Author's note: So if you notice a lot of spelling and/or grammar errors you are free to point it out. I used google translate to translate this text from Norwegian to English, and then I proof-read it. I'm sure some errors have slipped past the proof-reading (and also I'm not a native English-speaker so my skills are limited). Don't be afraid to point it out, and most importantly: Have fun reading this new chapter!696Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYRgOInZQQW
"Why did you bring me here?" I whispered as Fanden took my hand. He glanced at Sven and shrugged. Sven threw his car keys at a man who stood and watched the parking space. Then he jogged towards us.
"What do you think Arabella?" the blond man asked and tousled my hair. I took it as an insult. He thought I was under him, which I wasn't. But I certainly was below him in social rank. I was just a poor girl from the district of the Breakwater. Noting to write home about.
"This is horrible," I said honestly. Jonna had taught me that it was always best to be honest. Hidden truths would come into the light sooner or later. Then it would be far uglier than if you only had said it to begin with. I tried to never be rude, but I still tried to be as honest as possible.
"Just wait! You haven’t seen what happens behind the curtains yet, " Sven laughed grimly. I looked at him and shook my head. I felt a sickness spread over my body. I didn’t want to see, I didn't want to know.
Fanden let go of my hand and walked toward one of the tents.
"Will you join me behind the curtains? Father is at work, and I have to greet him. "
I shook my head. Then it hit me. If I stayed here I had to be with Sven. I looked at the tent. Would I rather speak to Marcello or Sven? Neither were tempting.
Before I could answer, Fanden nodded and turned to walk. Sven grabbed my hand. His grin revealed his sharp teeth. Fanden had left me with this creature.
I couldn't describe my disgust when it came to Sven. He had never done anything directly mean towards me ,and he had never shown interest in doing something of the sort. I think it was the mood you got when you were around him that made me uneasy. As if one was not safe. The feeling was completely unfounded. Sven was possibly a great guy. It just did not seem like the case.
"You seem uncomfortable," he pointed out. I tried to lower my shoulders, but failed miserably.
Sven just continued to grin. "I have that effect on people," he said and started to walk toward one of the tents. I followed half-heartedly.
Sven wore a brown leather jacket with bright straps across the. They were there for appearances sake. His trousers were dark. A pocket watch hung halfway out of his trousers’ pockets. The blonde hair was longish, and his face was dirty after working with vehicles all day. Sven was beautiful, perhaps even more beautiful than Fanden. His cheekbones were high and his face slim, yet masculine.
"Are you following me? Fanden never said we had to stick together, " Sven noted. "I think it's best if we stick together, though," he added. "This place is huge and you can get lost in the mass of richos," he pulled a pipe from his pocket. Tobacco pipes were common among the rich. The poor had to chew the tobacco. Jonna was often chewing so much that he's spit dark brown. So did his sister, Elsa, from time to time. Pipes were too expensive for normal people. They often had engravings with different symbols and signs. Symbolism was important for the rich. It was therefore Dominic Mowinckel had become Fanden. It was all a part of the facade.
"Where are we going?" I asked Sven. He turned but said nothing. His dark eyes followed my every step. Although I didn’t like Sven there was something soft in his brown eyes. He always grinned when he saw me. It was not a malignant grin. It was rather a pretty happy grimace.
Sven went straight toward a paddock. A guard followed him with a watchful eye, but once he saw who it was, he stepped aside. No one could say no to a Mowinckel.
"Sven Amadeus Mowinckel," said Sven. The guard bowed and swallowed so hard his Adam's apple quivered. "The red-head is Arabella, Fanden's most prized." The guard bowed again and mumbled something.
"You can pass," the guard said. Being a Mowinckel came with a number of perks. I was wondering if Fanden exploited it to its fullest. He was not the type who enjoyed special treatment. Yet he came from one of the city's most significant families. One could not do anything about their ancestry, even though Fanden wished he could.
I was just Arabella. People like me were not blessed with the honour of having a surname. One day I could be Arabella Mowinckel. The thought scared me as much as it delighted me.
"So you've seriously never been to the circuses before?" Sven asked. He lifted a curtain and crept under. His leather jacket was full of dust, but he didn’t care. He was the opposite of vain. Sven held up the curtain so I got to crawl under. I tried to prevent soiling my clothes with dirt and mud. It was difficult because the ground was muddy after hundreds of feet had trampled it.
"Why are we here?"
"I'll show you something phenomenal," he said. There was something in his voice. Something that sent shivers down my spine. I squinted into the bright floodlight. We were on to something that resembled an arena. I had read about the ancient gladiatorial arenas. It was the only thing I could compare this with. Below us there was a huge pit with grandstands around. People sat and looked at the young people who fought down on the floor.
"This is an important part of circus culture. Every circus sends in their best fighter. Richos can also sign up for, but it's rare. The victor wins a big pot of money to the circus he or she works for." I looked down at the battlefield. The tribunes were not full yet, so I figured that this was just a warm-up lap. The fighters were also quite small and thin. They couldn’t possibly be the main attractions of this venue.
"What happens to those who lose?"
"In the preliminary rounds most die, but when we get to the finals, you can surrender. Yet it is the judge who determines your destiny. If he gives you the thumbs up you live, thumbs down and you die. "
I swallowed hard. Suddenly I was glad that Jonna had chosen the prostitution lifestyle. It had to be better than this circus life.
"The judge is selected from a panel of high-ranking city council members." I began to ponder. Both Sven, Dr. Mowinckel and Fanden were in the city council. They sat in the council and decided the most of the things that could be determined. Did that mean that they ignored these bloody fights?
