Chapter 15

Quickett

“The tides and times are changing, yet one thing seems to remain universal. If Light is to cease tomorrow, what would become of the world? Ash, I gather.”

Mind of the Heretic, Vol. IV

Sun had just risen above the distant horizon, its mild rays washing over the folding scenery, giving way to a more beautiful view than the night before. Noah stood leaning against the waist-high wooden fence upon a circular extrusion outside one of the hallways, overlooking the small patch of land between the wall and Olivia’s palace, and the diminishing world beyond the wall and beyond the cliff.

He’d grown to enjoy these silent mornings, almost two months into his stay here, as he’d empty his mind of all the planning and all the scheming, simply letting it drift back into the distant memories he held onto tightly. While his life on Earth may have not been peaceful, it was one he built up from himself; from being a small child-soldier having his childhood stolen away from him, to becoming something he loathed so much at that time, yet had found himself enjoying becoming, was not a part of what he wished to forget and let go.

His mind strayed off to one of the last memories of his Earthly days; it was just two days before they stepped through the cursed gates, and he was sipping free drinks inside his hotel room when his phone rang. The call came from a long-time ‘friend’ of his – at least the closest thing to a friend he had – who informed him he was diagnosed with Stage IV lung cancer and wondered whether Noah would like to fly out and spend the last two months he was given together.

He chose not to go, as the payday, and even the excitement of the cross-world mission, appealed to him at the time far more. However, as people often do in retrospect, he wished he would have made a different choice. By now, Cal was most likely dead. As he was considered for the rest of the world as well.

Sighing, he spun around, readying to return to his chambers for the early breakfast, only to stop immediately as there was a figure standing right behind him, staring at him curiously. Alarms rang off inside Noah's mind as he failed completely to notice the man – though they were quickly dissipated due to the man's appearance. Flamboyant, wildly colorful and puffy clothes and long, blood-red hair paired up with green eyes hardly gave the man a dangerous countenance. Besides the oddities, he seemed rather handsome, his face smooth, well-shaven, though it was somewhat difficult to pin his age.

"…" the two started at each other for a good while, seemingly bursting with patience that could not be destroyed. "Fine, you win; I admit, half-heartedly, your tongue is better-maintained than mine." The man spoke, at last, smiling widely, revealing a perfect set of teeth – something even Olivia didn't have, causing Noah no small amount of surprise.

“Feels like an empty victory, to be honest.” Noah replied.

“As empty as your desire to share a word with me?”

“Oh, nothing is as empty as that.”

“I’d wager many things are,” the man said. “Such as my coffers.”

“As they wont to be when every extra crown is spent on procuring an extra color for your clothes.” Noah smiled faintly, finding the man somewhat easy to get along with.

“As you should know, the best way to stand out is to stand out.”

“Then you should take a step forward, as you are still standing in.” Noah said, pointing at the man’s feet.

“Witty, grimy, and handsome,” the man chuckled, stroking his chin. “Who would have thought my boring, early-morning stroll would have procured a perfect ensemble of my loves? A patchwork of dreams?”

“I take offense with ‘grimy’,” Noah said. “I much prefer ruggedly-handsome.”

"Would you like to share breakfast with me?"

“No.”

“Have elsewhere to be?” the man asked.

"Anywhere else, to be precise." Noah smiled still, slowly walking beside the man toward his room. The latter, however, quickly followed, matching Noah's pace with rather… wild steps.

“I have never seen you before, which I find detestable; I know all faces within the Royal Walls, and find each more deplorable than the last – and you just might be the most deplorable. Where have you been hiding?”

“Clearly not hiding well enough.”

“Ah, I must speak my sadness; continue so, and you just might steal my job, old friend.”

“What exactly is your job?” Noah asked with faint interest. “To be a nuisance?”

“Yes.”

“…”

“Indeed,” the man nodded, smiling at Noah’s dubious look. “This lowly one is Quickett, the most charming jester east of the Misted Veil.”

“Ah, your job is to be a joke,” Noah said, chuckling. “It makes sense now.”

“No, no, my job is to make others a joke, dear Dacent,” Quickett said, stepping in front of Noah and walking backward. "And hope they are feeling heavenly enough to forgive my transgressions, and for me to keep my head upon my neck."

“Sounds like dangerous work.”

“It was either this or the gallows,” Quickett shrugged. “And a chance to make Nobles piss themselves in shame? Ay, there are not many things in the world I’d have given up my death for, but it was worth it.”

“You are just like your name implies.”

“How so?” he asked.

