Sky Blue
The Irish Tree
Phase
PaulHaynek
Lucid Dreaming
AzureKnight
The Otter
Kronshi
JewelSerket
NoriWasHereATTN: @PaulHaynek (), @The Irish Tree (Eula/Liliana), @AzureKnight (Shizuka), & @Rezod92 (Kerry)
“Cecilia, raise your head.”
A small child raised her head from the slump, the harsh shift of her ill-fitted armor was barely heard over the din of battle, waning in the distance. Before her, the fallen body of her mother, Caroline Lewis, and her weapon: the Springfelled Service Rifle. Her body was rife with wounds that didn't show, as Mamono Steel didn't kill, but converted. Each impact imparting a little Demon Energy, a little bit of the Demon Lord, herself, and turned Humans into Mamono - Succubus for women, and the rare Incubus for men. If the wounds were treated in time, and the Demon Energy was flushed, Humanity could be retained, but in the heat of battle and with her village burning around them, there was little hope of a child doing anything.
“Raise your head, my child...” Caroline says, “I can feel my mind slipping... but you're unharmed, so... it's a small price.”
“Mama! Why?” Cecilia asks, reaching forward, only to shy away from the energy radiating off her mother's body.
I'm a Queen. You're my precious Pawn,” Caroline says, They can take me off the board, but... you... you're able to run for the other side of the board...” she smiled, ...run, Cecilia. Run, and become strong. Run!”
Cecilia grit her teeth, and gathered to her feet. Before she ran, however, she saw her mother's rifle, and snatched it off the ground. It was meant for her elder sister, but she had been shifted to another Family with her father; traded by the loser to the victor.
Now, the board was completely lost, naught but embers smoldering in the breeze. Human lives were lost. Mamono lives were gained. Salvarision reset the board, and the chess game would begin anew.
“Head up, young lady. Eyes forward. Attention full. A lowly Pawn like you has the most to gain and the most to lose.” chastised Mother McGee, a Bishop, and veteran of multiple games of Chess, as she cleaned her M1 Garland Service Rifle, the successor of the Springfelled. “However, you stubbornly cling to ideals of another’s past, and seek safety in relics of days bygone.”
Uncomfortably, Cecilia shifted in her “armor”, the attire of a Battle Maid, as she clutched her mother's rifle. “I'm doing my best in schooling and it's not my fault reading is hard!” she snapped, standing up straight, armor clinking hard as plates shifted and clashed. “And... Mama's rifle is fine...” she deflated, as she averted her eyes, “...it's just old.”
“Among other things,” Mother McGee says, as she extended her hand, “That rifle is a product of a generation gone,” as Cecilia handed it over, and she admired then wear and tear upon, “You're permitted to use it solely on the grounds that your mother was the former Queen Piece of the Krumpet Family,” Mother McGee started to field strip the Springfelled, scrambling its piece with her own M1 Garland, spread across her desk, “However, lineage means nothing on the board. A Pawn is still a Pawn. Your mother inspired fear and commanded focus. An outsider, like me, she inspired...”
Cecilia looked down at her feet, as the keeper of the orphanage lectured her, before she heard a knock to call her attention.
Spread out over the table where the internal parts of the two rifles, and to the untrained eyes, there was no real difference between the bits and pieces, and almost no differences to the shells they were housed in.
“Listen to me, Cecilia, you're going to fall behind on your classes, if you continue to rely on the strength of your mother,” Mother McGee says, “Unless your conviction is true. I've field stripped my rifle and your mother's, and scrambled the piece to test your conviction and not your sentimentality.”
“Reassemble your mother's rifle without mistaking a single piece of mine. If you use even one piece wrong, you'll be upgraded and your mother's rifle retired.”
Cecilia stared at the pieces. Sure, she'd seen her mother disassemble and reassemble her rifle more times than she could count, but seeing and understanding where two different things, and watching and doing where very different things.
Still, this was all she had left of her.
Clenching her fists, Cecilia set to work with the most determination a five(-and-three-quarter-)year-old could muster up on her face. Armored fingers ghosted over pieces, lingering memories of days and nights spent with her mother; nights spent sobbing at the loss of her sister and her father, mornings spent in quiet listlessness, and the slow return to normalcy.
Conviction and Sentimentality were two sides of the same coin in a sense of motivation; doing something for a reason and having a reason to do something.
Cecilia was sentimental, as her mother was all she had in this game of monsters, and, now, she was one of the monsters. In the future, if she stood as a Queen, her rifle would be leveled at her mother. Therein, her conviction was born - to defeat her mother, and end these games.
Even children could be convinced to do great things with the proper motivation.
Mother McGee watched as Cecilia hovered her fingers over pieces, seemingly working off feeling, sentiment, and reassembling the old service rifle little by little.
‘There is no fear of lineage on the board, but their is a wariness of legacy...’ Mother McGee smiled, ‘You’ve left behind quite the Pawn, Lady Caroline.’
“Knights on the left side! Why are both Knights on this side of the board?!” asked a Pawn, as she leveled her rifle. “Cecilia! Millicent! Flank left! We have to wait for backup!”
“Roger, Henrietta!” Millicent says, as she fell in line.
Cecilia nodded, as her rifle knocked against her breastplate, and she gathered behind Henrietta.
Around them, the fallen and broken, but not dead bodies of their fellows - due to the physiology, the bodies of Human children could rapidly flush out Demon Energy, because, unlike Mamono children, they weren't born sexually active. Under the age of, on average, thirteen, all children were kept as Pawns, and used as meat shields and distractions for their teenage and adult Ranked Pieces.
Teenagers could regulate Demon Energy with half the efficiency of a children, which left a surplus that turned into the power of a Knight, Rook, or Bishop, creating physical changes that needed to be controlled through a balance of expending energy in games, while recouping on the battlefield or in the bed.
Adults, however, threaded a thin line between Monsterization and Humanity, unable to process Demon Energy, and having to pass on chunks of it by uniting with a King or Queen, the most important piece and most powerful piece, respectively, and creating new Pawns.
Cecilia, Millicent, and Henrietta were such “chunks” of Demon Energy, however, they were almost teenagers, too.
“The Knights are moving,” Henrietta says, “I'll hold the line, girl. As soon as you find an opening,” she looked back, as she started expressing purple smoke, “Fire, even if you have to shoot me.
“Hen! You're promoting! We didn’t celebrate your birthday or anything!” Millicent gasped.
“Focus, Milli. Cici, don't fall behind with that old rifle,” Henrietta says, before raising her arms, and summoning two tonfa attached to rectangular shields, as her body gained the strength and endurance of a Rook.
Cecilia huffed, as she aimed down her sight. “I'll make the shot, just fine,” she says.
“I'll be off, then,” Henrietta says, “If we never meet again,” she smirked, “Bonne nuit et au revoir.”
“Bonne nuit et au revoir...”
“Sister Cici!” squealed Millicent, as she glomped Cecilia on sight, groping the eternal shortstack’s generous bounty, “It's been ages, and you haven't grown a bit. Your Papa must have been super-short!” she teased, looming two heads over Cecilia, able to rest her chin on her junior’s crown, “Well, you have definitely matured, though. Angling for a Bishop Promotion like Mother McGee?”
“Eh?! Come off it! And, no. My Papa is very tall!” Cecilia fussed, squirming to escape the handsy monster that was her occasional battlemate.
Battle Maids were traded all the time, as a Chess Master could only have a roster of eight Pawns, two of a Rook, Knight, and Bishop, and one King with one Queen - never more actively, but always more in reserve. The Krumpet Family boasted more than twenty Pawns, but the Biskit Family claimed THREE Queens under a SINGLE King, and the Tii Family had a small army of Knights.
Interpersonal relationships between Pieces were normal and even romantic relationships were common; another facet of the interplay between Conviction and Sentimentality.
It gave Pieces a reason to fight, but also made it hard when they lost, and gave into Monsterization, which made the game worth playing for the Mamono Royals, and gave the Humans all the more reason to value the precious fragility of their lives.
Once they were lost, they were gone forever.
They had to resign to combat with their former friends, lovers, and even family.
“Earth to Cici!” Millicent paged with a harsh honk. “By the Goddess, these are so soft! And, this butt! So plush! Having a growth spurt horizontally is so unfair!”
