The Kind of Evil

‎Rasmus and Aris rode their horses past the city wall along with adventurers and merchants. Rasmus's expression hardened when he saw the town square where his parents and all the Blackhearts died from the execution. His heart was pounding really fast, beyond his control because of the core memories of Rasmus that he had inherited.

‎"We are finally here, the capital city of the Refenus Kingdom," Rasmus said with a cold expression as he patted his horse's neck. "Let's find a place to stay for a day," he said as he lowered his hood and turned his hair color to black simultaneously.

‎Aris watched Rasmus close his eyes for a moment before he opened his eyes again. His eye colors turned from dark silver into brown and his skin a bit tanned, slowly mastering his genes as Orthias, who were capable of manipulating oneself's appearance.

"Do you feel it?" Aris asked as she lowered her hood, changing her hair color to dark brown and her eye color to black. "It's quite thick in here," she revealed as she looked at the sky.

Rasmus looked up and he could see the Mana was scarce as if Mana was reluctant to enter the city, and the Mana that was inside the city was trapped by something. He couldn't see the demonic energy like Aris did, but he could feel the scarcity of the Mana which was a sign of something abnormal.

"Not yet. I still don't feel it," Rasmus shook his head as he looked at the people around him, not knowing who he was. "Let's find a tavern and have something to drink. I need to know what's been going on recently around here and in Central Neva. There's no best but the tavern to gather that kind of information," he said and gently tapped the horse's thigh.

On their way to find a tavern, they saw a bard, singing a song about falling off the grace. Rasmus decided to listen to the bard's poem where people were surrounding the bard to listen about it as well. It was a common thing to have a bard to recite news that was happening on the other side of the world.

"In days of gold and silver skies,

Where holy bells through the air did rise,

There walked a Saint with eyes of flame,

And all the world did know her name."

"She healed the sick with whispered song,

And bade the stars to dance along.

The meek would kneel, the proud would weep

Such was the spell her hands did keep."

"But lo! From yonder village gate,

There came a soul with gentler fate.

A humble voice, a heart so wide,

The people looked, and some did bide."

"Could grace, they asked, be shared by two?

Could one so low bear light so true?"

The Saint, once still, began to seethe,

And hid her light in shadowed sheath."

"She turned her gaze from those in need,

And let her mercy slowly bleed.

Let them go forth, she coldly said,

And drink from wells where I have bled."

"No prayer could breach her cloistered door,

No hand could touch her robes of yore.

She cloaked herself in bitter frost,

A Saint in name, but spirit lost."

Rasmus listened to the beautiful poem and understood the message behind it. The people who listened began to murmur, believing it was the newly appointed Saint, Aurelia. The poem was about envy and jealousy toward Nemu, a Fallen Watcher who deceived the people with kindness, knowledge, and compassion.

"What's he talking about, Rasmus?" Aris asked, not understanding poetry.

"Aurelia has chosen to close the Holy Nation to her believers. Turning her back from the kindness that Nemu and the believers tried to give, insulting the believers indirectly," Rasmus answered as he narrowed his eyes. "So that's how he's going to bring chaos to this continent, dividing the believers, making them kill each other in the name of righteousness," he revealed with a soft smile on his face.

"The storm is brewing, isn't it?" Aris asked as she watched the people who were bought by the story and began to show their true color.

"You can say that," Rasmus nodded and decided to continue looking for a tavern.

They were riding their horses on the road and saw a tavern in the distance. They were about to get down on their horses when they saw a man with dyed white messy long hair flying out of the tavern in unique and eccentric attire. Rasmus furrowed his brows when he noticed the attire, it was an attire that a jester wore, something that a clown would wear.

"Get the fuck out of here you freak! Don't come near my tavern or I will kill you!" The man shouted as he glared and pointed his finger at the jester.

The jester was still on the ground like a dead man, not moving a muscle. The tavern owner suddenly panicked and tilted his head, checking if the jester was breathing. When the tavern owner approached the jester and shook the jester's body, he was startled when the jester screamed and laughed frantically at him. The tavern owner subconsciously threw a punch at the jester's face knocked the jester back to the ground.

"Freak!" The tavern owner muttered under his breath with a scornful look as he walked back inside.

Rasmus stared at the jester with his all-white make-up that covered his skin color. He couldn't see the man behind those layers of masks that the Jester wore. He then raised his brows when the Jester slowly got up and began to laugh mischievously and pointed his finger at the tavern where nobody even cared about his existence. However, when the jester felt the gaze of Rasmus and Aris, he slowly turned his head at him, smiling widely with his widened eyes.

"Sire! Did you enjoy what you see?!" The jester chuckled mischievously as he walked weirdly like a snake, waving his body toward Rasmus.

Rasmus didn't say a word, only stared into the Jester's eyes with a stoic expression. The jester stared back at him without showing anything, it was the first time Rasmus saw nothing but a mirror from someone's eyes. That alone was enough to pique his interest, a man who seemed to have nothing but the truth.

"What's your name, Jester?" Rasmus asked as he got down from his horse, standing in front of the Jester.

"Oh, Sire! The man has no name..." The jester giggled mischievously with his red lips both from the paint he wore and the blood that dripped from the side of his lips.

"A man with layers of masks not to hide, but to show what's underneath," Rasmus said as he kept staring into the Jester's eyes. "Entertain me, Jester. Entertain me with your knowledge and truth," he said as he pulled one gold coin from the spatial ring.

The Jester grinned when he heard Rasmus's description of him, and the he moved his gaze toward the gold coin in Rasmus's hand.

"Ahh, the currency of man! The greed and pride of humans!" The Jester snatched the gold coin from Rasmus's hand, lifting the coin above his head and stared at it as he giggled mischievously. "What a useless concept..." He muttered and made the coin disappear into thin air.

Rasmus smirked as he watched the Jester perform and spat out his inner thoughts with his mouth. He found the Jester to be someone worth his attention because there was no hypocrisy or naivety in the Jester's words, all nothing but truths.

"Oh, Sire... you asked for knowledge and truth from a madman? That's either you're a bored manipulator or a curious wise man," The Jester said, tilting his head with that eerie smile on his face. He never blinked his eyes once ever since Rasmus saw him, making him more eerie. "I see nothing but a mix between the two. A bored wise man or a curious manipulator?" He giggled mischievously.

"I'm just a man who listens," Rasmus answered, not leaving his gaze at the jester's eyes.

"Ah... an abnormality..." The Jester giggled mischievously. "But, Sire... Are you sure that you're willing to listen to this jester's knowledge and truth?" He asked with his brows raised, frowning in disbelief.

"I'll give you what you want in exchange of your knowledge, nameless man," Rasmus nodded. "Name your price for the pain that you have endured," he said with a stoic expression.

The Jester's smile disappeared immediately, but then it turned into a wide grin. The Jester slowly took a few steps back and began to bow down like a performer. The movement of his body was like a liquid, smooth and swift, especially when he didn't make any sound, even with that attire.

"You asked me to entertain you, sire. But the truth? It's not a comedy. It's a tragedy with a laughing corpse as the narrator. Don't blame me if it makes your stomach sick, Sire..." The Jester raised his head slowly and smiled with his eyes closed.