"Bollocks!"
"I'm not sure I've ever heard such a vulgar word escape your mouth, Arthur. And this is truly saying something since I've known you your entire life," Yao spoke calmly while pouring some milk in Arthur's teacup. They were sitting in a lounging room reserved only for the royals. Teatime was always the time of the day when both Jack and Queen came together to discuss the affairs of the kingdom, but it was more for enjoying their dear tea, really.
Arthur accepted the cup gratefully and sipped it with a hint of vexation as he remembered the countess' words from a few weeks prior. "Kyle's mark is still not showing any signs of change. What if Roswitha is right? What if the Black Joker has turned his back on us?"
The Jack plopped on the opposite sofa with his own tea. He took the cup from his lips and placed it daintily on the saucer. "Now this is certainly new. Since when do you doubt magical beings? I think Kyle isn't the rightful heir. Why would the Joker suddenly stop choosing the Kings of Spades? It's just not plausible."
The Queen crossed his legs and leaned back, trying to regain his collected composure. "I do apologize. Let's assume Kyle isn't fit to be King. The Joker must have chosen someone else."
Yao hummed in thought. "As Kyle is the eldest and thus the only possible successor, we can leave out your other cousins and family."
"You are absolutely correct. But who is it then?"
"Have you ever considered that Edgar and Merlin may still be alive?"
Arthur gasped and almost choked on his tea. After a small fit of coughing, he loosened the bow around his throat. "I have not, actually. I was quite young myself when they disappeared. And I only remember them to be annoying." He purposely left out any sort of emotional attachment to them. The hard truth would have been too painful to discuss.
Yao chuckled and blew away the steam over the brim of his cup. "Those two really were partners in crime, though I bet Edgar was always the one taking the initiative in their schemes."
The Queen looked into his tea in thought, watching how the liquid roiled in miniature waves when tilted. It would be splendid to see his cousins all grown up. As he still bore some love for them, he couldn't imagine the overwhelming joy that would come over him if he met them again… or even saw them from afar. "So, you think it's worth it to command the military to look for them? This is a great risk and an enormous effort considering we cannot even confirm Edgar is the true heir. Moreover, we have no idea what they would look like nowadays."
"You've got a point there. After so many years, finding them may be nearly impossible. It would be especially draining for the search party now that they're no longer little munchkins."
"But difficult times call for more difficult measures. Oh, we could commission painters to create updated pictures of them based on previous paintings," Arthur suggested.
"You mean the way it's sometimes done for criminals?"
"Now that you mention it, that method is certainly not fit for prospective royalty. Maybe we could—"
"I support your suggestion. We would have to make countless copies of the painting, though. The price would be staggering."
The Queen chuckled. "And this is exactly why you govern our kingdom's finances. You know we owe no one at the moment, and we have some leftovers from the reparations Hearts had to pay us for the war. Money wouldn't be the issue."
"If Edgar and Merlin were kidnapped as so many claim, they may not even be in the Kingdom of Spades," Yao said as he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.
"You might be right. As much as I'll regret doing this, a search party of this extent and importance wouldn't be a secret for long. The other kingdoms would know about it sooner or later."
Yao raised an eyebrow. "What would be wrong with that? They could help us. It's more efficient and favorable this way."
"Are you insane? What if the monarchs of another kingdom found the twins faster than us? They could then hold the heir for ransom." Arthur glanced out the window and wondered where beyond the vast meadows and trees his little cousins could be. Were they even still alive? Were they content or depressed?
"The only country I wouldn't trust completely is Clubs, but Queen Erzébet can easily control King Ivan, and her good virtues wouldn't allow her to play so unfairly. It would also reflect badly on her home country of Hearts, which is trying its best to make amends. Do you honestly believe that Francis of Diamonds would stand in your way? You two grew closer than ever during the war. It's surprising, really," Yao reminded him with a smile.
Arthur let out a long sigh. "That's true. Even if this search won't get us anywhere, there's always the possibility we find out what actually happened to them. I will see to the updated portraits and the printing of flyers."
The Jack nodded faithfully. "I will immediately contact the other royals and ensure they support us."
Arthur raised his teacup. "To a new beginning."
Outside the room, in the quiet hallway, a lonely figure stood in front of a window. It cast a long, dark shadow on the purple carpet and calmly fanned the air.
"To a new beginning indeed."
