The Joke

I

Lute's and flutes sung softly, like a small buzz in the background. Soft chatter joined the melody, along with the clinking of cups and laughter. A jester, a fool, danced and slunk around the room; juggling balls and telling jokes. He, among the rest, stood out like a diamond in rust. One side of his fine cotton outfit was a lapis blue, and the other side was a passionate red. The golden bells at the tips of his hat jingled as he bounced around, and his big happy smile and mad voice filled the room of banners and hay. Despite his volume, he still sounded like he was apart of the buzz. The white sound.

"What hangs low at a cell keeper's knees?" blurted the jester, keeping his pitch suspenseful.

A man of white, thick hair dressed in a velvet red cloak replied with his cheeks red, "What?"

"His keys!" the jester laughed, "Dare, I would not say that in front of the princess!"

The man laughed in joy, his golden crown bobbing up and down, "You know how to make me laugh, fool Baltezar."

The jester's big smile lessened by little, "That's what I'm here for!"

The king looked away at one of his knights; a handsome knight. His hair was shining like gold, cascading like waves over his broad shoulders. The knight said something that was almost impossible to hear, but it made the king's torso bob with laughter.

The jester painfully pulled the edges of his mouth back by the ears, bouncing off to other groups to bring joy to.

At the market, where it was quiet and peaceful, children of the kingdom ran around, chasing a brown chicken. Water ran down the cobblestone streets, rushing harmlessly through the cracks. A man, tall and slim, stepped down the street, looking over at the stalls. One stall lay meat, another lay jewellery. Each time he turned his head, his straight, dirty blonde hair would spin around his head like a jipsey's outfit.

"Baltezar!" A tall, buff man gestured his hand over to him, "Come over here, you fool!"

Baltezar stepped to one of the stalls, "What is it, Lance?"

Lance smirked, his sweat glistened over his olive skin. His scar over the corner of his lips stretched, "You'll love this."

Baltezar looked over the metal table, where a bucket of water rested by his black leather boots. Lance's big, rough hands took the handle of a large, shiny iron claymore.

He lifted it to the table, "What do you think?"

The claymore was scratchless, and light in colour. A golden engravement shone down the centre, presumably on both sides, with the phrase;

'For a fool delivers the message, the fool delivers saviour.'

Baltezar's normally smooth, calm voice squeaked in excitement, "It looks fantastic!"

"All yours," Lance's sharp, canine teeth peered throw his thin lips in a smile, "to protect yourself in battle."

"Thank you, Lance." Baltezar looked down at the claymore, then back up at Lance.

Lance's burgundy hair was wet, separated into sections that rained over his forehead bound in a black, ragged cloth. His eyes were a golden brown, almost a glowing orange. His nose had a slight bump over the bridge, but it wasn't anything horrendously unsuitable for him.
He was dressed in an apron, which barely covered his dark, glistening chest. His bottom half couldn't be seen entirely from behind the table, but he normally wore tan cotton trousers with fur coating the top.

Baltezar raised his eyebrow, "I can't take this home, it's too big to take unnoticed."

"I'll take care of it, don't worry." Lance patted the blade before putting it in a purple scabbard with golden, celtic patterns rained around it.