“Could you stop?!” Cecilia fussed, though a Pawn had no hope of overpowering a Knight - even if they weren't that much physically stronger, Millicent could move five-times faster than Cecilia without expressing a bit of Magic.
“Indeed, could you,” asked a woman from the door, as she entered without waiting.
“Mother Liddle!” Millicent squeaked, as the current head of the orphanage caught them.
Cecilia frowned, as she looked up at the replacement for Mother McGee; the Krumpet Bishop had been traded for a Tii Knight after a drunken stakes game, creating a hole in their ranks that she was being groomed for. As crudely as Millicent put it, Cecilia's physical development was growing toward a Bishop, able to store more Demon Energy.
However, she had no intention of becoming a Bishop, even in honor of the woman that had practically raised her and her sisters, both in the sense of found family and religion, by following her footsteps. Cecilia had grander plans for herself, and didn't want to sully Mother McGee’s teachings by going the easy route.
“Mother Liddle, I do have a door, and it was closed,” Cecilia says, plainly.
Mother Liddle side-eyed Cecilia, before getting to the point, “We have an engagement. A Territory Game between the Krumpet Family and the Kookee Clan.”
“A Territory Game with the Kookee Clan,” Millicent asks. “That means...”
“She’ll be there,” Cecilia says.
“I came here to speak to you, explicitly, Sister Cecilia, due to your complicated relationship with their current Rook,” Mother Liddle says.
“There is nothing complicated about it,” Cecilia says, slinging her rifle over her shoulder, the old Springfelled cleaned and ready to go, “If it happens, it happens. That's the fate of Humans in Salvarision.”
Mother Liddle eyed Cecilia suspiciously, “See that we get the checkmate, then.”
Cecilia nodded, before pushing past Mother Liddle, and heading for the Board. Dashing by, Millicent would turn, and wave, shouting back, “Seeya there, Cici!” before she turned and blitzed.
Boarding the transport, Cecilia watched the rustic kingdom of Castle City Salvarision fade into the simple countryside where most Pawns were born; peasant children, orphaned by Territory Games, and infested by Demon Energy. It was where Cecilia got her start, like Millicent, Henrietta, even Mothers McGee and Liddle, and her own mother, Caroline.
Mamono ruled Lescatie, and lived primarily in Castle City Salvarision, and surrounding City-states, while countryside existed as primarily a breeding ground for Pawns and Mamono children, and secondarily a battleground comprised of sixty-four villages, or Boards. Their current destination was the Village of Arling, currently held by the Krumpet Family and contested by the Kookee Clan.
It wasn't her hometown, but Millicent's, so it didn't surprise her that the Knight had gone ahead. It was her hometown and she had to defend it.
As the transport stopped, Cecilia disembarked with her fellow Pawns, the Rooks, Bishops, and Mother Liddle. Missing from the transport were the King and Queen, who traveled ahead, a week in advance, to negotiate terms with their opposition.
In this case: control of Arling Village, and the right to contest adjacent Boards.
As the announcement faded, Cecilia watched the village divide into sixty-four blocks - literally, as black and white spaces formed in large squares that turned the ground of Arling Village into a chessboard, from border-to-border, including everything that was considered its territory - rustic homes of the innocent and uninvolved were magically commandeered as cover and hiding places for ambushes and snipers; simple businesses were at risk of destruction; flourishing farmland soon to be trod upon by the flames of controlled war.
“Ten minutes, huh...” Cecilia says, as she took a seat, and started to field strip her rifle.
Swiftly, she disassembled it to clean, oil, and prepare her Ship of Theseus weapon, as she looked at the various parts that didn't belong, but she made fit; primarily, the iron sights from Mother McGee’s M1 Garland, and the trigger from Henrietta’s - pieces to remembered those she'd lost.
---
“You avoided every piece of my rifle by touch, and yet... you purposefully installed my sight,” Mother McGee says, “Understanding the terms of our deal, you still went through with it. Why?”
“Mother McGee is like Mama... stern, but kind... I thought... if I just had this sight... I could see like you,” Cecilia fidgeted, as she held the rifle presentationally, before snapping to aiming down the sight, and squarely at Mother McGee, “I wanna see like you do, Mother McGee! So, please, let me borrow your sight, until my own eyes can see where my Journey is taking me!”
Mother McGee took her rifle parts, and reassembled them, before installing Caroline's iron sight - it was old, chipped, and worn; off by two centimeters to the left, which would require compensation. Bishops retained their rifles to fire Bullet Magic, instead of losing them for a sword or shield, like Knights and Rooks, respectively.
“I want to see like Lady Caroline did, myself,” Mother McGee says, before crossing her rifle over Cecilia’s heirloom, “You'd make a fine Bishop, Cecilia,” she smirked softly, before saying, “So, I expect you to make an even greater Queen.”
“I'll be the best!” Cecilia promised.
---
“I'll be the best...” Cecilia says, as she checked her ammo underneath her Battle Maid outfit; a cloth bandolier wrapped around her belly and hips with twelve stripper clips, each having five rounds of .30-06 to be loaded - three less than the upgraded M1 Garland - totaling for sixty shots before she needed to restock ammo.
Although, Pawns rarely saw the end of their ammo, as they were easy to overpower, and normally targeted first to be crippled. Capturing a Pawn took entirely too much effort, as they lacked any sexual activity for Demon Energy to latch onto and corrupt, so breaking an arm of a leg meant they would be out of the game, and able to fight in the future.
Five minutes... Cecilia sighed, as she looked up to the sky. Idly, she wondered what the names of her fellow Pawns were, before thinking better of it. Pawns were disposable, meant to be, so names were superfluous fluff and distracting. Across the horizon, among the collected Pieces, was a Rook that needed her full attention.
Behind her, she knew that Millicent was itching for the reunion between old friends made enemies, as much as she was.
War never changed at its core. Just the Pieces. Different names. Different faces. But, the ideology was always the same, as was the application.
Pawns to the front. Everyone else to the back. Defend the King. No matter the cost...
“Here goes...”
Standing up, Cecilia loaded her rifle. It was time to play chess.
---
Facing off in a battle of strength with a Succubus was never a valid use of one's time, unless you had the strength to match, which was not the case for a Pawn. Especially, when the Succubus in question was a Rook and an old friend.
Cecilia groaned, as she held her rifle like a bar between her and the pressing arm shields of Henrietta, as the teenage Succubus put pressure on Cecilia's arms with the ground as her ally.
“Don't struggle, Cici,” Henrietta sneered, “All I need to do is break your arms, and you'll be captured. I heard you've never been captured since I was, so let me break that record,” she purred, “An eye for an eye, if you will.”
Cecilia grit her teeth, understanding the vindictive request, as she looked at Henrietta's face... or rather, at the flamboyant eye patch that covered her left eye.
A wound that served to both reshape Cecilia and destroy a friendship...
---
Following orders, Cecilia was a good child soldier, model, and eager for praise. Henrietta had given them explicit orders: fire upon any opening.
“Why?”
Cecilia's arms trembled, as she lined up her only shot. Mother McGee’s sight was true, and she couldn't miss without an act of interference.
“Why?!”
Henrietta held the Kookee Clan Knight in place, her emotions compromised by the death of her fellow - blindsided by a bullet to the knee by Millicent and Henrietta bashing her skull in.
Now, she was in the perfect position to get a headshot... but, why did Henrietta's head have to be in the way, too?
Cecilia screamed internally, as she leveled the shot - through Henrietta's left eye and into the enemy's brain. She would die, but the sacrifice would lead to Henrietta's capture; a fair trade in war, but a complete loss for her.
“Why?!!”
A gunshot brought thunderous silence, as Henrietta's struggle ceased, due to the Knight falling with a wide-eyed confusion; barely able to concept the portion of her head missing from the bullet than passed through her opponent as dangerous energy and into her as fatal reality.
Mamono Steel didn't kill Humans, as it was meant to convert them with violence, but it did kill Mamono, since they were already converted.
Cecilia barely felt. Everything was numb. It shouldn't have been. But, it was.
“Good shot, Cici...” Henrietta says, as she touched Cecilia's shoulder, breaking the chaos.
Cecilia gasped, as she looked up, and saw Henrietta's face - her left eye had already converted, the sclera pitch-black with a golden iris and no pupil. Above her eye, off to the side, a horn was growing, but she didn't lose her pleasant smile.
