That night, I had no intention of advancing my Order. It was too risky. Sudden progression, despite only having spent half a year at Order 7, would draw unnecessary attention from Fravikveidimadr and The Consortium. The risk-to-reward ratio simply wasn't worth it. For now, I would remain Motley the Jester, a persona I had built with great effort and equally great humiliation.
I went to the storeroom beside my chamber, where I kept all my gear. Assuming the identity of "Motley," I began to prepare. To be honest, this persona was quite fun. Even if I had to act foolish and humiliate myself, the payoff was considerable. Just yesterday, during a single street performance, I earned nearly one gold gryn coin from the amused crowd. If I performed seven times a week, I could make seven gryn. Now I understood why street performers could sometimes afford fine dining. This world, at its core, was fair in terms of economy.
Click.
I opened the door, fully dressed in my Jester attire, and slipped out silently. I used my Bizarre Dao to dampen the sound of my footsteps. I had long since considered this simple application of Essence control a second instinct. I descended the stairs and reached the main road of the Financial District, paved with precisely laid stone slabs.
I strolled casually toward the carriage stand at the end of the street. I needed a ride to the Entertainment District, where my stage awaited.
"Can you take me to the Entertainment District?" I asked the nearest coachman.
"Of course," he replied, his tired eyes scanning me up and down. "You know the fare, right?"
"Certainly." I climbed into the passenger seat in the back. The journey from the Financial District to the Entertainment District was brief, only about ten minutes, but the route passed through some of Clockthon's most opulent noble residences. A display of wealth and power that was always useful to observe, a study in contrast to the underworld I was heading toward.
"So, two grior?" I asked as we arrived.
"Yes, that's right," the coachman answered.
I handed him two silver grior coins. I noted the new design. The face of King Theodemar I, the current monarch, had replaced that of King Castellen I. It was propaganda printed on currency. They said Theodemar had seized the throne through civil war over a succession dispute. History is written by the victors, and their faces are minted on the money. I didn't care. As long as I could use the coins, their politics meant nothing to me. The Giant Clock on the central tower, once destroyed by the Moon God, had also been repaired in just a few days. The government was clearly trying to project strength and efficiency after the catastrophe.
I got out and walked toward the plaza where I usually performed.
Unfortunately, my spot had been taken. Another clown, one who truly could enchant children with simple balloon-animal tricks, had stolen my stage. He was surrounded by laughter and copper coins tossed by grateful parents enjoying a brief moment of distraction for their children.
"Alright then, kid," I muttered to myself. Competition was everywhere. I walked away from his performance, looking for another busy enough spot. I couldn't create miracles from thin air. I needed an audience.
I found a perfect corner near a busy intersection, right in front of a luxurious candy store with windows filled with colorful sweets that looked like gemstones. I set my tall hat on the ground and began to dance. Not a silly dance. I mimicked the style of Royal Jesters I had read about in history books. My unusual movements, a mix of ballet and pantomime, started attracting attention. People stopped to watch, their curiosity piqued.
And just like that, the act began.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, clever children and weary parents!" I called out in Motley's cheerful voice. "Who's ready for a little bit of absolutely amazing magic?"
I didn't wait for an answer. I immediately launched into Shadow Sculpting, one of the most reliable crowd-pleasers and an inherent ability of the Motley Fool. I raised my hands toward the stone wall of the building behind me, where the flickering gas lanterns cast shifting shadows. My own shadow stretched and transformed. From it emerged two new figures: a sleek black wolf and a plump white sheep.
"Once upon a time," I began, "there was a wolf who dearly wanted to befriend a sheep."
The shadow wolf approached the sheep's shadow with clumsy and funny movements, offering a shadow flower. The sheep leapt in fright and ran. The children laughed.
"But the wolf didn't give up," I continued. I made the shadow wolf perform silly tricks, balancing on one leg, juggling shadow-stones, even attempting to mimic the sheep's awkward dance. The audience laughed harder. It was simple physical comedy, but behind it, I was practicing fine control over Void Essence, shaping it into complex and dynamic forms.
Then I shifted the narrative. "But one day, a hunter appeared," I said, my voice slightly more serious, drawing their attention back.
A third shadow appeared, a human figure with a bow and arrow. He aimed at the sheep.
