The Jester And His Future King

The Jester And His Future King

Hector Constantine · Ongoing · 85.9k Words

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Introduction

Kain has stolen from nobles, cheated merchants, conned gamblers, and talked his way out of more trouble than he can remember.

But breaking into the royal palace is supposed to be his greatest heist yet.

Disguised as the palace jester, Kain has one goal: steal a mysterious magical jewel that an old wizard claims will awaken the magic sleeping inside him.

The plan is perfect.

Until the Crown Prince catches him.

Instead of calling the guards, Prince Lancelot Vilemont makes Kain an offer he can't refuse.

Take him with you, or be executed.

Kain has no idea why a prince would willingly abandon a palace, and frankly, he doesn't care. He just wants his jewel and enough money to survive another day.

So the thief and the prince disappear together.

What follows is a chaotic journey filled with crooked inns, angry merchants, stolen horses, dangerous enemies, cheap magic tricks, questionable survival methods, and one very quiet prince who seems far too amused by Kain's disasters.

Kain thought he was stealing a jewel.

He never expected to steal the prince's heart, or discover that the quiet man beside him is hiding secrets far more dangerous than his own.

Chapter 1

Kain’s POV

“Stay right here, fella. You are my one way ticket to greatness,” I said, slapping a thick strip of tape over his mouth.

He glared up at me from the floor, eyes practically burning holes through my skull, but I just offered him a wide, unbothered smile.

“Don't look at me like that. I tried explaining to you, Evren.”

I had been planning to sneak into the palace for weeks, and unfortunately, there was one tiny problem with my brilliant plan: I wasn't a jester.

Luckily, the actual palace jester was right under my nose. He was my bloody neighbor.

And he was currently tied to a chair in a damp storage room behind an abandoned tavern, staring at me like he was already mentally plotting a thousand ways to kill me.

Honestly, I never wanted to take it this far, but the man simply wouldn't listen to reason. All I needed was a way past the gate. Nothing more. I wasn't interested in the royal family, their hoard of gold, their fancy silk coats, or their ridiculous chandeliers.

I wanted one thing: my magic jewel, buried underneath the palace's sacred room.

Well... technically, it wasn't mine yet. But it was going to be, and once I had my hands on it, my whole life would change. Not even the king himself would have as much power as I would.

I glanced back down at Evren. “Don't worry. I will come back for you.”

His eyes narrowed to thin slits.

I raised a finger. “I know, I won't. Just trying to make you feel better.”

Adjusting the ridiculous bell-tipped hat sitting crooked on my head, I stepped out into the alley and grinned. Time to become Evren, the royal jester.

An hour later, I was standing right in the middle of the palace courtyard.

The place was packed to the brim with royals, thieves, corrupt nobles, servants, and people who looked like they genuinely believed they were better than the rest of us simply because their coats cost more than a house. They were all gossiping, drinking and dining as usual.

That was all they knew how to do, while the rest of the kingdom suffers in silence.

Stepping directly in front of the raised dais, I pulled three dark, heavy stone balls from my satchel and launched them into the air.

I wasn't about to perform some cheap little trick with light wooden toys and expect these snobs to be impressed. My little magic tricks were going to carry me through this crowd just fine.

I kept the granite moving, snapping my wrists as the weight rotated from palm to palm, faster and faster until the gray shapes blurred.

The front row gasped.

My lower lip curved into a smirk. If three heavy rocks were enough to get them this excited, that meant Evren have been doing a really bad job here.

I flicked my wrist and tossed one of the stones straight up into the air.

It stopped dead right above my head, hovering motionless.

The whole courtyard went quiet. I slowly waved my hand beneath the stone, then above it.

Nothing. The heavy granite just sat suspended in midair, defying every rule of physics.

A few more people gasped. “This is impossible!”

“Everything is possible,” I announced loudly, looking around at the sea of blank faces.

Nobody uttered a word.

“You could do it too, you know,” I said, lowering my voice this time before snapping my fingers. “All you have to do is believe.”

The stone dropped, and I caught it casually in one hand with a theatrical bow. All the nobles laughed, and a brief ripple of applause swept through the front line. Perfect. Now for the real show.

“Alright,” I announced, walking toward the throne. “I need a volunteer.”

The king and queen sat high up on their velvet chairs, looking every bit as important as people who had never worried about a meal in their lives. Surrounding them were their sons.

I scanned the row of princes until my eyes landed on him.

Dark hair, crisp tailored clothes, perfect posture, and a deadly serious expression. He hadn't smiled once since I had walked into the yard. He looked like he carried the entire kingdom's tax problems around inside his head.

Interesting.

I pointed right at his chest. “You.”

His dark eyebrows lifted slightly.

“If you don't mind, Prince, what's your name?”

Before he could answer, the queen leaned over gently. “Tell the man your name, dear.”

The prince looked down at me, his voice smooth, flat, and completely devoid of warmth. “I am Prince Lancelot Vilemont.”

He said it like the title alone was supposed to make me drop to my knees.

I blinked. “Lancelot?”

He said nothing.

“That is a really long name.”

He didn't respond to me.

I nodded in deep, fake sympathy. “That's stressful to call, isn't it?”

A few snickers burst from the crowd. The prince's expression didn't shift a millimeter.

“I will call you Lance,” I said, waving a hand. “Prince Lance, come down here.”

For a long moment, he just stared at me. Then he stood up, descended the marble steps with calm, deliberate strides, and stopped directly in front of me. Up close, he smelled like expensive linen and pure boredom.

I handed him one of the granite balls. “Hold this.”

He took it without flinching.

“Now throw it up.”

He flicked his wrist and tossed it into the air. The stone rose four feet and locked dead still in the sky.

The crowd cheered, and I gestured proudly at the hovering rock. “See? Natural talent!” I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice. “Now... talk to it. Believe you can command it.”

Lancelot looked at the stone. Then his gaze drifted slowly back to me, taking in my floppy hat, my wide grin, and the whole absurd setup.

“Do you believe you can?” I asked.

Silence. He didn't respond to me as usual.

Then, the corner of his mouth twitched upward into a tiny, slow creepy smirk.

My smile instantly vanished. Why is he suddenly smiling?

Don't tell me...

“Ball,” Prince Lance said, his tone entirely calm. “Hit his head really hard.”

THUNK.

The stone ball hit my forehead hard, and a scorching pain flared through my skull.

My knees instantly buckled as the courtyard tilted sideways, and I hit the cobblestones like a sack of grain.

Everything went black.

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