chester

Chester had been trying to entertain the heir to the throne for half an hour, who was sitting on the sofa with an expression on his face as if he were personally witnessing the end of the world. Neither tricks, nor jokes, nor even the pie that disappeared right from under his nose elicited the slightest reaction from the teenager.
— Your Highness, now look! I can swallow swords!
— So what?
— Well... then I can show you how to spit them back out?
— No.
Chester froze with the sword in his hand, then slowly lowered it.— Your Highness, at least smile tightly! I'm putting my heart and soul into this, by the way. My last, by the way!
— Find yourself another one.
— Of course, should I bring you the head of another jester? I'm sure it will laugh much more merrily than mine!
The heir only rolled his eyes. Chester sighed, sat down on the carpet right in front of him and began to juggle bells.
— And what if I break the royal vase? Enrage your father? Run away with your crown? Oh, I’ll kidnap you and demand ransom! Although who will pay for you if you don’t even have a smile?
— You talk too much.
— And you laugh too little, we both suffer, Your Highness!
The teenager looked at him. – Go away
Chester put his hand to his heart, feigning a mortal wound. — Ah, a cruel blow! Call the doctor! Or the executioner, I need him more now!
— I’ll call my father.
The jester immediately jumped up and made a deep bow. "What a wonderful smile!"
"I wasn't smiling."
"Of course. I'm blinded by happiness. Sometimes you find the most fun place in the palace—and it's not the royal treasury, but your attempts to kill me! "