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The taller of the two men I assume to be guards passes the Disk over the top of a gold device on his wrist. There’s a faint chime from the device and a blue light flashes. He nods, handing the disk back to Calian, who motions for me to follow.
“What was that?” I ask.
“That disk is my royal pass. If I had a civilian pass or even a merchant pass, the guards would have given us wristbands that would restrict our access to certain areas of the city.”
“Isn’t that thing kind of awkward to fit in your wallet?” I ask, eyeing the thick metal disk.
“Perhaps, but the honor of carrying a royal disk compels most to clip it to their belts like so,” he says, holding the disk to the front of his belt where it snaps into place by some kind of magnetic clasp. “It’s something of a fashion statement,” he admits.
I grin to think of the austere man caring about fashion, but then I look at his clothes again and notice how fastidiously maintained they are.
We pass through the gate and into a sprawling and surprisingly active city. Buildings composed of clean, oddly modern lines but with posh medieval twists are everywhere I look. Crowds of men, women, and children clad in outfits that look familiar in some ways and alien in others move between stores and down the main roads of the city. A group of two men and a woman walk by just in front of us.
One of the men wears a button down shirt with a red vest, but the vest has the same high collar that seems to dominate the men’s fashion here. He wears straight-legged gray pants with shin-high boots that clasp tightly to his legs. The other man wears the same kind of coat I’ve seen so much, but they both wear large, ornamental pistols at their hips. My eyes linger on the weapons. Even seeing guns in movies has always made me uneasy, but seeing them in person like this makes my stomach churn.
I can’t help thinking how much violence is ready to be unleashed from those weapons, and how easily they could end my life.
The woman has her hair done beautifully into black curls that cascade down to the middle of her back, but the chunk of hair just in front of her ear is platinum blonde. She wears a dress that looks like a hybrid between a ball gown, a prom dress, and a dress you might wear to a nice dinner. It’s made of a silver material with purple flecks of something reflective. The shoulders are rounded and puffy and the cut is low, showing an almost scandalous amount of cleavage, which, combined with the snug waistline makes for a pretty cute dress I wouldn’t mind wearing, even if it’s a little formal for every-day use. The bottom of the dress is folded and cut in a way that every step sends it swooshing, unraveling, and coming back together in a mesmerizing dance. Despite the cleavage on display, the hem of the dress falls all the way to her ankles so that only her gorgeous purple heels are visible--which are open at the top of her foot and transparent over her toes.
Just as the group passes, the woman turns her head toward me, seems to take me in at a glance, and turns her nose up just slightly, like she’s smelled something bad.
“Why is her hair like that?” I ask Calian. And why is she such a bitch?
“Blonde hair is a sign of royal favor in women. Girls born with naturally blonde hair and common blood are forced to dye it. The more blonde a woman is allowed to wear, the more status her family carries.”
“So her family has status?” I ask, still watching the woman, who must have seen that my hair had no blonde and determined I was beneath her.
“Some,” says Calian. “But a single lock of blonde is hardly enough to earn a seat on the outskirts of a royal procession. It definitely wouldn’t grant her an invite to any of the royal balls, for instance. Then again, it’s all a matter of perspective. If she’s the only woman in her social circle with any royal ties, she is likely viewed as quite the important woman.”
I frown. “It seems kind of backwards,” I say. “What about equal rights? Just because this place is hidden in the mountains shouldn’t mean it gets to play by its own rules, right? And why don’t these people just go live in the real world? If you’re a servant or something here, life would have to be better on the outside.”
Calian makes a face, as if I asked a question he hoped I wouldn’t ask. “I’ll let your future husband answer that question more fully for you when the time comes. For now, I’ll just say that individuals on the bottom of the social ladder here are incentivized to stay. Anyway, we should be moving on, Princess.”
