Mark of the Fool C.832: Fruition

Isolde von Anmut turned beet red before turning pale. Her hands shook. Her body tensed.

She looked to the sky, eyes fixed on the clouds to steady herself before returning her attention to the stage.

The young noblewoman took a deep breath, rose to her full height and stepped forward, and without hesitating, took another step.

Isolde climbed the steps with all the grace and nobility she could muster, then walked across the stage like a queen, lowering her head to Baelin. “Chancellor.”

“I gladly receive this honour,” her voice was clear.

“Isolde von Anmut, you have graduated with distinction, and are awarded your degree,” the chancellor said as Hobb handed her the electrum tablet and gold medal. “Your dedication, endless focus, and discipline have brought you the highest honours. Your great effort has earned you this degree, and also provided you with the opportunity to close our graduation ceremony. Will you accept this honour?”

“I will,” Isolde said.

“Then it is time for the old to yield the stage to the young,” Baelin said as he and Hobb prepared to go to their seats among the faculty. “You may begin when you are ready.”

Isolde drew another deep breath, and took her place at the podium. She laid her tablet and medal on the surface of the transparent stand.

The wind fell silent.

The crowd soon followed.

All eyes were on her.

And hers took in everyone gathered.

She gripped the sides of the podium and began.

“When I was approached about this honour, some months ago, I was unsure as to whether to accept it or not,” she said, her clear voice cutting through the demiplane. “I have been told that much of the purpose of the valedictorian is to end things on a lighter note, to shatter the pomp of an ancient ceremony with the ‘pep’ and humour of youth.”

She sighed. “I must confess that I have mastered many subjects while at Generasi: alchemy and lightning magic are among them…but humour is not. And with dread, I fear—that by the time this ceremony ends—you may all be dead of boredom from my monotonous words.”

Isolde smiled at her little joke—almost shyly. Thankfully, the crowd laughed, not mockingly, but encouragingly.

Her smile turned grateful.

“Since humour is not one of my strengths, rather than trying to end things on a light note, I would like to speak of our experiences at the university, instead,” she continued. “I have put pressure on myself trying to sum up my own feelings, and experiences, and hoping to somehow turn those into a representative speech for our graduating class. I found this to be an impossible task, because—in the end—my experiences are my own. They are unique to me, and cannot be changed or moulded to encompass the university experience of all the other esteemed graduates here. I also thought to quote ancient wizards and philosophers, and structure my speech around one of their ideas.”

She turned to Baelin. “But I am sure that the chancellor has met a good many of them and is older than the rest.”

Isolde looked back to the audience. “I was then left with the one thing that does unite us all, because it is both unique, shared and undecided: and that is our futures.”

Alex paid rapt attention.

“Recently, I was asked what my plans were for my future once I graduate, and I said that I would continue to walk the same path that I had chosen long ago. But, later, I found myself wondering how I had been able to answer so easily. After all, I have changed a lot in many ways over the course of my time at Generasi because of my experiences…” She gestured to the others graduating with her. “…as have the rest of you. We are here now, transformed by our experiences, and if we had remained the same people that we were four years ago, then something must have gone wrong, and time would have stood still for us to have stagnated in such a manner.”

Isolde placed her hand over her heart, smiling. “Our experiences at the university have differed: some of us have loved, others have had their hearts broken, some have given their trust, others have had it shattered, some have fought monsters—such as the demons at Oreca’s Fall—and been changed by it. All differing experiences. Yet, some of our experiences did not differ: we have all learned, we have all fought—whether in lab, against monsters or in our extraordinary library—we have triumphed, and we have failed.”

The graduating class nodded along.

“In four years, many of us have lived more eventful lives than others will experience from bassinet to tombstone. So how could we not be changed by that? And we will continue to change in the future…so I asked myself, what gave the me of today the confidence to stay on the same path that the me of four years ago had decided to take?” she asked. “After all, I—and the rest of our graduating class—now have the power and knowledge to become either saviours or tyrants.”

Whispers raced through the crowd.

“For myself, after much self-examination, I came to the conclusion that what kept me firmly on that one path was a simple concept: ‘responsibility’. And I believe that concept applies to all of us.”

“Please understand that I do not mean responsibility always matches great power. It does not: being powerful does not mean that we are responsible for the fate of the world. However, I do believe that we have a responsibility to ourselves, to magic, and to those who place their hopes in us.”

She gestured to the guests. “Like those who have come here to support us in our hour of triumph. They have watched us grow, as we were nurtured by the greatest university of wizardry in the world. And what does it mean to be the ‘greatest university of wizardry’? We have all accepted that designation as fact—it is a commonly used moniker for our institution—but have we truly examined why Generasi has been blessed with this lofty title?”

