As I continue to work on my other projects, I apologize if updates to this series come at a sporadic pace. Please know that I remain committed to completing this project as promised and will continue to put in the effort needed to bring it to its conclusion. Thank you for your patience and understanding during this time.
TMC Vol 1 Act 1.9
by cookieI am often considered the most inconspicuous of jesters, likened to a mouse weaving quietly through the castle’s many halls. This skill, however, wasn’t a natural gift but one acquired through years of diligent effort.
Except for His Majesty the King, I retain the right to decline any entertainment demands from mere nobles. If it’s not at a grand banquet, there’s no obligation for me to brighten their day. When I say ‘decline,’ I mean preemptively avoiding them altogether, ensuring I’m never summoned to begin with. For if I were to directly refuse their requests, well, my head might soon decide to do the same.
In such instances, the workers’ passages prove invaluable. Initially, these pathways were designed to keep the lower servants hidden from noble eyes, to maintain the purity of their esteemed surroundings. Yet once these pathways were established, talented carpenters and blacksmiths joined forces to expand them, and what began as an insult soon transformed into a practical tool.
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Today, the workers’ passages have become a unique space, embodying the efforts of those beneath noble blood to make the burdens of their labor more manageable.
For instance, in the case of a servant attending to a well-traveled master, carrying countless belongings up and down the stairs is no easy feat. In such cases, the servants place the luggage on a large plank, secure it with ropes to the designated floor, then ascend themselves and pull it up with ease using a pulley system.
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This is undoubtedly something Princess Lux or Lady Ophelia would never have imagined.
“It seems everyone has their own ways of getting by.”
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Lady Ophelia mutters to herself as she hooks the rope to the plank heading for the third floor. The Princess, seemingly fascinated, strokes the rope with her apricot-blossom-like hand. Ah, Princess, such precocious curiosity stirs my mischief.
“Would you like to take a ride up?”
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The Princess’s eyes widened in surprise at my sudden proposal.
“What? On this?”
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“Just sit on top of the bags, and I’ll pull you up. It’s not dangerous. And it’s quite fun.”
Standing beside her, Ophelia glares at me as though she might devour me.
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“If you’re worried, Lady Ophelia, why not ride along as well?”
For a brief moment, excitement flickers on the usually composed face of the Princess. Yes, when it comes to things like this, isn’t it natural for a child to want to experience it? I remember when I first entered the castle and impulsively rode up like this, only to be met with a stern beating.
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It seems she is slowly remembering how to be a child again. I will stay by her side until she does.
I can wait as long as needed.
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***
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With each pull of the rope, a faint scream echoes down the stairwell. Only when I finish hauling them up do I realize the sound belongs to Ophelia. Her legs tremble visibly as she dismounts from the plank, though Princess Lux remains unfazed, her cheeks slightly flushed in delight.
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“I’d like to ride once more.”
At this, Ophelia gasps and shudders.
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“No, Your Highness! If we do that, I’ll die!’
“But this time, I can ride alone, can’t I?”
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“Absolutely not! What if you fall?”
“Then you can ride along.”
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“Your Highness….”
It’s delightful to see Princess Lux displaying such youthful enthusiasm, but I fear Ophelia’s nerves may wear thin. Perhaps it’s time for a third party to intervene.
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“I’ll take you for another ride later. For now, let’s move the luggage.”
Only then does Princess Lux step down from the plank. Just as a hint of a smile begins to appear on her face, it vanishes as though ink dropped into clear water, replaced by a sudden darkness.
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“Never mind. There’s no need.”
“What? Why not?”
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“I shouldn’t have behaved like that. It was shameful of me.”
Heavens. I can’t believe my ears. What did I just hear?
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“No, Your Highness! It’s only natural to want to ride again!”
“I came to this place as the Princess of Winsland. I mustn’t act unbecoming of a princess.”
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My heart feels as though it’s tearing in two. Yes, I know. The Princess is absolutely correct. She knows that should she show even a hint of vulnerability, those at court will pounce, eager to criticize and belittle her. But still… still…
“But it’s fun, isn’t it? The plank.”
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The Princess responds bitterly.
“You are fortunate.
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I don’t understand what she means. How could a jester like me be fortunate? Surely, the Princess could do anything I do. I even offered to let her enjoy the plank ride once the luggage was moved.
Who planted such a lie in her mind?
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That enjoying one’s youth is a sign of immaturity.
