House of Cards

The first thing King Francis felt when he landed on something solid, was pain: a piercing and awful pain, sweeping over his entire body. He opened his eyes, trying to understand where he was, but in vain, since he saw nothing but a horrible old chamber, filled with brooms, buckets, and mops. There were cobwebs in the corners and some insects were running around between the filthy rags, escaping from the intruder, who was trying to sit up with difficulty. "Where the hell am I?" he wondered, groaning, placing his hand on his now tousled hair and noticing that not only was he sitting in some place that definitely wasn't the capital's palace, but also that he wasn't wearing the same clothes anymore. Only a pair of simple brown gabardine pants and a white shirt instead. "What is this?! Where is my crown?!" he asked, starting to panic and palpating his head, in a desperate search for said accessory. Then, he examined the dusty floor, scanning the entire place, trying to spot at least the shine of one of the many diamonds decorating his crown, but didn't find anything. As he could, he stood on all fours, hoping to find his precious crown that had almost become a part of his body. "Oh no... this cannot be happening," he moaned, feeling more and more vulnerable without that heavy piece of gold on his head. "Who's there?" he heard a timid little voice and turned around, discovering a small blond boy with blue eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses. He was holding an old and patched up white teddy bear in his arms. "Oh, boy, come here and help me," Francis didn't ask but order the child, who was approximately nine years old and seemed a bit reluctant to approach the adult. "Did you not hear? I told you to help me," repeated Francis in an even more authoritarian tone. The boy placed his bear on the ground and went to the stranger, offering his small hand to help him get up. Francis took it, and the little one spotted a yellow squiggly diamond symbol on the latter's skin, covering it from his wrist to the middle of his elbow. Now standing on his feet, Francis let out a snort and meticulously shook out his clothes, hoping to get rid of all the dust. Even though he might be wearing terribly simple articles of clothing, that didn't mean that they should get dirty as well. Then, he quickly looked around in the small chamber he was in and finally at the boy, whose attention was still on his birthmark. "Alright, boy, now be a good knave and go fetch the owner of this place. Don't just stand around, hurry up," the king said, waving his hand to send him away. "Be a good what?" asked the child, tilting his head. The man snorted again and crossed his arms, looking at him with arrogance. "Just go, obey my order. And be quick, I don't want to spend more time here," he said with his typical, condescending tone. "You have to say 'please'," commented the little one, walking to his teddy bear and taking it in his arms. Francis seemed truly offended by that statement. "Excuse me, what did you just say?" he inquired, frowning. "That you have to say 'please'," repeated the other timidly, hugging his bear. Francis let out a few exaggerated, humorless laughs. "So you want ME, the King of Diamonds, to say 'please' to a simple brat like you?" he asked, placing his hand on his chest and straightening his back even more, to emphasize his status. "Yes, we all have to say it when we're asking for a favor, and besides, you aren't a king at all," contradicted the boy shyly and with his head down, raising his gaze. He was afraid that the man would get angry, but his education was forcing him to teach others good manners. "First of all, boy," said Francis disparagingly, twisting his mouth and looking at the little blond with slight disdain. "I am not asking favors, but giving orders, and second, of course I am a king, do not doubt my words, as I am the supreme ruler of the Kingdom of Diamonds." He put both hands on his hips. "But..." wanted to object the boy, now directing his gaze towards the floor and arranging his glasses that were sliding down the bridge of his nose, hugging his bear tighter. "Kings are supposed to wear a crown... and you don't." Francis suddenly seemed to look for the right words to answer. "Ah... well... this is because..." he stuttered, since he didn't know himself why he had suddenly arrived there, nor why his precious crown was gone. To be honest, he felt really naked without it. "Matty, are you here?" another voice was heard, saving Francis from having to search for an answer he didn't know. The boy turned around to the door that was opened by a young brown-haired man with green eyes, who seemed to be around the same age as the king. "Oh Matt, so here's where you're hiding. Don't do that again, I was looking for you the entire afternoon," scolded that man, pretending to be angry, Matt, who ran up to him and hid behind his legs, while Francis cleared his throat loudly to attract his attention. The other looked at him. "And who are you?", the newcomer asked. Francis felt offended again by that shameless question, so offended that his eyes opened wide like plates.  "What audacity to ask such a question even despite having the honor to be in my presence," the king berated him, lifting his chin in an illusion of grandeur. The other just raised an eyebrow, not getting the reason for such an attitude. Meanwhile, Matt was tugging at his trousers, and he bent down a bit in order to listen to what the little one had to say. "He says he's a king... but doesn't have a crown," the boy told him shyly, looking at the supposed monarch, who was angrily muttering something. "King?" repeated the young man, examining Francis from head to toe, who was still sulking and maintaining his elegant pose. Then he thought for a while, started smiling a few seconds later and approached the latter, leaving Matt behind. "Oh, so you probably are the new volunteer," he said happily. "Man, you should have said so from the start." He gave the king's back a strong pat, making him gasp and lose the air that had been in his lungs. "What is wrong with you?! How dare you..." Francis complained, but the other one laughed and wrapped his arm around the king's shoulders. "I knew we would get another volunteer to help us out in this orphanage, but never thought that we'd get a pretty boy like you. Come, I show you around, even though it's almost dinner time," said the guy, basically dragging the blond one out, who was trying to resist. Matt followed them. Volunteer? Orphanage? What was this guy talking about? And now that he could look at him more closely: what type of strange clothes was he wearing? This was what Francis was wondering about at the sight of the other's jeans, checkered flannel shirt and Converse sneakers. "Listen, I believe you have committed a serious error, I am no volunteer in any orphanage, nothing like