Lola Asina—Year 2018 AS
I stared at the mirror as the morning Purple Sun shone its light. My fingers creased the wound the Gloam had left behind. "The Gloam," I thought. Burned bodies of dead people came like a blast of aether. Blistering with hate, these hands of mine, scarred by fire, Awakened fight Awakened. I will never use aether for war.
My thoughts were scattered when my door was knocked on. Flushing like a fool, I instantly ran to the door, almost slipping and falling. I opened it and was greeted by my dear, unfriendly receptionist, her pretty lavender eyes gazing up and down at me.
"I-Is anything wrong?" I asked, slightly uncomfortable by the woman's behavior.
"Someone is waiting for you down. I believe he said he was your… 'father-like figure'?"
I laughed, a pretty awkward one.
"I-I… Thank you very much, milady."
She cocked her head, her lips shy away from smirking.
"I am not some highborne woman; you don't have to call me that."
I lowered my head, feeling the redness creeping through. I am an idiot.
"I-I should greet him," I noted, quickly passing her and going down the stairs.
Not to my surprise, Sir Adelard was standing opposite the stove, looking around. When he finally noticed me, a covetous smile formed on his lips.
"Lola! Dear. May our Lord Tarn bless you."
I bowed slightly, smiling at the man.
"You too, sir."
His eyes darted around, then he snorted,
"Finding you was deathdamn hell. You have a redundant talent for finding weird places."
I immediately blushed, shaking my hands in protest.
"I-I do not!" I lowered myself. "Sometimes a girl needs her self-time."
Sir Adelard grinned mischievously.
"Oh, I get what you mean."
My good sir removed his hat, revealing the balding scalp beneath. He placed the hat close to his chest, his eyes narrowing in seriousness.
"You see, Lola. I always talked to you about how we would achieve great deals together. And now…" Grinning like a lunatic, he took out a ticket from his pocket. "This is our next stop. Your next big dance."
I took the ticket with trembling hands, my eyes refusing to look at it. I was scared and eager to see what was written on it.
"Is something amiss? Why the long face?" he asked, observing the girl.
I couldn't stop the tears welling behind my eyes, the happiness rising in the belly of me.
"W-Will the Dream King really let me? W-Will he watch?"
Sir Adelard stood proud.
"The king, prince, and princess. It is a miracle come true. And it will be at the highest place in Storm City."
"M-Magna Tempestas…" I whispered. "I-I will perform in the heart of the Royal House. Just three days later?"
"Well, yes. The Dream King thought he could use some entertainment after the earlier events regarding Fate's Masterpiece. You know, an outsider living in his walls."
I held the urge to hug the man, to sob and cry and laugh. I was going to be presented as the fool before the strongest and mightiest Awakened who has ever crossed this realm. The greatest general of the war, the king of our beautiful realm. Tears started to fall onto the precious ticket. The fool would dance with everything she has.
"And, Lola," Sir Adelard spoke up.
"Y-Yes, sir?!"
He vaguely gestured to the wound on my cheek,
"I don't know when or where you got that from, but… treat it fast."
I nodded my head quickly, tears pausing to roll as one side of my brain recalled the Gloam and his words.
"Y-Yes, m'lord."
We arrived at Magna Tempestas in a chariot drawn by two horses. I wish it were a shadowWheel. I always wanted to travel with one, but this was fine. Carrying my clown costume in my little bag wasn't something new. The four marshals welcomed us, checked our belongings, and then let us pass. Marshals are always fascinating to me. They are Converters, masters at using wind manipulation, and could travel across the entire realm in just a span of hours. The show would happen on the ground floor of the gargantuan palace. Magna Tempestas is tall and wide; it is believed to contain hundreds of rooms, many secret gateways, and an enormous dungeon in its depths.
Walking through its luxurious and royal corridors was a marvelous dream come true. I saw dozens of servants greeting me, and I even caught a brief glimpse of him, the Masterpiece.