The sun bathed a wide cornfield in warm evening light as the darkening horizon announced the nigh night. A soft breeze carrying colorful leaves rustled the crops, and from a bird's eye view, the scenery looked like that of an ocean with rising tides and gentle waves. It was the epitome of rustic serenity, but unfortunately for the impending darkness and silence typical for fall, the genuine laughter of two young men didn't seem to be ending anytime soon.
"You'll never catch me, slowpoke!" The elder brother shouted at the other while he avoided stumbling over uneven patches of soil and accidentally ruining the rest of his family's harvest. He could only hear the pursuer's soft murmur of a voice behind him, which was muffled further by the wind that rushed past his ears so loudly he couldn't make out exact words. But he knew his brother well enough to know what he was saying. It was probably something along the lines of "It's getting dark! Let's go back!" or maybe "Al, stop! You'll fall and break your neck!"
"AL!"
Alfred slowed down and turned around, panting. "What is it, Mat?"
Matthew was on his hands and knees a few meters behind him, breathing heavily as if he might forget to swallow the generous amount of saliva he had been carrying around during their tiring games. Alfred rolled his eyes and went to his younger brother to pat his back in comfort. Seriously, why was he always such a spoilsport? On a different note, why didn't he exercise everyday like he should? What didn't come to the elder boy's mind was that maybe his own incredible endurance and stamina were not universal and could not apply to every person.
Matthew collapsed and flopped back first onto the itchy corn, using one arm to catch his coughs of exhaustion and the other to clutch his churning stomach.
"Whassup, Mat?" Alfred asked from above, playfully looking down on his brother.
The other answered him with a feeble attempt of a glare since he had exemplary manners, even towards his reckless brother.
"Mom said dinner's ready… D-didn't you hear that?"
This spiked Alfred's interest. How had he forgotten about how hungry he was while playing with his twin? A mischievous smile overtook him, and he could practically feel his brother's subsequent unease.
"I'll race you!" He roared, and with this glorious idea, Alfred took off while Matthew remained sighing and lying unmoving in the field.
Alfred bolted through the door of his family's small cottage, almost ripping it off its hinges, and into the warm kitchen. The delicious scent of home cooking overwhelmed his senses, and he didn't see when he smacked into a corpulent woman who shrieked in shock and almost lost hold of the steaming loaf of bread she was balancing on a cutting board.
"Alfred!" She scolded. But she smiled at the boy after he reflexively apologized with a peck on the cheek
"S'ry, mom," Alfred said and changed his direction to the table. With no regard for manners, he took his seat and grabbed both fork and knife, holding them hungrily and eyeing the hot pot in front of him. Man, dinner was the best time of the day! He loved spending time with his family and always looked forward to the moments they were together and not constantly occupied with work, work, work.
He liked the food, too.
He then noticed how his brother slipped into the seat next to him in a quiet manner only typical for Mat. Provokingly, he kicked his leg underneath the table. Matthew answered with a long, suffering sigh before chastising him like Alfred had expected.
"You gotta wait for me, Al. I'm not as fast as you," he said as he ran a sweaty hand through his locks. The poor boy had clearly just spent all his energy on this last race to home.
"'Course you're not! No one's as fast as the Hero!"
"Alfred, stop this conceited behavior at once." The deep voice came from his side of the room, and with a start, both Alfred and Matthew saw their beloved father stepping into the light. Big smiles graced the boys' faces when he came over to hug them.
"Dad, you're finally home! We've been waitin' for you!" Alfred laughed and playfully took his father's hat off his head. The man didn't even comment on it. It was a normal occurrence, really.
"Have you sold much at the market?" Matthew asked quietly, a hint of fear tainting his soft voice.
"I sold everything we harvested, my son," their father told him gently and ruffled his hair. "It'll be enough. And thanks to your hard work, my boys, we can await a good harvest next year, too. I'm proud of you."
Their mother joined in by greeting her husband lovingly and making him comfortable after his exhaustingly long journey. She took his heavy coat, snatched his hat out of Alfred's cheeky hand, and planted a big kiss on his bearded cheek. He returned it with a smile.
"Matthew, please get the wine from the cellar," the mother told her son gently.
"We're living the fancy life today, aren't we, sweetheart?" Her husband chuckled.
"Well, you've been gone for a long time, my darling."
"Yeah, dad, where did you actually go?" Alfred asked excitedly while leaning far over the table in the direction of his father. He propped up his head on his hands like he was about to hear the tale to end all tales. Matthew rolled his eyes at this and stood up to fulfill his mother's wishes.
"I went to the capital. There's the biggest market in all of Diamonds!"
