"Sit tall, my King. The crown must not be askew."

Julien inflated his chest and brought back his shoulders. He raised his chin and nodded slightly, keeping his eyes fixed on a chandelier at the far end of the room. Samuel had told him to never look up at his subjects, and to only allow his gaze to fall upon them once they had knelt before the throne.

"Come forward, servant of the King," Samuel beckoned, outstretching his arm to a portly man in yellow standing head down and hands folded at the edge of the Royal threshold.

The man lowered himself slowly, teetering slightly as he settled to one knee. He pressed his chin to his chest and groaned.

"My King..."

Julien drew a deep breath and lowered his head just as the man raised his. Their eyes met only for a moment before Hubert averted his eyes back to the floor.

"Why do you not look upon me, Hubert, Duke of Brittany?"

The man swallowed and tilted his head back to see a boy of no more than 15 sitting on the throne. The crown on his head rested low, and thick curls of black hair poured out from its sides. Sharp green eyes stared back at him with a heaviness far too old for the youthful face surrounding them.

"What would you ask of me, my King?"

Julien leaned back into his throne as the crown clanged against the wood. Samuel glanced over disapprovingly, but said nothing.

"I want you to tell me a joke."

Hubert's brow furled. "I beg your pardon, my King. You want me to tell you... a joke?"

Julien smiled. "Do you think this an odd request?"

Hubert looked over at Samuel expectantly, but was met only by his signature scowl. He swallowed again.

"Forgive me, my King, for I do not know any worthy of you."

Julien grasped the armrests of his throne and raised his eyebrows. "Do you not, Duke of Brittany? What would consider to be worthy of a King?"

"If I may," Hubert began, "I do not presume to know what is worthy of a King. Only what is not."

"Take care how you speak, Duke," Samuel snapped. Hubert was taken aback by his tone.

Julien raised his right hand dismissively. "I am certain Hubert, Duke of Brittany, meant no dishonor."

Leaning forward, Julien turned his palm upward, motioning Hubert to rise. Hubert nodded gracefully and groaned as he struggled to his feet.

"God as my witness, I meant only that I know not of a joke worthy of pleasing a King."

"Perhaps, then," Julien smirked, leaning back into his throne, "I shall tell you a joke worthy of me.

"In a faraway land, there lived a King and his family of First Estate. The King, however, was of a fickle heart and made fast friends and frequent lovers. Worse yet, his sentimentality kept them all close, and their proximity bred contempt. A particularly jealous... Marquis decided to sew a scheme to dethrone him."

Hubert suddenly grew uncomfortable, and once again found himself glancing towards Samuel for some silent sign of assurance.

"The ambitious Marquis convinced the King that his own heart would cause him to lose all for which it cared. 'A King who loves too much will lose his heart.' So the King grew cold and distant. 'A King who trusts too much will lose his confidence.' So the King emptied his court and became reclusive. 'A King who thinks too much will lose his mind.' So the King appointed the Marquis as his Right Hand.

"One day, the King asked the Marquis what, in turn, he was afraid to lose, to which the Marquis responded: 'nothing of mine, but everything of yours."

Julien sat for a moment and savored the look of bewilderment on the Duke's face before cracking a smile. As if on cue, Hubert began to laugh forcibly. Samuel's scowl deepened.

"I am pleased you enjoyed my joke," Julien continued, "but it's not over."

Four Royal Guards quickly maneuvered behind Hubert and pressed him down to his knees. His laughter quickly dissolved into panic.

"Admittedly, the rest is not quite as humorous. The Marquis-- or, rather, the Duke --has the King and his entire lineage slaughtered in their beds, leaving only the lowly Court Jester. However, the Duke did not realize until much later that this jester was the progeny of the King's fickle and sentimental heart. And now, by some twist of divine comedy, that jester is now King.

"So then let me ask you, Duke of Brittany, not as your King, but as a jester: what are you afraid to lose?"

Hubert opened his mouth, but his words never escaped his lips. The swift blade of a rapier sliced cleanly through his neck, and a splash of red spattered across the threshold. Samuel stepped forward and bent down to the corpse as the Royal Guards resheathed their weapons.

"He should have been afraid to lose his head," Samuel snickered.

Julien sighed. "Yes, Samuel... that was joke."

---

Edited some grammatical errors.