Cara Lugo [Complete]

Chapter One: He Who Rules

Writing:

It was a hard time for the common folk, and they lived under an even harder King. Of course, at first glance, it didn't seem that way. He was jolly and good-natured, taking any jab or insult thrown his way in stride. He laughed at his own expense and was always free with his affections. His daughter was the prime example of that. He did not shower her with gifts at every given opportunity but rather chose to be with her always, giving her a very special, hand-selected thing every so often. Didn't even make a show of it, but by the following day, everyone knew what she had gotten and how exactly it had been acquired. It was fairly obvious because whatever craftsman had created it was paid handsomely. Whatever he had wished for times three.

It wasn't just his daughters' smile that blossomed, but all the land too. Every farmer's field was green with wildly-growing, waist-high grass, and the fruits which hung off the trees made the branches threaten to snap under their ample weight. The land was prosperous like no other. All the surrounding kingdoms suffered from droughts and pests. Not this one, though. Oh no, it's beauty and wealth knew no bounds.

So, it prospered. The land was so beautiful and alive, it was as if it were breathing itself. Parties were thrown simply because it was possible with the abundance of resources spilling over. Oh, the beauty of it all. The prosperity. It was a joy to behold. Riches tumbling out of every corner.

And poverty on every street.

Oh yes, that was the irony of it all. The beautiful irony. The riches, the joy, and the laughter. They were there in abundance, but only for the right people. The select few. The food was there, but only because of all those who toiled night an day to get the water, weed out the deceased, and harvest as needed. Then those who toiled got what they needed and not a bit more. Fair until one sees the sweat and hard work poured into every single fruit. The trees did not water themselves in the blistering heat.

He was a good king. Charming to his guests, generous to his daughter, and a fantastic politician. He kept the land running against all odds, but at what cost? Certainly, no cost of his own. He lounged up there, pouring over documents. The sort of work that could not even hold a candle to the rest. Even a shoemaker did more than he ever could bring himself to do in a day.

He was a good king, but not very well liked by what one could call the 'working class'.

Still, you could not very well complain now, could you? He ran the land well, each person got enough to eat. There wasn't much poverty and one could live. Well, if you could survive the day. And the next. And every day after that.

It was a quiet poison. The kind you didn't notice. Didn't feel until your heart stuttered to a stop.

* * *

Storyline:

"Cara, get your head out of that book," her mother called. "You read too much. All day long. Help your family. There is much to do."

"I don't want to." Cara pushes away from her desk. "Telling our story and gaining our right to live is important."

"Ha," her mother laughs. "Telling what story? We live our lives with stomachs full and a roof over our heads. That is far more than any other kingdom can boast."

She stands and turns around in a huff. "Oh, is that what you think? We get worked into the ground. Tired and sick. All day, every day, since I was born I worked. The moment I could walk and carry-"

Her mother holds up a hand. "I've heard this time and time again. Do you believe this little speech of yours will impress me any more than it did the first, second, or tenth time? You've been saying it since you could speak. How's that for repetitive behaviour?"

"But-"

"Hush. Come, help your brother build his mobile. You can do proper work again tomorrow."

"Doing what Robby does is real work. It's hard lifting that metal and tools around."

Lara, the mother, pats her daughter on the back with a laugh. "Oh yes, I know exactly how much work he makes you do. Still, it is to no end. He just tinkers. It's not proper work. If something did come out of it then, well, maybe it could be useful. Profitable."

"The work's hard though," Cara protests.

"That it is, that it is. Uses up most of our extra resources too."

"Why must I work with him, then? He'll just say I'm getting in his way anyway."

Lara raises an inquisitive eyebrow. "Would you rather work with me?"

Cara backs away a step in horror. "Oh . . . right. Option one and two. No third."

"Don't be silly, there is a third option." Lara presses a finger against her daughter's lips quickly. "Ah, ah, no. Not your silly writing. Nothing comes of that. The third is helping your father."

Cara's face falls. "Silly? But you just said Robby's work was useless and he's still allowed to continue."

"Oh, but don't you understand, dearest? His work, while silly, is tangible. It's something to show and to prove if we must. I could even turn into something marginally useful one day. What is your writing supposed to do? Should I prance around the marketplace fluttering pieces of paper in front of the neighbour's faces?" Lara's face screws up in a mockery of Cara's. "'Oh look, my darling daughter has written words. Ones that make a mockery of our king'."

"Yes," Cara crosses her arms and stares her mother down.

"Impossible," she scoffs.

"Why?"

"Treason. Useless treason at that. People can forget words. Burn them. Never read them. Hard to ignore a mobile."

"If that little project of his ever becomes reality, yes. But that's a maybe. The maybe-mobile. Mine is a certainty. I know I can write and I know what I want to write."

"Sorry, dearest. It's useless. Now choose something proper to do. Perhaps work with-"

"Yeah, I'll go work with Robby." Cara rushes out and pushes past her to the door.

"If I catch you writing one more time when you should be resting or working, I will make you work with me or your father."

Cara salutes. "Noted."

And just like that, she was gone in a flash. She was the type who could disappear right under your nose, tail you for a day without your noticing, or sneak around the most well-protected areas without being caught. Now that wasn't to say she never got caught. Oh, she most definitely did. Got too cocky many times, and just like that someone grabbed her by her shirt, and she would hang, suspended in the air, defeated.

A tiny girl too. Probably what played a very big part in how she could hide or run so very fast. She had the kind of look around her as if she commanded the room, but you never took notice of her unless she willed it so. If you didn't fall under her spell, either you were her mother, or you were some sort of superhuman. That was probably one and the same either way.

Cara Lugo.

Well known around these parts, and probably other parts as well. After all, if word travelled fast about the kings' habits and whom he paid, why not after years of her life, would Cara not be known? Cara with those eyes. Cara who caused all sorts of trouble that inspired the young ones and tired the adults. Cara, who despite being an adult herself, still laughed and pranced with the joy of an unmarried youth. Unmarried still rang true, but she had seen enough to know what most men did to their sweet wives. It was easy to see in the bleary exhaustion of the mothers roaming the streets once you knew to look for it. Cara had seen too much and now she never wanted to marry. Didn't in the first place and now wouldn't even do it for convenience.

Cara Lugo was too much trouble for what she's worth - which, as a commoner, is not all that much.