Growing up, his life had been rather unremarkable, something which he was utterly embarrassed by. One simply did not grow up normally in his line of work. It just wasn’t done. So he was always very careful to hint that his mother was slightly delusional, and that his father had disappeared for many years when he was young. It wasn’t a huge deal, he told himself, it was just to make sure he had the proper background. After all, who would hire a professional liar who had nothing solid to base his lies on? The only truly beautiful lies were those that were entirely based on truth. Indeed, the great masters could twist the truth without lying.
He did not permit himself the delusion that he was anything more than a rather average liar. Good for pretending your lost uncle was visiting, but nothing great enough to actually be hired for Court. Deep down, he dreamed of one day being allowed to witness the spectacle that was Court. All the true liars gathered there, hired by different patrons to mingle and mangle with the aristocratic minds.
It was considered high treason to be caught lying in the Court, so you had to learn to lie without lying. Oh the wordplay conversations must embody! What he wouldn’t give to be mazed by the twisting and metaphors and veils of the Court. He would blissfully fall into the gentle spider threads if only he could hear language taken to the height of its glory.
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