the small space. Alex sighed, trying to think of ways to get down the steps without walking.

‘I’d pay a lot of coin to just teleport since you can’t carry me down there, buddy.’ He considered drinking a flight potion and floating into the bunker. …but that would be a waste of a good potion. He couldn’t come up with anything else, so bracing himself and gripping the railing—Isolde smiled as she passed him as if he was standing still—he made his way down step by step, glad that the worst would soon be over.

It wasn’t.

There were no seats anywhere to be seen. He’d have to stand there on wobbly legs, observing the explosive reactions of two powerful substances for hours. It wasn’t exactly the same as running, jumping and carrying heavyweights, but right now, his legs saw no difference.

The concussions from outside didn’t help.

Through his spyglass, he saw tiny samples being mixed by a golem, mana being added and then…

Boom!

Sand and flame would blast through the air.

The explosions varied in size, depending on what proportions of the substances were used, but they always released a terrific amount of energy. As he watched, he wondered if he couldn’t give burn-saw a nasty surprise with this stuff. Then again, it would definitely be considered a weapon.

But there were other uses…

“I think we might’ve found a new power source,” Professor Jules commented after one large detonation. “With small portions of these substances, we could create controlled releases of energy: enough to power large magical machinery. If we do this right, it could become much easier to make magical items that work beyond the reach of Generasi’s mana vents. I wonder what our Thameish friends would think of that. Hear that, Carey and Alex? Your realm might be on the verge of technological and magical revolution.”

“How delightful!” Carey said.

“Urrrrgh,” Alex groaned.

To keep from toppling over, he’d been dividing his attention between recording his observations of each flare, flash, and blast resulting from combining the two substances, and using Mana to Life on his legs.

Even so, the spell only dulled the pain, it didn’t make it disappear.

After the first hour had passed, he was sweating.

After two, he wished he’d never come up with anything called, “a special kind of training.”

After three, he wished he’d never started training at all.

After four, he regretted ever leaving Alric, and started wondering if a life working in McHarris’ bakery might not have been so bad after all.

‘I’m going mad,’ Alex thought, shifting from leg to leg. ‘The pain’s driving me insane. That’s it, I swear, I’ll never train again.’

“Hey, could I borrow some of those big rocks?” Alex pointed at the building stones piled up behind a construction foreman who was just packing up for the evening.

The man paused, slowly looking up at Alex with a familiar ‘I was just on my way home and I don’t want to deal with this shit,’ look often seen on the faces of shopkeepers who were just about to close for the evening when a group of customers rushed through the door.

“You want what?” he asked.

“A big rock!” Alex made a lifting motion with both hands. “You know…for training!”

After a quick two hour nap with Restful Slumber and mana to life, Alex was back in full form. The pain had faded, replaced by plenty of energy. His vow to never train again was long forgotten, and now he was looking forward to lifting big, heavy things. Since he had no formal weights, he’d decided to improvise and approach the foreman where the building materials were kept and ask him for a loan. He eyed the rocks like he was looking at gold. “I just…want to borrow a few rocks—”

“You keep calling them ‘rocks’. They’re building stones.” The testy foreman frowned.

“—right, building stones!” Alex said. “I’d just be borrowing a few of the big ones. I’ll be careful and put them back when I’m done, I swear. It’ll be like you never lent them to me. It’s evening anyway, and you’ll have them back before you need them in the morning.”

The foreman raised an eyebrow. “You say…training? What’re ya meaning by that, what’re you planning on doing with them, exactly?”

“Building.”

The man’s frown deepened. “Building what?”

“Oh, my body!” Alex said, rubbing his hands together. “A friend of mine trains with stones, and he suggested I try it while I’m here. Khalik’s his name.”

“Oh, he’s a good earth mage, that one. Very good. Very skilled. …he told you to come lift building stones?We have golems to lift those!”

“Well, I’m going to lift them too, to get stronger, you see. Golems don’t get stronger when they lift rocks—I mean, building stones. It all makes peeeeerfect sense as long as you don’t think about it too hard. Don’t worry, I won’t drop them, or chip them, and I’ll put them right back where I found them after I’m done.”

The foreman glanced at the stones. “You know how much one of those weighs?”

“Khalik said that each one’s about half a thousand pounds, which makes them perfect! So, can I have some?”

The foreman squinted at him. “Is this a prank?” He glanced around as though expecting naughty children or students—who were often just oversized naughty children—hiding behind tents giggling. “Are you pranking me, lad?”

“No,” Alex assured him. “Honest to the Traveller, I just want those stones for some training.”

The foreman snorted. “Alright, big guy. Tell you what. If you pick up that five hundred pounder over there by yourself without magic then carry it, then sure. You can have all the stones you need tonight.”

“Deal!” Alex said, striding over to the stone.

Stretching for a moment, he bent down and—with a loud grunt—slowly picked up the massive stone and hoisted it over his head.

The foreman gaped. “What in every hell?”

“See?” Alex grunted, balancing the stone above his head. “I’m not going to chip it! I’ll be right back for another one.”

The foreman continued gaping.

“Okay…?” Alex said. “I’m, uh, leaving now…yeah. Okay, bye.”

He started marching across camp to a clear area where he could lift.

Halfway across the encampment he heard a commotion coming from the front gate.

A large party on horseback was riding through.

Three familiar figures were among them.

The Heroes had returned leading others he assumed were the representatives of Thameland’s king and court wizard. Alex’s eyebrows rose as an idea came to him.

‘Maybe Cedric and Hart might wanna join me for some good old fashioned rock lifting. Maybe Drestra might too,’ he thought. ‘Be a good way to get reacquainted, check up on Drestra…and see just how strong the Chosen and Champion’s blessings really are.’




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