Post by Clopin on Mar 24, 2018 20:34:34 GMT
December 10th
I actually did it!Mon dieu, I just killed the King of France! My hands are still shaking, and I can’t seem to catch my breath. Don’t get me wrong, mon ami, I didn’t do it for power. I have enough on my hands as the king of gypsies. But this former friend of mine, he had to be dealt with.
There was just too much that he knew.
Perhaps I should start from the beginning.
⚜
Some years ago, I began sending out teams of my own assassins, to eliminate enemies of our tribe. Because they were so elite, most of our victims were believed to have died of natural causes. No one suspected a thing!
It was magnifique!
But we had built a sort of name for ourselves in the underbelly of Paris, and eventually, we began to have customers coming directly to me, begging me to take out enemies. For a good sack of livres, I had no issues with taking a life, as long as I deemed it just. It kept bread on the table, and it kept our people happy.
What more could I possibly ask for?
Things became more interesting when a man in a hood approached my throne in the Court of Miracles one night. At first, I had assumed it was Quasimodo, but upon closer inspection, this figure was not him. The hood came off, and I found myself face to face with none other than King Louis. He told me that he had heard numerous stories of our exploits within the underground, and that he wished to hire me as his own personal assassin.
As I was instructed to rid Louis of his political enemies, I found that we grew closer as friends, enough for him to allow me into his inner circle. Imagine that, the gypsy king being part of the King of France’s inner circle!
Judge Claude Frollo must have been rolling in his grave, the bastard.
However, this also left him able to know my many secrets. We got into a disagreement, enough for him to threaten me with releasing them. I couldn’t have that, and so, I decided that it was time for me to be rid of him. It took many months of planning and careful observation, but now, the deed is done.
I suppose I can’t mourn the poor bottle-ale rascal just yet. The throne is open, and by Mahomet’s beard, I will slay every person who tries to take it from me.
⚜
August 14th
It’s been a year or so since we’ve last talked, mon ami. So much has happened, and I need to write this all down.
There was quite a scene when the royal court found out King Louis had been slain, and as a close friend, I played the part of mourning his death. But as soon as the question of who was to claim the throne came up, I offered myself. Of course, I was mocked, for why would the king’s personal assassin become the next in line to the throne?
They found out for themselves sooner or later. Now, all anyone can do is only assume as to how I have this golden crown on my head.
News of a war soon came, and while I had initially believed that we were safe, my kingdom was threatened, and so I sought out the king that they had called Simba.
Imagine my surprise when I found out that this king was a lion! But I was no stranger to talking animals—my own Dante and Virgil converse with me quite a lot, by some strange magical way. I proposed myself as Simba’s second in command, and I left my advisor and a few key others to keep things running, so that France didn’t crumble to pieces while I kept us safe from the war.
And now here I sit, between the other council members, discussing the matter of Jafar, and what to do. I can only hope that Simba will listen to Jasper and I, as we cannot afford to risk that many lives hunting a powerful sorcerer like him. It is a foolish idea.
And I can see the look in Simba’s eye.
This cannot be good.
