On a beautiful morning, sunlight bathed the land in golden brightness, streaming through the wide-open palace windows. A soft breeze carried fresh air into the grand halls of Wonderveil Palace.
Outside, servants hurried about their tasks—carrying crates of supplies, stacking weapons and shields, and preparing everything for the knights who would soon march to war.
Inside a moderately sized chamber, a long table stood surrounded by chairs. It was covered in documents, regional maps, and steaming teacups. The most important nobles sat there, alongside Princess Celestia and Ryan—the young nobleman chosen as her suitor—discussing the coming conflict.
Celestia sat at the head of the table, calm and composed. Her long white hair fell softly down her back. Her eyes moved slowly from one noble to the next.
"Princess Celestia… will this war drag on for long?" asked one lord.
"My sister possesses a dragon," Celestia replied seriously. "We must be very careful."
The nobles began whispering nervously. The mere mention of the dragon was enough to fill them with fear.
"Have you ensured there is enough food and supplies for the people during the conflict?" asked a noblewoman.
"You need not worry," Celestia assured her. "Supplies are sufficient. Besides, this war will not take place in any inhabited region. I have chosen the Valley of Death as the battlefield."
Several nobles sighed in relief.
"Your Highness… is that not dangerous?" Ryan asked, looking at her with genuine concern.
Celestia turned toward him. She could see how deeply he cared for her safety.
"Do not worry, Ryan. I will not be going to the battlefield myself. I will receive full reports and updates through Alice."
"Let us prepare thoroughly, Your Highness."
Ryan picked up a map, unfolded it, and spread it across the table. Everyone leaned in to look. He pointed to the marked location—the Valley of Death.
"It is quite far from the palace," Ryan observed. "The knights will be exhausted by the journey. We should ensure they carry extra rations and supplies."
"What Ryan says is true," agreed one noble. "We must provide more than enough for those going into battle."
"Perhaps we should also send doctors and nurses along with them?" Ryan suggested.
Several nobles nodded in approval.
"That is an excellent idea, Ryan," Celestia said, smiling warmly.
"Of course, Your Highness. I always strive to think of what is best for this kingdom."
The nobles exchanged glances. It was clear to them that Ryan was a perfect match for Celestia. Not only was he from a distinguished family, but he was also intelligent, mature, and thoughtful when discussing matters of state. Even Celestia seemed more relaxed and comfortable speaking with him than with anyone else.
When the meeting ended, Celestia and Ryan continued their conversation, walking slowly through the palace gardens filled with colorful blooms. They spoke easily, discussing politics and governance as if these were the most natural topics in the world. More than once, Celestia laughed openly at Ryan's explanations and observations.
"I never knew you were so wise, Ryan," she said as they walked side by side.
"Please, do not flatter me. I am simply eager to learn and serve," Ryan replied, scratching the back of his head with a shy smile.
"Why did we not meet sooner?" Celestia wondered aloud. "With someone like you by my side, many political problems would have been solved much sooner."
"Perhaps you were under great strain before," Ryan suggested gently.
"Was I really that obvious?" Celestia asked, surprised.
"Very much so. I suspect your parents felt you were suffering deeply, which is why they sought a jester to bring you joy and laughter."
"You are absolutely right," Celestia admitted softly.
She smiled faintly, thinking of how Charles had always tried to make her smile during her darkest, most stressful days.
While they talked, unnoticed by them, Charles stood in the distance, watching from a stone corridor. He saw how close and comfortable Celestia seemed with Ryan—a nobleman whose status and standing matched hers perfectly.
Charles stood still, his fingers tightening around his jester's mask. He knew well that someone like Ryan was far more suitable for her than he could ever be.
He turned to leave, feeling he was no longer needed—especially now, with the weight of war looming over everything. Yet, against his own heartache, he found himself following them quietly from afar.
Nyx, the blue-furred cat, had also noticed how well Celestia and Ryan got along. He immediately made his way toward them, his bright blue coat shining beautifully in the morning sunlight.
"Good morning, Princess Celestia… Lord Ryan."
"Ah, Nyx!" Celestia's face lit up with a genuine smile—the first truly happy smile she had shown in months, ever since she had grown cold and distant.
"Hello, Nyx. It has been a long time," Ryan greeted him warmly.
"I am well," Nyx replied. "So, Princess Celestia… do you find Ryan suitable for you?"
"I believe he is," Celestia answered softly. "Though I still need time to get to know him better."
"I am in no rush," Ryan said kindly. "As long as Your Highness feels comfortable with me, I am content."
"I certainly hope you two will marry one day," Nyx said confidently. "You are perfect together—equal in status, handsome, beautiful, and worthy of each other."
Celestia looked down shyly. "Do not say such things… we are only just beginning to know each other. But thank you, Nyx, for finding such a worthy partner for me. I know you only want what is best for me."
"Have no fear. I will always do what is best for you, Princess," Nyx promised.
Nyx felt truly satisfied seeing Celestia smiling again. In his eyes, Ryan was everything Charles could never be—and exactly what Celestia deserved.
From behind a nearby wall, Charles watched and listened in silence. Summoning all his courage, he stepped out and walked toward them.
"Your Highness," he said, bowing respectfully.
Celestia turned and smiled faintly when she saw him.
"Ah, Charles… let me introduce you. This is Ryan, a nobleman. Ryan, this is Charles—he is the palace jester."
"Yes, I have heard of Charles," Ryan said politely. "A jester known for his wit and gentle humor, even among nobles. I have been told he brought you much joy during difficult times, Princess."
