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The air smelled of bread, candy, and happy people.
How utterly repulsing.
The carriage is advancing slower than I hoped for. At this rate, we'll never get back to the palace. The people in the streets nearby wave flags yelling 'King Vincent!' and 'Princess Evangeline!' hoping to gain our attention. The parade is mostly for publicity. People want to know that we are still alive, at least that's what Felix says. They want someone to cheer for. Father says it's to showcase our massive wealth to the poor. In other words, a power demonstration. I fiddle with the golden lining of the dress that sits around my entire bodice, placed carefully around. People tend to stare at royalty a lot, especially when one of them happens to be a god. Father once mentioned how he found me when I was a baby. Crying in the desolate nature of a child. He took me in and Reverend Horace, the head magician and church practitioner deciphered what I was. They believed gods had gone extinct until I had arrived. The masses worship me, hence, the abnormally crowded parade. Sometimes I curse my own holiness for being an inconvenience at times.
A tomato flew at my face, mere inches before stopping, staining the graveled road red. Being a god can be an inconvenience.
"To hell with the crown!" The man with tomatoes yelled.
He seemed old, his face held no trace of faith. He knew of no gods. An old man with revenues to pay. To a man like that, the crown could go to hell. He fell to the ground, the guards struggling to detain him, though his fate seemed sure. Maybe if he hadn't thrown a tomato, his faith would miraculously grow, and this god would save him from eminent doom. I met his eyes, and never in a moment had he believed more. Maybe if he hadn't thrown a tomato, mercy would save a soul.
The people gathered around the slowly halting carriage, never minding the poor old man. We had reached the humble home of the Weiss family. A noble family who had kindly offered to house us, to give rest to the parade. In truth, father would often get motion sickness, though he blamed his years for it. Father often blamed things he didn't want to admit to being at fault with his years.
Guards lined the entrance in a perfect line, seemingly almost like an impenetrable wall. The Weiss were always prideful of their private guard. I would say they looked more like carefully arranged toys, exclusively for display at a kids shop. A look at these young men and one could tell they had never properly held a weapon. There was nothing to be proud of there, though my mouth would never think of telling our hosts this. Not until after we'd left of course.
I stood up to get off the carriage when one of the guards broke the delicate formation to lend me a hand. He seemed younger than the rest. Of course, only an idiot would imply that I, willingly, would need his help. The others held their breath, awaiting to see what might happen. I, of course, was also curious to see what would happen.
