2/11/07

“Smoke Over The City”
Chopkins

Not far from the capital city was a little wayside diner called “Nancey’s Waffles, Coffee, Et Cetera”; traveling by foot, it was about a day’s voyage to the city gates. Amelia Cobal-Winestock was enjoying her morning coffee from a booth in said diner. She and her friend were passing through on the way to the capital and decided they should stop for some breakfast, else they might collapse from exhaustion before reaching their destination.

Amelia took a sip of her coffee, decided it was too bitter, added some sugar, then took another sip; now it was too sweet and she’d ruined the whole cup. ‘Oh well,’ she thought, ‘I guess I’ll just have the waitress top me off when she comes by again.’ She put the cup down gazed sleepily out the window—she hadn’t slept well the night before; the beds at the last motel were stiff and she’d had to share one with her friend, who thrashed around and stole all the covers. Beyond the grassy knobs and dirt road stood the walls of Bonfilia: the capital city her great-great-grandfather—Archduke Ulysses Gurrund Winestock of Rushwater—had built to fend off invasion. The idea was that by making the capital somewhere in the center of the duchy it would be more difficult for enemy hoards to capture than, say, a maritime city. The previous capital—Bywater—had, quite literally, been by water, being the duchy’s principal port and gateway to the Prime Sea. It had also been annexed and re-annexed by Rushwater several hundred times throughout history.

So, after nearly two decades of construction, construction of Bonfilia was completed and it was officially named capital of Rushwater. Archduke Ulysses named the new capital after his first wife: the long-deceased but still much loved Archduchess Bonny (much to the chagrin of his third wife—Archduchess Ermantrude—who he was married to at the time, but not for very long after).

Amelia was a direct descendant of Archduke Ulysses and Archduchess Bonny, but there were so very many royals anymore that it hardly mattered if you were a niece, or nephew, or cousin of the current ruler. Archduke Waldo—the reigning monarch of Rushwater—was in fact, her uncle, though they had never met. Her father, Count Melvin, was a middle child of over twenty siblings and really of little importance, which made Amelia of even less. Melvin had taken his share of the royal inheritance when his father died and moved far away from Bonfilia. He built himself a modest seat in the wilds of the Green Forest, which he called the “Plaster Factory”, where he could paint and sculpt and create as he pleased. Over the years, the Plaster Factory became a thriving artists’ colony. Artisans, and craftsmen, and virtuosos of all kinds came from miles around to work there.

It was during this time period that Melvin met a young jewelry maker by the name of Sylvia Cobal. Melvin and Sylvia weren’t very well-acquainted until quite some time later, however; for a very long time she was just a friend of his girlfriend, Grace. But, as fate would have it, they would fall in bed together one night, after both had had more than their share to drink, and nine months later Amelia would be born, effectively ending Melvin and Sylvia’s respective relationships with the aforementioned Grace. To the best of her knowledge, Amelia’s parents had never again slept together, but Sylvia would remain at the Plaster Factory for another sixteen years—long after all the other flaky artists had gone—before deciding she could no longer stand living so out-of-the way and moved to the nearest pocket of civilization. Amelia straddled between both parents for another two years, before deciding to strike out on her own and see the many sights her country had to offer.

Amelia could hear the clack of spiked heels against tile floor growing progressively louder until they stopped right in front of her booth. She turned her head lazily to see her friend—bright blonde hair, fishnet stockings and all—climbing into the seat across from her.

“I fuckin’ hate these cheap-ass places.” Her friend grumbled. “There was no toilet paper in my stall, so I had to get up—SHITTY ASS AND ALL—waddle over to the next stall, because my undies were around my ankles, to get the roll outta there—AND IT’S ONE-PLY! … You are never too poor for two-ply! And I know something about being poor!” Her name was Velouria and she was a seventeen-year-old former prostitute. When Amelia first met her, she was working in a brothel, pleasuring rich, old diplomats whose wives no longer put out.

“You made that up.” Amelia replied, stirring the over-sweetened coffee she was still angry she’d messed up.

“Nuh-uh! Why would you say that?”

“You told me yourself, you don’t even wear underwear.”

“Well, I didn’t when I told you that, but in my line of work, at the time, they only seemed to get in the way of the transaction.” Velouria explained. “And to be totally honest with you, the one’s I’m wearing right now are yours. Ya see, I’ve only got three pair and they’re all gettin’ pretty skanky.”

“Oh… well you can keep those then.” Amelia replied, thinking it best to avoid handling anything that that had sustained extended contact with her friend’s gender-defining parts.

The waitress came by and sat a plate of waffles and bacon down in front of Velouria and a bowl of oatmeal in front of Amelia, who mentioned the coffee. The waitress said she would come back around with the pot, but they didn’t see her again until she brought the check.