that," Francis interrupted him, abruptly coming to a halt and freeing himself from the other. "I am Francis, the King of Diamonds, and you, disrespectful subject, deserve a severe punishment for your offense," he declared. The guy just looked at him, about to burst out laughing, however turned to Matt, who seemed to be very interested in that Francis. "Yes, yes, whatever you say, Your Majesty," the second man decided to play along, wrapping his arm around the king's shoulders again and drawing him closer, in order to speak quietly to him. "You're good, the kids love fairy tales about kings and such," he whispered to Francis. "But it is the truth!" the latter exclaimed, starting to get desperate. "That's the spirit, Francis! This is your name, right? Mine's Antonio, and this little one with the bear is Matthew or Matt. It's a pleasure getting to know a royal," joked Antonio, continuing to drag Francis forward, who noticed the sarcasm in the other's words. "Hey, wait... I told you to wait!" demanded Francis, being forced out of that broom closet. They walked along a dark hallway, until reaching stairs that were creaking with each step, giving the sensation of giving in to the weight of the three of them any moment while going downstairs. Francis was still trying to convince Antonio that he was no volunteer, who would help out in that orphanage that rather seemed like a sad, abandoned building. The corridor they were passing now, had cracked walls full of crayon drawings, and a scratched floor that had been tried to be repaired without a lot of effort. Antonio never stopped talking, explaining everything about the orphanage, the schedule of getting up, the meals, classes, breaks, study time, homework, and the rest of the day that was intended for playing. Apart from that, how it was divided between boys and girls and also by ages. However, Francis wasn't listening and just grumbling about the fact he himself wasn't listened to. He demanded to be let out from there, so he could send someone to inform his court, he didn't have any reason to stay, after all. But Antonio kept talking as if Francis' voice was nothing but a mere whisper. "Don't worry, Fran, the kids here are well-behaved," he finally said, patting Matthew's head, who smiled, flattered. "I do not care about that and I believe that you still don't understand me: I am not here to work!" yelled the king, as they arrived at a big dining hall, where a bunch of children were running around everywhere, screaming and hiding under the tables, chasing after each other. "Hey, Fran, despite your conceited attitude, you're a really good guy: you don't see it as work, but as a pleasure! That's so great!" said the moved Antonio, hugging Francis, who was now at his wit's end, not knowing how he should explain to him that he was completely wrong. Antonio then let go of the king, who shook out his clothes again. "Alright, I'll leave you with the kids. As I said before, this orphanage is divided into two parts, here's where the little ones are, and in the other building the older ones, who I'm looking after. Now I have to go, give them their dinner. See you!" Antonio shot a quick look at his wristwatch and immediately took his leave. "Hey, young man! Come back, do not leave me like this!" Francis called out to him, following the other, who was hurrying out of the dining hall, evading the children and ignoring the king. "I command you to stop right there!" the latter exclaimed, loudly stomping his foot and putting both hands on his hips, waiting for Antonio to stop and get him out of this dwarf-zoo, but the other just turned around and smiled at him, leaving then. Francis' mouth was so widely opened that his jaw could literally touch the ground. An ordinary person had dared to ignore a direct order from the king!  "What is wrong with him? I will-I will order to execute him by hanging as soon as I find my crown and learn what the hell is happening," he grumbled, looking at the door that had been closed just now. The kids were still running around like crazy. "Are you really a king?" asked the little Matt timidly, using his bear to hide half of his face. "Of course I am, and I hope that at least you do not doubt my words," Francis warned him angrily, intimidating the boy a little. "Well... at the beginning, I didn't believe you, but..." Matthew stopped for a moment, looking around and making sure that no one was listening. "But now, I think you are telling the truth," he whispered, so that Francis could barely hear him. "You speak weirdly and behave differently from Antonio and the others who come to help. You really seem to be a king, like the ones in the movies and books we get, even without a crown," added the little one, noticing that the adult got annoyed by the last detail. "If this bothers you so much, then look here, this is the mark identifying me as the rightful king of the Kingdom of Diamonds," said Francis and stretched out his left arm, showing the mark Matthew had already seen earlier. Matt directed his gaze at the mark with more attention this time and approached his finger. Then, he looked at Francis, as if asking for permission to touch it. The king just averted his eyes, so Matthew took it as a yes and hesitantly ran the tip of his index finger over the yellow diamond, feeling its relief-like texture, as if it was kind of embossed on the skin. The child couldn't help but smile as he was retracing the diamond's contour with his finger, while Francis was feeling uncomfortable and offended, not only for having allowed a brat to touch his noble skin, but also because he was forced to prove that he was royalty. "Enough," he said, abruptly moving his arm away and rubbing the mark, trying to get rid of the sensation the kid had left behind. And besides, Francis didn't even like his mark and hated possessing it in such a visible place, not to mention having someone else touch it. "Sorry," said Matthew with embarrassment, moving his hand behind his back. "H-Hey, what are you doing here, in an orphanage then? Where is your kingdom or your palace?" he asked, carrying the bear with one hand now. "If I knew that, I would not be wasting my time in this place." Francis sighed and crossed his arms. "I remember nothing but a poor devil, who brought me here using some weird tricks," he explained, getting even more annoyed from the mere memory of the jokers. "So you were brought here by an evil wizard!" said Matthew excitedly, and his blue eyes seemed to shine of emotion at the sole thought. "Well, I would rather call them a skillful jester and his sidekick," the king corrected him, getting even angrier. Then he combed his hair back behind his shoulder and put his hands on his hips again, staring at some place in the dining hall, as if being deep in thought. Matthew didn't dare to interrupt him, until Francis opened his mouth once more, to speak to him. "Since