The Royal City of Narcys has shone brightly as the jewel of Calkus since the beginning of the civilised era. During times of tribal warfare, the extinct volcano was fortified by the dominant tribe. When peace finally visited Calkus under an uneasy truce, the Narcys tribe began to trade with other settlements, amassing great fortunes due to their central location and proximity to the sea. This tribe became the Royal Family of modern-day Narcys. To this day, the city remains a powerhouse of trade, watched over by the Wealthy Matriarch.

Extract from History of Narcys by Ysolde Vell

Emilia glared at the polished wood flooring. Her arms were crossed firmly across her chest, her mouth a thin line. Oblivious fingers of sunlight crept through the grand window panes, throwing golden lines across the solarium. Emilia's mother reclined on a plush yellow chair, clutching a glass of wine between skeletal fingers. She fixed Emilia with a cold stare, like a hawk sizing up a wary rabbit.

"Tomorrow you will meet Alix. Hopefully, you will like him. Regardless, you will marry him."

Emilia felt her stomach drop. She had hoped her father would have been able to get her out of this by now. Wishful thinking. He was the polar opposite of her mother; all compassion and no action.

"I don't want to get married," Emilia said.

Her mother chuckled, a sound entirely devoid of warmth.

"That's irrelevant," she said, her false smile suddenly evaporated. "You're almost sixteen. He's from a good family. Your father will make a powerful trade ally."

"He wouldn't make me do it."

"What does that matter?" her mother sighed. "He'll listen to me. Why are you so opposed to this anyway? Alix is a handsome boy and, by all reports, he's charming."

Emilia took a second to mull over why she was opposed to it. It was more a feeling than a thought. Difficult to grasp, impossible to verbalise.

"I just don't want to get married," she said. "I don't look at him in that way." Emilia kept the underlying truth to herself; she didn't find herself attracted to any boys or men.

"Well, you'll just have to get used to it." Her mother took a sip of wine and sloshed the dark red liquid around the glass. It stained the intricate crystal patterns a deep shade of claret. Emilia listened to the servant's footsteps as they echoed through the grand foyer outside the solarium.

"I think I'll visit the gardens," Emilia said, as she rose from the armchair.

Her mother nodded her assent and lay back to bask in the sunlight.

Emilia clasped her thin coat and entered the gardens. Elegant sparrows chirped as they fluttered between the branches of proud oaks and sheltered cypress trees. Water bubbled from the ornate fountain in the centre, its white marble flawless in the brilliant midday sun. Narcys, the Royal City, was stunning during the summer; it was difficult not to be charmed by its beauty. Despite this, Emilia did not feel at peace. Even in the gardens, she was still firmly under her mother's thumb. She disappeared between the hanging branches of two cypress trees at the edge of the gardens and emerged on to the thoroughfare of the second lowest ring of the noble rise. Narcys was built on, and in some cases into, an extinct volcanic mountain. The plateau at its peak held the inner city. Inside its stout walls nestled the Royal Palace, The Archives and the Grand Council Chambers. Below this, several concentric rings made up the Noble Rise. The ring on which a noble family lived conveyed their level of wealth and influence; the higher in the Noble Rise they were, the more prestigious the family. As Emilia's family were originally commoners and had made their money through the mercantile trade, they were viewed as lesser nobles. They occupied the lowest ring of the Rise. At least the roads here had been flattened and smoothed, unlike the common areas of the city, where peasants walked over ragged waves of volcanic rock. It was towards the lower levels that Emilia descended, ignoring the foppish noble boys and elegant parasol-wielding ladies as she went. As she reached the lower paths of the Rise, she saw a young couple bickering at the side of the road. Upon hearing Emilia's footsteps they stopped talking and shot seething glances at each other. Besides her lack of desire for anyone, this was also part of the reason Emilia did not want to get married. Noble marriages seemed a lot more volatile and bitter than those of commoners, as they did not ordinarily get to choose their spouse. In Emilia's parents' case, her father had lost the power struggle to her mother, and spent his existence in quiet subservience. Then there was Emilia's sister Ansia and her husband: constantly bickering, cheating, fighting and crying. It seemed no way to live. She sighed and walked on, trying to enjoy the simple pleasure of the warm sun on her pale skin.