Alfred's eyes became round like saucers, and one could even say they were filled with sparkling stars. "Did you see the royal family? What does the castle look like from the inside? Did you go to the royal gardens? Why's our national color orange? Did you find that out?"
"Alfred," the man cut him off, smiling tiredly, "I didn't even go near the castle. The market is at the city gates."
"Aw, man," Alfred groaned as he slumped in his seat. "I gotta go there myself one day. I wanna see what the royals spend all our taxes on."
His mother's gaze grew intense, and she distracted herself with the wine bottle her younger son pressed in her arms, looking for a way to open it. She knew they weren't poor, or at least were not as bad off as some families a few kilometers away. Nonetheless, she didn't want to imagine the years her son would have to work and save money to be able to afford the journey to the capital.
She herself would love to go there, too. She would be able to see fancy shops hosting high quality and perhaps even luxurious products. And she would be able to indulge herself in high-class society just to get a glimpse of the life she could have led, had she been born into another, more privileged family.
But listening to the animated chatter at the dinner table reminded her of why she was enduring all the hardships life presented to her. She loved her children and husband dearly, and she would give everything to offer her family a better life. The female patron of the household would readily step up to work longer hours and do even more straining jobs if she had the reassurance to be paid better.
But it was already uncommon enough for a woman to work and to be relatively independent from her husband in the times they were living in, and more of this would be frowned upon by society. Besides, she had a loving husband, two wonderful children, enough to keep them fed, (though it was difficult with Alfred's never-shrinking appetite,) and a roof over her family's heads. What more could she hope for?
She fished out four glasses and filled two of them with the sweet red liquid and the others with water from the well before setting them on the table. She sat down next to her younger son and nudged him, reminding him of the daily prayer.
Matthew wrung his hands nervously before folding them and bringing them to his forehead. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that his family had taken the same position, so he began to speak.
"We praise the Red Joker for the care he gives, so that food and love are never amiss. You, godly being, have your expectations, and we give our best to meet them, but know that we are only mortals, and thus cannot exceed them."
Matthew glanced around in uncertainty, adding a quiet "At least not all the time…" to not sound too pessimistic.
His father and mother looked pleased and started filling the plates with some of the steaming food. The family raised their glasses to a toast. Cheering and clinks ran through the air.
"To dad!" Alfred shouted and Matthew whispered simultaneously. Even to their mother, it was funny to see how similar her children's appearances were but how differently their personalities had evolved since when they had been toddlers.
Red smoke drifted through a busy crowd of town people, almost touching their legs but always slithering around them in the last moment. The thickened air stretched and bent, always changing its inconsistent form from moment to moment. It seemed to have a personality as its peak took the time to look at different merchandise and bargains. All the while, the ignorant humans bustling through the market place never seemed to even notice its presence.
The smoke didn't react to the noise and active movements around it. It was only focused on not being trampled on and finding a way out of the crowd. A gust of wind got it off track, and the smoke was blown apart and against a wall. A new layer of its personality shined through as it shook its peak in a manner that would hint human dizziness. It then disappeared into a dark, empty alley, away from the animated town, to compose itself.
It was quiet, as if the noise of people had suddenly vanished completely. The smoke swirled and spiraled. It darkened and gathered until it was solid enough to resemble a human body. A pale hand pulled out of the mystical material, followed by a pointy nose and a demonic tail. The dark air morphed into a slim man with white hair and startling red eyes. Two sharp horns sprouting out of the sides of his head formed last, and the creature smirked smugly while swishing away excess red smoke from his black jacket.
The man stepped forward, and his heels clicked menacingly on the stony floor. He approached a house wall with torn flyers featuring two young men. He had seen these portraits all over town. They were plastered in every nook and cranny like wallpaper in a castle.
A long finger ran over the artwork, tracing the taller boy's illustrated facial features like his cowlick and bright smile. The man's ruby gaze flickered to the next boy. He looked freakishly similar to the first, but his eyes were filled with diffidence, and his back was slightly bent. The man read the title and soon realized these were the same boys who had gone missing long ago and were still of royal standing if the Spadian crest printed on the sheet was anything to go by.
"You two are special, eh? We'll see about that," he rasped and laughed. With quick movements, the white-haired man peeled off the glue from the back of the flyer and folded it, tucking it inside his jacket.
An explosion occurred, and the mysterious man disappeared into a puff of red smoke with a piercing screech, leaving ringing silence and emptiness in the alley.