“Hen... you're... you've been...” Millicent couldn't say it. Couldn't face their reality. “You just promoted.”
“I’d say, it was worth it,” Henrietta says, as a wing pushed against her dress. “A Rook defends. I became what I needed to be to see you through,” she says, “I'm sure, next time I see you, Cici, I'll be resentful of this, but take me with a grain of salt. You followed orders. You did good.”
Henrietta turned, as her dress ripped from the emergence of a tail and her full wings, leaving her naked, until her nature fully took hold. “Millicent, don't you hold this against Cici. In your shoes, she wouldn't demonize you,” she says, “Next we meet, you and I,” Henrietta leaned to Millicent's ear, and whispered, “Take me down with all your might.”
Cecilia saw Millicent's eyes swell with tears at whatever she was told, before she nodded weakly. Henrietta stood, as her body started to glow with summoning magic.
“The Capture Summoning,” Henrietta says, “Seems my time is up, then. It was wonderful knowing you two. Tell Mother McGee, thank you for everything...”
As Henrietta was captured, Cecilia couldn't restrain her emotions, but Millicent broke first, “Why did you take the shot?! Why?! Why couldn't you miss or something?!”
“I -- ”
“Shut up! Don't talk to me! Henrietta's dead because you had to follow orders! Stupid outsider!” Millicent screamed.
Cecilia staggered back at the hostility and prejudice, not even noticing they were being summoned. The match was over, and the pieces were recalled.
However, more than just lives were lost...
---
“You said, a grain of salt!” Cecilia groaned, “I might need a pound!”
“Oh, sweetie, you've developed a sense of humor,” Henrietta cooed. “You always were a bit of a stick in the mud, so I'm glad.”
“I’d believe you better, if you weren't trying to crush me...” Cecilia says, sarcastically.
“I can't make it easy on you,” Henrietta chuckled, “Your exploits are pretty good for a Perma-Pawn, but...” she smirked, “Pawns aren't strong enough for the Lone Wolf shtick, Cici.”
“Yeah, but -- ”
“She isn't alone!” Millicent came flying out of Henrietta's blindspot, and kicked her away from Cecilia. “Hey, sis. Long time no see.”
“Milli. You've promoted. Knight, eh?” Henrietta's wings flared out like a parachute, “Motormouth Milli, it suits you.”
Millicent huffed, “I don't talk that much, Hen. Remember what you told me, that day,” she drew her gladius, and jogged in place, “Better hope those shields can keep up.”
Cecilia barely noticed Millicent's movement, before hearing the clash of blade on board, and saw the battle of a Rook and a Knight take place before her... for a second time.
“How ironically poetic this is,” Henrietta mewled, as she blocked each sword strike with skill and ease, “Feels like we're back there, but in reverse...”
“Isn't it crazy where the Journey might take you,” Millicent says, before angling a strike to push Henrietta back. “Back then, when were just Pawns following orders. Now, I'm a Knight and you're a Rook, but...” she smirked, “Cecilia, you're still a Pawn with an order to follow.”
“Oh, ho?” Henrietta erected a cross block, which Millicent's sword was driven through, locking her in place. “How nostalgic...”
Cecilia realized what happened. Henrietta and Millicent had planned this encounter, knowing that she wouldn't defy the order given her - years ago, and moments ago.
Take the shot.
Cecilia focused, as she leveled her rifle, and fired without hesitation. Her sights were true, and she couldn't -- no, she wouldn't defy expectations.
This was just what was to be.
Henrietta's eyes widened, before softening into a smile, as she felt the warm embrace of Death reaching for her.
“Good shot, Cici...” Henrietta says, as she fell over from her heart pumping blood out of the bullet hole, “I couldn't break you.”
“Hush, Hen,” Millicent says, as she grit her teeth, and pulled her sword out of the shield ls, “I don't want your last words to be praising her, when I did all the work, you jerk.”
Henrietta chuckled, as Millicent pouted, and Cecilia approached. “You did great, too, Milli...” she says, closing her eyes, as her breathing slowed.
“Henrietta... I... I just -- ”
Millicent tore the words out of Cecilia's mouth, as she plunged her sword into her belly, and rent a large gash from right to left.
“This isn't about you, Cici,” Millicent says, “It’s not about me, or Hen, but the right to rebel against what they want...” she says, “I don't want to die under their thumb. I promised to take Henrietta down with all my might...” she lied down, bleeding out as she transformed, “That day, I called you an outsider. I can never take that back. We didn't talk for a long time, but you forgave me...”
Cecilia clenched her fists, “That's ancient history. We were stupid children. Millicent... you don't have to die...”
“I'm already transforming. A wound like this is fatal to a Human, so I'll die before I monsterize,” Millicent says. “I just wish I could die sounding like myself...”
Cecilia chuckled, dryly, “That's your last regret? How lame.”
Millicent closed her eyes, as she held Henrietta, and sighed, “Sister Cecilia, do me a favor? Make me a part of your rifle, too? Don't forget me.”
“I will...” Cecilia says, before dropping to her knees. “I won't forget you... but, why... does everyone keep leaving me...”
Hugging herself, sobbing bitterly, Cecilia ignored the Recall Summoning.
“Nothing is ever going to change like this...”
Another battle. Another day. Another summon. Another recall. It was like clockwork for Cecilia, the Perma-Pawn, as she lit a cigarette; the small fire like a star against the poignant darkness of her sniper's nest.
As she surveyed the battlefield, she admired the changes to the once razed Village of Borlin - her hometown.
For ten years, Borlin had been considered as a weak territory, due to the fact that it had been burned to the ground by the recklessness of the Koffy Clan in their efforts to take and capture the Queen of the Krumpet Family, Caroline Lewis.
Queens were powerful Pieces to have, as they were free Pawn creation, and allowed Clans to faster amass power in comparison to Families, as Mamono gestation periods were fractional to Humans. Possessing a Human Queen and capturing her was something to brag about, and more importantly, a powerful advantage in a numbers game.
Cecilia had grown cold after the death of Henrietta and Millicent; the latter’s bayonet now adorned her rifle. and seen as much blood as her bullets, as the Mamono Steel bayonet gave her the ability to slash and fight in close-quarters. It kept her Lone Wolf persona alive and well, as she didn't need - or want - allies who could -- no, who would die.
No names. No connections. No ties.
Just her, and her alone, in this neverending, unchanging war.
“You're so much different than Amarie said,” said a voice.
“I'm not six,” Cecilia says, keeping her eyes on the battlefield, “Mother McGee, I heard she died three years ago. If she is still speaking about me...” she says, “Well, that's unimportant, isn't it. It's rude to speak highly about my adoptive mother in front of my real mother.”
“You haven't even looked at me, Cecilia,” says Caroline with an audible pout.
“I've no reason to. You aren't my enemy,” Cecilia says, “This system is. This world is. This twisted existence needs someone to rebel against it, and rise up...” she turned, as her body released purple, almost black smoke, “It needs a Queen that stands before her people, is their sword and shield, and weathers the storms for them.”
“And you will be that,” Caroline asks.
“Will be? No. I have to be. Such is the duty of a Battle Maid,” Cecilia says, leveling her rifle at her mother, “Yet... my hand... shake so badly...” she says, as her frankenrifle glowed and transformed into a multicolored dagger due to the mismatched pieces, “I'm so scared...”
“It's a scary thing,” Caroline says, approaching, “Adulthood. Queenhood. Rebellion. It's a lot to think about.”
Cecilia kept her knife level, but the shaking was obvious, until Caroline took her hand, and held it.
“How old are you, sweetie,” Caroline asks.
“Twenty-seven...” Cecilia says.
“I was a little older than you when I met your father, Sir Glass,” Caroline says. “I had your sister soon after, and wondered, for a long time, if I could bring another child into this world... this cruel, cruel world...” she caressed Cecilia's cheek with her free hand, “I decided, if I had another daughter, she wouldn't grow up to be like me.”
“Yet, here we are...” Caroline sighed.
“I'm just another failure... I don't know what it means to be a Queen. I don't think I can live up to the expectation of yourself or Mother McGee...” Cecilia says, tearing up, “I'm struggling just to control this power, and not monsterize...”