Emilia reached the base of the Noble Rise and walked past the gate guard without a word. He was more interested in keeping the uncultured rabble out of the Noble Rise, rather than keeping wandering noble children in. Once she was clear, she leaned against the wall of a bakery. The smell of freshly baked bread and Rettri, a honeyed pastry, wafted out from the cave entrance. Several of the older shops in the Market District sold their wares from store fronts carved into the base of the mountain. Emilia watched the lean men and hardened women as they sold wares, pulled carts brimming with products, swept grit from the paths and cooked food. A deep rumble from above heralded the passing of a heavy cart on one of the rings of the Rise. Emilia shrank back into the storefront as tiny shards of volcanic rock fell from the overhanging rock face which loomed over half of the district. Most of the common men and women had a collection of tiny scars on their faces and bodies from the rock showers, however it did not seem to bother them. Emilia could imagine the reaction if she suffered even the slightest of scars to her face; her mother would shout at her and make a big fuss, saying it would be impossible to arrange a decent marriage now that she had marred her beauty. It was almost tempting. Although, underneath her developing rebellion, Emilia still held a deep fear of her mother's strict nature. Emilia remembered herself, and nodded awkwardly at the baker who had fixed her with a perplexed look. She left the cave and wandered through the market, stopping briefly to buy a flatbread wrap from a hot food stand. She saw some burly men heaving barrels down the path towards The Scar and decided to follow them.

The salty air whipped Emilia's dark curls in all directions as she descended the narrow, uneven path leading to The Scar. The Scar served as the docks of Narcys; it was a large rend in the earth, running from the sea right up to the base of the Royal City, surrounded by a thin strip of land on the other two sides. Judging by the erratic rock formations in the area, scholars assumed that it had been formed during a particularly violent earthquake. The Scar was wide enough to fit up to five trade ships at any one time. Emilia stopped to catch her breath after carefully picking her way down the last few rocky shelves on the path. Wavegulls, the large sky blue pests that plagued the local sailors, screeched through the skies. Men, women and children alike, all covered in their trademark lattice of scars, laboured in the harbour. The men carried crates and barrels around in the baking sun, while the tanned children mended nets and nattered mischievously amongst themselves. They made Emilia feel extremely conscious of her pale skin; she would look insubstantial, like a ghost, if she stood next to them. The women sweated over great outdoor cookpots, hefted the day's catch to the stalls, and hawked their wares with skill equal to those in the Market District. Emilia's parents had warned her about the common quarters; to keep her wits about her in the Market District, and to never, under any circumstances, visit The Scar alone. She had first disobeyed this order a few weeks ago, after being lured down by the forlorn cries of the gulls. Hypnotised by the crashing waves and the delicate whispers of wind, she realised she had found her favourite place to relax. It was easy to forget about the impending wedding here. Emilia sighed. Not that easy, she thought, realising she had just thought about it. Even her retreat was being invaded by her family's wishes. She resumed her journey, threading her way through the ramshackle stalls, gazing at all the strange prisoners that had been plucked from the sea.

Time escaped her. She noticed the sun brushing the tips of the masts on the nearby fishing boats. Time to return home. Her mother would soon wake from her wine-induced nap. Some of the smaller stalls had begun to empty as their owners packed the wares away for the night. Emilia strolled through the dwindling market, towards the rocky path leading back up to the Market District. As she approached the beginning of the track, she noticed four boys sitting on a rough volcanic shelf. They looked like docker's sons, or commoners at least; the tiny facial scars were evident. They laughed boisterously and jostled each other, trying to shove one another from the wall. Emilia attempted to pass quietly, instinctively keeping her eyes lowered to the floor. Her mother's stories about the dangerously rough common folk had obviously had some impact. The boys grew quiet as she drew near. Emilia was concentrating so hard on remaining unnoticed that she tripped over an uneven ledge in the path. She managed to regain her balance without falling, however it drew the attention of the boys.