She gestured to the faculty. “Could it be the greatest because it has the foremost magical research departments in the world? Or is it that our faculty includes some of the most knowledgeable and powerful masters of wizardry ever to draw breath?”

Isolde gestured to the demiplane. “Is it because of the sheer wealth, power and knowledge within the institution? Is it due to the grand library and all the many spells contained within it? Is it due to the service that the university provides to the city? I believe that while the university does in fact have the greatest research departments, faculty, knowledge and power of any educational institution in the world—”

Cheers rose from the graduating class.

“—I am of the opinion that it is called the ‘greatest university of wizardry in the world’, because it produces the greatest wizards in the world!”

The cheers turned to deafening applause, spreading to guests and faculty alike.

Isolde waited for the din to die down before continuing.

“Historically, there have been archwizards, great heroes, inventors, pioneers and more who have graduated from our institution and gone on to do great things…and now, we twenty-nine begin similar journeys. And that is where our responsibility begins. The university had a responsibility to us: to make us the greatest wizards we could be. And now, we have the responsibility to continue being the greatest wizards we can be.”

She gestured to herself. “We may not be responsible for the world, but our respected colleagues, the university, and our loved ones are calling on us to meet and exceed our potential going forward. If we do not, then we can never be relied upon by our cabals, our subordinates and our loved ones. With the sort of power we now wield, an abdication of responsibility can lead to the most dire of consequences for hundreds or even thousands.”

Isolde looked down at her degree, smiling. She raised it above her head, turning it toward the audience. “With all its rights, privileges and obligations. That’s what this degree says. And it is fitting. As graduating wizards of Generasi, we have rights bestowed upon us through the qualifications represented in this degree. We have privileges granted by the power that we have accrued through our time studying there. But, obligations? That word stands out to me. There are no obligations stated for us, so what can this mean?”

Isolde faced her fellow graduates. “Magic is both chaotic and ordered: yet,we have a responsibility to it. We are Proper Wizards after all, and must act as such at all times. For me, I will keep to my path, because I have a responsibility to myself, my family, and to magic, and I will dedicate much of my life to advancing them all.”

She raised her voice. “So, I will conclude with this, my fellow graduates! Be grand! Be powerful! Be responsible! For what good is power for its own sake, if it has no purpose to fulfil? You must find that purpose to continue to be great! Do not become the sword rusting above the mantle! Go forth, and show the world why we are great! It is our time to shine: so keep your word, use your magic, take responsibility for your actions, do not let your skills grow dusty, and live to be the greatest you can be! I know, I will! Congratulations to my fellow graduates, and thank you for your time. Let us build our legacies, starting today.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

The demiplane was silent for a time, then all erupted in thunderous applause.

Isolde smiled sweetly as the graduating class leapt from their seats, enthusiastically clapping and cheering.

Alex clapped emphatically. “Awesome job! Isolde! Aaaaawwwesome!”

He was not the only one.

“Yeeeeaaaah!” Thundar roared.

“Well done! Well done!” Khalik’s deep voice called.

“That was sharp, Isolde! As sharp as a knife! Fantastic!” Theresa shouted.

“Well…done…Isolde!” Claygon’s deep voice joined the others.

And finally, louder than all the rest…

“Ya was amazin’, Isolde!” Cedric’s voice cut through the others, loud and proud. “Y’made m’heart sing!”

The faculty on stage stood, joining the others in celebration.

Isolde blushed, mouthing a quick thank you as Baelin stepped up beside her at the podium.

“Thank you, for your wise insights, Isolde,” the chancellor said.

“Thank you for the opportunity,” the young noblewoman bowed to him before leaving the stage.

The applause grew louder.

She looked relieved and pleased, her face flushing pink.

The chancellor took his place back at the podium. “A fine speech by our valedictorian, and one that I hope all of our graduates—and the rest of us—take to heart. Now, in conclusion, if the graduates would please line up in front of your guests.”

Alex and the rest of the graduating class moved to where their guests were seated, forming a single row before family and friends.

“We present to you…our graduating class!” Baelin shouted. “Graduates, please take a bow and throw your hats in the air!”

Alex, Isolde and the rest of the graduates, took a deep bow.

The guests cheered.

The class removed their hats and tossed them in the air. Enthusiastic applause swelled, growing louder as the conical hats soared high above them.

And remained there.

They began to glow, the illumination increasing, becoming blazing stars. And as one, twenty-nine new wizard’s hats transformed, shooting further into the endless blue sky.

“This is my favourite part,” Baelin announced, waving his hand.

The sun flared, then promptly dimmed, veiling the demiplane in shadow… Yet, not falling into complete darkness.

Suddenly, thousands of stars winked to life, all twinkling in time. The spheres of light that were once the graduating class’ hats soared through the air, joining the countless others that had come before them, taking their place among the demiplane’s constellations.

