A Gut-Wrenching Performance (2)

“You know, you’re a rather slimy bastard.”

“Why thank you for such a gracious compliment. I don’t deserve such praise.”

“You don’t deserve anything.”

“But I was only showing my utmost respect for you and your minions.”

“Agghhhh….”

The car, or carriage as they called it, drove slowly down the streets, matching the march of our procession. Inside, the captain and my illusory self exchanged verbal slights, though it only served to shorten his already tiny fuse. Neither of us wanted to be here; that much was clear. However, I had a show to perform. Likewise, he had a charge to deliver. A quid pro quo, though it was clear who was getting a better deal.

“I can’t believe it. How is he worse than that slippery spy?” he muttered underneath his breath, pulling the hair from his balding head.

“I prefer to call myself duplicitous, or perhaps slick.”

“...”

Taking the silent approach, are we? Well, it doesn’t really matter to me, but it’s kind of boring. I wish we would arrive faster.

I directed my attention from atop the carriage, looking down at the line of cars (or were they also carriages?) in front of me. As we got closer to the castle, more and more joined, slowing our already slow crawl to a stop. It was pretty much a traffic jam: moving an inch forward after five minutes of standing still. Sometimes, we would be lucky enough to travel a whole foot, but those were few and far between.

As such, by the time we arrived at the palace walls, the sun had already begun to fall from its apex – too late to be called afternoon but too early for evening. I had spent most of it just playing around with illusions. Meanwhile, the captain turned into a boiling cauldron, so close to blowing off his lid. Alas, our arrival had cooled his heat somewhat.

This gate one was actually the third entrance to the palace: the north entrance. Compared to the other two I’d been through, this one was much wider, allowing six carriages to fit side-by-side. It was clear that this was meant for guests, yet surprisingly, only the first three lanes were getting any use. The first was jammed packed, while the second and third had the occasional carriage here and there. Luckily, we drove through one of the empty lanes, the sixth specifically.

While the inside of the walls had its authoritative beauty, it was much more functional. The six lanes lined up in a U-shaped fashion, with the hump being the drop-off point. The first lane ended up right in front of the palace, while the subsequent lanes were each about ten to twenty feet away, almost like what you would see in a well-planned airport. Is the place where the carriage drops you off a status symbol or something? That’s so stupid. Walking another thirty or forty feet is much better than waiting another hour or two.

Once we pulled to a stop, the captain motioned for me to leave the carriage. “After you,” he sneered with a prideful smirk for some reason.

“Of course,” I replied, taking the opportunity immediately. As soon as I had both feet on the ground, the carriage door slammed shut and left. Actually, wait. Is he really going to the back of the first lane? Really? Have fun waiting until nightfall!

“Now if only he took his entourage with him…” I glanced back, only to see the fifty or so knights and mages blocking the exit. They weren’t even trying to hide their hostility – their hands were trained on their weapons. “Shouldn’t you be following your master to the back of the line. Don’t worry, I can see myself in.”

“How dare you–” One of the knights yelled out. Huh, is that actually subordinate number one? Or is it number two? I can never remember.

“Hold it,” one of the mages stopped him. “No need to fall to his level.”

“Does that mean you are someone important?” I asked. Compared to the other mages in silver robes, his was pure white. Wait, is he a dude? I can’t tell with that baggy robe, neck gaiter, and strange looking hat. Honestly, he(?) looks more like a bandit than a mage.

“Oh, no. I am simply an escort that His Majesty, King Engres has appointed for your comfort.” Ha! Sure.

“Thank you for the courtesy. I’ll make sure to be a proper nuisance,” I responded, heading towards the banquet entrance without waiting for a response.

“Who is he?”

“Did you see him pull up from the sixth lane?”

“How crude.”

“And that garish clothing.”

“What manner of beast is he?”

“Maybe His Majesty has brought him for entertainment.”

Hushed whispers and muted murmurs echoed from the upper caste posse as I passed by, glaring for one reason or another. It was obviously some form of peer pressure, trying to make me feel ashamed for showing up in such flamboyant clothing from the furthest lane. Did I care? Not one bit. In fact, my nonchalance only lulled the hecklers into an awkward silence.

Though, there are always a few who–

“Oh, sorry–whoa!” One of the upper caste men, somewhere in his early twenties, stepped out of the crowd, trying to ‘accidentally’ ram into my shoulder. Unfortunately, being an illusion and all, he simply passed straight through, nearly tripping over his feet.

“Ehem. Oh. Sorry–agh!” Of course, he tried again, pretending his first embarrassment hadn’t happened, but my illusory self leisurely twisted out of reach while my real self grabbed ahold of his foot, properly knocking him to the ground. His off-white suit had scuffs all over his sleeves and knees.

“Oh my, you must be careful with where you’re going.” I gave a helpful tip, leaving him floundering on the floor. The harsh clank of metal followed behind, almost like a threat.

“How could you treat one of His Majesty’s guests so rudely,” the white-robed mage chided.

“Oh? I thought I already told you what I was going to do,” I quipped back. I wasn’t here to play politics. I was here to put on a once-in-a-lifetime show.

And to that end, it was going to be quite the spectacle.