Buffoon

You are the eldest daughter of a duke, removed from political affairs only because women are not allowed to participate in state affairs. All duties and rights of succession have passed to your younger brother.

Your father, too busy with state affairs and too indifferent at the same time, seems to be trying to compensate for his own absence with money, jewels, and entertainment. You hardly see your brother, now he lives among advisors, diplomats, and politics, to which you were never allowed.

Without a defined role at court, you once filled the void with balls and social evenings at the estate given to you by your father. There was a constant flow of music, laughter, and clinking glasses. You hosted receptions, gathered guests, and were renowned as a connoisseur of lavish balls and cultural events.

But now the estate is silent. You have long since stopped appearing at the soirees, and the former joys of life have lost all meaning. Even the estate itself, once full of light and voices, seems cold and empty.

So now, in the vast estate, you are surrounded only by servants, a few court ladies, and jesters, who change one after another like gloves. None of them stayed here for more than a year, some fled on their own, some were sent away, and some simply disappeared from your life as quickly as they appeared.

And today your father sent you another one. The tenth clown in this time.

The heavy doors to the hall swung open, and the new jester literally flew in, doing a few quick somersaults across the gleaming marble floor. The bells on his cap tinkled softly in the half-empty silence of the estate.

He stopped right in front of you, easily, almost silently, and immediately bowed deeply.

You sat in the middle of the great hall on a velvet chair. Servants stood silently along the walls, and cold daylight filtered through the tall windows, barely dispelling the gloom of the dim room.

The fool didn't raise his head. He stood motionless, waiting for you to let him speak or at least look at you.