How much fear must she be instilling in herself?
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The Princess stares into the corridor as if recalling something faintly, and then, like someone trying to remember, she leads us forward. It seems she remembers bricks and wood but not my face. Very well. I can wait. Just promise that someday you’ll remember.
Glancing around to ensure no one is watching, I help carry the luggage. The ones to be cautious of are Princess Verona’s maids, whose ever-watchful eyes are perpetually trained on her. If rumors spread that I was within ten paces of Princess Lux, my life would surely be over. I can’t even fathom the thought of being despised by Princess Verona.
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Finally, we arrived. The room was once the chamber of Catherine Blythe, before it became Princess Lux’s. Princess Lux circles the room slowly, running her fingers over the furniture. The curtains, carpet, wardrobe, and dressing table remain eerily unchanged from their former state, but the bed stands conspicuously unmade. It seems the servants, upon hearing Princess Verona’s sudden command, abandoned their task mid-turning of the covers..
A disheveled bed in a spotless room. A fragment of the past that has stubbornly survived the six long years that have scoured this place clean of any trace of humanity. It is as though Catherine Blythe herself had only just risen from sleep this very morning, pulling back the covers.
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As I watch the Princess, lost in solitary reminiscence, I cannot help but imagine the weight of the burdens resting upon those small shoulders.
“Lady Ophelia.”
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“Yes?”
“Does Her Highness know how Queen Catherine has passed away?”
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“Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering. In case I slip and say the wrong thing.”
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Ophelia fixes her gaze on the Princess’s back, her expression veiled in memory.
“One day, she was relentless in her questioning. So I told her—only the essentials, just enough for her to understand. When she looked down at the floor and simply said, ‘I see,’ she seemed so sorrowful yet composed that I, foolish and lacking her strength, ended up bursting into tears. And she only held my hand in silence.”
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Come to think of it, Ophelia’s fate has been a cruel one indeed—her first master branded a traitor and executed, and the responsibility of raising a child thrust upon her at a tender age.
“How have you been since then?”
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“By His Majesty’s decree, I’ve lived confined within Richmond Castle. I couldn’t take a single step beyond its borders. It was an exile in all but name.”
“You must have endured much. Truly.”
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Ophelia’s chin quivers as emotions long suppressed over six years finally begin to surface.
“Time has flown by so swiftly. I feel nothing but gratitude to the princess. To think she grew up so well under the care of a mere maid who knew so little…”
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The Princess, moved by the sight of Ophelia’s tears, approaches her.
“Ophelia, are you still upset about what happened earlier? It truly wasn’t your fault. The Jester said that the people of this place are cursed never to hear our voices. Even earlier, I spoke directly to a married couple, but they couldn’t understand me. So the maid didn’t refuse your request out of malice…”
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Before the Princess can finish, Ophelia crumbles to the floor, clutching her in a tearful embrace. The sudden intrusion of grief disrupts the atmosphere entirely. Though startled by the sudden outburst, the young princess senses a duty to restore the balance of emotions. Silently, she pats her caretaker’s back in gentle consolation.
Thud. A muted, suppressed sound reverberates within the Princess’s heart.
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It is a sound only jesters, masters of concealment and pretense, can recognize—the sound of something being forcibly restrained.
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***
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“Jester, what do you think?”
I sit as humbly as possible at Princess Verona’s feet. Normally, I’d sit in a chair, but today, plagued by pangs of guilt, I find myself gravitating closer to the floor.
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The Princess seems quite pleased with this and, beckoning me nearer, even grants me the honor of resting my head upon her knee. This afternoon, I revel in the feeling of being the royal pet.
Arrayed before us, the maidservants stand in a row, adorned in dresses and meticulously styled.
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“Who has stirred your heart?”
What sort of situation is this? Frankly, I have no idea why the princess is presenting me with this dilemma.
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“…They are all beautiful.”
“Such an answer is unnecessary. Just one—tell me, who is the woman who makes your heart race?”
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Whether I choose or not, ruin awaits me either way. Resigned to fate, I blindly point as though rolling dice.
“That one.”
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Squinting one eye open, I find the maidservant with reddish-brown hair twisted up on both sides, casting a mocking glance down at me. The princess immediately gestures to her.
“You, step forward.”
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The maid steps where indicated, and the Princess fires another question.
“Now, who is next?”
