Mark of the Fool

‘The chancellor would likely callthis celebration quaint,’ The young wizard thought.

Alex Roth had no idea where Baelin had gone, and he imagined the ancient wizard departing for a mountain peak somewhere. He could see him meeting with a circle of other bearded old men in some mountaintop castle.

Or in a distant forest, the palace of an emperor, or even under the ocean somewhere.

‘Maybe in the heart of some volcano….naaaah, that’s too crazy, even for Baelin,’ Alex was setting the table for friends in his very own dining room. Outside, the rain pounded against the windows, serving as a backdrop to the rattling of plates and silverware coming from the kitchen below, and the smooth orchestral music thrumming from Claygon’s speakerbox. ‘Well, wherever he and his cabal are, I’m sure they’re discussing things of cosmic importance with all the dignity you’d expect from ancient beings like them. Probably wouldn’t think much of a bakery and the pack of idiots in it right now.’

“I tell you, peanuts grow below ground on bushes!” Thundar bellowed, gently placing a pot of gravy on the table. “Don’t make me go and look it up!”

“They are a nut Thundar, they grow on trees!” Isolde shouted back, carefully placing a punch bowl beside the pot. “And I dare you to look it up! Prove me right!”

“My friends, I could resolve this at once.” Prince Khalik glanced between them, setting down a pot of hearty stew. “I have taken magical botany, and we grow peanuts in my homeland. In one word, I could settle—”

“Don’t you dare!” Thundar and Isolde whirled on him.

Hogarth and Svenia, who’d been bringing dishes to the table, looked at each other, keeping their thoughts to themselves. They knew better than to say anything.

“We are settling this ourselves.” Isolde sniffed. “I shall elucidate to Thundar the finer points of patterns within taxonomy, and either convince him, or seek the answer myself from a direct source in the library.”

“And I’m gonna make her back down, or I’ll be the one to slam a book in her face!” the minotaur roared. “And then tell that face that it’s stupider than my face!”

“Impossible, yours is the stupidest face of all!” Isolde growled.

“It’s a peanut.” Theresa carried a bowl of assorted nuts complete with a handful of serving spoons. “What’s the big deal?”

“It is the principle of the thing,” Isolde insisted. “The twisting of facts.”

“It’s also fun.” Thundar shrugged.

“You find this fun? That is perverse.”

“If you didn’t, you’d let Khalik end it,” the minotaur pointed out.

“Why are you like this?” The prince made a disappointed noise, then looked at Sinope, who followed Theresa with a large bowl of greens. “I apologise for the stupidity of my friends.”

The dryad had a twinkle in her eyes. “Don’t apologise. I like how lively things are.”

“I’m glad you do.” Alex straightened the place setting. “Because it’s almost always like this. I swear, I doubt you’d ever catch Baelin’s cabal going on about such stupid shit.”

“Give us a thousand years to get it out of our systems,” the prince chuckled. “Though in Thundar and Isolde’s cases it might take two.”

“I think…all of you…are very smart…and kind….and strong…” Claygon spoke through the speakerbox, his voice back to the gravelly tone. It sounded a little odd having something so wholesome spoken in such threatening tones. He was carrying two platters: one of paella, with its saffroned rice heaping with plump shrimp, mussels, scampi, chorizo sausage, chicken, hake and whiting. In the other, a steaming dish of cross-cut lamb shanks braised in white wine, broth and vegetables, garnished with risotto.

The aromas were making Alex’s mouth water and had been since the dishes were simmering on the stove in the main floor bakery kitchen. Making a feast for such a large group just wouldn’t cut it in their much smaller private kitchen upstairs.

Besides, since the bakery hadn’t officially opened yet, the large kitchen was the perfect place for creating some special dishes for the party—celebrating the very first home of their own—sharing it with their friends. Course after course was brought up to the dining room from below, carried by hungry people who clearly appreciated the aromas drifting through the building.