“You're doing fine,” Caroline says, closing the gap with a final hug, “I wish I could have raised you, but Amarie did amazingly...” she says, holding her daughter, “I never should have put expectations upon you, kept you stunted like this. You're no failure, but a blessing and my baby girl.”
“Wh-What...” Cecilia asks, realizing what happened. “Wh-Why?”
Caroline smiled, holding her daughter, as she twisted her hand, “I choose to believe in your path, because you are my daughter...” Caroline held Cecelia tight, “I believe you can incite a revolution, and become a Queen to rival even Wilmarina, and bring an end to this madness.”
Cecilia felt her emotional stability crumbling. “And, if I can't,” she choked out.
Caroline drew back, and beamed, “There's no such word for the Queen of Rebellion!”
Cecilia broke, as tears streamed down her cheeks, “Mama, please! Be serious! You -- You’re -- Please don't die! I can't lose you a second time!”
Caroline chuckled, as she touched Cecilia's cheek, before holding her hands, “I'm always here with you. As is Amarie, and your friends that sacrificed to get you here...”
Cecilia's eyes squeezed tight, as she remembered everyone that had gone into her weapon. Still, that didn't compare to losing her mother twice.
She wouldn't be recalled or captured, but left to die.
Left to die in the dusty shell of her childhood home, where she'd married her husband and given birth to her daughters. Just like Millicent, she would die at home. Just like Henrietta, she would die on her terms.
But, all the same, she would die.
Cecilia's plaintive crying reaching the ears of no-one over the din of battle.
Twenty-one years had passed.
Nothing had changed...
“I swear, mother, I will make a change. I'll change this world, and if I die, I'll come back to life and start over, as many times as it takes!” Cecilia vowed.
“Can you? Like this? Crying?”
Cecilia looked up, her attention sharpened to catch the attention of a woman -- no, of a Mamono, a bunny in the form of a woman -- as she stood in the doorway with a large, almost double-headed axe with a chipped blade on one side and three, fin-like prongs on the other.
She didn't look like a Battle Maid, and her crimson hair wasn't like Cecilia's, being all spikes and no curls, yet, that still meant -
“You're an outsider,” Cecilia proclaimed.
“Guilty as charged. I'm also a bit of a vixen, too, but I'm not your enemy. I believe... I was meant to meet you...”
“Are you saying your Journey led you here,” Cecilia asks.
“To think, that faith reaches this far beyond the realm...”
“What are you talking about,” Cecilia asks.
“If you wanna know, you have to follow me...” Smirking, the foreigner would backflip, and slice the floor with her axe, creating a pit, which she disappeared into with a departing shout, “...down the rabbit hole!”
Cecilia didn't allow herself any apprehension. If she was going to reform the world she lived in, then she would rebel against even common sense. Running forward, she could feel the Recall Summoning starting to take hold, but it wouldn't take her, just the Demon Energy she amassed...
...she had rebelled, and gone beyond her keepers.
She had nothing left but the Path of Rebellion that lied at the bottom of a rabbit hole.
Cecilia awoke with a start, before she noticed a Mamono with bunny ears, sitting on a log with a campfire rolling.
“That wasn't the most graceful fall.”
“Who are you?! Where am I?!” Cecilia asks, before looking at her hands, “Wh-Who am I...”
The Mamono sucked her teeth, and sighed, as she stood, “Even someone as strong as you can get Wonderlust...”
Cecilia tilted her head, “Wonderlust?”
“A type of amnesia that makes you only remember Wonderland, where we are now.”
“Wonderland?”
“Seems that the massive amount of Demon Energy you had stored up was left behind. Your potential, too, without it...”
“Demon Energy? Potential? I'm just... I'm...” Cecilia looked at her clothes, “I'm just a maid, it seems.”
“You're far more than that, but... until you can remember, you might as well be a scullery maid...”
Cecilia frowned, and gravitated to the fire. “Can you take me somewhere safe...” she asked.
“There's a Human village near. I'll take you there in the morning.”
Cecilia nodded thankfully. “Can I have your name,” she asks.
“Ester Bonne,” she answered, “No need to remember it, until you remember your purpose.”
“My purpose?”
“To rebel.”
Cecilia was mighty confused, but Ester would just toss a sack at her.
“Sleep. Dream,” Ester says. “Bonne nuit.”
“Et au revoir,” Cecilia finished, as she settled.
It was ingrained in her. It was autonomic, like breathing.
Ester smiled, as it meant, somewhere, the Battle Maid was alive...
She just had to wait.
And, March Hares had all the time in the world to do so.
A small child raised her head from the slump, the harsh shift of her ill-fitted armor was barely heard over the din of battle, waning in the distance. Before her, the fallen body of her mother, Caroline Lewis, and her weapon: the Springfelled Service Rifle. Her body was rife with wounds that didn't show, as Mamono Steel didn't kill, but converted. Each impact imparting a little Demon Energy, a little bit of the Demon Lord, herself, and turned Humans into Mamono - Succubus for women, and the rare Incubus for men. If the wounds were treated in time, and the Demon Energy was flushed, Humanity could be retained, but in the heat of battle and with her village burning around them, there was little hope of a child doing anything.
“Raise your head, my child...” Caroline says, “I can feel my mind slipping... but you're unharmed, so... it's a small price.”
“Mama! Why?” Cecilia asks, reaching forward, only to shy away from the energy radiating off her mother's body.
I'm a Queen. You're my precious Pawn,” Caroline says, They can take me off the board, but... you... you're able to run for the other side of the board...” she smiled, ...run, Cecilia. Run, and become strong. Run!”
Cecilia grit her teeth, and gathered to her feet. Before she ran, however, she saw her mother's rifle, and snatched it off the ground. It was meant for her elder sister, but she had been shifted to another Family with her father; traded by the loser to the victor.
Now, the board was completely lost, naught but embers smoldering in the breeze. Human lives were lost. Mamono lives were gained. Salvarision reset the board, and the chess game would begin anew.
“Head up, young lady. Eyes forward. Attention full. A lowly Pawn like you has the most to gain and the most to lose.” chastised Mother McGee, a Bishop, and veteran of multiple games of Chess, as she cleaned her M1 Garland Service Rifle, the successor of the Springfelled. “However, you stubbornly cling to ideals of another’s past, and seek safety in relics of days bygone.”
Uncomfortably, Cecilia shifted in her “armor”, the attire of a Battle Maid, as she clutched her mother's rifle. “I'm doing my best in schooling and it's not my fault reading is hard!” she snapped, standing up straight, armor clinking hard as plates shifted and clashed. “And... Mama's rifle is fine...” she deflated, as she averted her eyes, “...it's just old.”
“Among other things,” Mother McGee says, as she extended her hand, “That rifle is a product of a generation gone,” as Cecilia handed it over, and she admired then wear and tear upon, “You're permitted to use it solely on the grounds that your mother was the former Queen Piece of the Krumpet Family,” Mother McGee started to field strip the Springfelled, scrambling its piece with her own M1 Garland, spread across her desk, “However, lineage means nothing on the board. A Pawn is still a Pawn. Your mother inspired fear and commanded focus. An outsider, like me, she inspired...”
Cecilia looked down at her feet, as the keeper of the orphanage lectured her, before she heard a knock to call her attention.
Spread out over the table where the internal parts of the two rifles, and to the untrained eyes, there was no real difference between the bits and pieces, and almost no differences to the shells they were housed in.
“Listen to me, Cecilia, you're going to fall behind on your classes, if you continue to rely on the strength of your mother,” Mother McGee says, “Unless your conviction is true. I've field stripped my rifle and your mother's, and scrambled the piece to test your conviction and not your sentimentality.”
“Reassemble your mother's rifle without mistaking a single piece of mine. If you use even one piece wrong, you'll be upgraded and your mother's rifle retired.”
Cecilia stared at the pieces. Sure, she'd seen her mother disassemble and reassemble her rifle more times than she could count, but seeing and understanding where two different things, and watching and doing where very different things.
Still, this was all she had left of her.
Clenching her fists, Cecilia set to work with the most determination a five(-and-three-quarter-)year-old could muster up on her face. Armored fingers ghosted over pieces, lingering memories of days and nights spent with her mother; nights spent sobbing at the loss of her sister and her father, mornings spent in quiet listlessness, and the slow return to normalcy.
Conviction and Sentimentality were two sides of the same coin in a sense of motivation; doing something for a reason and having a reason to do something.
