Connie’s voice rang out cheerfully through the carnival tent. “Looey! This is my brother, Soulvester! He’s a knight!”
Looey turned around mid–balloon juggling, the bright colors of his costume flashing under the flickering carnival lights. And there he was—Soulvester, standing tall and stoic, his armor glinting faintly in the dim light. The man looked like he’d walked straight out of a storybook, broad-shouldered and serious, with a sharp, noble face that could make even the boldest performers trip over their own feet.
Looey didn’t trip… but his heart did a triple somersault.
“Ah! You’re Connie’s brother!” he chirped, his painted smile widening as he waved his big gloved hand. “She talks about you all the time! You’re, uh… really shiny!”
Soulvester crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing slightly. His power gaze was enough to make even the strongest warrior shrink, and poor Looey felt like a piece of confetti fluttering helplessly in the wind.
“I see,” Soulvester said curtly. “So you’re the clown she’s been spending time with.”
“Yep! That’s me!” Looey replied brightly, unaware of the icy tone. “Looey the one and only! Do you like jokes? I’ve got a million of them!”
Soulvester didn’t seem amused. He stepped between Looey and Connie, protective and grim. “If you ever make her cry, clown, you’ll answer to me.”
Looey blinked, confused. “Huh? Make her cry? I’d never! She’s my best pal! You’ve got it all wrong, shiny armor guy!”
But Soulvester didn’t hear him — or maybe didn’t want to. To him, Looey was just another fool hovering too close to his precious little sister. He gave the clown one last stern look before escorting Connie away.
And Looey… just stood there, face paint hiding his pout. He’d fallen head over heels for the knight — the way his cape swayed, the confident step, that serious scowl… it all made Looey’s heart do cartwheels. But oh boy, did Soulvester not seem to like him back.
A few days later…
Looey tried everything to get on Soulvester’s good side. He brought him cupcakes shaped like helmets. He told valiant-themed jokes. He even offered to polish his armor — but accidentally used whipped cream instead of polish.
Soulvester sighed, exasperated, frosting dripping from his gauntlet. “...Clown.”
“Yes?” Looey beamed hopefully.
“Stop trying to court my sister.”
“WHAT?! I’m not—wait, what?!” Looey’s face turned the same shade as his nose. “Sir, I—I’m not into Connie! I—I like—uh—” He fumbled with his oversized bow tie, flustered beyond repair. “I like knights!”
Soulvester froze, caught completely off guard. His brow furrowed. “Knights…?”
“Y-yeah,” Looey mumbled, fidgeting. “Especially tall ones with scary eyes and nice shoulders.”
For once, the great Knight was speechless. His gaze softened slightly, his armor clinking as he turned away to hide the faintest trace of color rising to his cheeks.
Connie, who had been watching from behind a popcorn stand, grinned ear to ear. “Told you he wasn’t after me,” she whispered.
From that day on, Soulvester’s tone toward Looey became a little less sharp. He even allowed Looey to tag along during training — though the clown kept getting distracted by how handsome Soulvester looked while sparring.
And sometimes, when no one was watching, Soulvester would glance at the brightly painted fool giggling beside him… and allow himself a tiny, almost imperceptible smile.