A young boy was lounging on a wooden bed, flipping pages of an old book and reading attentively. He traced inky letters that were conveying instructions of potion-making and spells. Slowly, he lost himself in the sheer beauty of the fading artwork, and only a loud, cracking boom in a neighboring room was outrageous enough to make him forget his magic lessons. He snapped the book shut and sprinted out to greet the person with excitement.
"Gilbert! You're back!" The boy chirped. He hugged the white-haired man, who was coughing wetly and sputtering curses.
"Hi there, kid," Gilbert said once he had composed himself. He smiled and petted Peter's head affectionately. Another cough escaped his throat, and he rubbed his chest in minor pain. It was high time for him to learn another teleportation spell unless he wanted to stick to the old one. Though classy and iconic, it made noxious red smoke swirl around and stick in his throat wherever he popped into existence.
As if he could read minds, Peter's expression changed to one of mirth, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "You should stop smoking, you know? It's making your voice sound all raspy."
Red eyes rolled in annoyance, and Gilbert proceeded into the "kitchen" of their little "apartment". The two Jokers were dwelling in a stony cave in a secluded forest on the shores of Hearts. No one else knew about them, and they preferred to keep their existence a secret. It wasn't as if they could just pop out of nowhere and scare people, but it would be funny and satisfying. They were Jokers, after all.
As Gilbert had learned from an old wizard named Bisi, who could sense magical beings in the four kingdoms, an ability only few were graced with, the Jokers' purpose was to advise the Kings of Hearts, Diamonds, Clubs, and Spades. Unfortunately, the wizard couldn't tell him anything else about a Joker's responsibilities and duties since he disappeared shortly after their brief meeting. None of Gilbert's concern, but it was a loss for him to be deprived of a reliable source of information.
Which left Gilbert almost where he had started: confused about his existence and purpose as Joker. His new, lonely, and senseless life had brightened a bit when he picked up an abandoned child from the streets named Peter. He tried to teach the kid everything he knew, but it wasn't much to begin with, as he himself wasn't entirely sure what he should even know and believe in.
"Did you read the book I gave you this morning?" Gilbert clipped with an almost dangerous note similar to that of an expectant mother. He shrugged off his jacket and laid it flat over a kitchen chair. He then sunk down and started untangling the laces of his high-heeled boots.
"Yep," the blond boy answered shortly and leaned against the doorframe.
The elder Joker looked up and raised an already arched eyebrow at him. "Then you know everything, and I can ask you about the spells later."
Peter wriggled under the piercing gaze and looked to the floor, mumbling boldly, "Why do I even have to know that…?"
"What was that?"
The boy gathered himself and looked straight ahead. "Why do I have to learn this stuff?"
Gilbert stood up with his jacket slung over his one arm while holding the boots with the other. Despite now being considerably shorter, he still looked dangerous, and Peter knew he would still be wary of the man for several more years to come.
"I want you to be prepared for when I'm not here anymore and can't look out for you—" Gilbert spoke truthfully but cut himself off. He knew he was still stuck on his old mindset and sometimes automatically confused Peter with his own little brother, whom he had to tell the same thing over and over again. He started anew with, "I want you to be able to fend for yourself."
The little Joker gasped throatily, and sudden tears rimmed his teal-colored eyes. "You want to kick me out, too? Just like mom and dad and not-mom and dad?!"
"What?! No!" Gilbert groaned and wondered where his social capacities had gone, (if he'd ever had any to begin with.) He quickly hung his jacket on the rack and put down his shoes in the "entrance way" before being back at Peter's side, hopelessly trying to sort out this misunderstanding. Kids these days. Still, how could he say that to him? He was aware of the horrors the boy had had to endure in his life. Peter had been abandoned twice, and the time with his families hadn't been any less abusive than his life as a street rat. That world was mean.
"Do you really think I'd just cast you out on the very streets I picked you up from? That'd be just plain stupid. And I'm not stupid. I'm awesome. You know that."
The Red Joker bent down and gathered the small boy in his arms, and just for a moment, it felt like hugging Ludwig. No! It was insulting to assume he only took care of Peter to compensate the loss of his own brother! No, he was fond of the cheerful boy for who he was, and everyone who had caused him pain would pay for it one day. Gilbert just had to think of how he would make them pay.
What would it be? Transforming into hideous monsters like changelings and werewolves to chase Peter's former bullies around? Or lurking behind a corner, only to jump out and scare the shit out of them? Nah, these ideas were for sissies. He'd been the most fearsome person in the four kingdoms! He had to come up with better stuff…
"You're having that look in your eyes again…"
In the time his fantasies of revenge had gone wild in his head, Gilbert hadn't noticed that Peter was leaning as far away as he could in his embrace. The Red Joker shook his head and looked at the boy confusedly. "Which look?"