Cecilia was sentimental, as her mother was all she had in this game of monsters, and, now, she was one of the monsters. In the future, if she stood as a Queen, her rifle would be leveled at her mother. Therein, her conviction was born - to defeat her mother, and end these games.
Even children could be convinced to do great things with the proper motivation.
Mother McGee watched as Cecilia hovered her fingers over pieces, seemingly working off feeling, sentiment, and reassembling the old service rifle little by little.
‘There is no fear of lineage on the board, but their is a wariness of legacy...’ Mother McGee smiled, ‘You’ve left behind quite the Pawn, Lady Caroline.’
“Knights on the left side! Why are both Knights on this side of the board?!” asked a Pawn, as she leveled her rifle. “Cecilia! Millicent! Flank left! We have to wait for backup!”
“Roger, Henrietta!” Millicent says, as she fell in line.
Cecilia nodded, as her rifle knocked against her breastplate, and she gathered behind Henrietta.
Around them, the fallen and broken, but not dead bodies of their fellows - due to the physiology, the bodies of Human children could rapidly flush out Demon Energy, because, unlike Mamono children, they weren't born sexually active. Under the age of, on average, thirteen, all children were kept as Pawns, and used as meat shields and distractions for their teenage and adult Ranked Pieces.
Teenagers could regulate Demon Energy with half the efficiency of a children, which left a surplus that turned into the power of a Knight, Rook, or Bishop, creating physical changes that needed to be controlled through a balance of expending energy in games, while recouping on the battlefield or in the bed.
Adults, however, threaded a thin line between Monsterization and Humanity, unable to process Demon Energy, and having to pass on chunks of it by uniting with a King or Queen, the most important piece and most powerful piece, respectively, and creating new Pawns.
Cecilia, Millicent, and Henrietta were such “chunks” of Demon Energy, however, they were almost teenagers, too.
“The Knights are moving,” Henrietta says, “I'll hold the line, girl. As soon as you find an opening,” she looked back, as she started expressing purple smoke, “Fire, even if you have to shoot me.
“Hen! You're promoting! We didn’t celebrate your birthday or anything!” Millicent gasped.
“Focus, Milli. Cici, don't fall behind with that old rifle,” Henrietta says, before raising her arms, and summoning two tonfa attached to rectangular shields, as her body gained the strength and endurance of a Rook.
Cecilia huffed, as she aimed down her sight. “I'll make the shot, just fine,” she says.
“I'll be off, then,” Henrietta says, “If we never meet again,” she smirked, “Bonne nuit et au revoir.”
“Bonne nuit et au revoir...”
“Sister Cici!” squealed Millicent, as she glomped Cecilia on sight, groping the eternal shortstack’s generous bounty, “It's been ages, and you haven't grown a bit. Your Papa must have been super-short!” she teased, looming two heads over Cecilia, able to rest her chin on her junior’s crown, “Well, you have definitely matured, though. Angling for a Bishop Promotion like Mother McGee?”
“Eh?! Come off it! And, no. My Papa is very tall!” Cecilia fussed, squirming to escape the handsy monster that was her occasional battlemate.
Battle Maids were traded all the time, as a Chess Master could only have a roster of eight Pawns, two of a Rook, Knight, and Bishop, and one King with one Queen - never more actively, but always more in reserve. The Krumpet Family boasted more than twenty Pawns, but the Biskit Family claimed THREE Queens under a SINGLE King, and the Tii Family had a small army of Knights.
Interpersonal relationships between Pieces were normal and even romantic relationships were common; another facet of the interplay between Conviction and Sentimentality.
It gave Pieces a reason to fight, but also made it hard when they lost, and gave into Monsterization, which made the game worth playing for the Mamono Royals, and gave the Humans all the more reason to value the precious fragility of their lives.
Once they were lost, they were gone forever.
They had to resign to combat with their former friends, lovers, and even family.
“Earth to Cici!” Millicent paged with a harsh honk. “By the Goddess, these are so soft! And, this butt! So plush! Having a growth spurt horizontally is so unfair!”
“Could you stop?!” Cecilia fussed, though a Pawn had no hope of overpowering a Knight - even if they weren't that much physically stronger, Millicent could move five-times faster than Cecilia without expressing a bit of Magic.
“Indeed, could you,” asked a woman from the door, as she entered without waiting.
“Mother Liddle!” Millicent squeaked, as the current head of the orphanage caught them.
Cecilia frowned, as she looked up at the replacement for Mother McGee; the Krumpet Bishop had been traded for a Tii Knight after a drunken stakes game, creating a hole in their ranks that she was being groomed for. As crudely as Millicent put it, Cecilia's physical development was growing toward a Bishop, able to store more Demon Energy.
However, she had no intention of becoming a Bishop, even in honor of the woman that had practically raised her and her sisters, both in the sense of found family and religion, by following her footsteps. Cecilia had grander plans for herself, and didn't want to sully Mother McGee’s teachings by going the easy route.
“Mother Liddle, I do have a door, and it was closed,” Cecilia says, plainly.
Mother Liddle side-eyed Cecilia, before getting to the point, “We have an engagement. A Territory Game between the Krumpet Family and the Kookee Clan.”
“A Territory Game with the Kookee Clan,” Millicent asks. “That means...”
“She’ll be there,” Cecilia says.
“I came here to speak to you, explicitly, Sister Cecilia, due to your complicated relationship with their current Rook,” Mother Liddle says.
“There is nothing complicated about it,” Cecilia says, slinging her rifle over her shoulder, the old Springfelled cleaned and ready to go, “If it happens, it happens. That's the fate of Humans in Salvarision.”
Mother Liddle eyed Cecilia suspiciously, “See that we get the checkmate, then.”
Cecilia nodded, before pushing past Mother Liddle, and heading for the Board. Dashing by, Millicent would turn, and wave, shouting back, “Seeya there, Cici!” before she turned and blitzed.
Boarding the transport, Cecilia watched the rustic kingdom of Castle City Salvarision fade into the simple countryside where most Pawns were born; peasant children, orphaned by Territory Games, and infested by Demon Energy. It was where Cecilia got her start, like Millicent, Henrietta, even Mothers McGee and Liddle, and her own mother, Caroline.
Mamono ruled Lescatie, and lived primarily in Castle City Salvarision, and surrounding City-states, while countryside existed as primarily a breeding ground for Pawns and Mamono children, and secondarily a battleground comprised of sixty-four villages, or Boards. Their current destination was the Village of Arling, currently held by the Krumpet Family and contested by the Kookee Clan.
It wasn't her hometown, but Millicent's, so it didn't surprise her that the Knight had gone ahead. It was her hometown and she had to defend it.
As the transport stopped, Cecilia disembarked with her fellow Pawns, the Rooks, Bishops, and Mother Liddle. Missing from the transport were the King and Queen, who traveled ahead, a week in advance, to negotiate terms with their opposition.
In this case: control of Arling Village, and the right to contest adjacent Boards.
“ANNOUNCEMENT! ARLING VILLAGE HAS BEEN SELECTED!
GAME MODE: TERRITORY CLAIM!
PIECES TO YOUR SIDES!
REPRESENTING THE WHITE SIDE AS THE AGGRESSORS, THE KOOKEE CLAN!
REPRESENTING THE BLACK SIDE AS THE DEFENDERS, THE KRUMPET FAMILY!
GAME SET IN TEN MINUTES!”
GAME MODE: TERRITORY CLAIM!
PIECES TO YOUR SIDES!
REPRESENTING THE WHITE SIDE AS THE AGGRESSORS, THE KOOKEE CLAN!
REPRESENTING THE BLACK SIDE AS THE DEFENDERS, THE KRUMPET FAMILY!
GAME SET IN TEN MINUTES!”
As the announcement faded, Cecilia watched the village divide into sixty-four blocks - literally, as black and white spaces formed in large squares that turned the ground of Arling Village into a chessboard, from border-to-border, including everything that was considered its territory - rustic homes of the innocent and uninvolved were magically commandeered as cover and hiding places for ambushes and snipers; simple businesses were at risk of destruction; flourishing farmland soon to be trod upon by the flames of controlled war.
“Ten minutes, huh...” Cecilia says, as she took a seat, and started to field strip her rifle.