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Wasn’t I supposed to endure this ordeal only once? How many names must be etched into this ominous list before the Princess is satisfied? Desperate to escape further entanglement, I venture cautiously,
“What is the meaning of this, Your Highness?”
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The Princess leans down to whisper, her words for my ears alone.
“If I can’t yet be Queen, I must at least ensure the next queen is under my influence. So, choose well—who do you think would best ensnare a man’s heart?”
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Ah, a rather clever scheme. She’s trying to prevent a noble lady from capturing the King’s gaze by mere chance and claiming the Queen’s seat, as happened before. Given her position as a mere contender and the newly brewing competition, there’s no better approach…
No, wait—what am I thinking? This is a clear act of subterfuge behind His Majesty’s back! Your Highness, how can you place me in such a complicated moral predicament?
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…There’s no avoiding it. My head currently rests in the folds of her skirt, after all.
With the utmost politeness, I indicate a maid with dark blond hair wearing a green dress. How fortunate that my opinions as a jester hold as much weight as the buzz of a mosquito.
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Once again, the Princess has the maid moved elsewhere.
“And next?”
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A wave of doubt overtakes me, but I persist. Several rounds of selection pass until only one maid remains—a girl with wide, doe-like brown eyes. The Princess scrutinizes her with evident dissatisfaction.
Just then, the door opens, and a disheveled maid with fiery red hair stumbles in, clutching a tea tray. She’s a recent addition to the palace staff, known for taking on menial tasks beyond her duties. Her clumsiness often earns her scoldings.
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“Ah, you’ve arrived. Stand over there.”
At the Princess’s command, the maid fumbles about, uncertain where to place the tray, before simply standing next to the girl with brown eyes. The stains on her sleeves from spilled tea are made even more apparent by her crimson hair.
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“Jester, take your pick.”
Judging that the timid red-haired maid would fare poorly at seducing His Majesty, I point instead to the brown-eyed girl. But the Princess promptly disregards my selection and approaches the red-haired one.
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“On closer inspection, you are rather pretty. What is your name again?”
The maid’s face turns as red as her hair as she stands face-to-face with the Princess.
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“A-Annette, Your Highness.”
The Princess’s lips curl into a satisfied smile.
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“Annette, we have much work ahead of us.”
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***
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After dismissing the other maidservants, the Princess seats Annette in front of a vanity, carefully combing her pomegranate-colored hair.
“My mother had truly beautiful hair. A soft chestnut color, like milk tea.”
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Each time the Princess’s hand touches her, Annette trembles, uncertain where to place herself.
“I… I have seen her portrait.”
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“Is she not beautiful?”
“Yes, she is. Very beautiful. I mean, she was… or rather, I…”
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“Do not be so tense.”
The Princess gently presses down on Annette’s shoulders, still quivering with nervousness.
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“Your hair is quite dark. It will need to be lightened.”
“Lightened, Your Highness?”
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“It’s nothing complicated. We’ll apply fruit wine to your hair and let you sit in the sunlight for half a day.”
“Pardon?”
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Annette’s face flushes with profound embarrassment. The Princess continues brushing her hair, unfazed.
“Annette, I explained it to you. You are to be the King’s wife. You must possess an appearance befitting such a role.”
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“But, Your Highness…”
“Hush. Be a good girl now..”
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With tears brimming in her eyes, Annette helplessly strokes her hair cascading over her shoulder, unable to voice her objection. Her hesitant fingers reveal her deep attachment to her hair. Truly, I wonder why the Princess chose such a timid girl.
As the Princess rises to summon a servant, I ask quietly.
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“Are you certain this maid will suffice?”
“What concerns you?”
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“She seems a bit… naive. How could she possibly charm His Majesty?”
It might be better for her to drown her thoughts in fruit wine rather than pouring it over the poor maid’s head, I think, just as the Princess, ever the strategist, responds in a low tone.
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“That is precisely it. She needs to be someone who could not sway even a butcher’s boy, let alone the King, without me. When she becomes Queen, there will be no fear of betrayal. Look at her. Do you see even a hint of cunning in her soul?”
With her tears now dried, Annette sniffles as she timidly touches the items on the Princess’s vanity, marveling at them. She unwittingly triggers a spring in a jewelry box, causing the lid to snap open, startling her so much she flinches.
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“S-Sorry! I’m so sorry!”
“It is fine. Calm yourself.”
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The Princess sighs softly.
“There is much to be done.”
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***
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