And soon… I would perform.
"Death fucks, Lola. Come on, you are a great fool."
I looked at the mirror as the fool looked back, our eyes mirroring one another.
"'Fool," I thought. "I was the fool."
I was standing behind a stage room, its white walls giving a wan presence, watching my circus owner with deadpan eyes. There was an entirely different world sitting there and waiting for a mere fool to dance for them. But then again, I couldn't help but remember the words of the Gloam.
"Don't mess with yourself, Lola. This has nothing to do with him."
I said it so disregardfully, but my fingers couldn't stop and touch the wound I had suffered because of the Gloam.
"I am not afraid."
"My king and prince and princess!" Sir Adelard began. "Today, I give you the greatest of all.
I watched him from the corner, gripping the walls too tightly. This ground floor was one of the largest of Magna Tempestas. Hundreds of people had converged to watch me perform. The king and his two children watched from the highest possible spot. I was behind the wall opposite the audience. We were at the near end of the floor, with rows of seats to the left and right. The floor was covered in lights, and aetheric artifacts lined the walls—portraits of each Dream King, from Metrophanes to Orinn. House members of the rest of the Legia were also there, hanging on the white marble voice. King Orinn should have spent precious time organizing this place for my demonstration.
"Lords and ladies! My king and prince and princes! I present to you the FOOL of Aurum Dominus!"
I walked to the stage, almost stumbling over my own foot and falling on my face, which was a first.
Prince Arinn and most of the audience clapped. But neither King Orinn nor Princess Lilith did so. My eyes focused on their unfazed gazes. They were unfocused on me, thinking beyond the fool. That made my face fall a bit, but not now. The fool always has to smile.
"YEY!" highborne little girls and boys screamed. "THE FOOL!" they yelled.
I was the fool of their hearts. And tonight I shall rule this palace of kings and Awakened. Of those who may aether blessed.
"FOOL!" Prince Arinn screamed with quite the amusement.
"Ah… How painful," the fool thought.
I leaped into the air, aether dancing with me. White platforms all around the swank, throwing myself on them one by one. But tonight, the fool would dance with all the fire she has. Blue flames move around me, white flames circle me, black flames hover above me, and orange flames laugh with me. I ascend to the top, each step following a different platform. I tumble, opening my arms, and I laugh—the dance of the fool. The fool gives her lyrics her undivided attention, letting them flow through the world like water. Sometimes I even secure my red hat so it does not fall from my head. Kids chant my name like I am some divine being. Even servants watch the fool dance afar. I sway in the air, aether and the flames following me. I create platforms across the entire audience, saluting them all one by one. And soon, I reached the king. King Orinn has a smile on his face. I don't know which kind, but a smile. I feel every gaze on me, cherishing them, loving them.
"Inside a sweet drеam, I like to be free. More so to be. Flow and adore, laugh and cry. One fool, then dolls. Pale skies blister like flies. Drop my heart, for the fool may triumph. The dance of Fate may never end at sunset."
The fool flies high, till she collapses. The sound of love filled her ears as even the Dream King clapped his hands only once, but once. Mind, soul, and body. All as one. The fool is one. Where Lola ends leads to the birth of her. When the fool is on the stage, all she cares about is the world that loves her. I love being the fool.
I slow down, creating a row of white platforms that lead into the air. I climb them, giving each its own solicitude. The four shades of the flame circle me, taking the shape of masks. And with each different platform I step on, the flames take a different form, once blades, once a dog, once a staff, and once a rose. I reached the top, like it was a cliff, and let myself go, taking a leap of faith. Falling onto the audience, they halt their breaths, and the world goes quiet but for a moment. I create a single, wide platform underneath my feet. The worst part about being the fool is how quickly my aether reserves burn away. Fireballs erupt from my hands, blasting them into the air. I dance after them, jumping and laughing. The fool is not afraid. And as aether bends to me, I fall, my small arms opening to the wide world below. Landing right in the middle of the stage, I lower myself. Laughs and claps fill my world. There was an apple tree in the yard, and we looked at the world once, in childhood. The rest is memory. Awake, dear heart, awake. Thou hast slept well. Awake.