“Twenty-nine new stars,” Baelin said. “All being welcomed by thousands of past graduates who have taken this journey before you. And, I say once more: congratulations, to all of you. We look forward to seeing what you will do next. What wonders and horrors you will work, and what responsibilities will move you forward.”

“Ya was bloody great up there!” Cedric said to Isolde as the graduates went to mingle with their friends and families.

The area around the stands was overflowing with joy, hugs and laughter, as well as a river of happy tears as graduates both celebrated, and were celebrated, while everyone waited for Baelin to transport them back to the material world. Isolde had been heading for her family when Cedric broke from the crowd, touching her arm.

“Thank you, Cedric.” She smiled warmly. “I appreciate that.”

“Aye, well I’s jus’ callin’ it as I sees it.” He was adjusting his shirt as though it was attempting to strangle him. “You—”

“Oh, stop it.”

He stopped speaking. “Wazzat?”

“Stop shifting about like an animal caught in a trap!” Isolde gestured to his shirt.

“Oh, aye, sorry.” He winced, quickly letting go of the garment, which clung to his body like a snare around a beast. “Ya gots t’ fergive me, I ain't used t’ wearin’ one o’ these. But, I'll leave it be.”

“I am not telling you to ‘leave it be’,” Isolde said. “I am telling you to take it off.”

Cedric and a number of people around them grew quiet.

Eyebrows rose.

The Chosen spat, “Wazzat?” He cupped a hand to his ear. “Is been pretty loud ‘round here, so I's thinkin’ I din’a hear y’right.”

“I said, take off that shirt, Cedric.” She folded her arms on her chest.

“What? Y’sure?” He looked around. Eyebrows were shooting up faster than the graduation caps when they shot through the sky. “In a place like this? Ya sure y’r not gonna b’embarrassed by…a friend…walkin’ ‘round wit’out’ no shirt on?”

“How could I ever be embarrassed by you?” Isolde moved close to him. Very close. “You are one of the bravest, most honourable, and lovely human beings I have ever met.”

She grabbed the hem of his shirt. “Now lift your arms up.”

“O-oh, aye?” He did.

Isolde gripped his tunic and pulled it over his shoulders and head, revealing the woad tattoos and sculpted musculature of his torso. She finished pulling the shirt off, folded it, and handed it to him, nodding as she looked at the Mark of the Chosen on his chest.

“That is much better.” She reached up, fixing his long, red hair. “You look like you, now.”

“I’d b’ lyin’ if I’n I said I wasn’ feelin’ better now.” Cedric gave her that beautiful smile of his, his gold tooth gleaming like a star. In someone’s else’s mouth she would have found it uncouth.

Cedric made it look positively royal.

She couldn’t help but smile back. “Thank you for coming today,” she said. “Honestly, I would have been…distraught if you were not here to see me graduate.”

“Aye, an’ also hear th’ speech o’ yorn all ‘bout responsibility an’ greatness an’ th’ like,” Cedric said. “Was a damned good speech: an’ true too. We do gots a responsibility t’be our best selves.” He touched the Mark on his chest. “Don’ I knows that better’n most.”

“Indeed,” she said. “I was thinking of you, Alex and the other Heroes when I wrote the earlier versions of that speech. Your responsibilities are crushing, and contradictory…and your responsibility to a divine plan and your realm often trample all over your responsibilities to yourselves, but you do what you have to anyway.”

“S’good way o’ puttin’ it,” Cedric agreed. “Jus’ glad things din’a turn out a lot worse. If’n…” He blushed, his expression clouding. “If’n I’d found out ‘bout Alex early on…if’n I’d learned who ‘e was back when we firs’ met in th’ Coille forest, or—even worse—if’n I’d ‘a found out when we was all meetin’ in Greymoor for th’first time…I woulda had t’bring ‘im t’Ussex t’them priests. But…m’ responsibility t’doin’ what was right woulda tol’ me t’leave ‘im well enough alone.”

The Chosen’s frown deepened. “There was a time where I caught a rogue from the king’s delegation sneakin’ about. Didn’t think much o’ it at th’time—just thot’ ‘e was som’ bloody nosey bastard, spyin’ an’ tryin’ t’ruin things between our kingdom an’ all o’ yous—but now that I’s lookin’ back, I’s thinkin’ th’bastard might’a been one o’ them you-know-whos. Makes me wonder wha’ woulda happened if I’d spoke up back then.”

“Your responsibilities to your kingdom warred with your responsibility to your new friends,” Isolde said. “The fact that you think on that situation, and that it troubles you, is admirable: it shows that you take both responsibilities seriously. You take all of your responsibilities seriously.”

