A Gut-Wrenching Performance (7)

I’m pooped.

I put on a never-ending performance, well, not never-ending but never-stopping. It basically went like this: introduce myself to some group, put on a short ten to fifteen minute act with some unique twists, get pulled out by another guest wanting me to meet someone else, rinse and repeat. I barely had enough time to grab a glass of wine, much less do anything else. The many titles and names went in one ear and out the other.

That wasn’t the worst part though. No, that was reserved for the greetings. Each time I was dragged over, one of the minions would go, “Our lord has graciously provided you with an opportunity to make use of your magical prowess.”

Basically, they were trying to force a job on me.

And for some reason, the amount of pay was always comically low, at least compared to my world. It wasn’t as bad as a gut punch, but it was definitely a slap in the face. Having to respectfully decline each time took a lot out of me, especially those who carried onward, not allowing any answer but ‘yes’. Luckily, those who did were either dragged away by the knights or cowed by some higher ranking guest. Thank you Eleanor!

And just like that, hours passed, though it was quite difficult to tell with all the light in the hall. Only the stained glass portraits dimmed as the white dwarf set below the horizon. Actually, my ‘replacement’ seems a bit too dark. Do this and… yeah, that’s better.

Meanwhile, more and more guests arrived through the open panel leading to the stairway from what I saw. At some point, the herald had stopped announcing the guests, probably due to the droves entering. Even worse, given how high we were, most of them looked a bit tired, yet for some reason they tallied on, guzzling down glasses of liquor – a recipe for disaster. Alcohol was excellent at dehydrating the body, which could easily lead to headaches and drunkards.

As expected, the number of fights sharply increased. While most were minor scuffles, there were a few that almost devolved into spell slinging. Fortunately, those instances were stopped rather promptly at the… ‘behest’ of the knights. Though, that did nothing to stop the hundreds, maybe even thousands, of smashed wine glasses. In fact, the floor was covered in a thin layer of shards. Well, that explains why everyone is wearing some kind of close-toed shoe.

Honestly, I’m surprised at how many violent outbursts there are. Though, with the queen being that greatsword wielding warmonger, she probably prioritized strength over etiquette. Even so, the civil ones are still terrifying – their words are weapons themselves.

“Sir Jester?” One of my current audience members hesitantly called my name, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Ah, my apologies,” I said with a smile. “I spaced out for a moment there. Let’s continue–”

“YOUR ATTENTION, PLEASE,” the herald suddenly spoke. His voice echoed through the entire hall much louder than before, silencing the murmur with those three simple words. “ALL OF THE GUESTS HAVE ARRIVED. THE NINETY-SECOND BANQUET FOR HER MAJESTY, QUEEN VALERIE REALE, SHALL NOW BEGIN. ALL KNEEL FOR THE QUEEN!”

Everyone except the herald and the usurper king dropped to one knee, holding their right hand over their head, facing the ground. I was a beat behind, but I quickly did the same after glancing around to make sure.

““““WE GREET HER MAJESTY, QUEEN VALERIE REALE.”””” Everyone said, with me half a beat behind. The sound was enough to cause the chandelier to swing back and forth.

And then she entered.

Clack. Crack. Clack. Crack. Clack. Crack.

The clatter of heels mixed with the cracking of glass shards as the queen slowly strolled down the red carpet. Each noise resounded louder than anything else in the hall, almost as if an all-powerful aura weighed on our shoulders. It was the arrival of a ruler – incomparable to the usurper king.

“You may rise,” with a low raspy voice, her command took control of our bodies, forcing us to stand.

Wait… huh? Who is she?

The woman I saw sitting on the throne was completely different from what I remembered. Her gaunt appearance had filled out while her wrinkles had all but disappeared, making her seem forty years younger. The dull sapphire dress now sparkled beautifully under the light as if she was a gem herself. Even the way she sat belied unerring grace, though I would attribute that to the missing blood-spattered greatsword.

That has to be makeup right? I know it can transform how people look, but this is way too much! I mean, she looks like a proper queen, not some dying hag with one foot in the grave!

Okay, I need to stop spacing out. Everyone’s already on the move again! Without any communication, the guests lined up in front of the steps leading to the throne. My ignorant self followed like a blind duck and went to the end, trying to figure out what was happening. The first-in-line (is that Eleanor?) walked up the steps until she came face to face with the queen.

“I, Eleanor Devereux, greet Her Majesty, Queen Valerie Reale, on this auspicious day,” she began with a deep curtsy.

“It is a pleasure to see you again, Madam Devereux. I see you are more dazzling than usual today.”

“Why would I not be?”

“Ha ha, that is quite true. Thank you for your recommendation once again. As you can see, it is doing a wonderful job.”

“It is my pleasure to be of assistance. Happy Birthday.” With one final curtsy, she came back down, stepping off to the side. What in the world was that? I got the first part, but what about the second? Is that supposed to be girl talk?

Then, the second-in-line went up, standing there with his face held high.

“I, Renard Moreau, greet Her Majesty, Valerie Reale, on this auspicious day.”

“I see you are as cheeky as ever, Moreau.”

“Only the best for you, Madam Reale.”

“I take it the southern border is doing well?”

“Just some minor skirmishes here and there. Nothing to worry about.”

“No one has attempted to cross?”

“No enemy combatants, yes.”

“...that is all.”

“I hope you have a most exciting birthday.” And with a bow, the older gentlemen also took his leave.

The rest went by much the same way. Each guest introduced themself with the same introduction before engaging in a short conversation with the queen. Sometimes, she would treat them favorably, and others there would be some hostility hidden in her quips. But most of her responses were short and neutral, which allowed most of the greetings to speed by.

And then, it was my turn.

“I, the Jester, greet her Majesty, Queen Valerie Reale, on this auspicious day.”