Like Father Like Daughter
He knew he was close - he could smell it. It was a smell he could never forget, not in this lifetime. Probably not even in the next, so deep was it ingrained in his mind. Maybe the feelings will change, he pondered. Maybe not. He kept walking.
***
In her chambers, the Lady Kala Jester was rather bored, and quite irate. Almost accordingly, the weather outside was dismal, especially for a late summer day in Gamewell. The fog had permeated the walls, and the light drizzle was just infuriating. They way the winds whipped about, she almost swore she had dozed off and waken sometime in the middle of the snow seasons. Her window overlooked the large courtyard, but there was no need to look outside to know what was going on. The lack of noise, of people cheering and laughing, was just as infuriating as the weather.
Abruptly, she spun on one heal walked out into the corridor. But no sooner did she leave her room did she feel a sudden desire to go back in. At the end of the hall, as it had always been, was the large portrait of her mother, Kerbouchard, and her husband, Kala's father, Taille Jester. The Lord Jester. The mere existence of that portrait irritated her of late, much more then she dare mention to her mother, or her brother, Beau. She had never truly known hate in her life, but if she came close to hating anything, it was that painting.
Her mother was not a very happy individual. Her life had been wrought with a sadness which no one should rightly endure. Time and time again, everything she grew dear to was stripped away from her. Her first daughters dead in a war of Eranesse. And so on. She didn't want to go over it again. Not that her mother ever complained, but it was obvious. Kerbouchard seemed to stay as far away from Gamewell as she could, most of the time. It was simply too painful. But that was her father's fault, wasn't it?
From all accounts, Taille Jester had been an angel of philanthropy. His magic powerful enough to create his dream into this reality, where, at the moment, it happened to be raining. He was a master of many arts, so she had been told. His love and passion was entertainment. It was said he was never seen without a smile, dressed in a form of motley, but more grandiose, more then just a mere jester. He was the Lord Jester. But so much more, as people never hesitated to mention. A master swordsman. A diplomat. In fact, it was even rumored he could control the weather (this was attributed to the fact that no one alive could remember it raining in Gamewell when he was around, but she attributed it to the fact that a vast majority of the staff wasn't employed in the city back then).
But he disappeared. No explanation, no letter saying goodbye, nothing. He left behind his castle, his city, his wife, and his children. The last part hurt the most. Beau said it was fate, that growing up without their respective fathers was only to make them stronger, but Kala didn't believe it, and, she suspected, neither did her mother. But it was hardly an issue anymore. Except ...
In the illustrious history of Gamewell, there had been only one prisoner. He had besieged the city, fighting off guards, killing one of them, and had almost killed Beau, slicing him with a dagger across his cheek. It had left a horribly stark scar despite the physcians attempts to hide it. Ultimately, he had reached mother, who had subdued him and kept him locked up in her private chambers. But when she had tried to inquire about who he was, Kerbouchard refused to give a straight answer. "You'll know when I know, Kala." But she would never say anything more. He was obviously a tortured soul, a lunatic with an insane mission that only he could decipher. He would scream for hours, ranting and raving, horrible obscenities, death threats. Until he escaped.
Which, in and of itself was simply unbelievable. Her mother had her own powers, coupled with the magic of Gamewell behind her, yet, he bested her and simply left. Of course, this was all by her mother's accounting, which, Kala surmised, was missing some rather important details. Which, apparently, she would never get. But since then, her mother had been nothing but distant. She quickly became uninterested in the day to day task of running Gamewell, which she had made her passion since their return from Eranesse. Even more quickly, Kala had stepped into that role, her birthright, the role of her father. Within a few months, her mother had withdrawn herself completely, often leaving and not returning for days. Of late, she wasn't anywhere to be found, and hadn't been for almost two weeks. Kala was no child, and could take care of herself, and her city. But sometimes, she was a lonely thing, and needed her mother.
Beau, on the other hand, had gone into a rather deep fit of rage after the lunatic has escaped. He gathered his men and went hunting, only to return weeks later with not a single trace of him. His ego wounded more then his face has been, he left Gamewell to go soldiering. Just like Rokilon, Kerbouchard had said. With that pronouncement, Kala saw something in her mother give. The last Kala had heard, Beau was off fighting some great war against some greater evil somewhere. She sometimes marveled about how different they'd grown, but the portrait on the wall told all. Her father was the Lord Jester. Beau's was not.
Sighing softly, she slid back into her room and closed the door. The fire was still burning, but it provided no warmth. Stepping out onto the canopied balcony, she frowned. The sounds of merriment that pleased her so were not to be heard. Somehow, she had expected this to change over the past few minutes, but, alas, the weather refused to do her bidding. She snarled. Her job was basically simple. To keep her city happy. But no, it was a miserable day, and a miserable city.
She paused. To keep her city happy. It was her city, wasn't it? Her mother seemed to want no part of it, Beau longed for the real world, and her father ... well, he just wasn't here. She toyed with the notion. Lady Kala Jester. The Lady Jester. That has a nice ring to it - it was what people called her mother. Not her, though. She was just Lady Kala. And it wasn't as if she could make a proclamation: "Behold Kala, the Lady Jester!" Nope, it didn't quite work that way. But it was still her city. And it was raining.
***
In fact, he thought, the rain looks like it's picked up. A perfect day. The place reeked of dragon, a smell he was looking forward to expunging. His time had come again. As he had once before, and as he had dreamed countless times thereafter, the man formerly known as Jester stormed the gates at Gamewell.
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