by Pirateaba
“That was a secret, my inquisitive friend. A state secret, so pretend you didn’t hear it if you know what’s best. Your Highness, you know you shouldn’t speak of such things. I understand you’re worried, but all will be well.”
She doesn’t look convinced. I don’t know what the hell’s going on, so I draw the Fool away. He tosses her one of his juggling balls to keep her company as he whispers in my ear.
“What the young Princess is referring to is a strategic decision the [King] came up with two days ago. With the exception of a few foreign regiments and the king’s own guard, every soldier has been deployed to the Fourth Wall. In preparation for an upcoming battle.”
“Sounds serious.”
He grimaces.
“No more than any battle is in Rhir. But it is a tactical decision. And one that cannot be shared, you understand? No one knows about this, save for the King and his advisors. And me, of course.”
“You?”
“Because of her.”
He nods at the Princess.
“Oh.”
The Fool’s eyes are sad as he looks at the young girl. She’s dropped the ball and bends down to get it. Then she catches herself and does some kind of curtsey instead. She snatches the ball back up, and begins tossing it up again.
“If she says something, Mister Tom, it’s because she’s worried. The [Princess] understands war, I’m afraid. And his Majesty, the wise and tragic King of the Blighted Kingdom…does not understand how much his children hear, I am afraid.”
“Oh.”
“Quite. Now, do help me get her back to the castle.”
He leads me back, pretending to scold me out loud.
“I keep telling you, broken bones are a sign of comedy, young Tom. We’ll make a proper [Fool] of you yet. If not that, I’m sure you’ll be a fine [Idiot]. And you should not be wandering around unattended, your royal highness.”
He pretends to be stern. The [Princess] frowns and stamps a foot.
“I don’t like my guards. I left them.”
“And it is a fine joke to leave an escort of trained warriors behind by yourself. But I see someone’s not amused by your tricks.”
He turns and points. I turn. How do I not see people coming up from behind? Now I see another young woman, the same one who was sitting by the Blighted King yesterday.
“Your Highness.”
The Fool bows to Princess Isodore. I do too, clumsily. She stares at me and the Fool, giving me a frown, the Fool an exasperated look, and the young Princess a stern one.
“Where have you been? Your guards are searching for you in a panic. Nereshal was about to scry around for you!”
“He can’t scry me if I’m wearing this!”
The young Princess raises a ring triumphantly. She’s wearing two. Isodore glares at her half-sister.
“He can comb the area, and he will if you don’t come back. And if he does, he’ll be angry and Father will know about it.”
“I don’t want to go back! I want to learn to backflip!”
The [Princess] hides behind the Fool and me like any kid her age. Only she’s royalty and Isodore’s not alone. A group of men and women in armor rush out of the open palace doors after Isodore. I gulp, and Isodore glares at her sister.
“Come on. You have to go back.”
“I will go with her Highness, if she wishes.”
The Fool interjects, and the [Princess] brightens. But Isodore holds up a hand.
“I’m sorry, Fool, but my sister can’t be hand-held the entire time. Nor will your presence calm Nereshal. I think it would make things worse, to be honest. Come, Erille. Do you want to get the Fool in trouble?”
“No.”
Reluctantly, Princess Erille comes out from behind the Fool. She stares longingly at me and him, and Isodore gives us another look. She stares at me for a second with a look I recognize.
“You will excuse me, Sir Thomas. And you, Fool. Come, Erille.”
The two Princesses turn and meet up with their escort who surround them in a second. I watch them walk slowly back to the palace and turn to the Fool. He’s still staring at Erille’s back. Sadly. At last he shakes himself and looks at me.
“Isodore doesn’t seem to like you, Sir Thomas.”
He says the name mockingly. I sigh.
“She saw us when we were first here, I bet. She probably thinks I’m a fraud.”
The Fool nods.
“Oh, the whole kingdom did. I daresay that my role was made useless for a fortnight after you arrived. So many jokes were told—one merely had to wave around a Goblin’s head for the courtiers to roll around laughing!”