"You know… sometimes you look completely mad and power-hungry when you're alone in your head," Peter choked out, dried tears clinging to his cheeks.
Gilbert smiled fondly, revealing sharp teeth. When he was still King of Hearts, he'd been told the same by his closest advisors all the time. "Yeah, sorry. I'm just ambitious and am already happy when I get what I want in my imagination."
But Gilbert decided to change the topic. "I have something to show you! Sit down!"
Peter did what he was told, and a few seconds later, Gilbert pressed a wrinkled paper onto the kitchen table in front of him. It was showing two young men. Both had the same hair color and facial features. But it was obvious, in some strange way, that their personalities differed a lot.
"Who are they?" Peter asked. He scrutinized the emblem of Spades beneath the pictures.
"The taller one is Edgar, and the other is Merlin of Spades," Gilbert told him offhandedly while rummaging through the shelves of their provisional kitchen to find something to eat.
"Of Spades? Are they royals?" Confusion grew in the boy's voice.
"They are. They were kidnapped when they were kids. Seventeen years ago."
"That's a long time. I wasn't even alive back then. How do you know?"
Gilbert suppressed a laugh when he finally found a slice of stale bread in a corner. "We might be Jokers, but we're not living behind the moon. Besides, I've made plenty of good connections in my lifetime."
"That's hard to believe. You must have been either rich or noble for that, and—" Peter looked behind him when he heard a loud crunch and noticed it was Gilbert ripping old and slightly greasy bread with his teeth. "You really don't behave the part."
"Not all royals act like Roderich the Pansy." Gilbert moved to stand behind him and leaned over his head, still munching and scattering crumbs all over the place.
Luckily for Gilbert, Peter, disgusted at freeing his hair from the toxic remains of bread, didn't make the connection between this hated "Roderich" and the very real Jack of Clubs. Otherwise, the Red Joker would have had a lot of explaining to do. He wanted his previous life as the malicious King of Hearts to remain a secret, as he didn't want to intimidate Peter more than he already did.
The boy brushed away the crumbs from the illustrated faces on the paper and fixed his eyes on them. "Why are they looking for them now after seventeen years? That doesn't make any sense…"
A wet washcloth materialized under his chin, followed by Gilbert's loud voice. Apparently, it was to be used as a mike. Gilbert's questionable showman qualities at their finest. "You are absolutely correct, Mr. Peter! What are your assumptions on this matter?"
"Get this stinky thing away from me, Gil. I think they must be important again. But for what, I really don't know."
A white finger tapped on the Spadian crest to give him a hint. "So, they are needed for the royal family?"
Gilbert hummed and traced a crown on Edgar's head. Peter gasped. "Wait! I heard Spades doesn't have a King anymore! The last one died a few weeks ago, right? I've been wondering who's going to inherit Spades' Kingship."
The Red Joker tousled the boy's hair and patted his shoulder. "I knew I made the right decision when I took you in. You know, Spades does have eligible heirs, but none of them has received the right mark."
"Right mark?"
"Good that you're asking, little man. I thought you noticed how your mark changed when you became a Joker. A true heir of a kingdom keeps his or her previous mark until the incumbent ruler is dead. Then a crown will appear above the mark. It's as simple as that."
Peter looked at his hands silently. "It's fate that chooses who becomes who, isn't it?"
"Yes," Gilbert gently confirmed. "All of us were taught that Jokers are responsible for the Deciding, and this is what everyone thinks. But we, the Jokers, are the first ones who can deny this assumption. This makes the secret surrounding Spades even more interesting."
"I see… What exactly is our job, Gil?"
The Red Joker sighed tiredly. "If I only knew. Sometimes I believe fate threw me into this confusing life just to punish me for all my wrongdoings."
The boy laughed freely. It was a sound like soft, ringing bells. "You might be impulsive and rugged, but you're too soft to hurt even a fly."
"Well, flies don't have an army, do they?" Gilbert replied, pushing the gnawing guilt of the war he had caused to the back of his mind.
"I guess not, though the number of flies that were on the bread you ate came close to one…"
"Oh, come on!" the elder Joker groaned. "We should support the search party looking for Edgar and Merlin. I have a feeling that's what we need to do!"
Author's Note:
Thank you for your kind words! I really apprechiate it!