Damocles—The Realm of Kardenville, Britannia.
15 years Post-Pale Era:
"Princess Aira demands that you permit The Joker an audience."
"But..."
"But what? You think to dare oppose her highness' decision?"
Two knights fully clothed in armour chatted away. The first wearing a black armour.
"Okay lads. You don't get to talk about me like I'm not here." The person referred to as 'The Joker' said as he came in between them and dropped his hands on their shoulders. Harlequin; he stood 6ft and some inches tall. Ash-blonde hair, white coat with golden designs, black shirt and trousers he wore under the robes. A bandana with harlequin designs covered his right eye, the other, a hazel sharp eye. "Harlequin, I thought we asked you to stay at the waiting room?" the first knight asked.
"I just couldn't. I'm feeling too giddy."
The first knight led him towards a room. "Princess Aira permits you an audience, but don't do anything that would make her exert herself."
"Of course. I know all about her condition—her incurable illness."
"Incurable? Don't spread such rumours."
---
The door to the bedroom opened wide. A large bed with drawn veils surrounding it. The room was so grand that it would take some time to reach the bed which was at the other end of the room. Decorated with white decors, the bedroom was rich with ancient-looking architectural designs, the same that filled the whole palace, Damocles. Light poured in, it was rich with lighting. A stool was beside the bed, the veil was open at that side. The knight led Harlequin to the stool.
"Your highness, Knight Harlequin of the Order of the Decks."
Princess Aira. She wore white pajamas, a mask and gloves, both white still. The mask was feminine and fashioned after the fox animal. White hair she had, pale skin were her skin was visible. She looked like a snowdrop.
"Your highness." Harlequin bowed with swift elegance.
She motioned for the escort knight to leave the room.
"We've located the Jack of Hearts, Giorgio."
---
Giovanni woke up in a stinking pit—filled with dead bodies, and dung. He stood up almost immediately, headache hammering his head yet again. He touched his skull, where he felt the most pain, and couldn't locate the hole that was once there.
Who am I?
Amnesia. He had lost all the memories. Probably due to the gunshot. He stood and navigated himself out of the pit. It was large, it took him almost forever to exit. He walked and walked. His energy seemed to diminish, thirsty for water and hungry for food. Still naked he walked and walked. Stinking he smelled like, dirty he was. He collapsed.
---
He woke up to comfort. He was on a bed, cleaned, clothed, but he was still hungry and thirsty. He stood up and walked towards a mirror, and looked at the reflection.
Wow
He touched himself and then the reflection. He looked young, black hair, slim build, black eyes. He was the definition of handsome. He then noticed a tattoo on his waist, close to his groin. It was a spade, those ones from card games. He touched the tattoo...then someone walked in.
A teenage girl. Redhead, plain looking. "So...so...sorry. I didn't know you were...what were you doing?"
"Don't bother. I wasn't doing anything." Giovanni said as he walked back to the bed.
"Ehhm... would you care to join us for lunch?"
They sat at a table; a man, a girl,that same redhead girl and he himself. Served food was fish, bread, soup. He ate without holding back. Licked the plates even. They looked at him with surprise—'he was really that hungry eh?'. He drank water and then relaxed a bit. He then thanked them for the food when he found out they were staring at him. He then waited for them to finish their meal. The room was furnished simple, though neat, just like the bedroom he stayed at.
After their meal. They prayed a similar one they prayed at the beginning of the meal.
"I noticed you're not from Britannia. You don't know about the prayer and you have a very different colour of hair." the man initiated the conversation.
"Uhmmm...Sorry. I don't really know much about myself." Giovanni said. "I was really hoping you'd know a little as to who I am."
"Unfortunately, no. We found you some miles off in a wasteland between a nearby city and this city. More correctly, my acquaintance. He said we should take care of you for him, and he gave us some silver coins."
"Ohhh." Giovanni answered awkwardly.
"Amnesia is not a very rare case. You can stay here as long as you like...but there's a serious matter we must discuss." A silent pause. "You must have noticed that you have a spade tattoo. That would mean you're a knight. And not just any other knight, one in the Order of the Decks. Only those can get those tattoos."
"It would have been great if I knew who they are, but nothing comes to mind." Giovanni said.
"At least, do you remember your name?" the redhead girl asked.
"Something like 'Gio...gio...no...ni'?"
"Thea, take him back to his room."
---
Somewhere at the edge of the realm...
