TWBFHA 01

Chapter 01: The Fool and the Inheritance

The worst days almost always start with a perfectly pleasant morning.

“You’re fired! I’ll cut you loose! Pack your things and get out of my shop! If I ever see you again, I swear on Uldar’s beard, I’ll—”

Baker MacHarris was bellowing, his face a furious red. A fine morning indeed.

Alex Roth stood frozen at the epicenter of the disaster. Shelves had toppled, eggs were smashed, and flour drifted like snow across the center of the bakery. He coughed awkwardly, dusting white powder from his brown hair.

“So I’m not getting paid for this week?”

MacHarris’s face grew even redder.

“Of course you’re not getting paid for today! But you worked two days, so you owe me two silvers.”

MacHarris made a choked, sputtering sound, then stomped through the wreckage. He jammed a key into the strongbox, flung it open, and tossed two silver coins straight at Alex’s chest. They thudded to the flour-dusted floor before Alex could catch them. MacHarris snatched up his rolling pin.

“Take it and get out! I’m only giving you this so I don’t get called a swindler, don’t get it twisted! If you’re not gone, I’ll shove those silvers between your teeth!”

Alex knew MacHarris’s anger wasn’t just bluster. He shucked his apron and quickly bent to retrieve the coins. Sniffing near the broken eggs, he caught the sulphurous smell he’d suspected that morning. Keeping his expression blank, he shot up and scrambled toward the exit at the front of the shop.

“Boy!”

MacHarris scratched his head.
“What in the world got into you? You’ve been the quickest and cleverest helper I’ve ever had, but today you’ve been acting like a bull with half its brains missing. You need to keep your wits about you if you’re going to raise your little sister right!”

Alex paused, his hand on the door. That was new. MacHarris paid well, but ruled his helpers with an iron fist. Alex’s arm still bore a bruise from being struck days ago for stirring custard too slowly.

“Well, sir,” Alex shrugged, fighting a smile that threatened to break through, “maybe it’s just a special kind of day?”

Before MacHarris could retort, Alex closed the door and was gone.

When Alex stepped out of the bakery, the town of Alric was just waking. Sunlight filtered through hazy clouds as villagers trudged past the central fountain with their day’s tools and lunches. The scents of baking bread and simmering porridge wafted from nearby windows. Two proud-looking horses pulled a carriage clattering down the cobbled street from the other end of the road. Emblazoned on its door was a lantern-shaped crest—the ‘Traveler’s Sigil,’ the town’s patron saint.

As the carriage passed, Alex spotted two guards sitting by the fountain, eyes bloodshot from the night shift, frowning at his leisurely approach.

“Morning, Peter. Morning, Paul.”

Alex made a point of using their names. Remembering details about people made it easier to win them over—a trick he’d learned over four years of scraping for every coin.

“I’ve got something to report.”

Peter looked up, scratching his rough, stubbled jaw. Alex was a noticeable youth—tall, lanky, and thin.

“Get caught in a blizzard, kid? It’s high summer.”
“Nah, you idiot, it’s flour,” Paul shook his head, studying the flour-covered Alex. “Can’t you recognize one of MacHarris’s helpers? Oh, saints, to be stuck on night shift with a blind man.”
“Alex… right? Of the Roth family? What’s the report?”

The name ‘Roth’ made his heart sink, but Alex kept his face neutral. Even the deepest wounds faded with time. He pointed a firm thumb back at the bakery.

“MacHarris is using rotten eggs in his cakes and covering them in sugar to sell. Someone could really get sick.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, picked up his helmet, dusted it off, and put it on.
“That’s… a guild violation, not really a crime.”
“I doubt the merchants or nobles who shop there would take it lightly. And you’d have time to get to the guild before MacHarris destroys the evidence.”

Alex held up his two flour-dusted silvers.
“This isn’t a bribe. It’s just… if you take a quick look, it helps the citizens, and you each get a silver. You’re tired, you want to go home. But a quick sniff over there earns you a third of a day’s wage. Even if you find nothing, you keep the coin. Fair?”

Peter and Paul looked at each other. Then Peter shook his head.
“Alex, is this how you offer a bribe?”

Alex’s confident smile faltered.
“Wh—no, it’s not a bribe, it’s—”
“You’re paying us to do a job. That’s a bribe. And bribing us for something you might not even get? That’s stupid.”
“Worst attempt I’ve ever seen.”

Paul grumbled, pushing himself up from the fountain’s edge.
“But I’ll admire the stupid courage it took to try bribing us so badly. We’ll take a look. Would be a headache if some high-up turned green and collapsed. Come on, Peter.”

Watching the guards head toward MacHarris’s, Alex barely contained his excitement. He remembered to hide his smile when Paul glanced back.
“And don’t ever do that again. Get caught bribing a guardsman, it’s ten lashes. Got it?”

Alex nodded vigorously, giving a thumbs-up.
“I’ll be a good citizen from now on, guardsmen!”

Paul shook his head.
“Really, what is wrong with you?”
He gestured to the statue standing over the fountain.