“Are you sure you’re alright with me being here, boss?” Troy the baker asked as he climbed the stairs, balancing a deep bowl of fruit soaked in a sugar syrup flavoured with star anise, vanilla, rum, cloves, citrus peels and cinnamon sticks. That was the desert for the adults. “Feels like this is a private gathering, what with all your close friends being here and all.”

“Mr Beerensteyn didn’t invite us to anything,” a short, stocky woman—Troy’s wife—followed after him with a platter of puff pastries filled with sweetened whipped cream. “My sister looked at me like I had three heads when I asked her to take care of the young ones for the evening.”

“Well, I’m not Troy’s old boss, Govert,” Alex said. “This boss wants you at his table for his family’s housewarming party.”

“I…am happy…to have you here…you have helped my family a lot,” the golem said.

Troy and his wife started.

“You, know, big one, I’m not really used to you speaking, but thanks for welcoming us,” Troy said.

“See? And that’s why Claygon’s the best,” Selina said happily, the young girl smiled up at the golem.”

A short time later, the rest of the guests arrived, filling the house with laughter.

First came Grimloch alongside his sister, Nua-Oge. The sharkman and selachar had brought their appetites and a housewarming gift: a good luck charm to be hung from the window, crafted from an iridescent conch shell.

Malcolm, Rhea and Shiani arrived as a trio, with Caramiyus, Rayne and Angelar following soon after. Once again, much of the COMB-1000 class was reunited for the first time in a while.

“Sorry we’re late,” Shiani apologised profusely. “Malcolm is terrible and wasn’t going to bring a housewarming gift.”

“My presence is the gift,” the ice wizard said glumly, handing over a gleaming sculpture made from never-melting ice.

The parents of Selina’s close friends—Mariama and Abela—came next, dropping off the two girls and leaving them with an excited Selina, who was dying to show off Claygon.

Finally, last but not least, Kybas arrived, and beside him, an obviously thriving, Harmless. The young crocodile had gained nearly half a hundred pounds, and from his appetite, it was clear why.

“He’s been eating so well!” The little goblin cried as his familiar enjoyed all the attention from Theresa, Selina, Abela, Mariama, and Grimloch. “I’ve had to up his feed almost every few weeks. Hehehe, it won’t be long before he’s gobbling up sea serpents.”

“Sea serpents are mighty fine eating.” Grimloch grinned. “Hey, you get a chance to look over that map?”

“Yes! Yes!” Kybas nodded vigorously. “I think I know where the lair is, just past the coast. We can go soon!”

“Gooooood,” Grimloch growled. “Gonna be bowls of thick manticore soup for dinner that night.”

“Great, something to look forward to after our little trip,” Theresa said.

“What’s this?” Alex asked.

“More monster hunting!” Kybas said cheerily. “A nice play date for Brutus and Harmless. With food after!”

Sinope gasped. “You’re going to eat a manticore?”

“Yes,” said Grimloch and Kybas together, while Theresa rapidly nodded her head. Shishi whispered something to the huntress in Tarimite, and the taller woman whispered something back in the eastern tongue, the words stilted and broken, though she had improved over time.

“But…manticores are deadly poisonous!” the dryad said.

“That’s the fun part,” Kybas said. “The thrill of food that could kill you!”

“It’s extra spice.” Grimloch shrugged.

Brutus barked happily.

Nua-Oge buried her face in her hands.

“Alright!” Alex called, gesturing to the table. “Everything’s still warm thanks to the warming spells…I mean that’s why they’re called warming spells, and nothing beats fresh food. Come on, everyone. Let’s tuck into a not poisonous meal.”

Before the word “meal” had left his mouth, the entire group was rushing to the table like Ravener-spawn laying siege to a fortress. Only the thinnest of polite behaviour had held them back in the face of those enticing aromas, and now—with permission given—they cast it all aside.

