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Kesar didn’t believe it when he overheard the conversation. A jester? He had never seen one in all his life. He was on his way to fetch whatever stone that annoying snobby wizard wanted, but he was more curious about this “strange jester with a coffin” than some dumb old stone. After finding where this “Lorieus” was, he set off determined to see for himself. The Khajiit was hardly what one would call “well travelled”; he had heard of jester’s and performers of course, but had never seen one up close. So the opportunity to see one up close was...oddly exciting to him. This childish excitement was enough to annoy him, which isn’t at all notable since practically everything annoyed him. He never had a reason to not be in a bad mood, or let his temper flare at any given aggravation (it’s the reason he had found himself in the execution cart in the first place). Kesar was overall an unpleasant character to be around, and it didn’t help at all that he was now the person everyone was counting on.
It took a good two hours to finally come upon the farm, but once Kesar caught a glimpse of the small figure in red and (faded) black garb he felt his excitement kick up again. There was indeed a coffin with him, a tarp tied on top of the crate to protect the contents from the elements. Kesar hardly paid any mind to that, now more nervous about meeting an actual jester than the implications of a coffin. His pace has slowed to almost a creep, now trying to think of some way to enter the situation, part of him didn’t see any point in doing this. He hardly cared for anyone’s company or friendship, he did what he wanted. But his curiosity argued with his nihilism, perhaps he should make an expectation for the merryman, get an idea of what sort of person they would be.
Unfortunately Kesar hardly had any time to make up his mind, because right when the khajiit had gotten perhaps six feet behind the jester, the man whipped around. His eyes were wide, almost startling Kesar. Then his lips spread into a smile that the Khajiit could only describe as “jestery”. The man then walked briskly over, and Kesar could hear the small jingling of bells as he did.
“Stranger! Oh stranger, please please help!”
Kesar was almost toppled over by the voice alone, high and sort of squeaky...a voice he could also only describe as “jestery” as well. It knocked him so senseless that he somehow wasn’t annoyed by it’s piercing quality, and in his flutter he managed to croak out a response.
“Problem?”
“Poor Cicero is stuck. Can't you see?” The man sounded frantic, his hands flailing all about him. “I was transporting my dear, sweet mother. Well, not her. Her corpse! She's quite dead.”
He then giggled almost wildly at his own little joke.
Kesar snorted a bit as well, though immediately he made his face drop back to his usual cold expression (his pride did not allow him to go soft to a stranger). “Cicero” as Kesar only guessed his name was, only continued.
“I'm taking Mother to a new home. A new crypt. But... AGGH! Wagon wheel! Damnedest wagon wheel! It broke! Don't you see?”
Kesar had hardly any time to even process half that even louder sentence as Cicero was gesturing wildly to the broken wheel in question sitting on the grass by the side of the road. Almost obediently did Kesar go and pick it up, crouching as he examined the wood for any break or crack. Cicero stood over him, hands on his hips and tapping the foot of his curved boot nervously. It hardly even dawned on him that Kesar was helping a man he hardly knew, there was something so compelling about the jester. It was like the Khajiit couldn’t say no to him.
“Well…? Cicero’s question came from behind him.
Kesar stood up, brushing a bit of dirt off the wheel.
“Well, the wheel itself isn’t broken.” Kesar said. “It’s probably the axle…”
Kesar then went over to the wagon, leaning down to take a look at the beam, the part where the wheel was screwed in had broken clean off. The wood was pointed and splintered, the only way Kesar could think it would crack like that is if the wagon had been racing across the road and cracked under the pressure and strain of a small rock it had bounced on.
Kesar leaned up from the side of the wagon, turning back to the man with furrowed brows.
“How did it break like that?”
Cicero’s face reddened a bit in what Kesar could assume was embarrassment. He was a great deal smaller than him, having to physically crane his head up to look at the Khajiit.
“Well I hardly think that matters!” Cicero then sputtered out, throwing his arms up. “Besides, Cicero had no idea how it could’ve broken!”
Kesar raised an eyebrow, but decided not to pry further. It wasn’t really his business to comment on someone’s driving, even if it was reckless. Still, he was curious about the entire situation. Why would he need to be speeding through the area with a coffin? Was he late to a funeral? Can you even be late to a funeral?
“How can I help?” Kesar half-sighed, setting the wheel on top of the cart and crossing his arms.
“Oh. Oh yes! Yes, the kindly stranger can certainly help!” Cicero had now gotten over his embarrassment, clapping his hands in excitement.