"You were magnificent, Lola!" Sir Adelard said as he rushed into my small room, the servants allowed me to have.
"All that aether coming from you…. I never had that kind, even at my prime. If you were to be a warrior, you would have made an entire fortune for yourself. What kind of monstrous aether reserve do you carry?"
I slowly wiped my white paint, brushing the oily gland across my left cheek and chin. My gaze follows Sir Adelard from the mirror.
"Thank you, sir," I said alienly, the voice of the fool never leaving my mouth.
"What? Did you not like your own performance? Dear, you are too hard on yourself."
The fool ignored her good sir. Sir Adelard cocked his head, scowling and sulking as he walked close to me. He gently placed a hand on my shoulder and rubbed it gently. He was wrinkly, his expensive perfume almost intoxicating this fool. Smell of money and gold and life. With the last of the aether flowing inside my body, I lay. Like a dying light, the fool laughs bright.
"Lola… Come on, dear. Don't sulk. You were great, spectacular, dare I say majestic."
I set down the gland, my eyes never leaving the mirror, the fool's gaze still there, watching. On the outskirts, they believe stormbirds dance when there is thunder. Flying through the storm as they sing their songs. My sister loved listening to their loud, joyful chirping. The fool did not, mine other self.
Sir Adelard slowly and hesitantly placed two purses of coins on my table.
"I'll leave these here, a really good payment; you should be proud of yourself. Came from the Dream King himself."
He cleared his throat, eyes darting around like he was a lost bolem whelp.
"I shall speak with some highborne woman, if you please. See you soon, Lola."
My eyes only left him when he was out of my sight. And as the stars blink, the fool follows. But here on this backstage, where not even the most cadaverous grain of hope touches. I—seeing the two purses—held one gently as it began to dissolve in my hands, my white fire burning it, incinerating it until not even gold was left to treasure. I did not want to extinguish the flame; I wanted it to dance all over the world. The fool could not allow it to fade. Flames were what made the fool happy.
"Lady Lola," a voice called, her sound soft and sweet and that much sullen.
"Ah!" I yelped embarrassingly loudly, instantly letting the fire douse and vanish. "I-I am so sorry, milady!"
I quickly turned around, lowered my head, and let her speak.
"King Orinn awaits you at the lordfyre floor. I shall escort you to him."
"K-K-King Orinn? H-He wants to see me? M-Me?"
She simply nodded her head.
"Yes. That is what I said."
I tried to force a smile. She was a servant-girl with sullen brown eyes and long navy-blue hair: a pretty, gorgeous face for a servant like her. Her entire figure was formal, wearing the royal handmaiden ribbons of Magna Tempestas.
"I-I… O-Of course."
She turned around, expecting me to follow her. I rushed my entire makeup, leaving half of it unremoved.
The servant had no pressure, but she was not just a mere servant, but a supreme authority. As we climbed the stairs, passing a garden, many servants lowered themselves before me as we walked through the corridors of this palace; I felt exalted, a fake queen.
"W-W-Why did King Orinn want to see me? D-Did he elaborate?"
Her head was straight; not even my presence nudged her.
"He just wants to give the Fool of Aurum Dominus his sublime gratitude in a rough time like this for making him smile."
I swallowed any fear left in my throat.
"O-O-Oh, that makes me glad, thank you, milady. I-I never had your name."
"I am Ayame."
"L-Lola. Nice to meet you, milady."
Ayame did not return the same decency; she remained sullen.