She stepped closer again. “It is one of the things that I find so enchanting about you, Cedric of Clan Duncan. You try your best and show dedication in everything that you do.”

“I show dedication?” Cedric scoffed. “Yer th’ one that’s bloody dedicated. Y’put hard work inta yer duties at school. Y’put in work on th’expedition ta’ m’homeland, an’ y’train t’be one helluva lightnin’ mage. You put in th’work in everythin’ y’do. It’s…one o’ the things I liked abou’ ya from th’ firs’time I met ya.”

Isolde moved closer still. “So tell me Cedric, what are your plans for after the war?”

He paled, then blushed. “I was thinkin’ there’d be lots t’do, t’make right what's been wrong fer so long. The Ravener’s wrecked so much o’ Thameland.”

“And after that?” Isolde asked.

“Pffft, o’ I dunno.” The Chosen shrugged. “Time was, I thought I’d just be another warrior for the clan. A good fighter, helpin’ m’people. Protectin’ an’ all that. But after all I's been through…all I’s seen…I dunno. Ya said how ya stuck on your path ‘cause o’ responsibility, aye? Not sure if m’clan really needs me about…an’ m’heart’s leadin’ me elsewhere.”

“And where does your heart lead you?” Isolde asked, reaching into a pocket in her robes.

“Well…it does…I dunno if’n t’say it here an’ now…”

“Why not?” she asked archly.

“Cause I’s kinda scared, that…” He looked at her, distress plain in his eyes. “That maybe a great lump like me don’ deserve what m’heart’s wantin’. But if I did get it, I’d do everythin’—an’ I means everythin’—t’ b’ the bes’ man fer it. I’d b’ th’ bes’ version o’ Cedric of Clan Duncan, Chosen o’ Thameland, I cud ever b’. Anyways, I’d bes’ get goin’, I knows y’ gots yer family t’talk wit’, so I bes’ b’ on m’way ’fore I takes up all yer time.”

“Oh, by the elements, stay right there!” She pulled the small wooden box from her robes—the one that had been sitting on her dressing table earlier. “Lean down.”

To Cedric’s credit, though wide-eyed, he didn’t protest.

He simply leaned down.

Around them, the curious grew quieter.

Isolde did not care.

She reached around Cedric's neck, hooking a clasp behind it.

“What's this?” he asked, touching his neck.

A new necklace circled his neck: from its chain of pure platinum hung a wondrous jewelled pendant with four facets of different colours.Inside the green facet, vines lay frozen within the gem. In the red, a spark of fire danced. Water swirled in the blue one. Lightning flashed in the white.

“It’s a Stone of Four Elements, and it comes from one of the four Elemental Mountains in the Rhinean Empire,” Isolde said. “It contains the elements of all four mountains, in a single gem. The jewel is meant to protect you from fire, lightning, cold and drowning, as well as keep you steady on the earth. That is what tradition says. Among the Rhinean nobility, it is a gift given to those most precious to us. And by precious—”

She cleared her throat, aware that many eyes were on her.

“—I do mean that romantically. I wish to court you, Cedric of Clan Duncan. I hope that we can have each other.”

Silence fell over everyone within listening distance.

Cedric shouted, “Yes!” suddenly pumping his fists toward the heavens as though the Traveller herself had blessed him. With the cheer of a man who’d found a treasure that’d he long searched for, he sprang forward, caught Isolde around her waist with both hands—by the elements, he was strong—and raised her above his head as though she weighed nothing.

“Cedric! Cedriiiiic!” she cried, desperately trying to hide her face from the crowd. She could not hide from their whistling and laughter, though. Laughing, the Chosen spun her while holding her high above him.

“Ceeeedriiiiic!” she screamed, laughing.

“Brings me great shame t’think ya had t’make th’ first move.” Cedric brought her close. Dangerously close. His eyes seemed to be her whole world.

“So let me make th’ second one, at least. I'd love t’ kiss ya right now, Isolde,” he said.

The ‘yes’ was out of her mouth before she could stop her runaway, treacherous brain.

Too late, she remembered her parents.

But then their lips were touching.

And she wasn’t thinking about anything else.

A massive cheer erupted around them. She recognised Grimloch’s voice, Khalik’s, Alex’s and Thundar’s. Svenia and Hogarth’s cheering was loudest of all.

When her and Cedric’s lips finally parted—he still held her above him—he smiled that gold-toothed smile.

“Hey,” he said.

“H-hello,” she whispered, then froze.

She slowly turned as she felt eyes burning into her.

Standing very near was her family.

Her father looked mortified.

Her grandfather was unreadable.

Her mother was even paler than usual. She opened her mouth to speak, “Isolde…why are you grappling with a shirtless man at your graduation?”

Isolde von Anmut quite nearly used Planar Doorway right then and there.

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