“Go to the farm - the Loreius Farm. Just over there, off the road. Talk to Loreius. He has tools! He can help me! But he won't! He refuses! Convince Loreius to fix my wheel! Do that, and poor Cicero will reward you.” His voice had dropped steadily as he explained, there was an almost feline-like purr in his voice that made Kesar physically lean down to listen more closely to what he was saying.
“With coin! Gleamy, shiny coin!"
Kesar’s ears twitched at the mention of money. Divines he needed septims, and this seemed easy enough to do...no delving into a crumbling and mossy ruin for some dumb old tablet, just intimidating a farmer to fix a simple wooden beam.
Cicero had obviously picked up on the reaction Kesar had to the mention of money, for he smiled a bit deviously. His voice lowered into that strange purr again as he spoke.
“An easy enough task he hopes for the kind Khajiit? Talk to him. Convince him to help poor Cicero."
Kesar felt a shiver go through him, ears twitching again at the and a peculiar thought came to him. Was he...flirting with him? No, no he couldn’t be... right? The thought was confusing, and he was now annoyed once again that he could feel his cheeks flush as well. He turned away from Cicero, stumbling a bit as he walked toward the farm.
The farmer seemed as grumpy (if not more) than Kesar as he leaned his elbows on the porch railing. He even groaned, as he approached.
“Oh for the love of Mara, what now ?”
Kesar felt his temper spark like steel striking a piece of flint. His ear twitched once more and he stopped, puffing himself up.
“There’s a man down there with a broken cart.” He said gruffly.
The farmer scoffed.
“That Cicero feller? Hmph. Tell me something I don't know.” He scowled. “Crazy fool's already asked me about five times. Seems he's not satisfied with my answer. Why can't he just leave us alone?”
Kesar didn’t quite understand his meaning. Cicero couldn’t leave them alone; he was stuck, he couldn’t just walk anyway. From the look of that crate it seemed pretty big and heavy, well at least...much too heavy for a little man like the jester. Plus, if he was so keen to reward Kesar for his help, he was sure he’d pay Loreius too.
Kesar matched Loreius’s scowl.
“I don’t see the problem, he’ll probably pay you.” He stated with the same heaviness as before.
“Pay me?!” Loreius cried. “You think this is about money? Have you seen the man? He's completely out of his head. A jester? Here, in Skyrim? Ain't been a merryman in these parts for a hundred years.”
Kesar couldn’t help but begin to agree, yes it was actually very strange. With the war going on (and not to mention the dragons attacking) it was indeed a strange time for performers. Plus, come to think it, the squeak of the little jester’ voice was now quite annoying.
“And he's transporting some giant box. Says it's a coffin, and he's going to bury his mother.” He continued, before scoffing. “ Mother my eye. He could have anything in there! War contraband, weapons, skooma, ain't no way I'm getting involved in any of that. ”
Kesar let himself relax a bit, there was a lot of truth in what he was saying. Never in his life did Kesar see a coffin that big. Plus, that tarp over it was tight like he was hiding something. Kesar felt ideas begin to drift in, he had heard somewhere that Jesters were sometimes trusted messengers during wartimes; and if that was so then it wouldn’t be too preposterous to have one deliver important weapons or equipment to the battlefront. But obviously Skyrim had no want of court Jesters or merrymen, so it must be the imperials.
Kesar felt betrayed, he had gotten excited to meet a jester. He had even liked him! And Kesar didn’t like anybody! He now hated him, loathed him, despised him for being able to sway him so easily to help him. And why did he want to help him anyway? The whole thing confused him as well as angered him.
“You have a point.” Kesar half-growled.
“Of course I do!” Loreius exclaimed before leaning down and lowering his voice a little. “Here, there’s somethin’ you can do. There's a guard, patrols the road that crazy jester is on. He passes by pretty often. You could report the fool. You know, say he's done something against the law. That will at least get rid of him for me. What do you say?"
Kesar twitched a bit at the mention of a guard. He was practically run out of Whiterun for his attempted murder of that loud annoying Talos Priest, so his relationship with law enforcement was rocky to say the least. But if it meant getting revenge and teaching that jester a lesson, well he supposed it wouldn’t be too much of a hassle if he was paid of course.
“Fair enough, but I was promised gold by him.” He was gruff in his request. Revenge or not, he needed money.
“Look, if you do it I’ll make sure to toss a few coins your way. Just get him out of here. ” Loreius said impatiently. .
“Alright, I’ll do it.”
Lorieus sighed in relief.
Wonderful!” He exclaimed again. “Like I said, the guard is down by the road. You really can't miss him. You tell him that jester is up to no good, and he'll deal with it.”
Kesar nodded and walked off, looking at the broken cart as he passed by it. Suddenly Cicero came into view, and before Kesar could look away quick enough their eyes met. The Khajiit picked up his pace much to the now confused fool, who began running to catch up with him.
