Order and Chaos

A cozy field of flowers, tempting your soldiers to forget their cares and simply frolic about

We had encamped four nights before in a relatively flat and clear area by the frozen river, only to find when we emerged, well-rested, from our canvas cocoons, that spring had seemingly broke overnight. The sun was shining warmth upon us, the river was flowing, trees bore ripe fruit, the flowers were in bloom, and we could walk throughout the area without shoes or fear of cutting our feet on the rocky outcroppings thanks to a healthy layer of grass.

My troops beseeched me to let them rest up for a day, now that fortune had favored us. Surely, we had conquered our pursuers at the pass, and we should use the time to harvest the fruit and freshwater while we could. Reluctantly, I agreed, but only on the condition that I take up a guard shift personally.

On the second day, I woke up later than most under my command because of that extra responsibility and its correlated staggered sleep schedule, only to find that that very morning, one of my women had successfully proposed to one of my men, and the soldiers were already setting up an impromptu wedding for the two with whatever they had on hand — a flower wreath for the lady, crushing berries and leaves into his-and-hers matrimonial fingerpaint, burning an "aisle" into the grass. I was already fairly unpopular as it was, and besides, who was I to stand in the way of love? It would be worse than nasty, it would be downright hypocritical.

The next day was their honeymoon, so that was right out too, as expected.

It was the fourth day that I begun to get a little worried. The troops had... certainly been softened by their time away from the elements and the stern discipline of a Vindictus, and had been whittling away the hours playing games, giggling like little children. Except for a handful who had sneaked into the woods. I went off to investigate and found them using their swords as axes to chop down large trees!

"What are you doing?" I asked them.

They stopped, turned to me, then muttered indecipherably among one another before one stepped forward, coughed... and began to nervously jabber gibberish.

Ugh, none of them even spoke my language. I went to fetch my new second-in-command, the woman who had nearly executed me, but told me that she spoke only 3 languages and none of them this one. It took hours to locate someone within the ranks who could speak this mystery language, but they too did not share a tongue with me and had to translate through a third language to my second-in-command. (It all made me appreciate my previous second-in-command, the polyglot, much, much more.) All the while the foreign soldiers continued their work.

Apparently there was a hole in their tent that let the breeze in, so they were "doing some wood" to build walls with. Ludicrous! I asked them why they didn't just use their loincloths to patch it up, but it wasn't able to survive the translation process and they just politely informed me with bows and curtsies that, yes, sir, some of them WERE wearing clothes, thank you for noticing.

Annoyed, I told them to desist with this nonsense, but by then they had already finished the chopping and, with a shrug, blatantly and blithely engaged in insubordination in completing their little shed!

Once construction on one wooden yurt had begun, others found the idea irresistible, and set to work on their own even against explicit orders. It spread like a disease, and by the time the sun set and all retired but I, there were around a dozen completed or in-progress sheds, and an outhouse to boot!

I stewed and steamed at my night watch post. They had all abandoned their duties for this frivolity. Even the first and second night shifts had run off somewhere or another, leaving me with all three shifts.

I kept my eyes peeled for the whole night. Perhaps it was the sleep deprivation, but I began to get quite paranoid. We had been in one spot for almost five days, which was more than enough time to catch up, find, and then completely surround us. Tomorrow we'd wake up with 1,030 loaded crossbows in our face, and we'd all be slaughtered or taken as prisoners of war. Or another curse would befall us. The other shoe would finally drop. These thoughts kept me well awake at least.

Deep into the second shift, I jumped at the sight of a silhouette of some man cresting over the cliff in the distance. I thought, it must be their scout, and they've only now found us! (Nevermind how he set to work climbing DOWN the cliff immediately after.) I stumbled up and grabbed my — Malcolm's — sword. Perhaps it made me less cowardly, or perhaps I had simply grown more brave, but I determined to strike out and meet this strange foe before he made it to the edge of camp.

I met this traveler at the foot of the cliff. It was an overmuscled, aged, dark-skinned, mighty barbarian warrior — or in other words, Malcolm himself! (It was mighty fortunate that I had been on second shift tonight, for the rest of the army wouldn't have recognized him out of his armor and in just a loincloth, where I would have recognized him in even less.) I dropped my sword and ran into his arms, and we embraced like we used to, when he was alive. He picked me up and swung me around and lifted my visor up to kiss me. And to think, I had been worried based on our last few encounters that he didn't love me anymore! It was just his way.

"So you're not dead," I said.

"No, I still am," he said. "I'm sorry I've been gone so long, Commun, but it's just... so hard to leave Heaven."

"What's it like?"

"Exactly like you'd expect," he said. "They have a fake you up there, but... when you know it's fake — you're not supposed to know — it's... it's not..."

I kissed him again to shut him up. Then my visor clunked down in front of my face, so I threw the helmet aside. Malcolm helped and started working on unhinging my left shoulder.

"Malcolm," I said, "Maybe we should bring this to my tent, hm?"

"No," he said, now onto the right shoulder, "They think you killed me, and they respect you as the true leader you are now." I didn't have the heart to tell him of the rampant insubordination consuming the camp right now, especially when he was already starting on the legs.

Needless to say, I skipped out on the watch I was actually scheduled for that night.

When I woke the next morning (more like noon,) Malcolm was already up and loading himself back into his old armor.

"Hey!" I shouted, although I can't say I really expected anything different. He tossed his loincloth in my face and went back to screwing in his gauntlet.

"You look better in that anyway," he flirted. I smiled.

Then a gear slipped in my head...

"...What did you say Heaven was like, again?"

