Alnwick Chronicles

Two

~6 months ago~

Aerith

It has been 5 days since mom and dad went missing. My brother and I are past the stage of pretending it'll be okay and know we have to take action. We decide to visit all the places they used to regularly go to, so we'll at least have a start.

Adalyn will first have to travel to a place at the base of the Willow Hills, from where our father collects remedial plants and herbs, and then to The Scrum, where he sells their medicinal parts and products to what pass as "pharmacies" there.

Our mother is a workwoman in a factory in the industrial city Vlidron. That's where I'm headed, with my best friend/partner in crime/alter ego Skyla.

We set out from my house, located on the free land between Vlidron and the Metropola. Most of the few people living in this area are too poor for the Metropola, but wealthy enough to escape the slums of Old Alnwick. We live in a small cluster of houses at a point on the Metropola border directly opposite The Scrum.

"So what's the most bizarre thing you've ever eaten?" asks Skyla.

I think for a second before replying, "This one time, I drank an entire cup of mud smoothie on a dare."

"Mud smoothie?"

"Yeah just mud and milk mixed together."

"Nice."

That's the thing about Skyla. I can have the silliest and the most serious conversations with her equally comfortably. And we can read each other's mind so well it's practically telepathy. Like even though I'm not scared or worried right now, I definitely needed a distraction from my thoughts of mom.

We talk about the most random things as we make our way to Vlidron. When we're a few feet away from the gates, we see workers entering through them in a single file. I spot one of my mom's friends, Hank, and wave at him. He notices us and smiles in return.

I have known Hank forever. He has lived alone ever since he had to leave his parents, wife and children in Old Alnwick in search of a job. He sends them money every month, but is rarely able to visit them in person.

My mom met him at the iron factory where they both work, and they became good friends. She would invite him to have dinner with our family whenever he missed his folks.

We jog over to him and get in line behind him. Once we're inside the compound, (the security is pretty lax here. Too many workers to take care of) he turns to us and says, "What brings you here, kid?"

"Hey, Hank. It's my parents. They've been missing for almost a week," I say, getting straight to the point.

"What?"

"Yeah.."

"I thought your mother finally found the better-paying job she was looking for and left the factory."

I shake my head and explain how neither mom nor dad have come home in the past 5 days. He panics a little and rubs his forehead.

"Come with me," he then says, and we follow him deep into the heart of Vlidron.

After walking for about 20 minutes, he takes us inside one of the largest factories and to its locker room. There, from a tiny dusty locker, he takes out a crinkled envelope from beneath a heap of rags and hands it to me.

"What's this?" asks Skyla.

He herds us towards a corner where we can talk privately, and says, "I transit letters for your mother all the time. I have a lot of connections almost everywhere, which is how I'm able to send home money. Most of us are uneducated, so your mother trusts us. This was the last message she gave to me, for someone named 'Cold H' in Old Alnwick. I was going to give it to a friend leaving for Old Alnwick tomorrow."

"'Cold H'? Strange name," I remark. Hank just shrugs.

Suddenly, a horn blares loudly, and workers start reporting to their stations.

"I have to go, kid. But don't go looking for trouble. Stay safe, okay?" He gives me a hearty clap on the back and I nod.

"I will, thanks so much."

"May the Queen bless you," he finally says, before turning around and leaving.

Adalyn

The Willow Hills are called so because of the majestic willow trees that grow in the narrow, shallow ravines between the hills, although it is difficult to come across one as they are few in number. But that makes them good landmarks.

I have to find one under which coralberry shrubs grow. That isn't difficult, as the pop of colour the purple-pink berries provide is hard to miss. I walk towards them and just stand there for a second, wondering what to do.

Dad comes here once every three days to collect useful medicinal herbs, flowers and weeds. When we were younger, Aerith and I used to tag along, and he would show us different plants and tell us all about them. Then we'd run around and play while he collected them. Sometimes we even brought our friends along.

But those visits reduced once we turned 11 and started school. Well, not school exactly, but we'd go to a man's house in the Metropola, who taught us to read and write. It was a little far from our house. By the time we'd get back, the sun would be setting.

My mom is the only educated adult in the area where we live. Her grandmother was literate, and the knowledge was passed down. So she insists that Aerith and I learn too, inspite of everyone else here thinking it useless.

Anyways, back to the present.

I get on my hands and knees, and start searching for anything that might've been dropped, lost and forgotten in these bushes. It's a long shot, but I can't think of anything else to do.

After about 30 minutes of unsuccessful foraging, I take a break. Settling down under the willow, I slowly sip water from the flask I brought, enjoying the unusual comfort of the hard earth.

Wait a second. Willows and coralberries don't grow in hard soil. They grow in soft, clayey soils.

I get to my feet and examine the ground below me. I press my fist on and around where I was sitting. The soil outside the circumference of my spot is soft and a little moist, like it's supposed to be. Curious, I start digging up the hard part. Before long, something turns up.

It's a leather pouch: small, brown, unusually firm. And empty. Sigh.

I run my palm all over it, feeling the fabric. An inconsistency on it stands out. I shake it to clean off the dirt, and find a single word inscribed on it in gold:

"Ashford"