Swiftly, she disassembled it to clean, oil, and prepare her Ship of Theseus weapon, as she looked at the various parts that didn't belong, but she made fit; primarily, the iron sights from Mother McGee’s M1 Garland, and the trigger from Henrietta’s - pieces to remembered those she'd lost.
---
“You avoided every piece of my rifle by touch, and yet... you purposefully installed my sight,” Mother McGee says, “Understanding the terms of our deal, you still went through with it. Why?”
“Mother McGee is like Mama... stern, but kind... I thought... if I just had this sight... I could see like you,” Cecilia fidgeted, as she held the rifle presentationally, before snapping to aiming down the sight, and squarely at Mother McGee, “I wanna see like you do, Mother McGee! So, please, let me borrow your sight, until my own eyes can see where my Journey is taking me!”
Mother McGee took her rifle parts, and reassembled them, before installing Caroline's iron sight - it was old, chipped, and worn; off by two centimeters to the left, which would require compensation. Bishops retained their rifles to fire Bullet Magic, instead of losing them for a sword or shield, like Knights and Rooks, respectively.
“I want to see like Lady Caroline did, myself,” Mother McGee says, before crossing her rifle over Cecilia’s heirloom, “You'd make a fine Bishop, Cecilia,” she smirked softly, before saying, “So, I expect you to make an even greater Queen.”
“I'll be the best!” Cecilia promised.
---
“I'll be the best...” Cecilia says, as she checked her ammo underneath her Battle Maid outfit; a cloth bandolier wrapped around her belly and hips with twelve stripper clips, each having five rounds of .30-06 to be loaded - three less than the upgraded M1 Garland - totaling for sixty shots before she needed to restock ammo.
Although, Pawns rarely saw the end of their ammo, as they were easy to overpower, and normally targeted first to be crippled. Capturing a Pawn took entirely too much effort, as they lacked any sexual activity for Demon Energy to latch onto and corrupt, so breaking an arm of a leg meant they would be out of the game, and able to fight in the future.
“ANNOUNCEMENT: FIVE MINUTES TO GAME SET!”
Five minutes... Cecilia sighed, as she looked up to the sky. Idly, she wondered what the names of her fellow Pawns were, before thinking better of it. Pawns were disposable, meant to be, so names were superfluous fluff and distracting. Across the horizon, among the collected Pieces, was a Rook that needed her full attention.
Behind her, she knew that Millicent was itching for the reunion between old friends made enemies, as much as she was.
War never changed at its core. Just the Pieces. Different names. Different faces. But, the ideology was always the same, as was the application.
Pawns to the front. Everyone else to the back. Defend the King. No matter the cost...
“TEN SECONDS!”
“Here goes...”
Standing up, Cecilia loaded her rifle. It was time to play chess.
---
Facing off in a battle of strength with a Succubus was never a valid use of one's time, unless you had the strength to match, which was not the case for a Pawn. Especially, when the Succubus in question was a Rook and an old friend.
Cecilia groaned, as she held her rifle like a bar between her and the pressing arm shields of Henrietta, as the teenage Succubus put pressure on Cecilia's arms with the ground as her ally.
“Don't struggle, Cici,” Henrietta sneered, “All I need to do is break your arms, and you'll be captured. I heard you've never been captured since I was, so let me break that record,” she purred, “An eye for an eye, if you will.”
Cecilia grit her teeth, understanding the vindictive request, as she looked at Henrietta's face... or rather, at the flamboyant eye patch that covered her left eye.
A wound that served to both reshape Cecilia and destroy a friendship...
---
Following orders, Cecilia was a good child soldier, model, and eager for praise. Henrietta had given them explicit orders: fire upon any opening.
“Why?”
Cecilia's arms trembled, as she lined up her only shot. Mother McGee’s sight was true, and she couldn't miss without an act of interference.
“Why?!”
Henrietta held the Kookee Clan Knight in place, her emotions compromised by the death of her fellow - blindsided by a bullet to the knee by Millicent and Henrietta bashing her skull in.
Now, she was in the perfect position to get a headshot... but, why did Henrietta's head have to be in the way, too?
Cecilia screamed internally, as she leveled the shot - through Henrietta's left eye and into the enemy's brain. She would die, but the sacrifice would lead to Henrietta's capture; a fair trade in war, but a complete loss for her.
“Why?!!”
A gunshot brought thunderous silence, as Henrietta's struggle ceased, due to the Knight falling with a wide-eyed confusion; barely able to concept the portion of her head missing from the bullet than passed through her opponent as dangerous energy and into her as fatal reality.
Mamono Steel didn't kill Humans, as it was meant to convert them with violence, but it did kill Mamono, since they were already converted.
Cecilia barely felt. Everything was numb. It shouldn't have been. But, it was.
“Good shot, Cici...” Henrietta says, as she touched Cecilia's shoulder, breaking the chaos.
Cecilia gasped, as she looked up, and saw Henrietta's face - her left eye had already converted, the sclera pitch-black with a golden iris and no pupil. Above her eye, off to the side, a horn was growing, but she didn't lose her pleasant smile.
“Hen... you're... you've been...” Millicent couldn't say it. Couldn't face their reality. “You just promoted.”
“I’d say, it was worth it,” Henrietta says, as a wing pushed against her dress. “A Rook defends. I became what I needed to be to see you through,” she says, “I'm sure, next time I see you, Cici, I'll be resentful of this, but take me with a grain of salt. You followed orders. You did good.”
Henrietta turned, as her dress ripped from the emergence of a tail and her full wings, leaving her naked, until her nature fully took hold. “Millicent, don't you hold this against Cici. In your shoes, she wouldn't demonize you,” she says, “Next we meet, you and I,” Henrietta leaned to Millicent's ear, and whispered, “Take me down with all your might.”
Cecilia saw Millicent's eyes swell with tears at whatever she was told, before she nodded weakly. Henrietta stood, as her body started to glow with summoning magic.
“The Capture Summoning,” Henrietta says, “Seems my time is up, then. It was wonderful knowing you two. Tell Mother McGee, thank you for everything...”
As Henrietta was captured, Cecilia couldn't restrain her emotions, but Millicent broke first, “Why did you take the shot?! Why?! Why couldn't you miss or something?!”
“I -- ”
“Shut up! Don't talk to me! Henrietta's dead because you had to follow orders! Stupid outsider!” Millicent screamed.
Cecilia staggered back at the hostility and prejudice, not even noticing they were being summoned. The match was over, and the pieces were recalled.
However, more than just lives were lost...
---
“You said, a grain of salt!” Cecilia groaned, “I might need a pound!”
“Oh, sweetie, you've developed a sense of humor,” Henrietta cooed. “You always were a bit of a stick in the mud, so I'm glad.”
“I’d believe you better, if you weren't trying to crush me...” Cecilia says, sarcastically.
“I can't make it easy on you,” Henrietta chuckled, “Your exploits are pretty good for a Perma-Pawn, but...” she smirked, “Pawns aren't strong enough for the Lone Wolf shtick, Cici.”
“Yeah, but -- ”
“She isn't alone!” Millicent came flying out of Henrietta's blindspot, and kicked her away from Cecilia. “Hey, sis. Long time no see.”
“Milli. You've promoted. Knight, eh?” Henrietta's wings flared out like a parachute, “Motormouth Milli, it suits you.”
Millicent huffed, “I don't talk that much, Hen. Remember what you told me, that day,” she drew her gladius, and jogged in place, “Better hope those shields can keep up.”
Cecilia barely noticed Millicent's movement, before hearing the clash of blade on board, and saw the battle of a Rook and a Knight take place before her... for a second time.
“How ironically poetic this is,” Henrietta mewled, as she blocked each sword strike with skill and ease, “Feels like we're back there, but in reverse...”
“Isn't it crazy where the Journey might take you,” Millicent says, before angling a strike to push Henrietta back. “Back then, when were just Pawns following orders. Now, I'm a Knight and you're a Rook, but...” she smirked, “Cecilia, you're still a Pawn with an order to follow.”
“Oh, ho?” Henrietta erected a cross block, which Millicent's sword was driven through, locking her in place. “How nostalgic...”
Cecilia realized what happened. Henrietta and Millicent had planned this encounter, knowing that she wouldn't defy the order given her - years ago, and moments ago.
Take the shot.
Even through me.
I’ll be fine.