"A'right there, miss?" One said in a lazy drawl. Emilia heard a thump as the boy casually dropped from his perch. She turned to face him.

"Fine, thank you," she said curtly. She made a point of looking towards the falling sun. The other boys had joined their leader and were studying her with great curiosity.

"I really must be on my way," she mumbled.

"Aye, fair enough," the boy sighed. "I get it, noble lass like yourself shouldn't be seen with common muck like us, right?"

"N-no, that's not it at all," she stammered, aware she was blushing a furious shade of scarlet. Her shame always found a way to betray her.

"Relax, little lady," the leader gave a good natured laugh. The other boys joined in. "Only pulling your leg. My name's Max. What's yours?"

"Emilia," she said, denying her in-built urge to shake the boy's hand. They would probably laugh at that too.

"Nah, don't like it," one of the younger boys said. The brutal honesty was refreshing; she was so used to the guarded, insincere social dance of noble interaction that she found herself enjoying the blunt comment.

"Five, who nicked your manners, Gerty?" Max scolded him. "You can't just say things like that."

"Sorry." Gerty shrugged. "Sounds too posh. What about Milly?"

Max opened his mouth to speak but Emilia cut him off.

"Milly will do just fine," she smiled. She liked the way it sounded; informal, friendly, the opposite of Emilia. A suitable alias for an escape from her rigid noble life. "Anyway, I really must be off. It was lovely to meet you all."

"See you 'round, Milly," Max waved. The other boys chimed in with a roughly synchronised "See ya" and wandered back to the wall. Milly walked back to the Noble Rise with a smile on her face. She decided she would visit her honest new acquaintances soon.

Five days later, Emilia was forced into her first meeting with Alix. By the time the servants responded to the curt knock on the front door, Emilia had already been dusted with makeup and squeezed into an elegant, uncomfortable dress. She had been placed in the solarium like a polished volcanic glass ornament in a Market District window. Alix swanned into the room with a strange masculine elegance. Her mother, acting as chaperone, smiled. Emilia could see why she liked him; arrogance, self-interest and a desire for control - Alix possessed all of the qualities her mother admired. Emilia was no more attracted to Alix's appearance than his personality. He just looked like a boy. To her, the only notable visual difference between Alix and the boys at the dock was that Alix was cleaner.

"I was thinking about taking a stroll to the Third Ring Fair on Saturday," Alix said. "Would you care to join me, Emilia?" He said it almost as if it was a stock phrase, as if he was already bored with his own pursuit of her.

"Oh, I'm sure she would love to, wouldn't you Emilia?" her mother broke in before she could respond. It dawned on Emilia that she was only there as a visual aid while Alix and her mother negotiated the terms of their artificial relationship.

"Hmm," Emilia replied.

Alix looked shocked by her nonchalance; Emilia found she could not care less. Surely there are other ways for father to find new trade contacts, such as trading, without marrying me off, she thought. Her mother forced a desperate laugh to cover the silence.

"I forgot to mention Alix, Emilia does have the most peculiar sense of humour," she shot a dark look towards Emilia, "Of course she will join you."

"Excellent," Alix smiled. It looked as artificial as his words. Emilia heard the bite in his tone and wondered if his family were also forcing him to marry for profit.

"I will drop by in the afternoon. Good day, ladies." With that, he folded his thin summer jacket over his arm and strode purposefully from the room. Emilia's mother waited for the solarium door to click shut before rounding on her.

"You could at least fake some enthusiasm," she said. "You're going to ruin this for our family!"

Emilia nodded. She knew it was pointless to get into another argument.

"I'm sorry mother, I was just a little shy," she smiled sweetly. "I can see exactly why you like him."

"I'm glad," her mother smiled, misinterpreting Emilia's disguised insult. "Well, it's still early and I've got some thinking to do," she said, reaching for the wine. "Why don't you go for a stroll through the gardens?"

Emilia was only too happy to oblige. She walked over the trimmed grass of the gardens, through the leafy hidden passage, and down towards the rough rocks of The Scar.