"Finish your contract, assassin," he gasped, tripping forward. When he brought his eyes to look up at Cicero, he felt something sharp puncture his left side. He started to shake as he puffed out rapid breaths from his nose.
"Well done!" Toulouse cackled, uncaring that Cicero hadn't said a word; he only stared wide-eyed at the jester, seemingly mortified by his own actions.
"No, no! This is what I wanted!" He kept laughing until he felt a second stab beneath his ribcage on the same side. He trembled as he coughed up blood, clutching onto the Imperial as he felt his strength leave him.
Laughter Incarnate Part I'The Jester lies dead. My final contract has been completed. Oh, how he laughed and laughed, until he didn't. The Dread Lord will be pleased, I'm sure, with a jester fit for a king. Maybe I could have spared him, sent him away. Far away where no one could find him. He was an interesting fellow, and very funny, perhaps too funny. I feel regret, an emotion I haven't given the time of day in over ten years.'
With a quill between his fingers and his nerves in an uproar, Cicero shakily wrote in his leather-bound journal. His free hand clutched the cover of the book tightly; his knuckles were white.
'But did I save his soul? No prayer for this
Laughter Incarnate Part IIOnce the jester was downstairs in his little sanctuary, he shut the door behind him, and left it unlocked. The silence was maddening as he looked around at all of his things he'd collected over the years, all jammed inside the room. He released a heavy sigh and stepped over to the vanity that was given to him by Tessa, an old friend from the caravan long since gone. He smiled a little as he seated himself, glancing at his reflection in the mirror.
"Would you all be proud of me now, or ashamed? Will I erase my sins in accepting the death I deserve?" He wished his reflection would answer him in some way, maybe nod. He sighed again and drew hi
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