Cecilia focused, as she leveled her rifle, and fired without hesitation. Her sights were true, and she couldn't -- no, she wouldn't defy expectations.
This was just what was to be.
Henrietta's eyes widened, before softening into a smile, as she felt the warm embrace of Death reaching for her.
“Good shot, Cici...” Henrietta says, as she fell over from her heart pumping blood out of the bullet hole, “I couldn't break you.”
“Hush, Hen,” Millicent says, as she grit her teeth, and pulled her sword out of the shield ls, “I don't want your last words to be praising her, when I did all the work, you jerk.”
Henrietta chuckled, as Millicent pouted, and Cecilia approached. “You did great, too, Milli...” she says, closing her eyes, as her breathing slowed.
“Henrietta... I... I just -- ”
Millicent tore the words out of Cecilia's mouth, as she plunged her sword into her belly, and rent a large gash from right to left.
“This isn't about you, Cici,” Millicent says, “It’s not about me, or Hen, but the right to rebel against what they want...” she says, “I don't want to die under their thumb. I promised to take Henrietta down with all my might...” she lied down, bleeding out as she transformed, “That day, I called you an outsider. I can never take that back. We didn't talk for a long time, but you forgave me...”
Cecilia clenched her fists, “That's ancient history. We were stupid children. Millicent... you don't have to die...”
“I'm already transforming. A wound like this is fatal to a Human, so I'll die before I monsterize,” Millicent says. “I just wish I could die sounding like myself...”
Cecilia chuckled, dryly, “That's your last regret? How lame.”
Millicent closed her eyes, as she held Henrietta, and sighed, “Sister Cecilia, do me a favor? Make me a part of your rifle, too? Don't forget me.”
“I will...” Cecilia says, before dropping to her knees. “I won't forget you... but, why... does everyone keep leaving me...”
Hugging herself, sobbing bitterly, Cecilia ignored the Recall Summoning.
“Nothing is ever going to change like this...”
Another battle. Another day. Another summon. Another recall. It was like clockwork for Cecilia, the Perma-Pawn, as she lit a cigarette; the small fire like a star against the poignant darkness of her sniper's nest.
As she surveyed the battlefield, she admired the changes to the once razed Village of Borlin - her hometown.
For ten years, Borlin had been considered as a weak territory, due to the fact that it had been burned to the ground by the recklessness of the Koffy Clan in their efforts to take and capture the Queen of the Krumpet Family, Caroline Lewis.
Queens were powerful Pieces to have, as they were free Pawn creation, and allowed Clans to faster amass power in comparison to Families, as Mamono gestation periods were fractional to Humans. Possessing a Human Queen and capturing her was something to brag about, and more importantly, a powerful advantage in a numbers game.
Cecilia had grown cold after the death of Henrietta and Millicent; the latter’s bayonet now adorned her rifle. and seen as much blood as her bullets, as the Mamono Steel bayonet gave her the ability to slash and fight in close-quarters. It kept her Lone Wolf persona alive and well, as she didn't need - or want - allies who could -- no, who would die.
No names. No connections. No ties.
Just her, and her alone, in this neverending, unchanging war.
“You're so much different than Amarie said,” said a voice.
“I'm not six,” Cecilia says, keeping her eyes on the battlefield, “Mother McGee, I heard she died three years ago. If she is still speaking about me...” she says, “Well, that's unimportant, isn't it. It's rude to speak highly about my adoptive mother in front of my real mother.”
“You haven't even looked at me, Cecilia,” says Caroline with an audible pout.
“I've no reason to. You aren't my enemy,” Cecilia says, “This system is. This world is. This twisted existence needs someone to rebel against it, and rise up...” she turned, as her body released purple, almost black smoke, “It needs a Queen that stands before her people, is their sword and shield, and weathers the storms for them.”
“And you will be that,” Caroline asks.
“Will be? No. I have to be. Such is the duty of a Battle Maid,” Cecilia says, leveling her rifle at her mother, “Yet... my hand... shake so badly...” she says, as her frankenrifle glowed and transformed into a multicolored dagger due to the mismatched pieces, “I'm so scared...”
“It's a scary thing,” Caroline says, approaching, “Adulthood. Queenhood. Rebellion. It's a lot to think about.”
Cecilia kept her knife level, but the shaking was obvious, until Caroline took her hand, and held it.
“How old are you, sweetie,” Caroline asks.
“Twenty-seven...” Cecilia says.
“I was a little older than you when I met your father, Sir Glass,” Caroline says. “I had your sister soon after, and wondered, for a long time, if I could bring another child into this world... this cruel, cruel world...” she caressed Cecilia's cheek with her free hand, “I decided, if I had another daughter, she wouldn't grow up to be like me.”
“Yet, here we are...” Caroline sighed.
“I'm just another failure... I don't know what it means to be a Queen. I don't think I can live up to the expectation of yourself or Mother McGee...” Cecilia says, tearing up, “I'm struggling just to control this power, and not monsterize...”
“You're doing fine,” Caroline says, closing the gap with a final hug, “I wish I could have raised you, but Amarie did amazingly...” she says, holding her daughter, “I never should have put expectations upon you, kept you stunted like this. You're no failure, but a blessing and my baby girl.”
“Wh-What...” Cecilia asks, realizing what happened. “Wh-Why?”
Caroline smiled, holding her daughter, as she twisted her hand, “I choose to believe in your path, because you are my daughter...” Caroline held Cecelia tight, “I believe you can incite a revolution, and become a Queen to rival even Wilmarina, and bring an end to this madness.”
Cecilia felt her emotional stability crumbling. “And, if I can't,” she choked out.
Caroline drew back, and beamed, “There's no such word for the Queen of Rebellion!”
Cecilia broke, as tears streamed down her cheeks, “Mama, please! Be serious! You -- You’re -- Please don't die! I can't lose you a second time!”
Caroline chuckled, as she touched Cecilia's cheek, before holding her hands, “I'm always here with you. As is Amarie, and your friends that sacrificed to get you here...”
Cecilia's eyes squeezed tight, as she remembered everyone that had gone into her weapon. Still, that didn't compare to losing her mother twice.
She wouldn't be recalled or captured, but left to die.
Left to die in the dusty shell of her childhood home, where she'd married her husband and given birth to her daughters. Just like Millicent, she would die at home. Just like Henrietta, she would die on her terms.
But, all the same, she would die.
Cecilia's plaintive crying reaching the ears of no-one over the din of battle.
Twenty-one years had passed.
Nothing had changed...
..War never changed...
...but Rebellion changed.
“I swear, mother, I will make a change. I'll change this world, and if I die, I'll come back to life and start over, as many times as it takes!” Cecilia vowed.
“Can you? Like this? Crying?”
Cecilia looked up, her attention sharpened to catch the attention of a woman -- no, of a Mamono, a bunny in the form of a woman -- as she stood in the doorway with a large, almost double-headed axe with a chipped blade on one side and three, fin-like prongs on the other.
She didn't look like a Battle Maid, and her crimson hair wasn't like Cecilia's, being all spikes and no curls, yet, that still meant -
“You're an outsider,” Cecilia proclaimed.
“Guilty as charged. I'm also a bit of a vixen, too, but I'm not your enemy. I believe... I was meant to meet you...”
“Are you saying your Journey led you here,” Cecilia asks.
“To think, that faith reaches this far beyond the realm...”
“What are you talking about,” Cecilia asks.
“If you wanna know, you have to follow me...” Smirking, the foreigner would backflip, and slice the floor with her axe, creating a pit, which she disappeared into with a departing shout, “...down the rabbit hole!”
Cecilia didn't allow herself any apprehension. If she was going to reform the world she lived in, then she would rebel against even common sense. Running forward, she could feel the Recall Summoning starting to take hold, but it wouldn't take her, just the Demon Energy she amassed...
...she had rebelled, and gone beyond her keepers.
She had nothing left but the Path of Rebellion that lied at the bottom of a rabbit hole.
Cecilia awoke with a start, before she noticed a Mamono with bunny ears, sitting on a log with a campfire rolling.
“That wasn't the most graceful fall.”
“Who are you?! Where am I?!” Cecilia asks, before looking at her hands, “Wh-Who am I...”
The Mamono sucked her teeth, and sighed, as she stood, “Even someone as strong as you can get Wonderlust...”
Cecilia tilted her head, “Wonderlust?”