“Is that really all you’re gonna eat?” Velouria asked, as she broke the yokes of her eggs.

“I don’t like eating breakfast.” Amelia explained. “It upsets my stomach.”

“Ya know what upsets my stomach? Waking up at six in the morning!” She was referring to the fact that Amelia had forced her to get up rather early every morning since she joined her on this cross-country escapade. “Ya know, at least when I was a whore they let me sleep in every once in a while.”

“You’re still a whore.” Amelia said stoically. “You just don’t get paid anymore.”

“Oh ha-fucking-ha.” Velouria snapped. “And here I was gonna be nice and share the nice little tidbit of a rumor I overheard in the can, but no! Not now!”

Amelia smirked. “Okay, fine, I’m sorry I called your sexual history into question.” She apologized. “Now, what was it that you heard?”

“Okay fine.” Velouria conceded; her desire to share her gossip outweighed her desire to stay angry with the one person she had to tell it to. “While I was on the shitter I heard two old scags going on about some uprising in the capital way early this morning, before anyone important woke up. Apparently ol’ Uncle Waldo isn’t doing his job very well, eh?”

“Apparently.” Amelia was just as aware as anyone not born of royal blood that under the rule of Archduke Waldo and his regime, Rushwater had suffered. The economy wasn’t well, unemployment was on the rise, and certain allies had begun to distance themselves from their ties with Rushwater. Many believed it might be time to due away with the monarchy and begin implementing a democratic rule. Amelia and her father were both of this frame of thinking, ready to cut ties—though not necessarily purse strings—with the crown.

“I hear they’ve even started setting fire to some of the major businesses run by nobility. It’s gotta be pretty intense, I can’t wait ‘til we get there.” Velouria said.

“Hmm… Maybe we should forego our trip into the capital.” Amelia replied, taking new heed to the billowing, gray clouds hanging above the city, which she had simply passed off as industrial smog a few moments before.

“What the fuck?! Are you joking?!” Velouria exclaimed. “ We’re right there, and you just wanna go! Just because of some peasants on strike!”

“We can drop by on the way back from Bywater, if everything’s settled by then, which I’m sure it will be.” Amelia said. “But I don’t think it’s such a good idea for a royal—however insignificant—to be roaming the streets of Bonfilia during political rioting. The angry mobs might not care that the Archduke and I aren’t close, or that he may have never even heard of me at all.”

Velouria crossed her arms, let out a disgusted sigh, and rolled her eyes. “Fine. Bywater’s bigger anyway; better chance that somebody important will notice my slammin’ body.” Velouria had delusions of grandeur. She thought that, somewhere along the way—be it Bonfilia, or Bywater, or any of the major cities—a talent scout or movie director would see her on the street and be awe-struck by her beauty and give her a modeling contract, or cast her as the romantic lead opposite some big-name, attractive, male movie star in a film (or at least that some decaying tycoon would take a good look at her, ask her to marry him, then die while on the honeymoon—preferably before she had to consummate—leaving her his millions). Velouria was a very pretty girl, but any of these scenarios were long-shots: there are thousands of pretty girls in Bonfilia, and even more in Bywater.

The waitress came by and left the check. Amelia gave her a funny look for not bringing her the coffee, but she didn’t notice.

“What are you looking for anyway?” Velouria asked, somewhat out of the blue.

“What do you mean?” Amelia asked.

“I mean, what are you doing this for? You’re from Green Forest, right? Well, by the time you get to Bywater, you’ll have traveled the length of the Grand Duchy of Rushwater, and for what?”

“Oh… I donno… I guess I’m still deciding what I’m ‘looking for’, then—if anything.” Amelia replied. “But really this is just something I’m doing to get out of the house.”

end

Author’s Note: I wrote this a while back and posted it as a stand-alone one-off. But now I’ve wrote a few more short stories that take place in the empire Rushwater is a part of, so I decided to anthologize them.

In reference to the title The Paladin & Related Works: “The Paladin” is a character whose real name is Jonas Paval (or “Jonas the Shield” in certain circles). I’ve come up with a lot of ideas for him and he’s become a favorite character of mine (along with Sage Harlequin from The Boogieman Theory and Secret Agent Rainbow from The Von Bonos). I don’t have any of them typed up right now (or even completely finished) but he’s probably the most important character in these stories (or at least he should appear in the most).

As for Smoke Over The City though, it was inspired by the Tori Amos album Scarlet’s Walk. It was a concept album about a woman named Scarlet traveling across the US with her ex-porn star friend Amber Waves. I was listening to a lot of Tori Amos at the time I wrote this, so Amelia and Velouria are kind of my take on Scarlet and Amber. They’ll probably appear in more stories, providing I write them, which is always a gamble.