“These aren’t your fancy party type of harlequins that I’m talking about, with their mute tongues and their supremely ordinary faces. You know the ones, they hang around the nobility wearing their perfect white masks, when really they’re mage-warped assassins with a bag full of alchemist’s tricks. Everyone knows they’re real, don’t be a fool!
“But I’m not talking about them; I’m talking about the real deal – the inspiration. The ones that stay silent under interrogation because of their impressive mental fortitude. The one who take pride in flawed masks daubed with bright colours. The ones who wield khopeshes longer than your arm.
“Huh? Oh, you know, those elongated sickle-type weapons. Half the time used like an axe and the rest of the time like a sword. No? I thought they were common knowledge. Them traders up from the Coarse Sea use them.
“Anyway, there I was walking the glades, and I saw not one, not two – I’ll be cursed, not even three! A whole troupe of them, if that’s even the right word. Normally if they allow you to see them then you’re as dead as Belor, and I saw upwards of twenty. Twenty! Turns out they were all headed in one direction, real focussed on it, towards the canyon a few leagues out to the west if I’m right. Didn’t pay me any attention beyond a quick glance to see if I was a threat or not. Good thing I didn’t have my halberd with me, eh!
“Alright, alright, laugh all you want, but I could have been one of those adventuring types easy. Nah, they weren’t heading for any of the known ritual grounds that they have; I know these lands like I know the embrace of my own brother. What? Oh, yeah, we’re the best of friends. I suppose you’d have had no way of knowing that…
“Regardless, you mark my words. Something big is going to happen, and soon! The true harlequins are the harbingers of change – no, I said it right! I’ve had a few ales, sure, but I know what the right sound of words is! – harbingers of change they are. I reckon we’ll have us one of those worldfalls soon, or some sort of terrifying creature will move into the area that’ll cost half the gold in the city for a group of adventurers to clear out.
“Draconic invasion? Please, what could a dragon want with our city? We wouldn’t be on the map if the King’s grandfather hadn’t taken a lover from these parts, or whatever it was he did. Just steer clear of that canyon, or the harlequins will pay notice to you. And that means being slaughtered and having your blood used to make some of their dyes.
“Yes I’m telling the story again! Because it was strange, and because it means something, that’s why! Mark my words. Mark my words…”
***
The harlequins ceased their chanting as one, the drone ending abruptly and without hesitation, each individual in perfect unison despite being in the middle of a refrain. The troupe leader stepped forwards, mask off, her lips turning upwards into the kind of smile that would set the hearts of common men racing – were it not for the keen fierceness that lit her eyes.
“The words have been spoken according to prophecy! Chaos comes!” she said, her voice carrying down the canyon, though she hadn’t raised it.
“Chaos comes”, the harlequins intoned, as the world veil tore.
The Masked Merchant 