At that moment, the wolf stopped fooling around. It jumped in front of the sheep, shielding its friend, and let out a silent roar at the hunter.
I ended the story by making the hunter's shadow flee in fear, and the wolf and sheep walked off side by side into a shadowy sunset. It was a sentimental ending that children loved. Applause followed. A few silver and copper coins landed in my hat.
Next, I needed participation. My eyes scanned the crowd for a good target. I spotted a bored-looking noble boy standing next to his tense caretaker. He wore clothes far too expensive for his age, his expression full of arrogance.
"You there!" I called out, pointing at him. "Young Master in the velvet vest! You look like someone not easily fooled. Would you help me with the next trick?"
The boy looked offended but curious. He stepped forward haughtily. "What kind of trick?"
"A very simple one," I said, pulling out a deck of cards from my pocket. "Pick one card, don't show me, and remember it well."
He picked a card, looked at it, then returned it to the deck. I shuffled the cards with dramatic flair.
"Now," I said, "I will guess your card. But that's too easy. So I'll let my friend do it."
I turned to my shadow on the wall. With slight manipulation, I made it nod. Then the shadow's hand stretched out and pointed toward the top of the candy store behind me.
Everyone looked up. There, stuck in the chimney, was a single card.
"No way…" the noble boy whispered.
"Would you kindly retrieve it, sir caretaker?" I asked. Reluctantly, the caretaker climbed the nearest ledge and took the card. He handed it to the boy.
It was the card he had chosen. The Queen of Hearts.
The crowd erupted. The noble boy looked at me with a mix of awe and confusion. As it should be. I simply bowed. The trick was a mix of stage sleight of hand and a bit of wind I had created earlier to send the card flying up there.
Now, for the finale. Something they would remember.
"Thank you, thank you!" I said. "As a final act, I will show you something you've never seen before. A dance from a forgotten land."
I began to move, abandoning any silly gestures. This was the Masquerade Step. My movements became fluid and unpredictable. I glided and spun through the crowd, each step accompanied by flashes of violet light and faint, colorful smoke. I avoided every hand that tried to reach me.
As I danced, I activated the Laughter Curse on several random targets. A grumpy fat merchant suddenly burst out laughing until he fell. A patrolling city guard started giggling uncontrollably. An arrogant noblewoman laughed so hard her expensive hat fell off.
A controlled bit of chaos. The plaza was filled with pure laughter from children, confused laughter from the cursed, and nervous chuckles from the rest of the audience.
I finished my dance at the center of the square with a theatrical pose, bowing deeply as the final wisp of smoke vanished.
The applause this time was the loudest. My hat was nearly full of coins. I had succeeded. I had created a small legend tonight. Motley, the strange Jester, whose magic felt real and inexplicable.
As I gathered my earnings, I noticed several interesting faces in the dispersing crowd. Some representatives of minor noble houses, a few wealthy merchants, even a man I recognized as a lieutenant of House Droct. They all looked at me with the same interest.
I packed my equipment and walked away, blending into the usual crowd of the Entertainment District. I didn't head straight back. I stopped by a café, still in costume. I needed to observe the immediate reactions to my performance.
I sat in a corner and listened.
"…that clown moved in such an unnatural way. Like he wasn't even human!"
"I swear I saw the card fly up there on its own!"
"And that laugh. Lady Crusforth laughed until she cried. So unlike her."
Rumors were forming. Stories were spreading, and the persona of 'Motley' was starting to take on a life of its own.
This was the happiest moment of my life. At least I had personas suited for each purpose. Maybe I should focus more on this side rather than constantly dealing with Doyle Acquisition or The Consortium. From every angle, this was far more profitable.
I finished my coffee and left after paying. As usual, I walked home with a pouch full of coins. Small denominations, but still money, and money could bring happiness depending on how you used it.
Today, I also had a scheduled information exchange with Magpie. She handed me a new piece of intelligence in the form of a letter. Perhaps it came from another member of The Consortium. I wasn't sure. What mattered was the content:
"House Droct's profits have declined. They are now shifting their trade inward and avoiding the Lower City. Well done. At least for now."
For now? Ah, I remembered. In the eyes of The Consortium, I was still their attack dog. At the very least, I would give them a spectacular surprise in the future as well.