rologue
It took decades for the Earth to recover from a catastrophic event that not only reshaped the surface of the world but also took a chunk out of the moon—which turned out to be a really bad thing. The tides in the oceans kind of needed it whole. It was amazing the ripple effect something like that had. Add in meteor showers, a few nuke strikes, and BAM!
Once the worst of the destruction ceased, meaning the craters only smoldered and the shuddering waves from the impacts had subsided, the planet was never the same. The Ancients, as some called them—although could a few centuries really make them so old?—had done a number on the planet. It wasn’t the plastic pollution that did it in—as so many predicted. The Earth had a way of breaking things down when given a chance. There were other less natural things that did it. Toxic waste from nuclear bombs. Biological hazards that, when released, killed, not just humans but huge chunks of life, animal and insect alike. The meteor showers brought shit to an extinction level event.
But humans, like the rats and roaches of the world, knew how to survive and adapt.
New Earth needed them to change because, while some of the poisons in the ground eventually dissipated, others remained, requiring a stronger constitution. Evolution of the fittest ensured life on the planet didn’t die out.
Humanity lived, but they weren’t the same people as the Ancients. They were wilier. Stronger. And also very divided.
In that nothing changed.
There were a few disparate groups, the most prominent being the Enclave and its citizens. Ruled by the members of specific families—a strange process that involved breeding and testing to ensure a certain quality—the Enclave lived for the most part in the Cities. One major city per kingdom. Everything else was considered a satellite to it and existed to serve.
There were five kingdoms on the continent, with some being more divided from their neighbors than others because of natural barriers. The Emerald domain consisted, for the most part, of a barren wasteland with mountains running along part of it, an impenetrable forest on another, and a chasm to complete the lopsided triangle. The Sapphire City and its satellite towns were past the encroaching marshlands and bordering the Savage Sea.
There was Ruby—where debauchery ran rampant—Diamond, and Lazuli. Those five kingdoms—with a sixth emerging from the boggy lands vying for status—were ruled by the Enclave, two kings, three queens, and their various courts under them. The Enclave regulated every inch of their citizens’ lives from creation, to placement, to punishment if someone objected to their lot in life.
They provided a direct contrast to those who chose to ignore the Enclave’s rules, sworn enemies known as Wasteland Rats, Marauders, Deviants. They preferred the term survivors. They managed to live outside the domes in dangerous places like the barren Emerald and very wild Ruby. It wasn’t easy, but they were free. However, they did long for something a little safer, more permanent. A real home.
Rumors spoke of a fantasy place, a city with the highest walls, perfect for repelling monsters. Trees in tended gardens that didn’t try to capture and digest the unwary. Clean running water, food, justice. A city where everyone was treated equally. Every traveler passed on a story about Eden from someone who’d heard it from someone else.
It was ruled by a man who refused the title of king. Who forged a kingdom out of the Wasteland. Who ruled fairly. A true leader and savior who might be able to save them all.
Or so they said.
Now if only someone could find him.
One
Many years ago, in a city ruled by a queen…
“You there, behind the counter, pay attention. You have business to conduct if you can be bothered to do your job.”
The acerbic tone and words might as well have been a slap. Staring at the jars she dusted, Sofia bit her lip lest she speak out of turn.
The customer is always right.
Not always. Only once had she dared mutter that back to her teacher.
She still remembered that lesson, and the stinging on her knuckles from the spoon he’d used to smack them. Never tell them they’re pompous jerks.
With a fake smile pasted on her face, Sofia turned to greet Jezebelle, a regular customer—and pain to deal with. She was always quick to verbally abuse. Insulting those she considered inferior. Which included Sofia.
The older woman, her blonde hair pulled into an intricate series of knots, had a sneer on her lips. “About time you did your job. It would seem you need lessons on promptness.”
If they insult, do not respond. Do your job. Serve the client.
“Can I help you, Citizen Jezebelle?” Sofia used her most polite tone, the one that required her grinding her teeth lest she scream something else. She knew some choice words, since she’d moved from apprentice to assistant. It meant she got to leave the shop more often and that she was allowed to handle the shop on her own. It was as if Jezebelle knew when the master left on business and visited on purpose.
The woman always arrived determined to taunt, firing Sofia’s temper. A temper she never realized she owned until recently.
The master had been gone for more than a week, felled by an illness, with no one available to take his place. A week during which Sofia had no one to tell her what to do. Or what to eat. Was it any wonder she skipped that disgusting shake he fed her each morning that he claimed was full of vitamins? Perhaps she should have been more diligent about drinking it, because she felt quite out of sorts.
She couldn’t have said why her emotions toward people like Jezebelle had turned fierce of late. She felt quite rebellious. Inside at least. On the outside, she pretended servitude and mouthed platitudes.
“Do I look like a person who requires anything from you?”
Knowing how this game was played, Sofia kept her pasted smile as she murmured, “Of course not, citizen. You are perfection yourself. None of my wares are obviously worthy or needed.”
It was the same stupid game each time. Jezebelle pretended she wasn’t going to get anything, but she knew the Red Rosy was the place to go when it came to certain remedies. Especially the one to keep skin supple and young.
“I dislike giving business to one so obviously ill-bred, but at the same time, one should encourage the local merchants,” she said with a resigned sigh.
The urge to roll her eyes resulted in Sofia fisting her hands so hard that her nails left marks on her palms. “Perhaps as a gift, a soothing lotion, not that your skin requires aid. But one can never be too careful about the toxins in the air.”
“If you insist on atoning for your rudeness, then I shall accept.” The haughty air deserved a slap.
Instead, Sofia offered a bob of her head and a short curtsy. “Of course, citizen. I will prepare it immediately.”
Sofia turned to the display of jars lining the wall. As recently promoted assistant apothecary, she prepared fresh salves and powders for the rich of the city who could afford to shop. They happened to be the most annoying people to deal with. They wanted things done now, because they demanded it, and then tried to find reasons to avoid payment.
When she asked the master why he didn’t refuse some of them service, he’d shrugged, his white beard quivering as he said, “You don’t say no to an Enclave family.”
Meaning they had to accept that behavior. Those that protested and claimed all citizens should have equal rights? They paid a visit to the arena.