Alnwick Chronicles

Four

Adalyn

Long story short, we got here. I'm not going to go into detail about those two hellish days, during which Skyla called me by every face-palmable nickname she could think of, or teamed up with Aerith to bully me, or tried to knock me off my bike, or tied my shoelaces together, or ate my food when I wasn't looking. Nathaniel couldn't come along, and I was left alone with Hydrogen and Chloride.

(H and Cl together make HCl, a super dangerous acid. How do I know that? I like reading. I read whatever I can get my hands on.)

Otherwise, the journey itself was smooth. The weather was cloudy but not rainy, and we didn't even get too sweaty. We carried some food with us, and bought a little on the way. Our cycles worked properly too. We spent one night in an old lady's house near the riverbank. She let us stay as long as we ate our own food and cleaned up after us. In her defence she's extremely poor.

Now, as we enter Old Alnwick, I can't help but feel a little anxious. We didn't plan this ahead, probably because all we were thinking about were our parents. And this is the first time any of us are visiting this place, so we have no contacts or a place to stay.

It's lunchtime, and first we need to grab a bite. We already finished everything we brought, so we look for a cheap food stall.

The 'cheap' part won't be a problem. Old Alnwick is the poorest part of the entire country. People can barely afford two meals a day, so most things are way cheaper than what we're used to.

We settle for a decent-looking sandwich stall in the main market. We wait on the wooden stools in front of it and I take in our surroundings while our food is cooked.

It's sad. There's no other way of describing it. It even makes the dirty Scrum look cheerful. There are grimy malnutritioned bodies everywhere: carrying loads, rummaging through littered trash, looking for work, looking for food. I can't bear to imagine the sight of this place during harsh winters.

I've never considered us wealthy or doing particularly good, but seeing all this is making me feel thankful for the life we have. It's unbelievable to think places like this, brimming with poverty, and places like the Metropola, where every family has a four-storey cement house, exist in the same country.

"3 CHICKEN COLESLAW, EXTRA CHICKEN?" The shopkeeper calls out. Everyone stares at us as Aerith stands up to collect our plates. Apparently we've ordered one of the most expensive meals available here.

All of a sudden, I notice a blond woman observing us from a distance. There's something off about her. I discreetly point her out to Aerith and Skyla.

"Seems like one of the richer folk around here, huh?" mumbles Aerith with her mouth full. That's what's off about her. She looks healthy, is wearing clean clothes, and I even see a little purse attached to her belt. Somehow her drab grey jumpsuit and muddy black boots are disguising her and she isn't standing out in the crowd.

She reminds me a little of Lady Florence. That is, if you switch her ornate gowns and crisp suits for commoner clothes. But the hair and facial features are quite similar to the picture I've seen uncountable times in the newspapers I've stolen to read.

Lady Florence is Queen Muriel's right hand. A child prodigy born to a middle-class family working as servants in the palace, she caught the Queen's attention at the age of 12, when she managed to identify a defect in the records system of Marlow. Now, at the age of 18, she is second in the kingdom only to the Queen. The most important minister in the court, Muriel's most trusted personal confidant, and probably next in line for the throne. People love her and are loyal to her just as much as they are to the Queen.