I don't have the slightest idea where I am now and also need to find these two shameless jokers, I will give you the duty to help me," he demanded, pointing at the boy and almost touching his nose. The latter put on a big enthusiastic smile and did a little jump without even noticing it. "A-and... what do I have to do?" asked the little Matthew, imagining an epic adventure, where he was representing a kind of faithful squire. "I suppose that since I do not have a place to spend the night, you will get me the very best room. Also call the servants, so that they bring me my dinner and, if possible, try to localize my jack. And for the next morning, they should prepare the horses, we are going to search for this joker," rattled off Francis, thinking about his itinerary for the following day. But instead of a submissive affirmative answer, he perceived discreet giggling. "We don't have individual rooms here, nor servants or horses, and if you want dinner, then together with the others," explained Matthew, trying to cease his giggles when he saw the shock in Francis' face. "And how am I supposed to eat and sleep then?" "Well, you'll sleep with the others as well and, by the way, since Antonio said that you are a volunteer... it's actually you who has to give us dinner," replied the boy, and Francis noticed from one moment to the next that all the children were looking at him with hungry faces. "Quite unoriginal of you, Joker, to send me to a poor orphanage to let me learn about humility..." murmured the king, feeling his stomach burn from a sudden rage. "Oh, Your Majesty, you cannot be more wrong, can you?" muttered Peter, watching through the dining hall's window how Francis was getting cornered by the children. "Hey, shouldn't you be inside?" said Antonio, walking through the garden and spotting the boy, who was spying through the window, though without managing to recognize him. Peter turned around and kept staring at Antonio for a moment, before putting on a wide smile and running away, disappearing into the darkness and the building's shadow. "Huh? How strange..." murmured the other, still trying to remember if he had seen that kid before, but then recalled the reason he was in the yard in the first place. "Lovino!" he said loudly, resuming his way. "Lovino!" he continued to call the boy, whom he had gone out to look for, because the latter wasn't in the dining hall. He knew that Lovino had recently started to sneak to the very end of the backyard in the evening. "Lovi!" Now, he had almost reached the tall fences that were surrounding the place. "I've told you a million of times to not call me that!" a 17-year-old boy with dark brown hair and chocolate-colored eyes objected. "Don't be like that, Lovi, it's a beautiful nickname," said Antonio, approaching the teenager and wanting to pat his head, but the latter slapped his hand away. "Go to hell with your nicknames and everything else," Lovino insulted him angrily, but it didn't have any effect on the other. "If you keep behaving like this, no one will want to adopt you," Antonio joked. "Yep, as if someone'd want to adopt a guy of my age," the boy said with a sly grin, putting his hands into his pockets. "Don't be such a pessimist," recommended Antonio, but was ignored by Lovino. "Oh, by the way, what were you doing here at this hour?" he asked. The teenager suddenly seemed nervous and averted his gaze, scratching his head. "Nothing... nothing at all," he muttered, shooting a sideways glance at the tall fence, on which's other side another boy and the King of Hearts in person were located. Ludwig was on the floor with someone else on top of him, covering his mouth. Someone, who looked exactly like the Jack of Hearts, by the way. Alright. But how did Ludwig end up like this? Everything had begun when he had opened his eyes. An intensive pain was surging through each one of his limbs, and he felt as if a drill was perforating his head. He tried to focus, but this turned out to be a bit difficult, since it was already dark. His fingers were feeling the asphalt where he was sitting, and the bars of a tall fence were burying themselves into his back. A murmur of a couple of voices was heard from afar, and he managed to recognize one of them, so he tried to turn around and to make out the silhouette that was standing just a few meters away, hands on the fence, and talking to someone on the other side. "Brother, when will you finally come with me? Almost six months have already passed," asked that very familiar voice. "Not yet, I said. When we'll be 18, I'll leave this place, and you'll escape from that house where they're keeping you. None of these bastards will separate us ever again," replied the other person. "But it's still a long time till our birthday... ve~" "Ve~"? Ludwig knew only one person, who was talking like this... yes, this voice... belonged without any doubt to... "Feliciano," muttered the king, trying to get up, but as soon as he did that, he started feeling extremely dizzy. So he decided to remain in a sitting position and call out for his jack again. However, someone else was faster. "Lovino!" someone yelled in the distance. "Ve~ Brother, don't go," begged the one Ludwig identified as Feliciano. "Don't be stupid, we'll get caught. Leave before it gets any later and see you tomorrow." "Feliciano," repeated Ludwig in the meantime. The other seemed to hear his name, but obviously wasn't sure where it came from, since his silhouette kept turning to each side. "Feliciano!" yelled the king now, startling him, and was finally seen. "What are you doing there? Come here," he commanded his supposed servant in a firm tone. The latter obeyed, but instead of helping him, he suddenly ran to Ludwig and put his hand on the king's mouth, raising his index finger to his own lips, indicating to him to be quiet. Ludwig was so baffled he couldn't do anything else than just staying there, with his jack on top of him. Giving him orders with pantomimes! What the hell was wrong with Feliciano? Since when was he bold enough to not only impose on him like that, but also to touch him in this way? After his temporary shock had left, the king tried to push the other off himself, struggling a bit with him. "Be quiet, please," whispered Feliciano, without removing his hand, and looked at the fence, making sure that everyone was gone. Then he slowly took his hand from Ludwig's mouth and smiled at him. "Ve~ goodbye." Standing up as fast as he could, he started to run away. "W-What?" Ludwig didn't understand that action, so he frowned and saw himself forced to stand up as well despite his dizziness. As well as he could and almost tripping, he started to run as well, after Feliciano, who, now that he noticed it, was running really fast. "Feliciano, wait!" screamed Ludwig, running after him, but the other didn't stop, taking a sudden shortcut, in a vain attempt to leave the king behind, who didn't let him out of sight and ran after him passing corners and alleys. The king didn't permit him to just flee like that, that chase had become a kind of challenge. "You're fast, but never managed to beat me," said the king, accelerating even more and briefly recalling the years of his childhood, when he had run races with Feliciano. Now, however, it wasn't about inflating his ego, he had to catch up to his jack and demand a good explanation from him, among other things an answer to why he was running away.  