Mark of the Fool-Chapter 830: The Horror of the Shirt

Cedric winced, scratching at the green tunic trimmed in golden filigree. It clung to his shoulders and chest, pulling at the seams, its sleeves were a half–finger width too short. “Haven’t worn this thing in five years. Feels like I'm ‘bout to sweat m’self t’death.”

“Then take it off!” Alex suggested. “You look weird wearing a shirt! Why are you wearing it anyway?” The young archwizard looked up with an expression of mock horror. “Is the sky about to fall? Is the world gonna explode or something? Maybe I should dive for cover!”

“Oi, oi, enough o’ that! I can wear a shirt, y’know! It’s not like I’ll melt if’n I put one on!” Cedric insisted, pulling at his tunic as though he was about to melt. “An,’ I’m goin’ t’a nice place wit’ folk who probably wear shirts n’such all th’ time,” Cedric muttered quickly. “Look, even Drestra said I should be wearin’ one. If even th’bloody swamp witch dragon thinks I oughtta wear a shirt, then I guess I oughtta be wearin’ one!”

“Cedric, there are people waiting for the ceremony—right now—wearing armour and beast skins, ” Alex said. “Grimloch’s not wearing a shirt either. So it’s fine, just take it off.”

Cedric turned bright red. “It’s just…I’d best just wear it. Don’t wanna…embarrass nobody.”

“Who the hells do you think you’d be embarrass—Ooooooh!” Alex suddenly cried, his eyes lighting up.

“What?” The Chosen’s face was now as red as his hair.

“Nevermind,” the General said slyly. “I’ve been there, shall we say. Let's just get going. There's…people to meet. Special people.”

“Shut up, you!” Cedric shouted.

“I didn’t say anything,” Alex pointed out.

“I bloody hear ya thinkin’!” Cedric snarled.

Alex’s laughter rose over the trees, and only faded when he touched the Chosen’s clothed shoulder—which was an odd feeling—and teleported to Generasi.

New guests had entered the classroom in the short time the young archwizard had been gone. Graduating students with their family and friends had arrived, and most were already seated.

“Well, would y’look at this?” Cedric said, his voice full of awe as he looked around the classroom. “An’ I thought the castle in Ussex was bloody nice. Take a look at this place.”

“It is nice, isn’t it? I could hardly keep my jaw shut when I first came here. Anyway, we should probably get to our seats,” Alex said quickly, nodding to his family. They were already seated in the front row of the large classroom, and Theresa was waving him over.

‘Father…hurry…you don't want to be late for your own graduation…’ Claygon said in his mind.

‘I know, buddy,’ Alex thought. ‘Coming.’

“Come on, Cedric.” He gestured for the other Hero to follow him.

“Right…behind ya…” the Chosen’s voice sounded distant as he looked around the room.

As the pair walked, Alex did another quick count of the stupid graduation caps in the room.

‘Definitely more now…’ He thought. ‘There were eighteen before. Now…twenty…twenty-two…twenty-four…”

“There. What a—holy…Wow,” Cedric whispered, cutting off Alex’s cap count.

The young archwizard followed the Chosen’s gaze to the far side of the room.

There was Isolde and her group.

The dark-haired family was sitting with perfect poise and grace, flanked by the fully armoured and armed Svenia and Hogarth, as well as six more personal guards.

Isolde’s father was tall, dressed all in black—wide of shoulder and narrow of hip—and sitting with the straight-backed posture of a disciplined warrior. His blue eyes were cold, and his jet black hair was long, bound in a tight braid secured at the nape of his neck.

Her mother was all curves, fine featured with mahogany coloured hair pouring down her left shoulder like a waterfall.

Both she and her husband looked younger than the Lus, but wore colours that added to their age and gravity: all greys and blacks, exuding a grim air of class.

However, the old man seated with them almost put them to shame.

His hair had long-turned silver, and he kept his beard in a neat goatee, yet neither grey hair—nor wrinkles—could hide the strong family resemblance between him and Isolde. They shared the same sharp features, electric blue eyes, and serious, haughty expression. He was as lean as a rail, with robes of purple and black tailored from the finest of fabrics.