We walked through an entire floor of spoils of war. Armours of the past marshals and Dream Kings, information about their Awakened Weapons and Myths. Each looked different from the other. And when we climbed one last stair, we finally reached the floor where the Dream King awaits. The lordfyre floor was painted black, with red bolts of lightning on its dark walls. It was mostly empty aside from one single ruined throne. The entire floor was designed to display the Fyrelord Throne, with King Orinn standing opposite it, staring down at the dark throne as if it were a masterpiece of art. His hoar hair roars with the royalty of House Legia; wearing the robes of a king, he is what he was made for. And the concept rune on his forehead makes him one of a kind. Ayame stepped forward, lowering herself to her king.
"Your Grace, the Fool of Aurum Dominus."
King Orinn turned around leisurely, a very gentle smile playing on his lips. Without wasting a second, I knelt, my entire body shaking with awe and enthusiasm.
"Arise, girl," he demanded.
A single drop of sweat rolled down my forehead. Slowly lifting myself, I tried to look steady and sure, but the weird smile on my lips betrayed me, my words abandoning me when I needed them most.
"Y-Y-Y-Your Grace," I muttered, my entire face a mirror to a tomato. "I-I-I am very thankful to you for a-allowing me to perform here."
King Orinn jested that Ayame leave. The servant obeyed His Grace without a second thought, leaving the fool and the king alone.
Orinn turned his gaze, his hands clasped behind him; he did deserve every title he held; he was the mightiest of the Awakened.
"Did you receive your payment? I believe your circus owner should have given it to you by hand." His voice was soft and gentle, his lip movements elegant.
"Y-Yes, Your Grace. I-I am honoured by your quietus."
His blue eyes stared down at the empty throne.
"Two hundred quietus was enough for you, I hope."
I shook my head left and right, making it spin, almost causing me to vomit.
"W-Worry not, Your Grace. I-It's more than enough for me."
King Orinn looked over at his hand, which rested on the arm of the throne.
"I am glad. You made a glamorous demonstration there."
The Dream King was older than a century, yet he looked no older than forty. He was the walking evidence of the blessing of aether. Feeling an ugly silence between us, I spoke up:
"W-Was there any significant reason for you to beckon me, Your Grace?"
King Orinn pressed his lips into a thin line, gazing at me.
"Y-Your Grace?"
"You seemeth a master at the arts of aether. Tell me, fool… Who taught you to command fire like that?"
I shifted uncomfortably; the sheer intensity of his words was terrifying.
"I-I taught myself, Your Grace."
His brows arched, lips touching a smile.
"And how old are ye?"
"N-Nineteen, Your Grace."
King Orinn raised his chin; his hands almost moved to applaud me.
"You are an Ascender, it seemeth, and are very skilled at using fire affinity. I am very impressed."
He slowly walked over to me, placing his left hand on my chin and lifting it, his eyes glancing down at me with interest.
"And how did this happen?" His inquiry clearly pointed to the wound I suffered because of the Gloam.
My eyes narrowed dreadfully, fear of the unknown.
"I-It is just a mere scratch. N-Nothing to waste time on."
His brows crossed, glaring with distaste.
"When an Awakened reaches Infusion, their ability to control the aether inside their body improves drastically. Too bad for you, I am a Converter."
His fingers creased the wound, which was almost healed. Almost.
"A creature I do not reckon left its mark on you, I believe. And that is barely the surface, hm?"
His eyes moved down, looking at my burn-scarred hands.
My entire body nearly crumbled; tears were forming behind my eyes, but before they could roll and fall, King Orinn pulled his hand away, allowing me to exhale a pretty deathdamned breath.
The Dream King spun around, sighing like an aged father.
"You gave me a good show, girl. I am grateful." He slightly tilted his head. "Too bad Kimono wasn't here to watch you dance. My wife loved dancing as you did. She would have dared even to take you by her side. Ah… My dear queen… A woman too stubborn to love."
Sweat dripped down on me, and fear controlled my mind. I couldn't even focus on his lament.
"You may be dismissed. Ayame should be waiting for you by the stairs. And again, thank you, Lady Lola."