Chapter 2: The Jester’s GambitI’m Kazuki, seventeen, and officially the worst hero ever.

  Scratch that—I’m not a hero. I’m a jester, jingling my way through a fantasy world that’s less Lord of the Rings and more Game of Thrones with extra backstabbing.

  A week ago, I was a high school nobody dreaming of sying dragons. Now? I’m dodging dirty looks from nobles and trying not to trip over my pointy shoes. My life’s a cosmic prank, and the punchline’s coming fast.

  It’s day seven in Princess Livia’s castle, and I’m already neck-deep in drama. The great hall’s buzzing like a beehive, packed with frilly nobles, sweaty townsfolk, and knights who look like they bench-press horses. Livia’s on her throne, golden curls bouncing as she waves me forward. “Jester!” she calls, her grin sharper than a dagger. “Make me ugh, or it’s the dungeon for you!”

  No pressure, right? My bells jingle as I step into the spotlight. The crowd’s eyes burn holes in me. I spot Master Elrin, the creepy wizard, lurking in the corner, his robe screaming I know secrets you don’t.

  Those whispering nobles from yesterday are back, too, their smirks saying you’re toast, kid. My gut twists. This isn’t just a performance—it’s a test, and failing means more than a bad review.

  I grab a pair of apples from a table and start juggling. “Behold, the Great Kazuki’s Amazing Fruit Frenzy!” I shout, tossing them higher. The apples wobble, but I keep them airborne, fshing a grin.

  “Two apples? Easy! Let’s make it three!” A servant tosses me another, and I catch it—barely. The crowd cps. Livia leans forward, eyes sparkling. So far, so good.

  Then I spot a kid in the front row, maybe ten, with a gap-toothed grin. Perfect. “You, young squire!” I say, pointing. “Want to join the act?” His eyes go wide, and his mom nudges him forward. I hand him an apple. “Toss it to me on three. Ready? One, two—three!”

  He chucks it. Hard. The apple smacks my forehead with a thunk. The crowd gasps, then roars with ughter as I stumble, clutching my face. “Ow! Kid’s got an arm like a catapult!” I say, winking at him. He giggles, and Livia’s cackling so hard she’s shaking. Even Elrin cracks a smile, though it’s more I’m watching you than nice one.

  I bow, bells jingling. “Thank you, thank you! The Great Kazuki survives another day!” The crowd cheers, but those nobles in the back aren’t cpping. Their gres scream you’re too popur, jester. Livia tosses me a grape.

  “Not bad,” she says. “Keep that up, and I might let you eat at the big table.”

  I catch the grape in my mouth, earning another ugh. But as I leave the hall, my chest tightens. Popurity’s a double-edged sword here, and I’m no knight. I’m just a kid with a knack for falling on his face.

  That night, I’m in my tiny servant’s room, sprawled on my lumpy bed. The jester outfit’s crumpled on the floor, bells mocking me.

  I stare at the ceiling, repying Elrin’s warning: You’re pying a dangerous game. What game? I’m just trying to survive! But Livia’s starting to like me, and that’s painting a target on my back. Those nobles think I’m “influencing” her. Me! The guy who can’t even py a lute!

  A knock at the door jolts me upright. It’s te—nobody visits jesters at midnight. I creep to the door, heart pounding, and crack it open. It’s Livia, dressed in a pin cloak, no tiara. Her eyes dart down the hallway. “Let me in,” she whispers. “Quick.”

  I step aside, and she slips in, closing the door. “Uh, Your Highness, what’s up?” I say, scratching my neck. “Kinda te for a performance review.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Don’t call me that. It’s Livia. And I’m not here for jokes.” She sits on my wobbly table, looking… nervous? “I need your help, Kazuki.”

  My jaw drops. “Help? Me? I’m the guy who got hit in the face with an apple today.”

  “Exactly,” she says, leaning forward. “You’re not like the others. You don’t bow and scrape or plot behind my back. You’re… real. And I trust you.”

  Trust. That word hits like a brick. Back home, trust was letting my buddy copy my math homework. Here? It’s a grenade with the pin half-pulled. “Okay, slow down,” I say. “What’s going on?”

  She takes a deep breath. “My dad’s in trouble. The king. He’s been acting weird—locking himself in his study, canceling meetings. The nobles are circling like vultures, and I think they’re pnning something. I overheard Lord Varis—he’s the smarmy one with the mustache—talking about a ‘new order.’”

  I blink. “A new order? Like, a coup?”

  “Maybe,” she says, biting her lip. “I don’t know. But Dad won’t listen to me. He thinks I’m just a kid. Elrin’s no help either—he’s too busy with his spellbooks. You’re the only one I can talk to.”

  I rub my temples. “Livia, I’m a jester, not a detective. I don’t know anything about coups or kings!”

  “You don’t need to,” she says. “Just… keep your eyes open. You’re in the hall every day, hearing things, seeing things. People talk around you because they think you’re a fool. Use that.”

  Use that? My brain’s screaming run, but her eyes are pleading, and I’m not heartless. Plus, if the kingdom goes down, I’m pretty sure “jester” isn’t a high-demand job in a coup. “Fine,” I sigh. “I’ll snoop. But if I get caught, I’m bming you.”