Beside him was a ram-rod straight staff of pure steel, standing completely unsupported, seemingly at attention.

Both it—and the old man—radiated power.

‘That must be Isolde’s grandfather,’ Alex thought. ‘The imperial court mage to the Rhinean Emperor.’

His expression was dour, yet each time his eyes fell on his granddaughter, it softened.

“So that’s ‘er family,” Cedric muttered, his voice tense and low. “Bunch o’ posh ones, they are, but no surprise there.”

Alex was about to respond, but was cut off when he felt a surge of teleportation magic from the front of the classroom.

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He quickly urged Cedric to sit down.

A large group of people materialised just as the two young men found their seats.

Chancellor Baelin towered above most of the faculty of Generasi: among them, Alex recognised Professors Jules, Ram, Mangal, Salinger, Hak and Val’Rok, though many others were there. Some he had taken classes with, while others he only knew from a distance. All were dressed in formal robes with silver pendants etched with alchemical symbols for mana around their necks.

With the faculty was Councillor Kartika—representing the city—while Registrar Hobb stood a little to the side, wearing a devil’s smile as he gazed upon the graduating class.

His eyes found Alex’s, holding them.

Alex looked back.

Hobb smiled wider.

“Welcome, everyone,” Baelin called, his voice carrying through the chamber and silencing the murmurs of the crowd. “Welcome to our staging area. Before we begin our journey to our true destination where the ceremony will take place, we must take attendance. It would be poor form to begin graduation without the very important graduating class present, now wouldn’t it? Registrar Hobb?”

The devil scanned the room with a calculating gaze. After just a pair of heartbeats, he answered. “All registered guests are present, chancellor, including the entirety of our twenty-nine graduates.”

“Splendid!” Baelin shouted. “I remember one year where we needed half a day to track down a group of students, who’d—surely by accident—gotten lost in the wine barrels of a local tavern on the way here. We encourage all such celebrations to take place after the ceremony. Though, admittedly, that year was quite entertaining!”

Polite chuckles rippled across the room.

Professor Jules glared at Baelin.

He paid her no mind. “Now, I will transport one and all to the true location of the ceremony. I implore you not to be afraid: despite how things might appear, you will not fall.”

“Not fall?” Selina asked. “What does that mean?”

Before Alex could guess, Baelin began speaking words of power, and raising his hands over the crowd before him.

A torrent of teleportation magic filled the room.

And just like that, the lecture hall was gone.

Alex found himself hurtling across the planes, then floating in an endless sky.

Endless in every direction.

Including straight down.

He gasped, ready to cast flight magic on himself and his loved ones, as soon as they appeared, but he quickly realised that it only seemed like he was standing on thin air, there was actually a transparent floor beneath him.

Folk appeared, shocked cries and screams filling the air.

Baelin’s laughter followed, “Ah, what fun! But, have no fear: we are standing on a field of force magic. You will not fall, you are all perfectly safe. And do look around, for what you are witnessing is a rare sight.”

And indeed it was.

Beneath Alex’s feet were endless blue skies punctuated by puffy, white clouds. Above him were similar clouds, all perfectly fluffy with the hue of freshly fallen snow.

In the middle of the sky, a sun beamed down on them all.

The crowd murmured in wonder.

“Once you are done taking it all in,” Baelin continued. “Feel free to sit down.”

On either side of the crowd were raised stands—like one would find in the arena—furnished with comfortable chairs: the seats were made of transparent force magic, but their cushions were solid and shaped like miniature cumulus clouds.

Ahead of the crowd stood rows of seats of the same transparent material, complete with cloud-cushions.

Exactly twenty-nine in all.

Beyond them rose a platform of clear force magic, set up with more chairs—where the faculty, other staff and Councillor Kartika were finding their seats—they faced a central podium.

Baelin had found his place at the podium.

