It was always a cause for celebration when foreigners arrived at Cliffveil Castle. Especially when the carriages are of the distinctly darker wood from the far south. The arriving merchants, travellers and traders would fill the marketplace with exotic goods and stories from afar and although communication across different languages was difficult, the locals of the Capital would greet any novelty that broke the monotonous routine of their lives with open arms. At the back of the caravan were the bards and performers from distant lands. As they stumbled into the city on an unequal dirt road beneath the portcullis, some carriages would depart from the caravan into the outer ward of the city, selling goods and performing acts to the commoners, as others proceeded toward the inner ward.
Among them was the Fool, heading for the main castle. His bright motley clothing made him stand out the most and although he was victim to occasional condescending looks, he somehow was still welcome everywhere. Standing on the back seat of the last carriage of the caravan, he was balancing his weight from foot to foot, gesturing to the locals while waving his staff, which had a bauble attached at the top that was decorated to image his likeness. As the caravan ventured deeper and deeper into the city, the caravan became shorter and shorter until only the last wagon remained. The Fool and some merchants and performers drove across the wooden drawbridge into the inner bailey, where no commoners resided. After the carriage drove past the guards of the drawbridge, two servants of the royal house came by and guided the horses to the stables, right after the crew dismounted. The stone path leading to the keep had hedges on both sides, waist high, in a square shape. The middle part of the hedges was planted with vibrant flowers like tulips, white lilies, and roses whereas other square hedges were planted with lavender and rosemary which filled the air with interesting fumes. Cliffveil Castle was settled, not as the name suggests, on a cliff, but instead close to a river, and its violent currents could be heard from the inner bailey as it flowed just behind the city walls right behind the keep. Indeed, Cliffveil Castle was not settled with the intention to be a stronghold, sturdy against enemy sieges, but rather developed to be the main residence for the Emperor, once the kingdoms were united.
The Fool’s cap’n’bells jingled with every step as they approached the seat of the Holy Emperor. Adjacent to the keep, stood, looming even larger than the keep itself, the tower of the Grand Chapel, which was built exclusively to symbolize the capital of the theocracy of Vulcer. The setting sun cast a huge shadow over the visitors, who were now ascending the stone steps of the keep. In front of the heavy oak door there stood a pair of guards clad in chainmail holding a halberd in their right hand each. The grandeur of the whole architecture now began to plant an uneasiness into the hearts of the crewmembers, though the Fool kept his light demeanour, knowing that seriousness would be a stab at his sarcastic hubris. But he knew of the gods, which were to aid him in his performance.
The oak door opened with a creak, leading into the lord’s hall. Oddly, there was no one in the room. Torches, mounted in sconces on the pillars supporting the low ceiling, barely lit up the hall. Right in the middle, there stood a short dining table and a couple of empty chairs. Suspiciously, the Fool went about the room, looking at the various dilapidated furniture that was around, waiting for someone to come in. From the south-westward window, the sun shone barely any light into the room as dusk was nigh. The Fool could only wonder.
Creaking wooden floor panels announced the Emperor’s servant, as he came in from the adjacent room.
Then the merchant stepped forward, asking noticeably annoyed: “Where is everyone? We ought to be greeted more courteously!”
“Welcome fellows. I apologize deeply for the delay. The festivities have been moved to the chapel. I will lead you there.”
Stepping out into the setting sun, the servant led them to the Great Chapel. The building was adjacent to the keep and consisted of a massive bell tower and the nave. Pushing open the heavy double doors at the entrance, the servant ushered the visitors into the nave. In the middle of the nave, the dining table stood U-shaped decorated with a scarlet red tablecloth with golden embroidery, the same colour as the carpet which reached from the entrance all the way to the altar. The kings and nobles of the empire were already seated, feasting on the venison, and various fruits brought from afar. The Emperor himself was seated just before the altar clad in a pristine white mantle with golden embroidery fastened around the waist, still wearing his field helmet. Leaning on the chair at his right side was his pure golden sceptre which had bauble at the top, also purely in gold but studded with gleaming crystals. Being elevated a couple of steps, the Emperor stood out not only because of his clothing.
As they stepped forward the merchant spoke: “I apologize for our late arrival, your highness.”
“Worry not, friend, your venture must have long and arduous. Please take a seat.”, he replied.
The merchant hurried to his seat at the dining table, while the Fool and his two performers waited for the Emperor to address them.
“And you must be the Fool. We’ve been awaiting you. Many tales course through the empire about your prowess, so, entertain us and you shall partake in our feast.”
“Yes, your highness.”, the two performers replied, though the Fool remained silent. It is a mystery, no one had ever heard him talk, so naturally, people wondered if he ever spoke at all. They bowed low, then the performers, clad in white linen braies shortened to the knee, leather boots and a simple brown tunic, produced three juggling balls in brightly coloured, like the Fools motley, tossed them to him and the Fool began juggling the balls along with his staff as the two performers, hooked in each other’s arms, dancing in a circle. After a while they changed direction counter clockwise, the Fool then tossed the three balls high into the air, grabbed his staff and thudded the bottom on the ground the bauble grinning at the royals and the balls popped in the air turning into swarms of colourful paper floating in the air. Everyone applauded.
Then the performers grabbed the Fool by the waist, vaulting him into a somersault while the performers did cartwheels. On the landing, the Fool spun his staff around and thudded it again on the floor, harder this time while inhaling strongly, and the candles in the chandelier and the torches blew out turning the room fully dark. Only a cheeky giggle filled the otherwise silent chapel then the Fool began dancing madly, jumping irregularly from one foot to another while tossing his staff from one hand to another. Suddenly, the bauble on his staff began gleaming meekly and from the mouth that was painted on the bauble small embers emitted, making their way slowly back to the chandelier. The giggling turned madder by the second and no one could see how the Fool was producing such vehement thuds by dancing. It was now as if giants were trampling about, shaking the entire chapel even and clattering the cutlery on the table. Now the giggle turned into a symphony of furious laughter coming from a plethora of different voices, none of them sounded like the Fool – none of them sounded like they were coming from a human at all. Growing uneasy, the Emperor clasped his sceptre tightly but felt as if all holiness had vanished. Just as he was about to interrupt the performance, which now felt more like a blasphemous ceremony, a third thud was heard and the embers, which had reached the chandelier, began enlightening the room and all the shaking stopped. The Fool was crouched in the middle of the room, clutching his head with his staff still at hand and now drenched as if he had fought for his life. Still grinning from ear to ear, his eyes were now painfully wide open trying to escape his skull it seemed. Shocked, the Emperor sprung up from his seat, because in front of the nobles there lay the two performers, one garbed in a scarlet red mantle and the other in a black mantle with jade embroidery.
They were indeed dead.
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