Feliciano continued running, so fast that his leg muscles were almost burning. He turned around and noticed that the blond man was only a few steps behind him, so he got scared and forced his body to make a last effort in order to get away from the other, who for some reason didn't want to let him go. Ludwig, for his part, was almost right on the other's heels, but then the latter got even faster in an instant. The king was a bit surprised, not thinking that Feliciano could run so fast. "You will not escape!" yelled Ludwig, stretching out his arm to grab the teenager by the hood. He didn't hesitate to pull it back, making Feliciano retreat and almost fall down, and then, still without letting go of him, he threw the other one against a wall, letting his back crash against it with force. Ludwig stood in front of him and put his arms on each side of Feliciano, cornering him. "Ve~ I didn't do anything bad, I swear!" whimpered Feliciano, panting and trying to breathe. His chest was hastily moving up and down. "Then why are you running away?!" asked Ludwig angrily, gasping for breath as well and making pauses while speaking. "Let me go!" screeched the shorter one, trying to get away, but the king was faster and managed to catch him, wrapping his arm around the other's hips and pressing him against the wall once more. "Why are you trying to escape from me? If you continue like that, I will start to think that you have something to do with that incident in the palace," exclaimed Ludwig, and the echo of his deep voice resounded through the empty street. He just wanted to understand Feliciano's behavior. "I don't know what you're talking about, let me go!" begged the terrified Feliciano, shoving Ludwig, who didn't move from his spot. "And apart from evading me at every cost, you are also have the gall to talk to me like that, this only makes me doubt your innocence even more. And now tell me: why are you fleeing?" Ludwig demanded an answer once again. Feliciano was on the verge of crying. "Because I don't know you! I don't know who you are and yet you're not letting me go!" the latter yelled out in fear. Ludwig's body froze, and he felt a weird pressure on his chest, something he tried to interpret as rage. So he grabbed both wrists of the one who was supposed to be his jack and pulled him closer, not caring about his whining. "Are you telling me that you're not recognizing the face of the person you have served your entire life?! You don't know to whom belong the eyes that are looking at you while you are rejecting your king? Come on, answer me! Say that you are denying the words of your rightful ruler!" ordered the furious Ludwig. The other was so scared, he couldn't hold back his tears anymore. "Ve~ but it's the truth... I don't know you," replied Feliciano, his voice breaking, causing Ludwig to squeeze his wrists even more, before letting go of one of them and tugging at the collar of his own black t-shirt (not noticing that he wasn't wearing his usual red attire) pulling it down as much as he could to reveal the left side of his chest, where a squiggly red heart was, almost all over his entire pectoral. "If this is the case, then come, try to reject the mark of your kingdom and your master! Not even you are cynical enough to do this... you cannot repudiate your homeland nor the one that has been designated to protect you and the entire nation," he demanded once more, but Feliciano was only looking at the mark on his chest. "I... don't understand... I don't know what this means," he answered, still terrified. Ludwig was a bit stupefied and covered up his chest again. That words had hit him like a bucket of cold water... so it was true... Feliciano was negating him completely... "I never thought you being capable of this," hissed the king, narrowing his eyes with rage. "Ow... you're hurting me," complained Feliciano, having the impression that this man would break his wrist any moment. "You are hurting me with your offense even more," said Ludwig, scaring Feliciano even more. "But I didn't do anything bad, I swear," cried the poor guy, but Ludwig seemed to turn a deaf ear to his words. "There is no place for excuses nor lies," he objected in a serious tone, and his deep voice accented the coldness of his words even more. "Kesesesese! Sorry to say this, Your Majesty, but the boy is telling the truth," an already familiar voice intervened. When Ludwig tried to figure out where the voice was coming from, he felt something similar to a lash on his hand that made him let go of Feliciano. And as he attempted to grab him again, he suddenly saw the joker, who had caused all that uproar in the palace, in front of himself. "You! I knew you would appear again, you cowardly creature!" yelled the king, while the now freed Feliciano hid behind the silver-haired one, who was grinning with mockery again, without getting intimidated in the slightest. "Gilbert, I'm scared, ve~" cried Feliciano behind the other's back. Ludwig couldn't believe his eyes. "You know him?! So you do have something to do with the joker, after all..." he blamed Feliciano, feeling a weight on his shoulders that made him double over a bit. "Of all people... of all my enemies, it was my own jack who betrayed me..." said the king crestfallen, while Feliciano was trembling behind Gilbert, who had hidden his corns under the hood of his black sweatshirt and also his tail under his clothes. "Seriously... Did you not listen to what I just said?" asked Gilbert, putting both hands on his hips. "Feli is telling the truth, he doesn't know you." "Stop this nonsense and do not justify this traitor with your absurd explication," objected Ludwig, moving one step closer to the joker, and Feliciano cowered behind the latter. "Your Majesty, you do suffer from a defect: not listening to other people. I tell you that this Feliciano doesn't know you, he isn't even the Joker of Hearts, but just a common guy," said Gilbert, patting the other's head, who didn't stop crying and also didn't understand a word from what was said, by the way. "But I see him before my own eyes, he is the Jack of Hearts!" disagreed the king, making the joker grin even wider. "Yes, in your world he is, but in this one, he is just Feliciano Vargas. Have you not noticed, Your Majesty... that this is not your kingdom?" asked Gilbert with a malicious expression. Ludwig