Then he pauses.
“But I suppose there might be more to it than disappointment.”
“How do you mean?”
He looks at me, cocking his head to one side, standing on one leg, seemingly back to his good spirits or pretending to be at least.
“You were abed and I was out and about, performing at breakfast, so you must have missed today’s gossip. It was about you. You claim to be naught but a former [Clown], but there have been rumors this morning about you, Tom.”
“Oh no. Really?”
I can’t imagine who started the rumors. But maybe Emily, or Cynthia, or Eddy, that bastard? It’s possible…the Fool nods.
“The court and his Majesty have heard you’re more than you seemed, Mister Unfunny Tom. I hear you can be quite amusing. And deadly. Her Highness may have heard the same.”
He turns back to look at Isodore and Erille. They’re still walking across the courtyard. Man is it big. And they can’t exactly move fast in their ballroom style dresses.
“Don’t mind her. She fears so many; one more is hardly her fault. As for Erille…”
He trails as he stares at the young Princess. She’s happily occupied as she tosses the ball the Fool gave her up and tries to catch it before it lands. She never gave it back, and I don’t think the Fool would ever ask.
It’s not hard to imagine what’s there. A Fool who’s more friend and father than her actual father, and a kid trapped in a castle. And the other Princess—Isodore looks back and then turns instantly when she sees me staring at her.
I look away.
“I’m no one, Fool. No one special.”
“So you say, Tom.”
He leaves me there, and I wander back towards the palace, feeling disconsolate. But I realize something as I walk through the corridors. Something interesting. And maybe hopeful.
Whenever I’m with the Fool, I can’t hear the voice in my head. I don’t know why that is. Maybe he’s just that entertaining, or just that nice a guy that I don’t want to kill him. Or maybe it’s something else?
—-
That night we have another banquet. And for once, I’m feeling good enough to eat a lot. We sit with the Drakes again, but there’s more of a sense of inclusion this time. We are at least in some respects now guests, and aside from a lot of bad jokes aimed at me, everything’s great.
Which isn’t to say there aren’t more tests. This time, it’s Richard and Emily’s turn, but they at least seem up to the task. Emily performs several spells in front of the court, raising a wave of water out of the ground, creating a perfect sphere that she rolls across the floor. I can tell Princess Erille would love to chase after it, but she’s stuck at the high table.
Then it’s Richard’s turn. Today, I get more of a sense of who sits in the Blighted King’s castle. Among the more important guests who sit closer to the head of the hall are groups of what I can only call the Blighted King’s champions. Rugged men, women, and representatives of other species, most wearing shining armor, magical equipment, and holding an air of power around them.
There’s a Minotaur with black fur, a half-Elf man with a staff that stands on its own when he’s not holding it, a pale Selphid with two greatswords resting by his table, and a whole bevy of [Knights] and warriors who look like they’d fit in any grand story of knights and honor.
They’re all high-level, and as the feast begins, several of them get up to engage in duels. They use real armor, but wooden weapons, and they strike, parry, block and dodge like the coolest movie action scene I’ve ever seen.
Cooler, because they move faster than an actor does with choreographed moves. I see one warrior wearing chainmail leap over a man with a wooden spear and slash at his head. Too bad that the instant his feet touch the ground, the spear warrior vaults over to him with the spear as a pole and kicks his lights out.
Richard is called to spar the spear wielder after that. I hear my friends cheering as he gets up, wiping his hands and taking the practice sword offered to him. The spear wielder touches his blunt spear tip against the wooden sword and then begins dashing at Richard, spear jabbing at him in a blur. He whirls his spear and it lashes Richard from all sides, a hail of lightning-fast blows.
“Holy crap.”
I can’t believe Richard can defend against any of that, but he actually manages to parry several strikes and attack back. He ends up defeated, but he does so well apparently that there’s a round of applause for him afterwards.