“Oh stranger!” He called. “I do hope you haven’t abandoned poor Cicero!”
Kesar suddenly stopped for a moment, a part of him wanted to be annoyed with that squeak of a voice. But another part of him...happy? Excited that Cicero hadn’t forgotten him? He shook the thought out of his head, trudging on.
“I promised to pay you, you know?” Cicero had caught up with him, somehow his little legs kept up their stride next to Kesar’s.
But what’s worse, he was using that purr again. Damn this tiny man who called himself Cicero, if that was his real name. It took effort not to look at him, to see what expression was painted on his strange jester face. The Khajiit only trudged on, grunting as he walked. Cicero however didn’t back down, and he could almost smell his grin.
“Kind Khajiit, please! Have pity on poor stuck Cicero! He does admit that he was not very safe in driving the wagon but what’s a poor tired fool to do? Skyrim is so cold, so cold and dangerous for Cicero! And for Mother too, Oh my poor mother!”
His little speech plucked at something deeply buried in Kesar. Something he hadn’t felt since before he left homeland. It began to gnaw away at his heart like a cluster of ants devouring a lizard. Now Kesar hadn’t felt like this for a stranger...ever; not once in his lifetime did he care or feel the need to care about others, he always worried about himself and his own survival. But for some reason, as if the divines themselves commanded it, Kesar felt bad for him. The way he spoke of his mother...Kesar began to believe it, he really began to believe that he was just transporting his mother.
This was short lived unfortunately, as he saw the guard approaching. He then stopped, now just by a bridge. He still did not look at Cicero, mostly because he didn’t want to be confused again by all the emotions that went through him.
“Wait here.” Kesar commanded.
“Cicero still needs an answer! Will you help me or not?”
Kesar gritted his teeth at his questioning.
“Just...wait here for a second.”
There was a short silence before a high pitched “Oooooh!” pierced Kesar’s ears so much he physically jumped..
“Cicero now understands, the clever Khajiit will talk to the guard and get him to convince Loreius! Oh what an excellent idea, Cicero must admit he was slightly worried that you would abandon him, but he understands now. Cicero will wait for the guard’s help as well.” He sounded impressed, jubilant and jolly. Everything a jester should be.
Kesar was flattered by this praise, and he felt himself blush again. However he would not let that sway him as he went up to the guard, flattery would get that puny liar anywhere. Thankfully it was not one clad in yellow or else he would’ve been in real trouble. The guard stopped when they saw him approach, Kesar jogged across the bridge to meet them.
The guard didn’t speak when Kesar stopped in front of him, placing their hands on their hips.
Kesar couldn’t help but sigh, guards were always a tricky business.
“There’s a man, right there across the bridge-”
“Hold on a moment...I know you.” The guard interrupted him.
The silence that fell on them was an uncomfortable one, and Kesar gritted his teeth. Of course he would’ve heard of his crimes, he passed down the road, and word travels fast from guard to guard (especially if it's attempted murder).
“Look, I don’t have time for this.” He grumbled.
The guard stood there for a moment, giving him a once over before shaking his head.
“I don’t either. Look, for now just stay out of my way...it’s a long walk to the next watchtower.”
Kesar without another thought nodded and walked quickly back across the bridge. He felt relieved somehow, and the feeling that ate at him subsided. But now he had a problem, if he couldn’t talk to the guard that meant he couldn’t help Loreius and if he couldn’t help Loreius-
“Did the cunning Khajiit get the guard’s help?” Cicero’s voice sliced through his thoughts.
Kesar now immediately turned to the man, forgetting everything he was thinking. Now seeing the expecting expression on the jester’s face, Kesar had admitted (at least) somewhat liked how expressive he was, dark eyes gleaming with childlike curiosity as his whole body seemed to bubble with anticipation.
However, Kesar had more pressing matters to deal with, he had lied...or not really lied per-say, he didn’t really say anything. He neither confirmed nor denied Cicero’s claims which technically was a lie. Well, he supposed had to say something now.
“No.” Kesar answered flatly.
Cicero tilted his head, wanting him to elaborate.
“He wouldn’t help, but I can try and convince Loreius again with some...other methods.”
He then held up his fist.
Cicero smiled the same devious smile as before.
“Do what you must, my grumbling friend.” He purred.
Kesar blushed, how suddenly the change from “stranger” to “my friend” was. He wasn’t “my” anyone, he was just..him. He grumbled and turned his eyes away.
“I’m not your friend.” He said gruffly.
“Oh, suit yourself then.” was the only sing-song response Cicero gave before Kesar walked back to the farm.
