The jester’s world was bright with colors, garish and wild with the waving of flags and banners and streamers, all flapping, a pandemonium of every hue and shade. A near continual wind blew in from the sea giving life to this panoply, and just as incessant, the jester himself had set himself that not disagreeable task of welcoming all comers to his city with a smile and an unending flow of ready insults.
Many a gasp and a blush, many a stern face and a sneer, at times smiles and laughs. All was to be borne by the dignitaries, the princes and noblemen sent to honor this newly crowned monarch; trade had to continue, even trade with a regicidal fool.
The king was dead. Long live the king.
Tale Told 