Mark of the fool 8 a pro.., p.13
Mark of the Fool 8: A Progression Fantasy Epic, page 13
“Well…” Alex muttered, feeling guilty. “I still think it’d just cause her family more stress. Maybe we should just let the symbol be our secret.”
His fiancée shrugged. “It’s your painting, and you knew her better than I did… but, I still think you’re making a mistake.”
“…I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m just trying my best.”
“I know.” She rested her hand on his shoulder, leaning over and kissing him. “It’s your gift, in the end. Do what you think is best. I’m sure it’ll turn out alright. How much more time do you have to finish it?”
“Around three days, according to Professor Jules,” Alex said. “Carey’s parents arrive then.”
“Have you thought about what you’re going to say to them?” Theresa asked.
“Aside from passing on her words?” Alex shook his head. “I have no idea. I’m not sure any of us really know what we’re going to say.”
Chapter 17
Convergent Development
Grey.
The perfect word for the day.
Summer’s heat was waning.
Autumn rains were coming.
But this day didn’t find Alex preparing for his new classes. He wasn’t in the library or any study area around campus. Nor was he in the city working on his businesses.
He was in the office of his rather unconventional mana manipulation professor. Professor Val’Rok was one of those people who never seemed to change, except today, his scales appeared a lot shinier. His excitable nature was on full display when he flung open his office door and found Alex standing before it.
“Mr. Roth!” he cried enthusiastically, licking his eyes in excitement. “It has been some time since I’ve seen you in my little office, or anywhere else, come to think of it.”
Alex was more than a little startled by his enthusiasm. “Erm, hello, Professor. I’m surprised you’re so glad to see me.”
“Of course I am, come on in, my boy!” Val’Rok beckoned him into the office.
A fire blazed in his hearth, filling the room with flickering light and a pleasant warmth on the late summer day.
Dozens of devices lined the space—big, small, and in-between—each designed for one purpose, training young wizards in mana manipulation. No two were alike. Rows of glass tubes, brass spiders, silver hands, dried simian paws, and ropes knotted so intricately that they mystified the eye.
On this visit, Val’Rok had no students in his office to gleefully terrorise, so Alex found himself alone with the lizardfolk wizard.
Well, almost alone.
“Ah, Professor, what’s that?” Alex pointed to the instructor’s desk.
Upon it sat a large bowl filled with worms, beetles, wingless flies, and more. Most of the insects were still, though some were still twitching, while others were actively trying to escape the container.
“Insect salad.” Val’Rok beamed, slapping his belly. “I’ve been trying to watch my paunch so I decided to do a little meal prepping on the weekends. Helps me build more discipline!”
His tongue suddenly lashed out, striking a large beetle that had nearly made it across the rim of the bowl and dragging it into his mouth. Alex winced at the wet crunching sounds coming from between Val’Rok’s teeth.
The lizardfolk wizard made a face. “Yech, I’ve got to tell you, Alex, I miss sauces already. A little jelly or aioli sauce makes the whole thing wake up. Oh, and some butter? Mmm—No, no!” Val’Rok shouted, chiding himself. “It’s a mind transformation, not a body transformation, you greedy old reptile! Calm yourself! This is your new life!”
“I-is this a bad time, Professor?” Alex took a step back toward the door.
“What? No, no! Couldn’t be better. It’ll be nice to chat with another mana manipulation prodigy while I have my lunch. Sit, sit. Have you eaten?”
“Yes!” Alex said, putting more emphasis on the word than he’d meant to. He took a seat in a comfortable-looking chair in front of Val’Rok’s desk.
“Ah, well that’s a pity. So, tell me, what can I do for you today? Are you looking for another mana regeneration technique? Remember, I’ve already warned you about jumping ahead too quickly before you truly master your foundation. You wouldn’t want to get messed up, would you?”
“I’m not actually looking for a mana regeneration technique right now—though I’ll definitely come for a more advanced one when I’m ready—I’m more looking for… how can I put this… general mana manipulation knowledge?”
“Oh? You could just go to the library for general knowledge,” Val’Rok’s tongue whipped out, striking a glow worm and pulling it into his mouth. “Mm, now that’s better. Nice and juicy! You don’t mind if I keep eating, right?”
“Oh, not at all, you’re not bothering me,” Alex lied. “Okay, so general knowledge isn’t right. Not exactly. I’m more looking for an expert’s opinion on a certain text that I found.”
“Oh?” The older wizard cocked his head.
“Yeah, I came across this really old one.” Alex chose his words carefully. “But a lot of the mana manipulation notations seemed odd to me. I couldn’t make much of them out, so I thought I’d come to you.”
Alex pulled out a carefully copied—and very incomplete—duplicate of Uldar’s notes, passing them to the mana manipulation professor. “I was wondering if you could figure this out.”
“Hmmmm.” The lizardfolk’s large reptilian eyes narrowed while his pupils expanded. “Well, let’s hope I don’t disappoint you. Sometimes the mana manipulation techniques one finds in old tomes—in dubious bazaars, for example—often amount to nothing. Either they’re fake, or simply dead end research sold in some wizard’s estate sale. As for this… I…”
His words trailed off.