“Welcome to the Demiplane of Graduation!” the chancellor called, his cheer filling the bright skies. “It is a personal demiplane constructed as a gift to the university by yours truly, many hundreds of years ago. It is something of an open secret among the alumni and staff, but I would urge you not to spread word of this place too far beyond those who are currently here in attendance! The surprise for those graduating is half the fun!”

He let out a jolly laugh, then gestured to the twenty nine seats. “If the graduating class would please make their way to their seats in front of the stage.”

Alex smiled at his family and friends.

Butterflies were in his belly.

“Well,” he said, his voice shaking a little. “That's my queue.”

Mrs. Lu gave him a hug. “We're so proud of you.”

As she let go, Mr. Lu clapped him on the shoulder. “Your parents are smiling from the after-world.”

Theresa hugged him, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You deserve this, and I'm so happy I got to take this journey with you.”

Selina squeezed one of his hands. “I love you, Alex.”

Claygon patted him on the back. “Congratulations…father…we will see you…later.”

“Been a fine journey wit’ you so far,” Cedric said. “Glad to be here wit’ ya t’day.”

Prince Khalik shook his left hand. “It is an honour to be in your cabal, congratulations my friend. Now, hold on, I must give my congratulations to Isolde before she—Ah, she is already heading to her seat. Afterward, then.”

Thundar shook Alex’s right hand. “Can't believe you left us behind, you jerk…but all the same, I'm happy to see you walk that stage. Get up there and own it! And unlike Khalik, I ain’t giving up so easily! Congratulations-time is now!”

The minotaur turned and sprinted through the crowd, running to Isolde and clapping her on the back so hard that the young noblewoman was nearly catapulted into the seats. “Knock ‘em dead up there, Isolde!”

Her family’s guards bristled—though Svenia and Hogarth simply threw each other knowing looks—and her parents stiffened.

Isolde simply held up a hand, waving off their concern as she tried to get her breath back.

“Blast, now I will look bad if I do not do the same!” Khalik rushed off. “So much for decorum!”

Alex took a look at Isolde’s family, considered what to do for a moment, then teleported beside her.

“You big oaf!” Isolde was admonishing Thundar. “You will muss up my robes—Gaaah! Roth!” she cried as she noticed the young archwizard.

He politely bowed to her family, before turning to her. “I know you're gonna do a great job,” Alex said, patting her on the shoulder. “And I'm so happy I get to graduate with you. You could even say I'm wishing you my …congradulations.”

“Uuuuugh!” Isolde groaned, throwing a mortified look at her family.

Before they could say anything, Khalik and Cedric barreled past them.

“Greetings to the von Anmut family. Now, then: Isolde! Congratulations on your big day!” Khalik was all smiles. “It has been more than an honour to be with you on this journey, and I could not ask for a better cabal-mate.”

Before she could react, Cedric came skidding to a halt in front of her.

She looked into the Chosen’s eyes while he tried to find his words.

Then her gaze slowly fell to his torso.

“Is…is that a shirt?” she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as though the garment was the most scandalous thing she had ever witnessed.

“Aye,” he said, blushing. “Felt like…I should probably wear one.”

“I—” she started, then her blue eyes hardened. The young noblewoman threw a glance in her family’s direction. “Later.”

She then turned—her cheeks blazing—and veritably sprinted toward her seat. “Father, mother, grandfather! Go and sit down!” she cried over her shoulder.

“Oh, er, congratulations!” Cedric called weakly at her back.

She did not respond.

Silence fell, and he turned, grinning sheepishly at the von Anmuts.

They were staring at the cabal and Hero in shock.

Hogarth cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should find our seats, as the lady instructed.”

“Hmmm,” her grandfather said, looking at the young men closely. “Come,” he waved to his family, and as one, they turned to find their seats.

Cedric cringed, slowly looking at the others. “She acted kinda funny there. Did…did I do somethin’?”

“Later,” Alex echoed Isolde.

“Later,” Khalik echoed her as well.

“Later,” Thundar added.

The Chosen glared at the three of them. “All o’ yous ‘ave gots t’be th’wors’ friends a man could ‘ave.”

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