Death...

The next day, a deluge rained down upon the town. It wasn’t that unusual, despite the arid-looking environment; however, there were no indications that the rainstorm would occur today. Still, with practiced hands, the townspeople packed up their stalls, bringing their wares back inside. As there was no easy way to keep dry without magic, everyone stayed inside, whiling away.

Well, almost everyone.

The King stumbled out of a bar unsteadily, drunk off copious amounts of liquor, making his way back to his abode. The top half of his body was quickly soaked while the bottom half absorbed the water, making small squishing sounds as he walked. He seemed to be in a bit of a daze, but that was expected. He knew what would happen next. He didn’t know exactly how, but it would definitely happen, as it had many times before.

“Damn it all,” he cursed, his voice drowned out by the pitter-patter of the rain.

The King held his stomach as his vision steadily unfocused. He lurched forward, vomiting up its contents. He could barely make out the blood mixed in before vomiting again. His legs no longer able to hold his weight, he collapsed to the ground. A feeling of numbness slowly spread throughout his body, leaving him unable to move.

“Poison…huh. Should’ve expected…as much,” the King said faintly. He thought that last whiskey was suspicious. A free drink was normal for someone of his notoriety, but the person who bought the drink was anonymous. Normally, the King wouldn’t even bother with the obviously tampered drink, but with his errand complete, he no longer cared about the consequences.

Plus, it wasn’t as if any of his previous deaths were graceful. No, compared to them, this poison was a rather tame way to go. He already knew no one would save him. He would die on this street, his body hidden by the rain.

“Do you have…to…narrate my…life?” the King asked, looking off to his right. A man somewhere around forty stood off to the side. Judging by his clothes, he seemed to be a teacher of some kind. He held an umbrella in one hand – something that hadn’t been invented yet. The man read aloud a book in his other hand, narrating this moment.

“Oh, would you prefer I save you?”

“Very funny…I know you’re…not here…for that…right, Professor?” the King asked, scrutinizing the man with his eyes. The Professor said nothing in return, instead choosing to flip the page of the book. The King expected as much. The Professor only showed up once his errand was complete to assign him a new one. However, the King still tried to make some conversation. There was one thought in particular on the King’s mind – something he noticed the last few times he encountered the Professor.

“By the way…” the King began, “...why do you…look like…someone else…again?” Once again, the Professor continued to read through his book, ignoring the question. Welp, guess I’m not getting anything this time either.

Then, the Professor shut his book, turning to face the King – or rather, the Fool – for the first time.

“Your next errand is…”

The next moment, the man known as the King breathed his last.

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