now looked around, sighting the street, barely illuminated by the streetlights... the cars that were passing by and the shops that were already closing, and then also the weird clothes he was wearing himself... yes, the joker was definitely right: this was not his kingdom, nor the capital... "Did you seriously think that the Kingdom of Cards was the only world in this vast universe? Very bad, Your Lordship, you would be surprised how many parallel worlds there are... but maybe you already are, since you are right now in one of them," said the amused joker, shrugging. "What are you talking about?" asked Ludwig, trying to comprehend. "I am talking about the fact, that you are in a different world right now, as simple as that." "If this is the case, then why doesn't Feliciano recognize me here, but seems to know you?" wanted to know Ludwig and observed the latter, who trembled again as he noticed that. "Oh, this is because he's this world's Feliciano: we all have someone in some parallel world, who is identical to us in body and essence. And no, he doesn't know me, he's mistaking me for this world's Gilbert, who is his friend," the joker explained, well aware that Feliciano wasn't understanding even half of it. "Then... he..." began Ludwig, a bit calmer now. "Right, my lord, he is not your jack and doesn't know neither about you nor about the four kingdoms and even less about the other monarchs, but possesses the same appearance and personality as your servant. They are the same person in different worlds," concluded Gilbert, satisfied with his explication, and now turned to Feliciano, who was trying to suppress his sobs and his broken "ve~". "Feli, could you do me a favor?" he asked him, while the king was attempting to process everything he just had heard. Feliciano nodded, wiping the tears from his cheeks. "I need you to take care of this guy for some time," Gilbert said, pointing with his thumb at Ludwig, who flinched due to the disrespectful manner the latter was referring to him. The mere idea of it made Feliciano shake. "Ve~ but he..." he tried to refuse. "He's not a bad guy, he just mistook you for someone else and reacted badly," said Gilbert, shrugging the issue off. "Hey, you have to bring me back to my kingdom! I will not stay here!" objected Ludwig, but Gilbert only laughed. "I'm counting on you, Feli," he said, ignoring the blond, who approached him with the intention to grab him by his clothes, but the joker was faster and jumped abnormally high, landing on top of one of the streetlights, negating with his index finger. "Don't try anything weird, Your Majesty, and be careful to not mix me up, since this world's Gilbert is walking on these streets a lot. And you, Feli, if you see me again, don't talk to me about anything of this, it's possible that I won't understand what you mean. See you later! Kesesesese!" Gilbert laughed, stopped hiding his tail under his clothes, allowing it to undulate freely, and did more one of his supernatural jumps from roof to roof. Feliciano and Ludwig were both screaming at him to wait. "Kesesese, now it's time to see how the club is doing," the joker murmured, doing calm, high jumps with his hands in his pockets, enjoying the cool evening breeze and the moon that was imposing itself on the town's sky. Going from roof to roof, he was searching for a particular building where he knew the much feared King Ivan was. "Hey Peter, how is our Majesty of luck doing?" he asked the little blond, who seemed to have been waiting for him on the roof of that austere-looking building. "How do you think he's doing, if it occurred to you to send him here, of all places?" said Peter, frowning. "I'm praying for your safety, Gilbert, because I don't think that Ivan will like your "surprise"." Having warned Gilbert, he sat down next to him on the floor. The latter sat down as well, still laughing. "I'm just too awesome to not know what I'm doing, Peter. King Ivan will be delighted by what I have prepared for him," the older joker tried to calm down Peter, who just rolled his eyes, fearing what could happen next, since King Ivan was about to regain conscience. The king with the violet eyes was feeling as if his body weighted several tonnes. His tongue was numb and there was a chaos in his head that could be compared to a whirlwind. He tried to open his eyes in vain, because his eyelids were insisting on staying closed, while his feet perceived the cold floor under them on which he was forced to walk. He was feeling that two people were grabbing his arms and guiding him through that icy tiled hallway, so he started to fight against his body again and forced his eyes to open. Everything was terribly blurred and the sounds surrounding him muffled. He blinked a few times, trying to see better, and the only thing he managed to identify were white walls and a hallway with a lot of closed doors. "Where am I?" he asked, recovering a bit. Now, he could walk better, and his sight was getting clearer, while his senses got sharpened, and he could also hear better. "He woke up. You know what to do if he becomes aggressive," said one of the people, who were helping him to walk, a tall, sturdy man. "Sure, the syringe's in my hand," replied the other, a tall and very strong-looking guy as well, but neither of them was as tall as Ivan himself, who was noticing the force with which the two of them were holding him. Perhaps more than necessary to just support him. "Where am I?" he repeated, looking around and at the two men in white, waiting for their answer. "In your new home," replied the one on his right with a mocking grin, making Ivan wonder who that simple servant was to talk to him like that. "You're lucky, you get to sleep in the same room as our "diva"," joked the second one, and both of them let out a disdainful laughter, while Ivan, who was still supported by them, understood their behavior even less. As if they were not dealing with the most-feared king of the entire Nation of Cards. Without any strength to resist, the king let himself be guided through was seemed to be a kilometric corridor, full of doors, from which some voices resounded from time to time. One of the men started to whistle as he took out a big keychain with a bunch of keys out of his pocket. Still holding Ivan's arm, he checked all the keys with his other hand, discarding some of them, until he found the one he was looking for. The one to open the room number 13. "Say hello to your new roommate," said the second man to the disoriented Ivan while the first one turned around the key in the lock and opened the door, revealing a simple room with white walls, two beds and a barred window.  "Good evening Feliks, we've brought you a friend," announced the one who had opened the door to a person sitting on one of the beds, his back against the metallic headboard and his legs bent on the mattress, reading something that seemed to be a Vogue magazine. The young blond guy turned his green eyes away from the magazine and looked with a bored expression at the speaker, examining the two men and finally the third one who was between them. "Uff, and I thought it was something interesting for once, like, just leave him here and go, I'll call you when I need you," he said, returning his attention to his magazine. The other two seemed to be annoyed by his attitude, so they just shoved Ivan inside, making him almost fall, because he was still a bit lightheaded. "Just try to not flirt with him, Feliks, not everyone's a gay like you," said one of the men, closing the door and locking it again, without seeing Feliks' middle finger. "Hey... Where are you going? Get me out of here!" screamed Ivan, noticing that they had left him locked up together with that other guy. He went to the door and tried to turn the doorknob, but didn't manage to open it, so he started to beat it with his fists, wanting to attract the attention of the ones in white. "I am talking to you! Get me out of here, if you don't want to regret the day you met the King of Clubs," he threatened them. Feliks laid his magazine on the bed and was now sitting cross-legged and watching Ivan, who was still punching the door. "I know that you are listening! If you keep pretending to not be there, the worst torture will await you! Just so you know: the rumors about the death penalty in my kingdom are real. You will not escape the guillotine, nor the treatment in the dungeons, if you don't get me out of here!" the other continued yelling, hoping that his threats would be successful. "Hey stop, no one will, like, let you out, no matter how much you scream or how many fifth-rate theater dialogues you recite," said Feliks, resting his cheek on his palm. "And who are you supposed to be to just talk to me like that?" asked Ivan, turning around and trying to put on his usual smile, that scary and childish expression of his. "Me?" inquired Feliks, pointing at himself and raising both eyebrows. Then he stood up on the bed and combed his long blond and straight hair behind his ear. "I'm Feliks Łukasiewicz, my love! Remember that name well, because you'll never find someone as fabulous as me again!" He did a small jump and stepped on the floor, walking towards Ivan. "And now it's your turn: who are you and why are you here?" he asked, tapping his index finger on the king's chest. However, Ivan's smile didn't disappear, despite all that impudence. "Your question is absurd, I doubt that there is someone on the face of this earth who does not know Ivan, the King of Clubs," answered the violet-eyed one. Feliks just looked at him expressionlessly and then burst out laughing. "King?" he repeated, laughing even louder, while doubling over and holding his stomach. "Of all the things you could have said, you tell me you're a king!" "I don't understand why you find it so funny," commented Ivan, still smiling, while Feliks was trying to breathe and stop laughing. Still quietly giggling, he leaned against the bed and finally sat back down, wiping away his tears, caused by the fit of laughter. Bending his legs, he arrogantly looked at Ivan. "Ah, I've heard so many stories here, some were more absurd than others, but yours is one of the best... a bit too childish, if you ask me, but this was, like, to be expected... I mean, we're not exactly in a very normal place." He was fanning himself with his magazine, to cool down after having laughed so much. "What do you mean by that? Where are we?" asked Ivan with curiosity, to what Feliks tilted his head and smiled before answering. "Wow Ivan... I think you do deserve to be here, then..." The latter got up again and stood on tiptoe to whisper something into Ivan's ear: "You're in a madhouse." He separated himself slightly from the taller one after that, whose smile stayed the same, as always. "But I am not mad," said the king. "In that case, I'll tell you the same thing the Cheshire cat told Alice when she said something similar," Feliks cleared his throat loudly, pointed directly at Ivan with his index finger and solemnly said: "'If you weren't mad... you wouldn't be here." "So that means you are?" asked the taller one, and Feliks' smile widened even more. "Of course I'm mad!" he replied. "Madly in love!" He placed both hands on his chest and closed his eyes, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh. "I was separated from my big love and started suffering from depression and the torture of being far away from my special person. So now, captivated by that madness, I'm spending my days locked up in here and waiting until my love'd come and take me away on his white horse," he recited, spinning through the room and letting himself fall dramatically on the second bed, with his hands still on his chest. "I do feel a little sorry for your tragedy, but I cannot stay here, because I am not mad and need to return to the palace, before it drowns in chaos, so..." "Wait, wait!" exclaimed Feliks, jumping up from the bed and tugging at the long scarf Ivan was still wearing, though the rest of his clothes had been replaced by a white pajama, consisting of a t-shirt and pants. Ivan was not only temporary choked by the tugging, but also fell down on his back. "If you keep yelling like crazy, and I believe you aren't, by the way, they'll come and, like, inject something super terrible in your veins, what they use to calm down the most aggressive ones. Tranquilizers for horses or something mega bad like that, for sure, 'cause you only wake up after three days," Feliks warned, kneeling next to him and still holding on to one of the scarf's ends. However, Ivan was no person with a good temperament, so he turned to the other one and without thinking twice, grabbed him by the neck and pressed him against the floor. "You just did something very bad, young Feliks," said the king with his eternal smile on his lips, positioning himself over his new roommate. "Oh, Ivan-baby, I'm just, like, saving you from being an isolated vegetal for three days. You do understand the gravity of the matter, don't you?" the latter said, still having Ivan's hand around his neck, without the other pressuring it. "The one who doesn't understand the gravity of your actions are you, you not only dared to lift your head in my presence, but also your way to speak to me is another level of arrogance. And just now, you had the audacity to assault me... you better start saying your last prayers," recommended the king, licking his upper lip. "So sorry, but I, like, stopped praying a long time ago," answered Feliks boldly. "Are you not afraid of me breaking your neck right here and now? As I see, your bones are as fragile as the branches of an old tree," asked Ivan, looking at Feliks' neck and running his index finger over his throat. The other let out a humorless laugh. "No, I'm not afraid of