Loreius was still on his porch, and he perked right up when Kesar approached.
“Well? Is the guard gonna arrest him?”
Kesar shook his head
“He didn’t see a problem.”
Loreius frowned.
“Hard to believe.” He huffed. “Did you tell him ‘bout what I said with the contraband?”
Kesar nodded.
“And he saw no problem?”
Kesar only nodded once again, if there was a list of things that Kesar was not very good at...lying would probably very high on it. There was in fact a very long list of things he wasn’t good at, but in this situation those things hardly mattered.
Well he had enough of this anyway, this dirty farmer telling him what to do. Nobody told him what to do! Except Cicero apparently (But Kesar was not ready to emotionally confront that yet).
“Listen.” Kesar began with a heavy voice. “Just help the man will you? That way I get paid, you get paid, and he just goes away?”
“And just who in Mara's name are you , anyway?” Loreius scowled once again. “ Hmm? Come here, telling me my business. And for what? To help a-a-a fool?” His voice rose into a shout as he spoke.
Kesar brandished his fist and snarled.
“Just shut the fuck up and do something will you?!” He barked, now throwing a punch that landed square on his nose. “I’m not your fucking errand boy!”
There was a cracking sound as the farmer stumbled backwards, cradling his nose as his back slammed into the railing. Kesar flicked the pain from his hand, his face like that of a deranged lion.
“By the fucking Eight!” Loreius cried. “You broke my fucking nose?!”
“Go fix the damn wagon.” Kesar commanded.
Loreius only repeated himself, sounding almost dumbfounded as well as shocked.
“ You broke my fucking nose!"
"Just fix the wagon!" Kesar was shouting now.
There was a tense silence between them, Loreius cowering on the ground as Kesar loomed over him. However, if my the embarrassment of being punched on his own property or by simple common sense. Loreius sniffled through his blood-ridden nose, and began to stand.
Kesar stood waiting, the impatience enough was going to land the farmer a black eye as well if he didn't hurry it up.
“Fine Fine!” Loreius groaned, now wiping his nose. “I will fix the damn wheel.”
Kesar simply nodded and walked away, now stroking his knuckles. He didn’t really mean to punch him that hard, but he didn’t really care that he did either. Loreius was convinced, and he would be paid simple as that.
Cicero skipped up to him when he came near the wagon, bells jingling with every step.
“Cicero is very impressed with the strength of the stranger!” He chirped. “You must teach him someday!”
Kesar felt some warm emotion envelop him, and he felt a smile tug at his lips.
“I said I would convince him.”
The jester giggled.
“With a punch like that Cicero assumed no less!”
Kesar only shrugged, not sure how else to respond to him.
“Oh but you have made Cicero so happy! So jubilant and ecstatic!” He exclaimed shrilly, changing the subject and clapping his hands. “But more! Even more! My mother thanks you! Here, here-” He then began digging into the small bag tied to his belt, pulling out a small jingling pouch.
“Payment as I promised!” He said as he held it out to him. “Shiny, clinky gold! A few coins for a kind deed!”
He then winked at Kesar, who blushed once again as he stuffed the money into his pocket. He was about to leave when another thought came into his head.
“Do you want me to stay and make sure Loreius helps?” He asked, sounding uncharacteristically thoughtful.
“Oh no no kind stranger, Cicero has imposed on you enough...however-” Another smile spread across his thin lips for what felt like the countless time. “He would like to know the stranger's name?”
Kesar hesitated, part of him still believed that Cicero was some sort of spy. He would hate to have his name mentioned to any generals, or guards. This thought also brought up the anger which he had previously felt...anger he couldn't seem to summon. In part with the genuine inquisitive expression Cicero wore, Kesar found himself almost required to answer his question.
“Kesar.” He answered.
“Hm, Kesar...An interesting name...Cicero likes it!”
Something about the way the jester pronounced his name made the Khajiit feel all warm and fuzzy again. Cicero was confusing him, and it began to sour his brief good mood.
“Well, I guess I should go…” He muttered.
"Of course, of course!" Kesar has business of his own, as does Cicero! but...if our paths cross once again, Cicero will not hesitate to help Kesar and return the favor he has done for us."
Kesar simply nodded and turned away, blushing again at the way the jester said his name. He hoped he would see him again, and he hoped he got his mother (or whatever else he was transporting) to it's destination safely. It wasn't like Kesar to hope like this...and he was scowling at himself as he walked, but all the scowling in all of the nine realms couldn't stop the warm softness he felt as he looked back on the encounter. It was confusing yes, but he found comfort in it...just the thought of the laughter he had heard was enough to stalll the frigid wind that blew through his fur.
Yes he would see him again, that he could count on.