A Gut-Wrenching Performance (6)

The first thing I saw was a blue sky tinged with a hint of purple in my peripheral view. The white dwarf hovered just above the edge of the horizon while the brown dwarf remained in its stationary spot overhead. The semi-industrial city below had developed slightly over the past two weeks, though the progress wasn’t enough to overshadow the evening hustle. It was rather quiet with how close the palace was to the main thoroughfare. Though if the kid (he’d been downgraded) hadn’t shattered the stained glass window making up the farthest wall, it would’ve been impossible to see too.

Honestly, I was a bit surprised that the elevator didn’t fall and kill us. The moment after the fireball left his hands, the nearby palace mages flocked to the point of impact, using some kind of spell to block the explosion. It seemed like a barrier, but there was something different, something off. I didn’t know what though.

The guests weren't exactly angry or frightened. It was more exasperation than anything, though they expressed that in different manners. The two marchionesses along with some others – probably those higher in the upper castes – rolled their eyes, waving it off like a minor hiccup. The lower rankings meanwhile looked away, acting like the incident had nothing to do with them. I mean, that’s true, so why are they even reacting?

As for the kid in question, he was lying supine on the ground, his smug expression frozen on his face. It took a few minutes for his brain to catch up as he looked between the shattered wall and me. However, gradually, the color drained from his skin. I could see his eyes glance backwards, trying to see something, but he never turned around, as though trying to delay the inevitable. Of course, since I was facing him, I could see what he was trying to avoid, and it had an almost terrifying smile.

“Please escort Viscount Triboulet to one of our most inhospitable antechambers. Include an invoice for the damage caused,” he relayed, though it was more of a show. The knights already began doing so before the usurper king even spoke. The kid only gave a bit of a reaction before he was… ‘gracefully’ escorted out of the banquet hall. Make of that what you will, but he’s never coming back. Though, the kid’s is the proper reaction.

“Does this happen often?” I asked. Everything seemed too well handled for it to be an one-off thing. That coupled with the guests’ attitudes made me think such disagreements happened often. Well, maybe not the explosion part, but dealing with stray spells, definitely.

Eleanor was the first to answer. “Typically, such displays only result in a few scuffs and broken wine glasses. A few years have passed since someone last shattered one of the palace’s glass portraits.” Does that mean explosions are common?!?

“Do you happen to know how many?”

“I am unsure. Marquis Moreau?” she directed the question towards the older gentleman, though not without a slightly miffed look.

“I would say somewhere between twenty to thirty since I began attending this banquet. A rather tidy sum for the kingdom,” he chuckled, wearing the same devilish smile as the usurper king. Apparently, the damages were charged to the perpetrator, totaling somewhere in the millions of reales. I wouldn’t be surprised if the panes were never reinforced as a method of garnering funds.

Wait, he’s a marquis? How is that different from a marchioness? Or are they the same? Peerages are confusing.

“Only because you never bothered to remember them.”

Shush already.

But regardless… “It’s a shame to leave such beautiful artwork destroyed,” I muttered loudly. While most of the pieces had been disintegrated by the fireball, there were still a few shards caught on the balcony below. More importantly, I remembered how it looked. “Let’s see…”

Snap. Crink.

With a simple snap of my fingers, the shattered glass still attached to the wall began to reform itself. Well, it was more like the glass grew, almost like a crystal, rapidly changing colors to reflect the original image. The few still intact on the balcony below flew up to their designated spots, slotting into place like the piece of a puzzle. The whitish light of the white dwarf turned a number of different hues until it was hidden entirely behind the finished facsimile.

I didn’t really like it that much. It was a scene much like the view, only when the city had just begun to industrialize. And surrounding that landscape were the arms of its ruler, clad in white sleeves and gloves. It was both a declaration that the kingdom was under its protection, and also that the kingdom was its alone – a juxtaposition of patriotism and greed.

“There we are,” I nodded for an illusion well done, clapping my hands to dispel the silence that settled over the hall. An equal mix of wonder and fear spread amongst the guests as they held private conversations, wondering what to do. However, both Eleanor and the older gentleman immediately stood up and approached the pane, stopping a good distance away. Almost like clockwork, the others followed like chickens. Graceful chickens, of course.

“How curious.”

“And this was done with magecraft.”

“I witnessed it, and I still cannot believe what I am seeing.”

The tone of the comments was similar to those for my roses, though this time with a more underlying implication. After all, a mage the usurper king brought in for entertainment cast powerful spells with precision, not affiliated with any group. Their eyes were almost drawn to me, preventing them from taking one step closer to the pane.

“Excuse me, Sir Jester. My name is…”

“Ah, pardon me. I am…”

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

All at once, the lower ranking members of the upper caste surrounded me, peppering with introductions. Eleanor giggled, looking on from afar. The older gentleman did the same, both interested and uninterested with the commotion. A perfect introduction.