XIX—Kaisorra Ano of Lucia

For a gathering of the whole nobility from both Lucia and Florencia, there were far too many commoners at the House of Gates. But Kaisorra was willing to mostly overlook the problem, since they were all in various roles of service to their noble betters.

She sat in her chair, noble lords and ladies crowding about as a group of performers attempted to impress her. She laughed, mostly. Could that man truly put one more sword inside his throat?

“Do not move!” she commanded with a giggle. “Stay like that for as long as you can. I wish to take you all in, for to remember you by.”

The jester, wearing his green and gold stripped livery, rolled his eyes toward her. She smiled, nodding encouragement. Encouragement that would probably make him cut himself.

It mattered not.

It will be amusing at least.

She laughed when he started shaking, the bells on his funny little hat tinkling with his quaking.

“Surely, my lady,” Luca Aurelius said, “he’s had enough. Look at the poor soul.”

“That’s surprising coming from you, Luca,” she said. “It’s rather… compassionate of you.”

The jester pulled at the sword.

“No, no,” she said with a smile as she wagged her hand. “I did not give you permission to stop entertaining me.”

The jester was shaking so hard now, his friends looking on with worried glances. One of them, a small dwarf, rushed forward. “My lady, he’s had enough.”

“Has he?”

The dwarf in his green and black costume nodded fervently.

“If the jester takes the swords from his mouth, I have him executed,” she said.

Gasps went all around, though some lords and ladies smiled, bemused at her cruel little joke. Of course she would not have them executed. She didn’t even have the power to do that to this buffoonish troupe of performers.

“Jester,” a woman called from the crowd. She came forward. She was wearing white stockings with garter belts that disappeared into her frightfully short skirt.

A beautiful piece, Kaisorra thought. Blue silk. And that jacket! Oh, I wonder if her boots are some rare form of monster hide. I’ve never seen such interesting leather.

“Lady Rosangela Martin,” she said. “How are you? I trust you’re enjoying the party?”

“I was,” she said, her tone one not of amusement. “Until I saw you torturing this poor jester.”

“Oh, he’s quite fine, I’m sure.”

Rosangela uttered a spell, and a magic encasement of luminescent light encompassed the jester’s body. “You can relax now. Your body will not fall. Go on, I assure you.”

The jester’s tenseness visibly lessened.

“Oh, you’re not fun, Rosie.”

“Dwarf, take the swords from him.” Her tone was not a request, and so, knowing such a command well, he obeyed her.

Once the swords were free, Roseangela touched him, taking away the magical encasement.

“Now be gone, Jester.”

With a quick bow and a “Yes, my lady!” he took up and left with his small troupe of performers.

“Fine,” Kaisorra said. “I was bored with them anyway.”

“You do not have to be cruel.”

“Cruel? I’m not cruel, Rosie. Luca, am I cruel?” She laughed musically.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “It was just a bit of fun.”

“To be sure,” Roseangela said.

“You’re always against me, Rosie.”

“No,” she said. “I am against your excessive displays. Nothing more.”

It was all quite amusing. Annoying Roseangela was always a fun pastime for Kaisorra. At first, it had been out of jealousy and malice, but as those feelings waned, it simply became a pleasurable experience, like playing a prank on someone.

“If you wish to get along with our Florencian neighbors, you should refrain from behaving in such ways.”

“Oh, surely not,” Kaisorra said as she flicked her hand. “Don’t be a bore, love.”

“Hmph!”

Roseangela turned and strode back into the crowd without a word.

Kaisorra laughed. “Until next time.”