It smelled of rust, saltwater from the lake, and gun oil. Harlequin stood in the center of the open loading bay, white coat with its golden designs faintly glowing under the harsh overhead lights. Only his visible left hazel eye gleamed with delight.
Six men circled him.
"You're the legendary Harlequin?" the leader sneered. "Looks like a clown to me."
Harlequin smiled, theatrical as ever, and flicked a real playing card between his fingers.
"Clown? You wound me."
He snapped his fingers.
Golden light exploded outward.
"Caduceus Shuffle."
The Ethereal Deck spun into a whirlwind around him. Cards dispersed like thrown knives.
Sword struck the first gunman in the chest, pure misfortune made manifest. The man's own revolver jammed and backfired in his hand, the bullet tearing through his thigh. He screamed and dropped.
Chains wrapped the second man's legs mid-sprint. He slammed face-first into the concrete. Before he could rise, Empty Purse drained every ounce of strength from his body, leaving him twitching helplessly.
Harlequin blurred sideways with Winged Sandals, laughing as bullets whizzed past where he had been a heartbeat earlier.
"You boys really thought this would be easy?" he called, dealing another rapid combo; Sword, Misfortune, Chains. Three more men went down in a tangle of bad luck and golden links.
The last two tried to flank him. Harlequin spun, coat flaring dramatically, and threw Golden Coin at one, a lucky burst of speed and healing that let him dodge a point-blank shot. The other received Empty Purse straight to the face. He collapsed, gasping, as his stamina disappeared.
The place fell quiet except for the groans of the fallen.
Harlequin straightened his coat, breathing lightly, and surveyed the six bodies with a nonchalant face.
"Et voilà," he murmured. "Merde, that was almost too easy—"
A man stepped into the light.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, clad in normal clothes, those they wore in mediaeval era. No glowing aura. No visible power. Just a long, straight sword held loosely in his right hand, the blade plain steel, unadorned.
Giorgio.
Harlequin's visible hazel eye narrowed with genuine interest.
"Well, well. The famous Giorgio. No magic, no skill, no tricks. Just steel and stubbornness. Bordel, I've heard the stories. They say you cut down three knights of the decks without breaking a sweat."
Giorgio didn't smile. He simply raised the sword into a perfect guard position, stance relaxed but utterly balanced.
"You talk too much, Harlequin," he said, voice low and calm. "Let's see if your cards are faster than my blade."
Harlequin laughed, delighted. "Finally, someone who doesn't look like he would bore me. This is going to be fun."
He snapped his fingers again. The deck spun wildly.
Sword, Chains, Misfortune; a full three-card burst flew straight at Giorgio.
The swordsman moved like liquid. The blade flashed once, twice, three times, impossibly precise cuts that sliced every golden card in half mid-air. The pieces dissolved into harmless sparks before they could reach him.
Harlequin's smile widened. "Not bad."
He blurred forward with Winged Sandals, throwing Empty Purse at point-blank range.
Giorgio sidestepped the card without looking, then lunged. The sword tip came within inches of Harlequin's throat. Harlequin twisted away at the last second, coat flaring, and retaliated with a desperate Misfortune proc.
Giorgio's foot slipped on nothing, but only for half a heartbeat. He recovered instantly, blade whipping around in a horizontal arc that forced Harlequin to leap backward.
Card after card flew, Sword, Chains, even a wild Fool's Gambit that flooded the warehouse with random luck effects. Crates exploded. Lights flickered. One of the downed thugs suddenly found the strength to crawl away.
Giorgio ignored it all. He advanced steadily, sword moving in clean, economical arcs. No flash. No wasted motion. Every swing was perfect, every parry exact. He cut through golden cards like they were paper. He closed the distance relentlessly.
Harlequin was breathing harder now, coat torn in two places, golden designs smoking where the blade had come too close.
"Wow," he muttered, flipping another card. "You really are just a man with a sword…"
Giorgio's blade flashed again, faster this time. It nicked Harlequin's sleeve, drawing a thin line of blood.
His hazel eye widened.
He dealt one final desperate combo; Winged Sandals on himself for maximum speed, then blurred backward across the warehouse floor.
"Enough fun for one night, anymore and I'm dead." Harlequin called, voice still playful but edged with respect.
He snapped his fingers one last time. A blinding burst of golden light and random cards exploded across the room; a smokescreen of pure chaos.
When the light faded, Harlequin was gone, vanished into the night.
N/B: While Harlequin's active skill is Caduceus Shuffle, the others in bold are his moves/attack combo.