you," replied Feliks, and Ivan stopped his index finger to look at the latter, who was grinning at him as arrogantly as he had done that entire time. "Are you sure of that?" questioned the king, whose smile that was trying to look childish, turned into a malicious one. "More than sure, honey, and if you don't get off me and stop caressing my neck, I'll, like, rape you here and now. The decision is yours." Ivan was completely baffled by these words. He blinked a couple of times and, without even knowing why, just started to laugh while getting off the other blond. He knew that the least thing Feliks had deserved for all his actions during that short time, was being executed, but there was something about his cocky attitude that made him funny, and well... every king needed a jester. "You are the first person brave enough to talk to me like that," he commented, sitting down on the floor, while Feliks sat up. "But you're not the first person who's getting on top of me with weird intentions," replied Feliks, arranging his hair and looking at Ivan until spotting the mark on the latter's right foot. "Wow, super cute, your tattoo," he praised, crawling towards Ivan to have a closer look at the bright green club that was occupying the entire upper part of the king's foot. "Huh, but why does it have only three leaves? It should have, like, four, to bring you good luck," he noticed, examining the details of the kingdom of Clubs' mark. "Three leaves or four, luck is always by my side," said the king, looking with slight melancholy at his birthmark. "Totally humble, aren't we," commented Feliks with sarcasm. "Oh, true! I'm so terribly rude, not having welcomed you at all!" He got up and put a strand of his golden-blond hair behind his ear again, then stretched out his hand towards Ivan, to let the other shake it. "Welcome to the Psychiatric Hospital Claymore, I hope we'll become good friends and don't kill each other." Ivan looked at the hand, stretched out in front of him, and next at the other's green eyes that were staring at him. Somehow, they reminded him of Elizabetha's, the only one who had dared to look at him directly until now... so he lifted his hand as well and took Feliks' thinner one, accepting his offer of trying to become friends... or, at least, until the other would start fearing him, as it was always happening to everyone surrounding him. "By the way, Peter... Where did King Alfred land?" asked Gilbert on the roof of said hospital. The boy scratched his cheek, trying to remember the place, where the youngest one of the monarchs had landed. "Oh, a few streets from here, I think, in that direction," he answered, pointing northwards, where a humble bookstore, that was selling old volumes, was turning off its lights and locking its doors, ending yet another workday. The owner of that bookstore closed the doors with three locks and was about to slide down the metal curtain to keep his shop safe. But suddenly he bumped into someone on the sidewalk, who was apparently sleeping. Letting out a snort of annoyance, the owner squatted down next to the King of Spades, who was lying there, unconscious. "Hey, you, you can't sleep here," the man said, patting the king's cheeks, who was feeling the annoying touches and hearing the other's voice in a slightly distorted way. "Come on, you can't stay here... go to the sidewalk on the other side, at least," the latter kept saying, while Alfred was trying to open his eyes and an intense pain was throbbing in the back of his head. "What happened?" he asked, cracking open one of his eyes and meeting a pair of emerald ones with thick eyebrows. "If you don't know it yourself, then don't expect that I do. And now leave," replied the other, who seemed to have a bad temper. So Alfred decided to do as told, before that guy could continue to treat him like that. To be honest, no one had ever spoken to him this way, except for Yao and only when he had been a child. "Ouch... everything hurts," he complained, trying to get up, but a strong dizziness stopped him, so he decided to keep sitting on the ground instead and rubbing his head to relieve the pain. But while doing that, he perceived something liquid. "That was a very strong blow, as it seems," he commented, seeing the blood on his palm. "How can you say that so calmly?!" spat the stranger at him, who had been about to leave a few moments ago, but bent down once again now to have a closer look at Alfred's wound, who had some of his blond hair strands stained red. "Ah, this is no big deal," he tried to calm the other man down, smiling cheerfully as always. "Yeah, sure, a concussion is no big deal," the latter said, roughly grabbing his arm to get him to stand up. "Let's go inside to examine this, I don't want to have a corpse lying in front of my store," he ordered, tugging at the king, who was trying to tell him that he was alright, that a small thing like that wasn't enough to defeat the powerful ruler of the Kingdom of Spades, but the shop owner didn't listen. The stranger opened the three locks again and they both entered the bookstore that was smelling of old books and tea leaves. Alfred ran his gaze over the tall shelves that were standing in a row and filled with thick books of all sizes. Some were even piled up on the floor next to the shelves, and others in boxes or showcases. The illumination was a bit gloomy, but also comforting thanks to the warm atmosphere the slightly rustic decoration was emanating. "Come here and be careful with the books, break one, and you'll pay them all," threatened the person who was supposed to be helping him, so the two of them crossed the store, evading encyclopedias and some novels, until reaching the back room. There, the owner forced Alfred to sit down on a chair in front of a small table, where an empty white porcelain cup was still standing, together with a teapot, containing a bit of tea. "I'm alright, really," said Alfred, moving his head down while the other one was meticulously examining him. "I have to make sure that you are... it doesn't look like a deep wound, but I'm going to clean it, so that you don't have a problem later and decide to sue me or something like that," murmured the other blond and went for the first-aid kit. The king wasn't really getting what he was talking about. "Hold still," the second guy ordered while cleaning the wound, and Alfred obeyed without complaint, just playing with his peculiar pocket watch, opening and closing the lid. A habit he had developed with time. "Just to be sure: do you know your name?" asked the other one suddenly, finishing his treatment and standing in front of him. "Of course! I'm Alfred, the King of Spades!" he introduced himself, straightening his back and letting out his heroic laugh. The store owner just rolled his eyes. "I asked you for your name, not the nickname you use for playing Dungeons & Dragons," he grumbled, examining