When the war began, the Enemy first moved in on the countryside in the east. They set upon the area, destroying the next two seasons’ crops, impoverishing the people. There had been a farmer’s market in the Capital on the weekends. It was an explosion of colour. Her mother enjoyed wandering around it, selecting fruit and bouquets of flowers. But now it was empty and barren.
Farmers began to appear in the city with their bags, begging for food and shelter. There were groups of children gathered together. Sofia had no idea whether they were related. Or how it came to be that these children had neither mother nor father. They congregated around the fountains like pigeons. And like pigeons, they all sprung to their feet and began to beg for food when a person passed by.
The sight of the people on the street made the residents of the Capital more cautious and not less so. The truth was that everyone was hungry now. People were warned not to hoard food, but the warnings went unheeded. There was a mad rush for canned goods and supplies, which depleted whatever resources the grocers had. Everyone in the city lost ten pounds almost immediately.
At this point, many of the people who had remained within the country wished they had left. But this option was now an impossibility. The Enemy had closed all the borders.
There had always been homeless people in the Capital, of course. Sofia passed one homeless man on the way home from school most days. He wore a great mountain of clothes and, when it rained, a tricorn hat made out of newspaper on his head. And he had a cat that perched on his shoulder. He acted as though no one else in the world existed. There was no way he could work in a bank. His smell would be too disturbing, and of course, he would not be allowed to bring his cat.
But there were now homeless people from all walks of life in the Capital. The hotels were filled with rich families. The gymnasium where many of the popular sports tournaments were once held was turned into a temporary shelter. Cots and makeshift mattresses were laid all over the floor. Entire families slept on the floor.
The men who spent the night out on the street instead were well dressed. She saw a sixty-year-old man in an expensive black coat with a black fur collar sleeping on a bench. The parks were filled with young men who curled up on the grass at night and conversed about politics during the day.
But the country could not be considered to have fallen until the Capital had been captured. Everyone in the Capital felt they could save it. By saving the Capital, they would preserve their independence and culture. Everyone was expected to join the army.
Their idea of who could be a soldier radically changed when a famous poet named Malin Porchet enlisted. It had seemed crazy to people that a poet became a soldier. He was a poet, after all. Soldiers were young men who were too aimless to have ordinary jobs. They were third sons who hated school and lived at home. They needed order and risk. But now all the young scholars and visual artists and law students took it upon themselves to join the army and defend the city.
The president of Elysia was so different from the Enemy’s Leader. He had been an actor when he was younger. He gave an almost ludicrous amount of funding to artists. He was known for being compassionate. He was sweet and pensive, lowering his head forward while considering a question. There was a deep sense of profundity and gravitas to it. It reminded people of his famous performance in the ballet of Romeo and Juliet, where he wept over the death of his co-star.
People liked that he was a less severe and masculine leader. They believed he was a gentle leader. They thought that having a leader who was so kind and compassionate would result in a wonderful country.
There was a famous photo of him with a fluffy black-and-white cat on his lap. This image clinched his victory. Here was a man who was not afraid to be affectionate with a cat.
At first, he promised they had nothing to worry about. The world would help them. Their allies would come to their aid. He gave emotional speeches that would make him cry. It was not, however, the best policy to have a weak leader during wartime. He seemed more terrified than anyone. The country was being taken, small town by small town. The smaller cities were all falling. People began to re-evaluate their feelings for him, as he continued to weep behind podiums.
Everyone went to see the procession of Elysian soldiers leaving for the Eastern Front. It was very much like a parade. Oh, they were so excited about parades in the Capital that there couldn’t help but be an irrational aura of festivity around the event. People said that when the Enemy became aware of the number of civilians who were mobilizing, they would be frightened and retreat.
There was a band that came out in front of the procession. There had been efforts to create a national anthem. But nothing stuck. Instead, they played the song that had been written and popularized by the very large singer Claudette.
Everyone on their balconies began to take out their pots and pans and bang them in tune. The beat was infectious. The soldiers developed a hop in their step. They suddenly began to seem more like a cohesive unit. They became synchronized. The city was causing them to march off to war with a certain joy.
Women started throwing daisies at them. Some of the soldiers picked them up and tucked them into their buttonholes. The men began to be playful. They started blowing kisses at the girls.
Sofia would have liked to join in the fun, but she noticed her mother was standing quite still watching the scene. Clara reached into her pocket, pulled out a notebook, and recorded something in it. She then tucked it away, without a word, and continued to observe the crowd.