You finish applying the last touches to your makeup. The paint distorts what lies beneath, turning flesh into art, turning man into myth. With every stroke, the transformation completes itself; a mask not just worn but inhabited. Your identity is shrouded in mystery. Everyone recognizes you, yet no one knows who you are. The irony is not lost on you.

Beyond the doors, the court awaits, oblivious to the paradox that stands before them. You know your art by heart. You master storytelling, music, juggling, acrobatics and magic tricks. But your sharp wit is your signature feature. They will laugh, they will marvel, they will shrink beneath your words, but they will never see beyond the act. You attend so many events as a jester that sometimes, it feels as if this fake persona has taken over your true self. When the act is over, the disguise is gone... only emptiness remains.

You take a few deep breaths, toss your hat three times in the air and put on your customary smile. You do not do it for stress, just for luck. It has served you well until now. You are so popular that sovereigns from distant realms arrange grand visits, not for treaties or alliances, but simply to enjoy your witty humor. Everyone knows that your scathing criticisms are the King's guilty pleasure, even when they are directed at him. The rumor even says that you are the whisper behind the throne. Indeed, your ability to critique political decisions and social norms under the guise of comedy, which makes you one of the King's most trusted advisors.

The courtiers both love and fear you. Your words are sharper than daggers and they never miss their target. They laugh with you in delight, but dread being laughed at. You have ears everywhere and you enjoy ruining the reputation of those you deem unworthy. And today, one of these men is present. Prince Thomas of Borland is sitting at the banquet table. The foreign prince is desperately trying to court the King's daughter. Princess Sophie smiles and nods at him politely. But it's quite obvious that she is bored to death.

You step into the light.

Instantly the face of Princess Sophie glows. She is, without a doubt, your greatest admirer. Prince Thomas, on the other hand, scowls in annoyance. He hates you and it's reciprocated. With a quick glance, you notice that the Duke of Angor is livid. You know that he has recently added quite a few notches to his bedpost, while the Duchess was keeping vigil by her dying mother's side... As for the Count of Lade... he is sweating like a pig and avoiding your gaze. He is quite good at embezzling royal funds, but he is better at making the food disappear than the evidence.

The stage is yours. Let the fools tremble. The sharpest blade is a jest well-placed.