the other's pupils. "I've never heard of a game like that. How do you play it?" inquired Alfred, being forced to look at his benefactor's index finger that was moving from side to side. "Well, you put on ridiculous clothes, like the ones you are wearing now, and pretend to be a King of Spades," answered the guy with the thick eyebrows, finished examining Alfred and crossed his arms, looking with disapproval at the long trench coat with spade-shaped decorations. "There's a game, where you pretend to be me? Wow, now I'm flattered" replied Alfred, laughing again and smiling widely, while the other let out another snort. "God... I can't take these freaks..." murmured the other, while taking out a pocket watch from his pants. "Look, Alfred: I don't have time to play along with your delusions of Middle Earth, so why don't you go home and try to... I don't know, get yourself a productive life and let me close my shop and go rest? Ah, and attempt to not bump your head again on the streets, it could make you even more idio-... sorry, a bit crazy," he asked, putting the things in the first-aid kit away, while Alfred was looking as if he was seeing the most interesting specimen of his entire life, since it was a completely new experience for him to be spoken to like that, in such an... over familiar way. The king was used to being treated with exaggerated politeness, maybe except for from the other kings, however, they were still always keeping a certain distance. But this person seemed to not care in the slightest that he was the strongest king of the four that exist. "I like you, tell me your name," said Alfred like an excited little child, the other man put on an expression of annoyance, but replied. "My name is Arthur, and what I just said about you leaving was for real." He took out his watch again and looked at the time once more, a bit impatiently. "Arthur?" repeated Alfred, remembering the name of his future queen. Then he noticed the other's pocket watch and grew a bit suspicious, since he knew that the queen of Spades was always carrying around a round one, while the king was inheriting the spade-shaped one. "You are the queen!" he exclaimed suddenly, startling Arthur, who did a jump. "These guys surely planned all this, to let you help me, so that I would be in your debt and get married without complaining!" he screamed, approaching Arthur, who didn't understand what the hell he was talking about. "What are you blabbering about? I'm not part of your games!" Arthur spat at him. "Don't try to deceive me! I know what you all are capable of to make me obey the rules! Or maybe it was Yao who planned all this without telling me," yelled the angry Alfred. "Hey hey, stop talking to me as though I knew what the hell you mean and get out of my store right now!" "Yes, sure, and now you're pretending to not know anything, but what you can't do is hide the queen's mark." Having said this, Alfred made a few long steps and was now standing in front of Arthur, suddenly beginning to struggle with him and lifting up his shirt. "LET ME IN PEACE!" screamed Arthur hysterically, while the king was still trying to untuck his shirt by force. And when he finally managed to, he expected to see a spade-shaped mark on Arthur's side, even running his hand over it and also the other's ribs, making him shudder. "It should be here..." said Alfred, but didn't find anything... there was no mark, so he let go of Arthur, who was breathing heavily and covering himself up again. The king raised one of his hands to his chin. "Oh, so I was wrong..." he said. "You're not the queen," he added, laughing. "Damn, you almost scared me to death!" snapped Arthur, still panting and placing a hand on his chest with a pained expression on his face. "I thought you were a crazy men-rapist or something like that." Massaging his chest, he sat down, trying to calm himself. "Oh, of course I'm not, that would be more like Francis... I just thought you were my fiancé," explained Alfred without even apologizing. Arthur got a bit curious. "Don't you mean fiancée? The feminine form." "No, fiancé... they want to make me get married to a guy I don't even know. This is so terrible," lamented Alfred, sitting down as well, resting his arms on the table and his head on top of them. "Uhm... yes, that does sound terrible..." commented Arthur, without believing him a single word, because who would force a guy to marry another, and to top it off, a stranger? Things like these were only happening in cartoons or role-playing games. "And it is... they are always telling me what to do: 'Your Majesty cannot eat so much, it will harm you, Your Majesty has to study your lessons, Your Majesty is not allowed to go out with the peasants, it is dangerous, Your Majesty has to obey the rules'. Ahhh! I just want them to shut up... they never let me do what I wanted to, I had to grow up so fast that I don't even remember being a kid at all, and now that I'm an adult, they want me to keep obeying them blindly. I'm the king! It should be the other way round... but Yao is always behind me, scolding me as though I was still a child, despite never having given me the chance to act like one. Why don't they understand that I just want to decide how to live my life myself?" he asked, hiding his face between his arms, as if he would start crying any moment. "This is very bad..." noted Arthur, checking the time once more, because he really didn't want to stay there and listen to a guy with family problems who couldn't tell the difference between reality and fiction. "But seriously, Alfred, you need to go," he tried to chase him out subtly. "Oh, true... everyone at the palace must be panicking right now due to what the jokers did, and Yao will scold me once again for sure. Thank you for helping me, you will receive a recompense for your good deed," the king bowed briefly in gratitude and left the back room, evading the piles of old books one more time until reaching the door. He stepped out, and examined the street, putting his hands on his hips. Arthur followed him and saw how Alfred was standing there and looking around, as if he didn't know in which direction he had to go. Next, he turned around to the shop owner. "Where am I, by the way?" he asked with his radiant smile. "Wait... You don't know where you are?" inquired Arthur. Alfred just let out a nervous laugh and shook his head. "Gilbert, I think we should go look how things are going in the palace. I can't wait to see the faces of the queens and jacks!" suggested Peter with excitement, standing on a swing in an empty park and swinging around, while Gilbert was on top of a slide and contemplating the moon thoughtfully. "A good idea, Peter... What actions will be taken by the remaining deck of cards?" he said more to himself than to the boy, thinking about the palace and the chaos that was flooding its hallways for sure by now.