His eyes began darting across the page.
Alex gripped the armrests of his chair.
He’d come to Professor Val’Rok hoping to get some answers from the wizard since he was an expert in mana manipulation with a mountain of experience and knowledge to draw from. Professor Jules had made detailed copies of Uldar’s notes for Alex, Watcher Hill, and the Heroes, though the Heroes’ copy was kept at the Research Castle.
“It wouldn’t do to have the priests find this in your camp,” Jules had said. “Or the fae, for that matter. We should assume this secret church and Aenflynn’s spies are everywhere, so I’ll be taking measures to make sure the Castle is warded against any intrusions, but we still have to assume that any information you take to your war-camp will be compromised.”
She had looked at Alex. “I am trusting you with a copy, Mr. Roth, but be careful with it. I hope that the church and Aenflynn’s agents can’t spy on us here in Generasi, but one never knows. Other than that, make sure any steps you take aren’t discovered, and do what you can to help solve this puzzle.”
And so, Alex had come to Val’Rok, hoping the professor could shed some light on their mystery.
“Huh,” Val’Rok mused. “Where… did you get this?”
“A ruin in Thameland,” Alex said, his words carefully chosen again. “But that’s not exactly for public knowledge.”
“Understood, understood. This will stay between us, but…” Val’Rok whistled. “You have found something very interesting. This could be an incredible artefact.”
Alex leaned forward. “Is there some new technique in there? Something that could advance mana manipulation?”
“Hmmmm, possibly,” Val’Rok said. “I won’t know for sure until I run a few experiments… but I think you might have found an example of Convergent Development.”
“What’s that?” Alex said excitedly.
“Ah, they didn’t teach you that in magic lore, ye—Oh right, you’re not even in your third year yet. Well, you’ll learn about it soon enough, but here’s a little preview in the meantime.” Val’Rok flipped through the papers, an absent note in his voice.
“When one studies history, especially the history of technological or magical development,” he began, “it can be tempting to see it as a linear pattern of discovery that eventually culminates in modern knowledge. Millennia ago, mortals used sticks and stones to hunt beasts for meat. Then one day, someone develops bronze, which spreads, and soon, everyone is using bronze. We had no boats, then one day someone invents a boat, the knowledge spreads, then everyone has boats.”
He looked at Alex. “We have no mana manipulation techniques until someone invents them, then we have mana manipulation techniques. Your textbooks are filled with that way of viewing knowledge. They all start with: this particular dead wizard discovered this particular technique, and here’s how their discoveries—blah, blah, blah.”
“Huh, they do word things that way, don’t they?” Alex mused.
“And for good reason,” Professor Val’Rok said. “Listen, the act of crediting researchers, scholars, or even artists is relatively new. In the past, no one credited inventors. We have no idea who discovered the original first-tier spell, who invented the wheel, or the first water pump. None. People did things to make their own lives easier, then others would copy them and that would be that. Now, we try to credit discoverers. There is, however, a problem with this.”
Val’Rok put the notes down. “It creates a false perception of history. That’s why historiography—which is the study of historical accounts—is so important. Did you ever hear of King Ivanuil in your studies?”
“Yeah, he was an ancient Irtyshenan king,” Alex said. “He was credited with being a grand sponsor of one of the first teams of court alchemists in history, and he pretty much popularised that practice among a lot more monarchs.”
Val’Rok chuckled. “And that’s what your modern textbook says.”
“And what did they say before that?” Alex raised his eyebrows.
“Three centuries ago, the textbooks reported that King Ivaniul was an incredibly monstrous tyrant who kept a slave chamber of sorceresses and sorcerers, all of whom he had his way with, and who were made to work on alchemy for him and his glory until the day they dropped dead.”
“Oh… oh!” Alex clued in. “I take it that the old textbooks used a false source, while the new ones are written using more reliable sources?”
“Exactly!” Val’Rok exclaimed. “The original accounts came from a trusted historian of the time, but!” The lizardfolk raised a clawed finger. “That ‘trusted’ historian was paid by one of King Ivanuil’s political adversaries—in what’s now the core of the empire—to make up an account that would historically embarrass the king. When this political opponent overthrew Ivanuil, this account was spread, which made it into older textbooks.”
“Right, right…” Alex said. “And then another source was found?”
“Yes, there was an archeological discovery made two centuries ago—memoirs from several of the surviving alchemists of Ivanuil’s court—which painted him as a kind and ambitious sponsor. Of course, more investigations were launched, including confirmations made through several long-lived individuals who’d been present at court at the time. And lo and behold! Something that—we hope—is closer to the truth came out. So you see, history as we know it isn’t a linear series of discovery and other events: it’s the chronicle of winners.”
He picked up a wingless fly from the dish. “If this fly could speak, what would it say about us? I imagine that to this lovely little morsel, I would be the cruel monster consuming it and all of its friends in sheer gluttony, while it was just a poor innocent creature. To me, it’s a mild pest and moderately bland source of food, and I’m simply a hungry professor.”
With a crunch, Val’Rok bit down on the fly, swallowing it. “And now?” He tapped his belly. “Now I’m the only one who gets to tell the story! And forevermore, the fly is a mild pest and I am simply a hungry professor.”
