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To the surviving unlucky bastard,

You are reading this because you’ve awoken on a rustled white bed in a dark candlelit room. You feel ill. Muscles feel like tired twisted rags and your belly feels of boiling water. Let’s not forget the smells of burning and how you’ve yet to locate the source. Rest assured this note is no accident. You have been selected.

Apparently ye’r funny. Apparently, you made the King’s court laugh a hundred bellies fat. You’re here because our majesty determined you to be human shite, murdering scum, and everything in between. Or maybe you were caught with the wrong pair of tits? Whatever the crime, it is of no value now. The King instead has welcomed you to “The’s King’s Corner”; it’s your last chance to provide the world...-as the royals put it- PURPOSE. You don’t remember now but you’ve lasted two weeks in the court alive already and thus have received this note of entry.

As fate commands, you need not attempt to end yourself les you doom yourself to a fate worse than that of our esteemed King’s Corner. Without a doubt, they’ll revive you again and again with their wonderfully accursed sorcery…, only to raise you in more pain than you thought to be possible; eyes boiling, skin curling, entrails spewing and bursting like the casing of a plump Xatanian sausage. All of it. Just for you.

Despite your aching body, you may have noticed your memory to be a bit fuzzy. Your King’s sorcery has allowed you some limited memories of Islenfell, in return for the laughter of course. My purpose is to introduce you to the world to which you serve. A bridge -so to speak-, for your memories to come back. Allow me to explain.

This kingdom of Islenfell was once home to a king so cruel his own royal family cowered at the sight of his royal finger. For it is that same finger that damned many to burn at the stake, to be shaved live, to be steamed clean, or even fed alive to their enemies. By the way, this is the part where your head pain should get worse. That’s your memories coming back.

In the years coming, our fateful cruel king fell ill. A poison, I hear. What kind? Nobody knows what or whom. All I know was that our king’s eyes were bled, his lips burst white, and his body as blue as the berries in our drink. And so, to determine the next heir, a trial of combat ensued where one of his many sons took to the throne. The child was said to be happiest amongst the royal family. That is until one day, his father -our late king- found him to be playing amongst the slaves and even rats. While the story has it’s holes, many say it is the jests to which he played that were truly the icon of a demon. In return for his transgressions, the cruel king swiftly decided his fate. He had banished him from the castle and into the fabled Looman’s tower to be raised by the darkest and most cruel of mages. He was not seen again; that is, until his mysterious return, four seasons before his father’s death.

The trial itself is said to be held in the eyes of the royals and thus, no-one truly knows how the boy bested his brothers to the crown as he appeared to be the weakest of the lot. Even so, some of his brothers were rumored to have disappeared shortly before his coronation. I suppose only the end results truly matter. And thus, the year of the Dandy King had begun.

The Dandy King is the name our neighbors have given him and our king adopted. He is a king so unlike his father and yet… his father’s cruelty rings just as true. While his father’s methods were outwardly cruel, the Dandy King has his own...methods. He is a king with many rules but his important one is to smile “just as you would a boy”. Laughter became our King’s defining feature. “Either in death or life, one must laugh”, he would often say with the widest of smiles. And so, if his enemies don’t die with a smile, he’ll give’em another try. And another. And another. Apparently, as he always had. Remember now? Don’t you. You smiled too.

Heed this reader, I don’t care about your name. No one will. You are now whatever the fuck the King feels like calling you. However, that doesn’t mean you are without identity. Upon reading this, you’ve been bestowed the title of Jester. Forever is your job to make the king and his court laugh. Should you fail, you will likely be thrown away to that of the aforementioned cleaning duty or much much worse. You see, this castle has a secret. Ours is one of many. We are Jesters; undead servants of happiness doomed to please our Lord for the rest of eternity. Your execution has already passed. Your job has begun. Welcome to the eternal King’s Corner.

Sincerely,

Yhevin Gilgrun

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About the author

Tsasco108

  • USA

Bio: Hi, my name is Frankie, and I am a huge fan of limitless imagination (especially paranormal and philosophy). I enjoy many different kinds of stories in the form of movies, music, animation, books, etc. What sets me apart from most people who thoroughly enjoy these activities is my ability to deeply reflect upon the subject and my willingness to spread the joys of it accordingly (like a super fan w/o the intolerance for criticism). I am a man that delves deep into imagination and I am very proud to say my personality reflects that. My goal in life is to become "Famous", but the kind of "Famous" who will not only act as a social conduit but as leader who changes the world through inspiration. I believe that when done correctly, imagination in the form of a movie/novel/etc. can deeply ripple through an individuals life. Ideally I want my novels to change lives for the better, still I am an amateur writer in college so I hope my readers can forgive the grammar errors, but I assure my novels are an adventure for the ages.

Sincerely,

Frankie
- I will always move toward this goal, one way or another.

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