"That is true," Celestia replied.
"It is an honor to meet you, Lord Ryan," Charles said, forcing a bitter-sweet smile.
Nyx stood nearby, staring sharply at Charles. His eyes clearly showed how much he disliked having Charles anywhere near Celestia.
"Oh, Charles… perhaps you should go and rest now," Nyx said coldly. "You must be tired from entertaining the nobles all morning."
Charles looked directly at Celestia. "I only came… to bring some joy to you, Princess."
"That will not be necessary," Nyx cut in sharply.
A heavy silence fell over the group after Nyx's words. Charles said nothing. Celestia and Ryan turned away and continued their walk, talking as if Charles were no longer there.
Charles stood alone, watching until they disappeared from sight.
"Nyx… am I really so worthless… just because I am a jester?" Charles asked quietly.
"She is a princess, and you are a jester," Nyx replied without mercy. "Two different worlds, two different stations. Nothing will ever change that between you, Charles."
"Do you want me to leave?" Charles asked softly.
"Absolutely."
Charles lowered his head for a moment, then spoke again.
"Grant me just a little more time… a week, perhaps two. I want to stay long enough to make Princess Celestia smile and laugh one last time before I go. I promise—after that… I will never return to this palace again."
Nyx paused, studying Charles carefully.
"Very well. Keep your word, Charles."
Nyx walked away, his blue tail swaying slowly until he vanished at the end of the corridor.
Silas, who had been listening secretly from nearby, immediately hurried over to Charles. The white rabbit hopped lightly and stood before him, looking sad and worried.
"Charles… are you really going to leave the palace?"
"Yes," Charles answered quietly.
"Don't go… please," Silas pleaded. "Who else will make me laugh if you are gone?"
"Princess Celestia looks so happy with him," Charles said softly. "I will let go of my feelings… for her sake."
Silas looked at him with deep sympathy.
"Then… why don't you make me laugh first? Just like you always do."
Charles gave a small, sad smile. "I suppose I can do that."
He put on his jester's mask—the same mask he had worn faithfully for years—and began telling jokes and acting the fool, just to bring a little laughter to his loyal friend Silas.
Charles bowed deeply to his only audience in the flower garden — Silas. The white rabbit clapped his paws enthusiastically in appreciation.
"Very well. For my dearest and cutest spectator, Silas, I shall perform something very special," Charles announced with a playful bow.
"Yes! I am ready and watching!" Silas replied, his eyes shining with excitement.
Charles stood up straight. He picked up a few fallen flower leaves from the ground and began tossing them lightly into the air, juggling them just like a skilled circus performer.
"You must be wondering why I am throwing such light little leaves around, aren't you?" Charles teased.
In one swift motion, he caught each leaf mid-flight, even as the wind tried to blow them away. It looked effortless, as if he had done this a thousand times before.
"Wow! That was amazing!" Silas gasped, truly impressed by Charles's speed and skill.
Charles dropped the leaves onto the grass. Then, puffing out his chest and lifting his chin high, he began walking with exaggerated, noble steps.
"I am a great Lord from a very wealthy and powerful family! I own vast lands, huge farms, and..."
Suddenly, his foot caught on a small stone path, and he tumbled head over heels, falling flat on his face right in front of Silas.
Silas giggled softly. "I think that nobleman just died from falling over!"
Charles laughed too, though his smile carried a faint, bitter edge. "It's alright. After all, a jester's place is always on the ground, isn't it?"
He stood up again and brushed the dust off his clothes. The morning breeze blew gently, tangling Charles's hair and ruffling Silas's soft white fur.
The garden was bursting with colorful blooms, bright and beautiful. Birds sang cheerfully from the branches above, making the whole place feel peaceful and calm — even though just beyond the garden walls, the palace was buzzing with urgent preparations for war.
"Long ago... I used to perform for a princess who cried all the time," Charles said softly, his voice drifting into memory.
Silas stopped laughing. He looked at Charles quietly, listening carefully.
"So what I did was... I would throw myself down, bump into pillars, and pretend to cry louder than she did," Charles continued, a small gentle smile forming on his lips. "And eventually... she would laugh."
"I know," Silas said, smiling back sadly. "I remember those days too."
"Yes..." Charles reached up and removed the mask from his face. It was old and worn, yet carefully kept and polished. Painted onto the surface was the wide, permanent smile of a clown. Charles stared at it for a long moment, then lowered his gaze.
"I keep wondering... is a jester only needed when someone is sad or hurting?"
Silence stretched between them after that question. Silas didn't know how to answer. The wind sighed softly, and petals drifted down to rest on the green grass.
"Charles... please, if you can, don't leave the palace," Silas pleaded softly. "What if Princess Celestia becomes sad or grieves again? Who will cheer her up then?"
"I promise you, I will make her laugh and bring her joy one last time before I go," Charles replied gently. "Don't worry, Silas. I will still be nearby, just... not living here anymore."
"Very well then," Silas sighed. "If that is your decision... I will come visit you whenever I can."
"Thank you, Silas. Truly."
Silas gave him a small, understanding smile, then hopped down from the stone bench where he had been sitting.
Charles held his mask tightly in his hands, clutching it as if it were the only precious thing he had left in the world.
In the distance, several knights marched past the garden, carrying swords and shields. Every day, the palace grew busier and more tense as the war drew closer.
Charles looked up toward the bright, clear blue sky.
For some reason, his chest felt heavier and tighter than ever before.
But he forced himself to smile, bright and wide, just as he always did.
Because that was the duty of a jester — to smile, even when his own heart was breaking.