The air around them shifted as they moved deeper into the fractured, disorienting corridors of the Fractured Archive. It had been hours since they'd last spoken with Groat—who, as usual, was unhelpful—leaving the two of them to navigate the chaotic, impossible space on their own.
"I don't know why I'm still here," Ashwen muttered, kicking a floating stone out of her way. "We're just chasing shadows, wandering between broken realities. For what? A relic that might not even do anything?"
Ilyan didn't respond immediately. His gaze was trained on the darkening path ahead, the sense of something drawing them further.
Suddenly, a light, airy voice interrupted the gloom.
"Ah, so you're lost, oui?"
Ilyan froze, Ashwen's hand instinctively reached for the dagger she kept at her side. From the shadows, a figure emerged. Tall, lithe, and entirely too... colorful for this dismal place.
He wore a brightly-colored jester's outfit—red and green diamonds stretched across his jacket and trousers, a patchwork of mismatched fabrics. His face was painted white, with an exaggerated grin that seemed permanently etched on his features, and a tall, floppy hat adorned with jingling bells.
Ilyan blinked. "Who... are you?"
The jester gave a dramatic bow, his bells chiming melodically. "Ah, forgive me, mes amis! I am Monsieur Loup, the jester of all things wonderful and terrible! And it seems, mon ami, that you are indeed lost."
Ashwen's brow furrowed, clearly unamused. "Lost? We're on a quest. A very important one. Do you have a map?"
"Map?" Monsieur Loup's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Why would one need a map when the journey is the map? Non, non! You must follow the path of fate, or perhaps the path of your mistakes—whichever you prefer!" He giggled. "Both are fine choices, really."
Ilyan glanced at Ashwen, then at the jester. "You're... a guide?"
"Oh, no, no, no," Monsieur Loup chuckled. "I am but a humble observer. A humble joker in the great game of life, yes? I do not guide, I only watch and play. But I am, of course, very helpful... when I feel like it." He gave a sly grin and shrugged dramatically. "It depends on my mood!"
Ashwen crossed her arms, glaring at the man. "And what exactly is your mood right now?"
He looked her up and down, his eyes gleaming with playful arrogance. "Ah, my dear, you are a fiery one, aren't you? I like it. Perhaps I will show you something... or perhaps not. Who can say?" He tilted his head as if considering. "Would you like me to solve your little puzzle, or would you prefer the entertainment of doing it all wrong first?"
"Do you ever make sense?" Ashwen snapped, clearly getting annoyed.
Monsieur Loup flashed her a grin, the bells on his hat jingling with each exaggerated movement. "Ah, of course! I make perfect sense, always. In my world, everything is perfectly clear. It is only when you enter my world, that things seem... a little bit, how do you say... unpredictable?" He paused. "But don't worry, I'm very good at solving things." He leaned closer to Ilyan, lowering his voice. "For a price, of course."
Ilyan raised an eyebrow. "A price?"
"Oui," Monsieur Loup said, his grin widening. "But nothing terrible. Nothing that requires actual sacrifice... unless you're the type who finds that sort of thing amusing." He winked. "But enough of that! You are on a quest, yes? So am I. We are all on our own little quests, aren't we?"
"Why are you following us?" Ashwen growled.
Monsieur Loup raised his hands in mock innocence. "Ah, non, non! I am merely... passing by. But I have been watchingyou, and I find you... entertaining. So, I decided to tag along. Think of it as... company on a lonely path." He flashed a wide grin. "But don't worry, I won't say much. I will just observe."
Ilyan looked at Ashwen, who had already begun walking again, ignoring the jester.
"Well, if you're not going to help us, then go away," she snapped.
Monsieur Loup clicked his tongue, walking a few steps to catch up with them. "Oh, but I am helping! I am always helping. You just don't know it yet. Trust me, you will." He grinned. "I'm like a bitter little spoonful of truth—you'll thank me later."
"You don't seem to know anything about us," Ilyan said, glancing at the jester. "Why should we trust you?"
"Oh, non, non!" Monsieur Loup responded with an exaggerated frown. "I don't expect you to trust me. That would be so terribly boring! Trust is for people who can't enjoy a good riddle. Let me just say this—I know exactly how you will fail. And I will watch you fail in the most beautiful way possible." He winked. "But don't worry, I'll be there at the end to provide a... happy ending."
Ashwen looked over at Ilyan, her expression skeptical. "We should leave him behind."
Ilyan shrugged, already used to the strange and absurd. "What harm could a jester do? If he gets in our way, we'll... I don't know, laugh him off?"
"I will make you laugh!" Monsieur Loup chimed in, spinning on his heel. "I will make you laugh until you forget why you're even here. I'll... muddle your thoughts!"
Ashwen sighed, muttering under her breath, "I have a feeling he's going to be a problem."
Ilyan grinned. "At least he's not boring," he said, though he couldn't help but feel a small amount of dread building in his chest.
"I'm never boring!" Monsieur Loup said with a dramatic flourish, twirling a nonexistent cape behind him. "I am the jester, the entertainer of all things mundane and terribly serious. Now, what is your next move, hm? Do you have a plan? Or should I just keep following you, as I do best?"
Ilyan exchanged another glance with Ashwen. There was something about Monsieur Loup that felt... familiar, but in a way that left him unsettled.
"Well, we're heading to the Vault of Rejected Truths," Ilyan said after a moment, not sure if it was wise to tell the jester their next move. "If you're not going to be of any help, you can always leave."
Monsieur Loup's eyes gleamed. "The Vault, hm? How deliciously vague. I think I'll join you for a little longer. After all, what is life without a little chaos?"
With that, he skipped ahead, jingling like a wind chime made out of mischief and uncertainty.
And as the three of them moved forward—one reluctant, one excited, and one utterly indifferent—it became clear that Monsieur Loup was about to become an unwelcome but inescapable part of their journey.