Soon, food was piled onto plates and into bowls, the clatter of utensils on glass filled the dining room. Standing at Alex’s side, Claygon quietly played music, circling the table to chat with every single guest.

‘A brand new voice and my golem’s suddenly a social butterfly,’ Alex thought, watching the towering construct asking Rhea about the new tattoos that scrolled along her arm. ‘Proud of him.’

The young wizard chatted, drinking in the atmosphere, a wonderful realisation dawning on him. This would be the first of many such get-togethers, and not just here. Troy and his wife were quiet during the meal—being a fair bit older than the other guests—but one glance at their body language told him that they were enjoying themselves.

Or, at least enjoying the food.

With time, how many more friends would he be able to host?

How many more people would he have working for him for fair wages and under good conditions? He would host more gatherings in this not-so-humble bakery, sure, but what about in other places?

Countryside manors?

Ocean villas?

Hunting halls?

Maybe one day he’d be the one with a super-doom-fortress in the heart of a volcano.

But such pleasant imaginings couldn’t go on forever.

The cold hand of reality came for him as the conversation shifted, turning to darker subjects.

“I took some time to research Tenebrama before leaving campus,” Isolde said. “Our mission there will be challenging, to say the least.”

“What trip down to the hells is not?” Khalik pointed out.

“What’s this, now?” Troy asked, curiosity plain on his face.

“We’re going to the hells for one of our classes,” Alex said. “Routine trip. Well, not really routine.”

Troy sputtered, shaking his head.

“What’d you find out, Isolde?” Thundar asked.

“That some of our deficiencies in our first journey will not be as forgiving in the new environment we will be in. There is no cover, so we will have to be under stealth the entire way. Our teamwork must be perfect, as we will not be able to see each other, and if we make the mistake of speaking too loudly, it could easily alert the enemy to our presence.”

“Well, so far, what I’m hearing doesn’t sound good, not that I expected it to,” Alex grunted. “Does it get worse?”

“It does…” Isolde said sourly. “I have read accounts of the experiences of previous expeditions into the domain. Hypothermia was a very common killer among those in past expeditions, but it was the wrath-field that was the true killer.”

She paused for a moment, noticing the other conversations at the table were quieting, but she continued on. “The wrath-field caused discord within groups. Petty annoyances would be magnified. Fears would turn to rage, and anger would grow unfocused. Friends would turn on each other, stab each other in the back. Jilted lovers who had worked through their problems would flare with rage, hurt and jealousy, turning such things into—”

She paused, watching the wide-eyed stares of Selina’s young friends.

Hogarth and Svenia nudged each other.

Isolde cleared her throat. “In short, the attacks on the mind result in even more dire consequences than those in the last realm. We will need to very thoroughly control our emotions. I…especially worry about the Heroes. Hart, Drestra or Cedric rampaging through us would be disastrous.”

“I…can also…feel…anger…if I were to…lose control of my mind…”

“Or me,” Grimloch said, his voice stony.

“We’d all be in trouble.” Thundar poured himself another glass of punch. “But I can teach you the mantras I used to keep myself in check, that’d help.. I’ll teach the Heroes too and try to keep them steady.”

“Sounds like a good strategy,” Alex said. “Rage’s going to be tough to deal with, especially when we start getting attacked. Or if anything goes wrong. Honestly, the best thing for us would be to get in quietly, hit our destination, and then get ourselves extracted without a fight.”

“In an ideal world, that would be the case,” Khalik said. “In any case, let us save such dark thoughts for another time…we will be in true darkness soon enough.”

He lifted his goblet. “To us. To warmth. To fellowship and to good times. And to the new home.”

“To good times, and our new home,” Alex said.

“To our new home,” Selina said.

“To our new home,” said Theresa.”

“To…our…new…home…” Claygon agreed.

Together, everyone raised their glasses—though the golem used the tip of his finger—and clinked them together.

Alex tucked back into the warm meal, preparing mentally for the cold trial ahead of him and his friends.