Alex thought about all the historical accounts of Thameland that the church had provided, and the number of omissions he’d become aware of. Having that context in mind, Val’Rok’s points made too much sense to the young wizard. “So what’s this have to do with those notes?”
“Well, the thing about discovery is that it’s not linear. It appears so when looking back, but it’s not. Take boats for instance. It’s likely that boats weren’t invented by one person and then spread. It’s more likely that boats were invented all across the world—completely separately—by different cultures. Someone from every civilization near water probably looked at the sea at some point and said, ‘Huh, how do I cross that?’”
“So different people tried to solve the same problem and came up with similar answers, but only the most popular answers got recorded in textbooks?”
“Precisely!” Val’Rok clapped. “For simplicity’s sake, you see, that’s not really taught in first or second year, and only touched upon in fourth year. Students need to learn the foundations of modern wizardry before they begin exploring similar, often half-finished methods that were condemned to the graveyard of history.”
“And those mana manipulation techniques…” Alex squinted at the notes. “You think they’re similar to some of our modern techniques, but approach problems slightly differently?”
“Exactly,” Professor Val’Rok said. “At least that’s my theory from just a cursory examination. Most of the symbols in this method seem to have been invented by the alchemist who crafted it, so I can’t be one hundred percent certain. That’s what it looks like to me, at any rate. The problem with techniques like these is that they use a slightly different methodology to accomplish similar goals, but modern alchemy is built on the methods that we already know well. Therefore, most advanced mana manipulation techniques would be largely incompatible with an old, dead-end theory such as this.”
Alex’s heartbeat suddenly sounded like a drum beating in his ears.
Kelda.
“Professor… what would happen if someone tried to, I don’t know, recreate a magical artefact. But they only had access to our modern alchemical techniques, while the magical artefact was created by an old convergently developed technique like in those notes?”
Val’Rok’s face turned grim. “If there are enough incompatibilities between the two? The results could be catastrophic. Quite catastrophic.”
Alex suddenly had a disturbing idea that could explain why Kelda’s soul was obliterated when she’d tried to change her Mark.
Chapter 18
The Slap
Convergent development.
A phenomenon where two different individuals or groups craft a similar—but different—solution to try to solve the same problem.
Two cultures who live near large bodies of water might produce slightly different designs for boats.
On the surface, the vessels could appear similar—both would be made of wood, concave in shape, and able to float—but the differences were very important.
A boat developed by folk from a riverside village might have a flat bottom so it could be easily poled through shallow waters near river banks. A society living near the sea would need larger boats with deep hulls and keels to let them move through the ocean waves. On one level, they would both be boats, but they were developed using slightly different principles for the same purpose, while serving similar, yet different needs.
The deep-hulled boat would run aground if placed in a shallow river, while a flat-bottomed boat would quickly capsize on a wave-racked sea. And, adding to their designs wouldn’t solve those issues. Putting sails on a flat-bottomed vessel could never make it any less likely to capsize.
‘In a way, Kelda probably tried to add sails to a flat-bottomed boat,’ he thought. ‘Uldar made the Marks, and any methods of alchemy or divinity he used were his own invention. Kelda didn’t have access to his notes, so whatever plans she came up with to fix her Mark would’ve been based on modern techniques, which would be different from Uldar’s. It seems that she tried to add sails to a flat-bottomed boat then take it out to sea.’
His heart stung. If he was right, then Kelda destroyed her soul without understanding that she was missing something crucial. Whatever method she could have ever come up with would never have worked without Uldar’s original notes. Every bit of magical knowledge she’d have access to would have been incompatible.
Despite trying her best, she never stood a chance.
Alex looked back on his life, thinking how fortunate he’d been in many ways.
Sure, there’d been lots of times he’d considered himself the unluckiest man in Thameland; his parents had died without warning, and he’d been working for one of the nastiest men in all of Alric. And as soon as the opportunity he’d been wanting for most of his life had come along—an opportunity that meant freedom and the chance to immerse himself in a world of magic—he’d been Marked as Uldar’s Fool.
Back then, it felt like bad luck was shadowing his every footstep.
Yet, in other ways? His good fortune had been remarkable.
If he hadn’t run into Cedric in Coille forest, he most likely would have reached the coast, been immediately grabbed, and be rotting away in some Ravener-spawn nest somewhere in the Thameish countryside. If Cedric hadn’t left the priests behind and headed out on his own and cleared the Cave of the Traveller of silence-spider soldiers, then he, Theresa, Selina, and Brutus wouldn’t have been able to use it.
The hive-queen’s attack had seemed like terrible luck at the time, but if they hadn’t come across her, then he would have never discovered the secret of the dungeon cores.
When Carey was kidnapped by those priests, he couldn’t have imagined anything positive coming from such evil actions, yet, it was because of them that they found the hidden arm of the church, Uldar’s Rise, the sanctum of the dead god, and Carey found her way to Hannah.
And without that?
He wouldn’t have known about the Mark of the General.
They would never have known about Uldar’s notes.
And without those, he wouldn’t have any hope of transforming his Mark.
