Order and Chaos

you are a very very very peaceful queen that would never declare war at all

Of course. I was so disgusted by Father's warlike ways that I vowed to preserve peace as best I could. It still gives me shivers to recall the brutal training regimen he instituted. To him, an army of the blind meant little more than an army that wouldn't see the bodies they left in their wake.

When I took the throne, I disbanded the army, and put aside a portion of the treasury to pay for their therapy. I know it was the right decision - yet the other kingdoms still fear the name of Malcom Vindictus, and aren't convinced I'm so different.

That was why they sent the assassin, wasn't it.


After the narrow escape, I knew it wasn't safe any more. I posed as a peasant, as a lowly bodyguard for my own daughter - yet, somehow, she was me as well. Now that very bodyguard sits below me, awaiting judgement, from none other than herself.

It's as though, rather than taking one path through life, I take them all. I am the queen. I am a bodyguard. I am the ambassador. I am fleeing from jail, and helping myself flee from jail. I was even my own daughter...

Wait. What choice could possibly cause that to happen?

---

"Mother! Get up, mother!"

"Mary... There's no time, Mary. I hoped... hoped it would be ready before now..."

"What are you saying, Mother? You still live! We can take you to the doctor!"

"No, Mary. The dagger... a deadly poison. I feared this might happen... take this..."

Mother handed me a small key, and pointed to her bedchamber, before collapsing one final time.

I was queen now... no! I couldn't be queen now! I wasn't ready! What if the assassin came back for me?

I ran away... I ran for Mother's bedchamber... I ran so fast I hit my head, and couldn't remember a thing... I was so young, still!

No. Focus, Mary. I took many paths, all at once. But the one that matters now... yes, I went to Mother's bedchamber.

I don't know why I thought to look under her bed for the keyhole. Perhaps she said something of it, perhaps I was just starting to think like her. Whatever the reason, I put the key in, and turned it, and the floor popped open.

What I saw was Mother's face, staring back at me. Or half of it, at any rate. The other half was nothing but cold metal.

She knew I did not yet feel ready to take the throne. This was her backup plan. How she would protect me, until I was ready to protect myself.

"Please insert memory template," the half-Mother said, and I realized it was unfinished more than just physically. I didn't have Mother's technical sense, but when I saw the helmet next to it...

I recoiled in fear. And I also put the helmet on.

---

So this is who I am. How I am.

Melissa Vindictus, Malcom's bride, took the throne upon her husband's death. Knowing her life was in danger, she crafted a mechanical duplicate of herself, and began copying her memories into it.

But the assassin's poison killed her before it was complete. Her daughter, Mary Vindictus, was forced to complete the process with her own memories, so that she need not take the throne right away.

Now that mechanical amalgam of the two women was the ruler, and had governed for so long that she had forgotten how she came to be. Until now, when she saw two people that she knew were, in part, herself. And also her daughter.

But as the memories came rushing back, one image that had been blocked out for nearly a decade was suddenly as vivid as ever.

The assassin. Mary had seen him for just a moment, but that was long enough. The trauma had submerged the memory during the transfer, but now it rose to the forefront.

We knew who he was.

It was as clear as day. That mask. That nose. And now he had the gall to show them again, as if he were one of our dearest friends!

We turned towards him, and pulled out our recorder.

We started to play. The Harmony joined in. It was a beautiful song, a joyous song, a liberating song.

The defendants were not guilty. But the true guilty party had to be punished.

We stepped closer. He was clearly nervous.

We played a few bars, but the tone was different. Darker. More ominous. The Harmony sounded a thunderclap in accompaniment.

Everyone scattered, but the man with the nose stayed defiantly still, even as we stepped right up to him. We put down the recorder.

"Ten nine eight seven six five four," we sang.

The exploding kind

"Three, two, one," we concluded, in an older voice. And then, our reign was over.

---

The courtroom was in a panic. Of course, nobody had seen the queen explode, other than myself and I, and perhaps Sir Nose. But there was no escaping that noise, nor the wild cacophony the Harmony played in its wake.

The other Mary and I were free now, yet free to do what? Was one of us to take the throne? And what of the war?

What would happen next, and what part would we play in it? It seemed up to the whims of fate now.

---

I told myself there wasn't much use waiting to see how the trial of our other selves worked out. Better to flee, and do whatever would need to be done if we lost the trial.

Of course, I was quick to point out that we still hadn't decided on where we were fleeing to. Where would we go, and for that matter, how would we get there?