I see Richard stagger back as the spear wielder offers him a hand up. The old woman claps him on the shoulders and leads him towards the table with the other champions to cheers from my table. I watch Richard talking with the others with a familiar camaraderie.
Jealous?
“No. Richard deserves that. He fought hard and earned it.”
I hear a mocking laugh in my head, but someone replies out loud as well.
“Sir Richard is a skilled warrior, worthy of his [Knight] class. Since he has reached Level 30, he is considered a peer of the realm in many respects. All those with a level higher than 30 are honored in various ways by the crown.”
I find a man standing at my side, holding a goblet of wine and looking politely at me. He looks…familiar. He has dark skin, a scar over his temple, and the look of someone who knows how to use a weapon. He nods at me.
“Sir Thomas. I am pleased to meet you. I missed the chance this morning.”
“Um. Hi.”
He speaks as if we should know each other. He looks towards the next duel, between a [Mage] and a man with a bow who keeps shooting at the shimmering field around the mage as he dodges.
“Such displays are common. Rhir has a number of tournaments hosted year round, and offers coin to anyone willing to teach or display their skills from around the world. Martial prowess is prized here above all else.”
“When you’re at war, I guess that’s how it has to be, huh?”
I look toward the Blighted King.
“Can he fight? The King?”
The man shakes his head.
“His Majesty is not known for his abilities on the field of battle, which is not to say he does not appear there if the need is dire. On the other hand, her Majesty is at least as skilled a warrior as they are. She was known for her prowess with a mace before she married the King.”
“I can believe that.”
She looks like someone who knows how to fight. On cue, I hear a voice.
I wonder if she could block you if you stabbed her up close. What if you held her daughter hostage?
I shake my head slightly. The man notices.
“She is quite a fine warrior, as is your friend. He deserves his spot among the King’s champions. However, I deem your skills as equal to theirs in at least some respects, Sir Thomas.”
I stare at him.
“I’m sorry, but have we met? I don’t recall.”
He smiles slightly.
“I would not begrudge you that. I had the honor of meeting you in the village of Rastfad, shortly after your defeat of—”
Of the Demons. He was one of the people who saw me after I slaughtered them. I remember. I stare at the man.
“Are you—were you—”
He bows slightly.
“Captain Kirust, at your service. I returned to the capital last night but was too late to participate in the feast. I attended this morning and was delighted to find your company well, sir.”
“Hang on, you’re the one who’s been spreading rumors about me? Stop it. Please. I’m not a warrior.”
“I would beg to disagree, sir. I saw what you did to defend the villagers, and I cannot believe such a man would be lesser to any [Knight] of the realm.”
“I—no. That was one thing. I went crazy back then. You saw me laughing, covered in blood.”
He stares at me. I feel the ground breaking away under my feet. Unsteady. Someone’s laughing in my head.
They love you for what you are, Tom. Embrace it. They love you. You, the slaughterer. They cheered you after you laughed amid the dead.
“Sir Thomas, I spoke to his Majesty today and spoke highly of your abilities. I do not mean to force you to fight, but you should at least be awarded the accolades of your true merits.”
“I don’t want that. I don’t want that at all.”
He looks confused.
“But Sir Thomas—”
“Stop calling me that. Just call me—Tom. I’m no warrior, get it? I don’t ever want to do that again.”
“Not even if there are more innocents at risk?”
His eyes are steady on mine. I hear a buzzing in my ears.
“I arrived too late to save the people. From what I understand, your comrades fled. But you stayed and fought, and defeated over thirty trained Demon warriors and a Troll—”
“I didn’t want to! I’m not proud of it! Don’t celebrate me for being a murderer!”
My voice is raised. I turn to leave, but Kirust’s eyes are on me. His voice is in my ears, and the laughter.