“Keep acting the fool, and you’ll get the Fool’s Mark for real. You need to be a dependable big brother for your sister.”

“Don’t worry, Paul. I’ve got a plan,” Alex said. “Thanks for your concern. You’re good men.”
“Setting youths on the right path is a guardsman’s duty, isn’t it?” Paul puffed out his chest, a subconscious habit. “Anyway, run along. If you’re right, this could get noisy. Oh, and happy birthday, Alex. Eighteen… a meaningful number. Keep those coins, get yourself something.”

Alex blinked. He was right. Remembering details did make one feel more friendly. He actually felt much warmer toward Paul now. He’d have to do something for him later.

After I become a real wizard, of course.

Alex ducked behind the fountain, watching the guards enter the bakery. He snorted when MacHarris’s despairing wail came through the window, then giggled outright at the sound of something shattering. Of all the desserts he’d ever had from MacHarris’s, revenge was the sweetest.

“Serves you right, you old monster. That’s for every helper you’ve ever bullied.”

He laughed, tossing his final wages into the fountain. Truthfully, from the moment the sun rose today, he no longer needed MacHarris’s money.

Alex offered a silent prayer of thanks before the ‘Hero’s Fountain,’ one of many such monuments across the kingdom of Thameland. He thanked the massive, muscular form of the Champion for courage. He thanked the stern, bespectacled Sage for wisdom. He thanked the gentle Saint for mercy. Finally, he thanked the handsome Chosen for fortune and blessings.

And beside the four hero statues stood one more, conspicuously distinct.
An ugly—grotesque, even—sculpture. A disgustingly misshapen jaw, bulging eyes, a nose bent like a gourd stem. It wore a ridiculous jester’s cap and was uniquely streaked with bird droppings.

The last and least of the Heroes. The Fool.

Few who received the Fool’s Mark were remembered in legend. Most died, disappeared, or even betrayed their companions. According to all the teachers, the Fool was useless to anyone. A token, a formality in the hero’s party. Uldar’s prophecies called the Fool ‘necessary,’ but history said otherwise.

So Alex offered the Fool’s statue only one thing: empathy. He knew all too well what a struggling life was like.

But those days were over now.

Nine pounds. Precisely measured down to the ounce by the magistrate.
Exactly four hundred and fifty gold coins.

This was all that remained of the Roth family fortune after their alehouse had burned down. The estate—his parents’ inheritance—had been held in trust by the town, legally bound until the eldest son came of age. Now that Alex was eighteen, everything belonged to him and his sister.

Earning this much as MacHarris’s helper would have taken at least twelve years of unbroken work. Considering his reality of juggling the bakery and the Lu family’s inn, it could have taken over thirty.

All those years of labor, all his parents had built, now hung in a heavy burlap sack over his bony shoulder. It was hard to believe four years had passed since he lost them. With each step toward the inn, the weight of the sack and the loss pressed down on him. Guilt, excitement, regret, relief—a storm of emotions made him pray desperately to Uldar to bring his family back, not for the cold coins. Still, this gold would give him and his sister a better life.

Turning the corner onto his street, Alex squinted. The sun was setting. He’d spent the whole day wrestling paperwork at the magistrate’s office—more documents than he’d ever seen at church or school. Then he’d visited his parents’ graves.

Now to return to the inn and tell the Lu family about my plans.

His heart soared.

The inn stood guard on a corner at the street’s end. Always busy due to its location near the town center, it had been home to Alex and his sister since they were orphaned. The Lu couple were warm and kind, and much of Alex’s childhood had been spent with their daughter, Theresa.

Alric grew quiet after sundown. Firewood and candles were expensive, so people let the darkness fall, leaving the town gloomy by evening. Still, this street usually held light the longest.

‘The Bear’s Bowl’ tavern should have been spilling out drunk farmhands ready to brawl by now. Instead, the building was dark and silent. So was the Lu family inn. This time of evening, it should have been glowing with light and laughter from finishing diners. Now, only a faint glimmer showed through the shutters. No sound of patrons.

Alex swallowed and quickened his pace, almost running to the entrance. His footsteps echoed on the cobbles, the coins in his sack jingling. Moonlight spilled over him, making the night air feel suddenly colder.

He reached the inn’s door and pulled the iron ring firmly.
It didn’t open. The door was barred.

“Hello?”

Alex raised his voice, feeling a chill creep up his spine. The street behind him felt unfamiliar and threatening. He clutched the inheritance sack to his chest.

Bang! Bang, bang!

He pounded on the door.

“Uncle Lu? Theresa? Selina?”

Rapid footsteps sounded inside. The bar scraped back. A thin hand wrenched the door open.

“Alex!”

Mistress Lu cried out. Her face was a portrait of tearful relief as she pulled him into a tight, fierce hug.

“Get inside, quickly!”
“What? What’s happening?”

Instead of answering, she pulled him inside with superhuman strength, slammed the door shut, threw the bar back in place, and dragged him down the hallway.

Alex looked around in confusion as they entered the common hall. From somewhere deeper in the inn came a frantic, pounding noise.