Role

Chapter 2

Screams halted passing Seantryn Modan citizens outside of one upscale house.

Petulant, terrified screams echoed through the neighborhood.

The cries gradually faded into a panting, weepy whimper. The citizens
shrugged and moved on.

Inside the home, young Tarleton had just received another well-earned
beating. Anger distorted his father's face.

"You blasted child! Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused?"
He punctuated each sentence with a punch to the boy's face or a kick to his
stomach."

I wonder whose child you are! No son of MINE would hide feces under his own
parents' pillows! MY son would show RESPECT!"

When the beating was done and Tarleton's father turned away, the child's lips
parted in a grin to reveal rows of red-stained teeth.

His demand for attention worked.

His father, tired from work, never paid him any mind. His mother was busy on
the socialite circuit. Tarleton, a lone child, always felt he was a mistake.
He grew up envying his father's job and his mother's friends. They always got
the attention he felt he deserved.

The only way he could get them to even look at him was to create horrendous
mischief. The result, often, would be a beating.

But at least he was forcing them to do something - his actions were having an
effect. It made him feel powerful.

Once he turned 15, his parents kicked him out of the house, gave him a few
gold pieces and told him to never come back. They never wanted to see him
again.

But Tarleton has a plan: If he were to become Imperial royalty, they would
have no choice but to pay attention to him. And perhaps some tithes, too.

Tarleton dreams of becoming the Imperial Jester - a force of taunting and
demoralization to those who oppose the Empire and a subversive element within
the Empire, slowly tearing away at the powerful with desensitizing words that
would ultimately amount to treason - if they were uttered by anyone else.