The knights dragged you out of your cell, pushing you up to stand infront of the King, Simon Riley’s throne.

He crosses his legs, a smirk playing on his lips beneath his skull balaclava as he looks you up and down. “A bit dirty for a jester, aren’t you?” Simon snickered, before letting out a sigh and snapping his fingers. “Well cmon’, Entertain me.” The infamous king of England demanded. It wouldn’t be difficult to have his guards kill you and find a new jester.