"What you'd expect," he said. "Except better. Everything breaks your way, without breaking your belief. The whole idea is you're not supposed to know you're dead."

Expect...

existential anxiety.

Oh gods, it was the moat all over again! I tied up my loincloth and sprinted through the forest back to camp, leaving the fake Malcolm far, far behind.

I met my troops again in a wide-eyed panic, waving my arms above me frantically. "IT'S FAKE!" I hollered, over and over again.

"What's fake?" my second-in-command said.

"IT'S ALL FAKE! IT'S AN ILLUSION!" I said, speaking with conviction that was not rightfully earned by the strength of my conjecture. "IT'S ANOTHER CURSE!" Likely the work of a dead Felus.

My troops, those that could understand me whispering to those who couldn't, turned to each other with confusion and met my decrees with a wave of shrugs.

"So?" said one.

"You don't — You don't CARE?" I stammered.

"As far as curses go, this is a pretty nice one!" Another soldier joked, and they laughed. They laughed like nothing was wrong.

I couldn't believe my senses, for more reason than the illusion now.

"Actually," started in my second-in-command, "We got to talking and we all agreed — we're just going to stop here."

"STOP?!"

"Settle down," she said. "Start a town, some farms... Stop marching into death, you know?"

They were dead serious. I built a raft from some of the wood they gathered, bundled up enough supplies for just myself, and set off down the river alone. I rode that raft all the way down the mountain, not knowing for days whether or not I had left the realm of illusion for reality, until the lush vegetation began to grow more sparse and give way to sandy desert.

The river terminated a little past the foot of the mountain, bizarrely enough, straight down into a cave in a sheer cliff-face that seemed to erupt from nowhere. I hastily abandoned my raft and, on foot, got up close to its mouth and listened for the sound of it shattering over the end of the waterfall, but couldn't. Must have been some way down. I slung my bundle up on my shoulder and prepared to cross the desert when I heard some... human noise, and turned back to the cave.

On the dry part of the rim, a woman's hand, with scandalously naked, cracked nails, clung on for dear life. I grabbed her and pulled her out, nearly falling in myself.

She collapsed on the shore, breathing heavily, soaked and exhausted. She was dark-skinned, which contrasted heavily against her totally white hair — inexplicable since she couldn't have been any older than... oh, 27, tops.

"Thanks," she finally croaked out, through labored breaths. "You wouldn't believe — I've been through hell."

-----

I woke with a scream and sat up straight in my... bed. My bed? The guest bed. It was the middle of the night, and I was sweaty as all get out. I had to laugh — it was all just so hackneyed.

The pitter-patter of worried footsteps cascaded through the hallway and Adeline threw open my door, candle in hand, and rushed to my side on the bed.

"Are you okay?" she said, running her hand through my hair.

"Yeah, yeah," I chuckled. "Just a scary dream... The boogieman. Can you believe I actually sat up in my bed? Like at the end of The Most Lamentuous Tale Of The Haunted Millstone or The Ghost Of Disvirtue, that schlock?"

"A lot of those stories have made-up words in the title..." she said. "But they're just stories, hm?"

"Yeah," I said. I could already hardly remember my bad dream. There was a dead body under some sand...?

"If it'd help," her eyes darted over to the left, like there was anything to look at over there except not my face, "you could sleep in my bed tonight." She blushed.

"I'd like that," I smiled. I hugged her. "I'd like that a lot, actually." What I wouldn't give to see how much she was blushing after THAT move!

I slept in her room from then on. One night, we... did more than just sleep. After that, there was no more dancing around it, the ranch was officially smooch central. (None for the camels, though.) It was like heaven.

That next morning, there was a knock on her door.

"Wow!" she said. "Two visitors in one month after years of nothing. How lucky can one gal get?" She kissed me on the cheek.

She opened the door. It was a Vendet squire, holding a decorative spear and standing like he had a board down his pants.

"Hello, ma'am, we're a search party for the missing princess and we would like to — Your majesty!" He kneeled, having spotted me at the dining table finally. Can't say I didn't expect this eventually.

Adeline turned to me, gaping. "Y — you're — are you really —"

I smirked and stood up. "Guess I am."

"The princess? The crown princess? Malcolm Vindictus' daughter?"

"Yup."

"Oh my gods!" she kneeled. "Your majesty! I'm so sorry..."

"Oh, get up," I said. "All of you."

They got up. All of them.

I moved into the doorway, to the squire and his fellow squire hanging back a little bit. "You'll be happy to know I've found a suitable fiance," I smirked.

"Really? Who, your majesty?"

"Let's keep that a surprise for mom, hm?" I said.

"Your mom... the queen..." Adeline reeled.

I went to her and held her by the chin. "Would you like to accompany me back to the castle, Miss Adeline?"

Her mouth flapped open and closed a few times. "YES! I mean, yes! I'll go get my stuff! I'll be right back!" She ran upstairs. It was adorable, just how I imagined it.

The closer squire looked at me curiously. I shrugged, "We get to use her camels." This satisfied him.

We rode back to the castle, through the desert and over the mountain, past the burnt-down forest, all the way back home.

Mom took the big news very well, besides some slightly-bitter muttered asides about how I really was my father's daughter, and just wanted to know what the dress/suit situation was going to be. The whole rest of the kingdom, including the court, was equally supportive, and there was record turnout for our wedding. That was a relief: I really didn't know what to expect, but it couldn't have worked out better.

Now that I was a grown woman with a wife of my own, I was freed from my brutal educational regimen, which left me plenty of leisure time to figure out I was dead. Now, how did I do that, again?