“A cricket, cricketing away and away,” Noah said. “Until madness takes a hold of me and I decide to choke the life out of you.”

“Ah, at least mind our surroundings, dear Dacent; I mind not the choking, but buy me a drink first, if possible.”

“… I need a drink.” Noah sighed, chuckling faintly; despite all, the strange lad was still the most interesting person he’s met so far. All others were greatly reserved, largely, he suspected, due to their positions and the upbringing. At the very least, he was able to vent out some frustration onto the clown. “Care to join me?” he extended an invitation.

“Only if you tell me your name.” Quickett said.

“See you around, then.”

“Fine, fine, I will just call it as I see it – your name must be Wit.”

“Only if you rename yourself to a ‘Dog who Sits’, so we rhyme.”

“…” Quickett remained silent for a moment, suddenly smiling widely, exposing his handsome appearance further – if only not for the framework surrounding his face. “I might have found pleasure in life yet again, dear Dacent. I have been jester for three years now – something I pride myself in, as the longest my predecessors lasted was eight months – and my days have been growing dull.”

“Not enough gossip?”

“Oh, plenty of gossip,” Quickett said. “Little pleasure in exposing it, however. Once you make rounds twice or thrice, you learn the reactions; and reactions are everything to me. Beet-red faces turn the same, and creaky, high-pitched voices of our well-garbed heroes lose their value.”

"Sounds awful." Noah said as he made a turn right, opening the doors to the small winery built inside Olivia's mansion. The walls were entirely adorned with shelves of wine, a table, and several chairs in the center, just waiting for inhabitants.

“You cannot imagine.”

"Gossips intrigue me plenty," Noah said, hoping he found a gold mine while at the same time taking a random bottle of wine – as he hardly knew which was better – and pouring each a cup. "Care to share some?"

“Promise not to share them yourself?” Quickett smiled wryly, taking a sip.

“If one of them turns out to be a plot to murder my Princess,” Noah replied with the same smile. “How do you expect me to remain silent?”

“Fair enough; but, I assure you, if there is a plot to murder our dear Princess Olivia, I would be the first to raise hell over it.”

“Is that so?”

“… you seem doubtful.” Quickett’s eyes slanted as he took a sip of wine.

“… you merely don’t strike me as someone to fawn over a pretty face.” Noah said, taking a sip himself and maintain a smile.

"I value pretty face plenty," he said. "But I believe we can both agree the Princess is hardly only that."

"… you are clout of daggers," Noah said after a short silence, realizing the man is far more than just a simple jester. "Your three-year run isn't a surprise, but a miracle, I must say."

“… navigate the waters like violent rapids instead of calm rivers,” Quickett said. “And never trust the blind corners.”

“… your problem is that you let the blind corners happen.” Noah smiled lightly, drinking the last of the wine and putting the cup away, getting up. “Someday, one will become two, and two four, and four eight… until there is no path to take to avoid them.”

“… I’ve just made you one, no?” Quickett said, chuckling, finishing his wine as well, and getting up. Noah glanced back just before reaching the door handle, meeting the man's excited eyes.

“Our Princess is just a pretty face enrobed within a kind spirit,” Noah said, smiling hollowly. “Adhere to that, and I just might be the calmest river you ever drift along.”

Quickett remained standing on the spot well after the strange Dacent closed the doors behind him, leaving. It was definitely a new face – but, more so than just a face, it was a new, blind corner. Perhaps the worst of all. He merely played with words to flaunt a bit in front of the newcomer and establish the hierarchy as with all others, but it bit him back – something that hasn’t happened since the day he put on the façade. His smile whipped further up, into a somewhat strange and eerie one, his eyes shining in a peculiar glimmer.

“… interesting,” he mumbled, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “Looks like the years ahead… will be just lovely. Pretty, pretty girl,” he suddenly began to hum a melody as he left the winery, entering the long hall and drifting back through the path he arrived. “Why won’t you flirt? I promise you the world… and I only ask we be furled… ah, Lady Asha~ I couldn’t help but overhear some strange sounds coming from your chambers a dead-few nights ago, which I would usually find pleasing – as I love love – but I also happened to share a quick sip of wine with your lovely husband just a few minutes prior and I was wondering…”

Noah stared from behind the pillar, examining the man who had indeed just made a grown woman seemingly piss herself in fear. He was blindsided – something that he can’t allow to happen too often. I need to remember everyone, he noted deeply into his psyche. No matter how insignificant they seem. I’d forgotten this is a court, he reminded himself with a sigh, walking back toward his room. A cesspool of facades and slumbering dragons…