“Sir Thomas, the kingdom has warriors, but it has few heroes. A man such as yourself—”
A hero. I turn and grab Kirust and lift him up. I’ve always been strong. The [Captain] stares at me, alarmed, fear in his eyes as I draw him close with a snarl. That’s right. That’s the fear. That’s honest.
“I’m not a warrior! I told you that! I didn’t want to kill them! I’d rather die than do it again! I won’t lose control, I won’t give in! Not now, not ever, no matter what the cost! I’m not a hero, do you understand?”
I realize I’m shouting too late. I let go of Kirust and look around. Everyone’s staring at me. I stumble away from the [Captain] and hurry out of the feast hall.
Madness.
—-
I stay in my room for hours after that, staring into the mirror. I throw the bloody clown suit to the floor, and begin pulling everything out of the trick space. My juggling balls, juggling pins, a dead flower, a few coins, and—knives.
I stare at them. I picked up one or two after that night. For self-defense. I had a bunch of swords, but I couldn’t keep them there. Swords, knives, arrows—I can remember pulling them out of the hands of the other soldiers, stabbing them with them, laughing.
Good times.
One of the knives is sharp, the other one sharper, but that’s a kitchen knife. It’s not meant for combat, although it can certainly be used as one. I pick up one of the knives and feel it. Perfectly weighted, great for throwing. Another one’s unbalanced, because it’s not meant for that.
But if I throw it—I toss the knife gingerly towards a wall. It rotates through the air and strikes the wall. Hilt-first.
“Of course, [Unerring Throw] doesn’t mean everything.”
I pick the knife up, and flip it in my hands. I catch it by the hilt easily. I’m not worried about cutting myself. The first Skill, the only Skill I got from my [Hero] class was [Weapon Proficiency: Knives].
“So why can’t I throw them correctly? Not enough rotation? Enough force?”
I guess proficiency with knives doesn’t mean I can throw them like a master. Still, I can do a lot of tricks with them. [Sleight of Hand] combined with my proficiency means I can practically walk my knife across my hand.
And flip it into the air and catch it without getting cut. I do it with my eyes clos
ed, and then play the knife game. I tap the tip between my fingers on the dresser rapidly, then spin it up again. Catch it.
It would be so easy to just let it fall and cut my hand off. Or stand in front of the blade. I grab the knife out of the air when I think that and stare at it. Then the door opens.
“Tom? We wanted to see if you were okay—”
A voice. I turn. Chloe pushes open the door to my room. She stops when she sees me, holding the knife, staring at her. I realize what it looks like too late. I take a step towards her and make the mistake of gesturing with the blade.
“Uh, look. I know—”
She screams and runs. I curse and put the knife up my sleeve, making it vanish. Why do I have such bad timing?
In seconds, other people appear around the door. I hold up a hand.
“Nothing crazy. Just practicing knife throwing, guys.”
“Right. Right.”
They nod and grin at me. Sick, pale excuses for grins. I look at them. They shut the door. I stand in the darkness.
—-
I’m going crazy. I am. I walk down the corridors of the palace, feeling it in my veins. It’s getting worse. I can’t control it anymore.
And worse, at the moment I can’t hear the voice. Normally that would be a good sign. Now I’m afraid.
Why was I playing with a knife? Why did I want to stand under the blade? Why did I shout at Kirust? Why, why, why—
I’m losing it. I turn down another brightly lid corridor, scowling at the mage lights. I hate the brightness. But maybe it’s a good thing it’s bright. At least I can’t imagine things in the—
Shadows.
I stop. I don’t know where I am, but I suddenly see something at odds with the brightly lit passageways behind me. Ahead, there are no mage lights. Only blackness. Thick and consuming.
“What? What’s…?”
I look over my shoulder. A shining light hangs in the hallway behind me. Ahead of me…darkness. No light.
I feel a chill. What’s this? This is like a bad—bad horror movie. Or something else. I look at the light behind me again. And then ahead.
“Hello?”
The darkness…calls to me. I take a step forwards. Where are the mage lights? They have to be here. They said—