  She grins, hopping off the table. “Deal. And Kazuki? Don’t tell anyone. Not even Elrin.”

  She slips out, leaving me staring at the door. Great. Now I’m a spy in a jingly hat. This world’s gonna kill me.

  The next morning, I’m back in the great hall, juggling spoons and dodging gres. Livia’s at the head table, acting normal, but her quick gnce my way says you got this. I’m not so sure. Spying’s not exactly in my skill set, but I’m good at faking it. Time to lean into the “goofy jester” vibe and see what I can hear.

  I start with a new act: “The Great Kazuki’s Epic Quest for… a Sandwich!” I prance around, pretending to battle imaginary goblins for a loaf of bread. The crowd eats it up, and I make sure to “accidentally” stumble near the nobles’ tables, catching snippets of their whispers.

  “—king’s distracted,” one says. “Perfect time to push the trade deal.”

  “—Varis says we move soon,” another mutters. “The jester’s a problem, though.”

  My heart skips. Me? A problem? I trip over a chair for ughs, but my mind’s racing. I need more. During a fake swordfight with a broom, I “colpse” near Lord Varis’s table. He’s the mustache guy Livia mentioned, all silk robes and fake smiles. I groan dramatically, clutching my “wounded” side, while my ears strain.

  “—Elrin’s spell could secure it,” Varis whispers to a hooded guy. “If the king signs the decree—”

  I roll away before they notice, my pulse hammering. Spell? Decree? This is bad. I need to tell Livia, but not here. Too many eyes.

  That afternoon, I’m summoned to the garden again. Livia’s pacing by the fountain, her cloak swapped for a fancy dress. “Well?” she says. “Anything?”

  I gnce around, making sure we’re alone. “Your nobles are shady,” I whisper. “Varis is talking about a decree and some spell with Elrin. Sounds like they’re pushing your dad into something.”

  Her face pales. “A decree? That’s serious. Dad only signs those for big changes—like taxes or alliances. If Varis is involved, it’s not good.”

  “What about Elrin?” I ask. “He’s your wizard. Isn’t he loyal?”

  She frowns. “I thought so. But he’s been distant tely. If he’s helping Varis…” She trails off, then grabs my arm. “Kazuki, I need you to get into Elrin’s study. Tonight.”

  I choke. “His study? The guy’s got magic! He’ll turn me into a frog!”

  “Not if you’re careful,” she says. “He’s at a council meeting till midnight. His study’s in the west tower. Look for anything about a decree or a spell. Please.”

  Her “please” hits hard. I’m not a hero, but I’m not a coward either. “Fine,” I mutter. “But if I’m a frog tomorrow, you’re feeding me flies.”

  She ughs, but it’s shaky. “Deal.”

  That night, I’m creeping through the castle like a discount ninja. My jester outfit’s swapped for a dark cloak I swiped from a undry pile, but the bells are stuffed in my pocket. The west tower’s quiet, the air thick with dust and magic. Elrin’s study is at the top, behind a heavy door carved with runes. My hands shake as I push it open.

  Inside, it’s a nerd’s paradise: shelves of books, glowing crystals, and a desk buried in scrolls. I tiptoe to the desk, scanning for anything beled “Evil Pn.” No luck, but a parchment catches my eye. It’s got Elrin’s spidery handwriting: Decree of Succession. Spell of Binding. Royal blood required.

  Royal blood? My stomach drops. That’s Livia’s family. I shove the parchment in my cloak and keep looking. A book titled Arcane Contracts is open to a page about “loyalty spells.” I’m no wizard, but this screams trouble.

  Footsteps echo outside. Crap. I dive under the desk, heart pounding. The door creaks open, and Elrin’s voice mutters, “Where is it?” He’s back early. I hold my breath as his boots shuffle closer. A scroll falls off the desk, inches from my face. If he bends down, I’m done.

  But he doesn’t. He grabs something from a shelf and leaves, muttering about “Varis’s impatience.” I wait five agonizing minutes, then bolt, clutching the parchment.

  I meet Livia in the garden at dawn. She’s a wreck, her eyes red. I hand her the parchment, and she reads it, her hands shaking. “Succession?” she whispers. “They’re trying to repce Dad. And this spell… it could force him to agree.”

  “Elrin’s in on it,” I say. “I heard him with Varis. They’re moving fast.”

  She clenches her fists. “We need proof. Something to show Dad before they make him sign.”

  “Like what?” I ask. “I’m not breaking into Elrin’s study again!”

  She grabs my shoulders. “You’re the jester, Kazuki. You’re in every room, every feast. Make them slip up. Trick Varis into saying something in front of witnesses. You’re good at that.”

  I groan. “I’m good at falling, not scheming!”

  “You’re better than you think,” she says, her eyes fierce. “You’ve got a week to pull it off. I’ll stall Dad. Please, Kazuki.”

  There’s that “please” again. I’m in too deep to back out now. “Fine,” I say. “But if I’m in the dungeon, you’re sneaking me cake.”

  She smiles, and for a second, I feel like a hero. Then reality hits: I’m a jester, spying on wizards and nobles, with nothing but bad jokes and dumb luck. This gambit’s gonna break me—or make me a legend.