"It’s like this throughout Eurasia. It’s not just our nation," he continued to explain. "Wherever you go, you will see circuses and arenas," he grinned. "Before we go to see the show, there is something else I want to show you.”
I followed him through the upper stands. People had begun to flow into the premises. Downstairs, I saw a small boy stab a grown man with a lance. No tears were shed for the fallen. No one sacrificed as much as a glance. This was not the main attraction, but it was still a taste of life in a circus.
We came into a different section of the circus area. The area was full of tents. Sven was calm as he walked. He knew well enough that I oozed nervousness. I didn't want to see the horrors behind these fabrics. I didn't know if I could handle it.
Throughout my days I had known people. People far more unlucky than me. People who had ended up here.
"You’re the thinking kind, aren’t you, Arabella?" Sven asked suddenly. He was playing with his knife with a childlike eagerness. The twenty-year-old had a child's delight in his face as he twirled the knife between his fingers.
"I don’t understand why Fanden likes someone like you." It was painful to hear, but it was absolutely true. It hadn’t happened once in the history of the city councils. No richo had ever taken a poor one under their wings. Never had anyone cared enough to get to know one of us. No one cared for the people of the Breakwater. In the whole nation, the whole of Scandinavia, it hadn’t happened a single time. At least Fanden said so. He said we were making history. We were going to go down in history books as lovers from two different worlds. Fanden always said: "We were written in the stars." I didn’t know whether it was true, but I liked to hope.
"Welcome to the circus," said Sven and waved his arms. Guards were guarding the entrance. They had pistols in belts and rifles on their backs. All dressed in blue, intimidating uniforms. They looked like one big unit. Everyone with serious and constricted glance. All of them aged in their twenties.
A woman with blond hair and big, blue eyes stood on the other side. She waved at us. At Sven to be more accurate. I had never seen the woman before. My first thought was that she was attractive. Very attractive. That kind of attractive that makes you gape.
"Here Sven!" She shouted. Sven's gaze shot up. He began to smile and waved back.
We walked toward the guards.
"I am Sven Amadeus Mowinckel and this is Arabella," he said.
"Arabella what?" Damn, it was time for this shit. The guard looked at me with a grim expression.
"Arabella Noname," I replied quietly. The guard nodded and let us past.
"Everybody knows the love story between Arabella Noname and Fanden Mowinckel," Sven laughed and rubbed his neck. The woman came toward us and my mouth was dry. Although I was with Fanden, and I loved him, I could still look at other people and find them attractive.
The woman put his arms about Sven and kissed him. Open mouth and everything. They stood and swallowed each other’s tongues for a good minute. When they finally finished, the woman looked at me. She measured me up and down, probably surprised by my small frame. Years of undernourishment does that to you.
"Wiktoria Nestor," she said and stretched out her arm. I took the extended hand. Her nails were long and red. Her eyelids were darkened by makeup. Though they were pretty dark, it still wasn’t too much. Her lips were dark red and looked extremely fashionable. None of us poor people could afford to look that good.
"Cat got your tongue?" She asked with a smile.
"Arabella is just not very fond of talking," Sven explained. He had his arms around Wiktoria and his eyes were mild.
"So this is the fabled Arabella," said Wiktoria. "Unusual name Arabella. How did you get it? "
"I was baptized in the river that flows into the Breakwater. It was Jonna who decided my name. "
"You were baptized. So you believe in the will of God? "I nodded. "The name Arabella has many meanings. One of them means beautiful, " Wiktoria said. "I see that your name complements your grace." I blushed. Compliment from such a beautiful person weighed quite heavily.
Only now I noticed her clothing. She wore a butcher's apron covered with red spots and on her head she wore a top hat. She had stuck a card to the hat with a hatpin. Ace, it seemed like. Fanden had taught me to play cards. Although most of the poor played, I had somehow never had any interest in learning. Jonna had tried to teach me a few times, but I had always evaded his attempts.
"I'm sorry you've had such a terrible and impoverished life. It is highly regrettable that our society is divided in this way. But in Heaven we’re all equals, " Wiktoria said. I nodded eagerly. Finally someone who agreed with me. Neither Jonna nor Fanden were religious. Although the history of Scandinavia was strongly influenced by religion, they did not care enough about the historical heritage to respect religious value. Not that I blamed them. There was plenty of evidence scattered between the pages of the book of life. Evidence that there was no God. But I believed in God and I believe in Jesus Christ’s history. For why shouldn’t I accept a little brightness and hope in my life? Hope that people can really improve themselves. Hope that things could be better.
"What have you done today, Wiktoria?" Sven asked. I was thrown out of the mind's world and was back on the gloomy square outside circus tents.
"Oh, you know, not a lot. I have something I want to show you. A project I'm working on." She lifted up the tent and gestured for us to come. The smell was the first thing that struck me. The next were the terrifying visions. The scattered body parts. Blood over the walls and ceilings. Bodies on the floor. There was an operating table in the middle of the room. There was a figure lying strapped to this table. Sven brought us forward, towards the table. When he saw who was lying there he started laughing. Wiktoria grinned broadly. Slowly, I walked towards the table. Blond hair was strewn across the floor around the table. Over the table, I could see all kinds of instruments. Oxygen tubes, surgical tools and latex gloves in every colour. My eyes went from the floor and to the person on the table.
I gasped.
It was Elsa. Jonnas sister.
My first love, and one of the city's most respected prostitutes.
I was nauseous. Sven and Wiktoria still laughed from the sidelines.
Elsa opened her eyes. They were red. As red as blood. She peered at me as if I shone with the power of a hundred suns.
"Arabella, is that you?"
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