My Good Friend, The Villainess

11 - Capital

The only proper place for anyone who was anyone to have their Menele Rights taken was in the capital city of Swindon, in the Lady Hespheca Basilica. At least, that's what everyone else older than me had to say. I knew there were plenty of other places to have the ceremony, like in the church of our territory, but I also knew it wasn't 'proper' to do it so privately. For some reason.

Duman disagreed, but it seemed the older he got, the fewer people listened to him.

This was why my family and Sida's packed up all our clothes and other things and piled them into carriages for the trip. Mama and Papa used to talk about how when they were young, this trip could take up to two days, but now that the Crown had legalized and implemented portals, they lasted around an hour. I read about it with Papa in a news article at breakfast one morning, something about the safety of 'spatial magic' being studied. Within the next five years, they were going to try and put them on the ocean trade routes, and maybe even into other countries. Neither of my parents had been excited about the idea, mumbling about stepping on toes and military abuse.

I couldn't fully get what they were talking about, but war was something nobody wanted.

The light jostling of the dirt roads leading up to the portal was always... weird. At some point, the dirt turned into a smooth gray brick, then a line of other carriages from the surrounding territories would be in front of us. All Uncle Cyrille had to do was send the coachman to talk to one of the guards with some card and all of a sudden both our carriages were ushered to the front of the queue.

The portal was big, taller than any house I'd ever seen, and wide like the full moon. There was this sort of blue, water-like film that covered the entire thing, shifting in all sorts of weird, slimy ways that always made me a bit uncomfortable. I could never put my finger on why exactly, but something about the way they moved felt alive and I didn't like it. Mama always had to hold my hand while we went through. Going through the portal wasn't supposed to feel like anything, at least no one else mentioned feeling anything, but whenever I went through it, it felt like there were hands on me, tugging and pulling at a thing inside me before they were forced away by the carriage going out the other side.

From there, the countryside would slowly bleed into small towns that eventually ended with the giant stone walls of Swindon, the nice guard man checking for any 'contraband' and then getting inside. The Lauressier's home was on the same block as ours, the Upper East End of Swindon on Lyne Square, so we continued to travel behind and in front of each other. Mama likes to drive home the fact that it's the most 'fashionable' road in the most 'fashionable' neighborhood in the most 'fashionable' city.

I tune her out as we ride past the city square, where the gallows are. There's a big paper sign listing the name, time, and reason for those to be executed. There's an hour until the next one, an ill-intentioned merchant with the name of Raes, with no last name. I quietly prayed for him when I saw that he'd be put down by firing squad for conspiracy against the Crown.

The paved streets of Swindon were bustling with life otherwise, people going in and out of stores, talking on the street, construction of new buildings, little boys in overalls yelling with their newspapers and things like "big news, grand news! Can't miss this issue!". When we were stalled by traffic, Duman and I played a game of detective, guessing what people were picking up from stores or talking about on the side of the road.

"He's going into a jewelry store. I think he's going to buy a gift for a sweetheart. Perhaps a brooch."

"I think he's going in to buy a necklace for his mother. It might be her birthday soon."

"No one looks that nervous buying something for their mother! It has to be a sweetheart."

"Wait, maybe he's a jewel thief scoping out his next spot! That's why he's nervous."

"Then he's a terrible jewel thief. No one good at their job is that nervous."

I knew that after his Menele Rights, he wouldn't have the time to play these games with me anymore. At least not frequently. He'd have to go to all sorts of parties and Papa would take him to his club to introduce him to all his friends and their sons and daughters, then he might start courting someone and be married after his stint in Salaq. Then he'll be a husband and father before he's my brother. Which doesn't sound quite right when connected with Duman. He's too... floaty for that sort of thing, at least I think.

I think he thinks that too.

Over time, the hustle and bustle of the main streets of Swindon turned into a rumble, then a murmur, and finally into whispers as we got closer and closer to the Upper East End. The rows and rows of dingy brick houses got nicer and prettier and less smelly the further we went, turning into clean, tree-bordered lanes and little parks with fountains and benches. The houses were noticeably bigger, with much more space between them and little gardens of their own. We pass by the biggest, 'most fashionable' park, Santon Royale, and I see people riding horses and promenading and having picnics in their big hats and suits and riding clothes. I see the very, very important matriarchs under the oak trees, women stopping to greet them as they hump and sigh and lament 'the times when girls were good', whatever that means.

Mama thinks they're the only unfashionable thing about the neighborhood.

Although our houses are right next to each other, there's a clear difference between our house and Cressida's. Her house is a dark, purple-gray with big white windows and a wide porch surrounded by flowers and a brick walking path that leads into their backyard. It's also, much, much bigger than ours. Her house was a mansion, ours was much more like a nicer, slightly bigger form of our house back in our territory. It was a soft blue, a pretty color, with fewer white windows and a smaller porch and yard, but I thought it was beautiful anyway.

But it already felt kind of empty, knowing that Duman would be spending less time here than ever.