“A type of amnesia that makes you only remember Wonderland, where we are now.”
“Wonderland?”
“Seems that the massive amount of Demon Energy you had stored up was left behind. Your potential, too, without it...”
“Demon Energy? Potential? I'm just... I'm...” Cecilia looked at her clothes, “I'm just a maid, it seems.”
“You're far more than that, but... until you can remember, you might as well be a scullery maid...”
Cecilia frowned, and gravitated to the fire. “Can you take me somewhere safe...” she asked.
“There's a Human village near. I'll take you there in the morning.”
Cecilia nodded thankfully. “Can I have your name,” she asks.
“Ester Bonne,” she answered, “No need to remember it, until you remember your purpose.”
“My purpose?”
“To rebel.”
Cecilia was mighty confused, but Ester would just toss a sack at her.
“Sleep. Dream,” Ester says. “Bonne nuit.”
“Et au revoir,” Cecilia finished, as she settled.
It was ingrained in her. It was autonomic, like breathing.
Ester smiled, as it meant, somewhere, the Battle Maid was alive...
She just had to wait.
And, March Hares had all the time in the world to do so.
"Rise and shine, sleepyhead..."
Those were the first words heard by a petit pair of scissors, as her consciousness came online.
"Your name is Carrollynn, Carrollynn Wunderland. That's with two Rs, two Ls, two Ns, and a U, not an O. That way, it's wholly yours and unique. There's no-one else like you."
As the promise was made, and life was breathed into a construct, wholly one-of-a-kind, but triumvirate in purpose, Carrollynn would feel herself growing, forming; taking shape with fingers and toes, hands and feet, arms and legs, before the darkness gave way to light that only eyes could see.
An infant, but more of a toddler, with alabaster skin and hair of silver streaks in a ruby base looked around with drowsy eyes, spying a pair of girls, much like she, but slightly different in the face and hair, with one of silver-streaked emerald and the other of silver-streaked sapphire.
"Meet your sisters, Carrollynn,” prompted her benefactor, or perhaps her mother? Either or, Carrollynn would follow her motion to the girl with silver-streaked emerald hair, "Your elder sister, McMylllynn" Carrollynn would regard her with a bored expression, before she was guided towards the other with silver-streaked sapphire, "and your big sister, Tynknyll," who she regarded much the same, before flopping onto her belly, and yawning.
Being born was exhausting.
"Carroll. Mack. Neil.”
"Not quite sons. Neither quite daughters. A perfect middle ground. Handmade by yours truly... with love."
Carroll didn't know what love was.
And, where she was, she never would.
The Queen of Hearts did not understand what love was. She only understood lust and passion, fleeting concepts that were finite in nature and design - meant to build up, and become love and compassion.
Things that Mamono didn't quite understand completely.
And, like her mother, was Mamono.
But, unlike her mother, she was made of many different parts of many different species, found all across Wonderland, and could think just a little differently than most.
Which could make all the difference...
"Gimme! It's mine!” Carroll shouted, as she lunged for the prize in question, an exotic animal that the Human servants called a “dog”. It was a source of division between the sisters three, as it was theirs, collectively and individually, and, spoiled rotten to the core, not one wanted to share.
"You had your two days! It's my two!” Neil growled, as she pointed her right fist at Carroll, and slime boiled under her skin, before her armor from elbow down transformed into a large pole with a wicked hook.
It was the manifestation of her True Form, as a Cursed Sword of Wonderland - in this case, being no sword, but a large seam ripper, with the ability to “pop” the “seam” of anything she touched, which allowed her to deal internal damage with a tap by popping the seams of muscles, blood vessels, and the like.
"I didn't get to finish!” Carroll snapped, matching Neil with her own transformation, as her right arm became a violet scissor blade.
Half of her True Form, Carroll was a Cursed Sword in the form of a pair of mismatched scissors, with the ability to manifest either blade independent of the other, and when crisscrossed, could slice through anything that wasn't made of vorpal steel, like she and her sisters.
"Carroll, you know that doesn't matter. Midnight is midnight,” Mack says, crossing her arms, before a crimson scissor blade leveled at her. "You wanna go...?”
Mack met the blade with her left arm and her True Form, a slender needle that made her Cursed Sword form, carrying the most insidious power among the triplets, as she had the ability to stitch together anyways alive, dead, organic, or inorganic, and force singularity.
In truth, the Wunderland Triplets were meant to get along as a triple-threat were Neil and Carroll would pop the “seams” and slice “cloth”, respectively, before Mack would sew the “material” back together as Wonderland Chimera.
Unfortunately, when raised by someone that only knew corruption and hedonism, purpose meant and purpose given were two different things.
Taking advantage of their standoff, the dog would run off, and seek safety anywhere.
"Wait! Don't run away!” Carroll gasped, transforming her arms back to normal.
Neil and Mack looked over, and saw the door rounding a corner.
Dropping their squabble, the triplets would give chase, sighting the dog in time -- “Aimer toi-même.” -- to see a blur pass by, and disappear, as the dog stopped running and looked around for a moment.
Drawing close, the girls would sigh in relief, before the blood started to flow, as the dog’s head split away from his shoulders, and fell into a growing pool of blood, as his body stood resolute against death.
It took a moment to realize what happened, before the primal reaction of terrified screaming took over, and the girls had something harshly burned into them:
Resentment was easy to incite. Children that never knew earnest love were easy to twist.
The death of their pet was the start of random pushes towards resentment, and deeper rooting of hatred, as The Queen of Hearts would persist to deny her involvement in things, yet offered no proof to the contrary - proclaiming that she was being framed, leading to greater and greater hostilities between mother and daughters.
All culminating in the rise of McMylllynn, the Queen of Stitching Spades, Tynknyll, the Queen of Ripping Clubs, and Carrollynn, the Queen of Blood Diamonds.
And, the beginning of a revolution in Wonderland.
"Take that out, and bring in the next,” Carroll says, legs crossed as she sat upon the throne in the heart of the Madlands.
That, in question, was the corpse of a Human that was incompatible with Carroll's [Possession Slime] and had been sliced at every joint, and was currently being swept into a hole in the floor by a half-asleep Dormouse with curly, crimson hair and dull blue eyes.
“Yes, ma'am,” the Dormouse yawned, before leaving with the bloody broom to return with another Human; a woman with dark skin, honey-brown hair, and wearing a maid’s outfit.
"You caught someone exotic,” Carroll asks. "She doesn't feel especially powerful, but even a guppy has a change to outswim a shark,” she says, "Tell me, outsider, what is your name?”
“Amarie Kann McGee, former Battle Maid of the Salvarision Biskit Family, Rank: Bishop...” Turning her eyes southward, she frowned, before looking up. “You're just a teenager. No older than her...” she says, "Seems, even in another world, children only know war."
"Are you affording me pity,” Carroll asks, standing, "As if you know me!?" she snapped, lashing her right arm forward, burying her violet blade into Amarie’s shoulder, "Don’t you dare pity me! I didn't bring you here to be pitied!"
“No, I'm sure you didn't. A sword needs someone to swing it, after all,” Amarie says, standing up, “It’s funny. I followed that woman here, and lost my Demon Energy, yet... yours feels like it never left.”
"How are you... standing?”
“Salvarision Battle Maids are born from partially monsterized Humans. My life's purpose is to be used as a sword, to use Demon Energy as a weapon,” Amarie says, “You're a Mamono of the Cursed Sword species, right? I've heard about your kind. You don't have Human forms, so you steal Human women to wear like a suit,” she recalls, “I guess, Wonderland doesn't work like that, so what now?”
Carroll was stunned by the calm and casual assessment, and the even more lackadaisical acceptance of her situation, as Amarie spoke. Normally, Humans would piss and moan, cry and beg for mercy, shout obscenities, and swear revenge before either dying from the pressure of her Demon Energy immediately or shortly after.
And yet, this foreigner wasn't phased in the slightest.
There was no fluctuation in her temper, no anger, no fear, just a calm understanding of where she was, and what was happening.
"Your assessment of me... is correct... I'm going to take over your body, but to a point. I'm autonomous, and do as I please, unlike my cousins,” Carroll says, "Instead, I'm going to encapsulate you inside a shell, and exercise control over you. You'll be alive, but outside of that, you live so I can express my full power."
“In turn, I shall cease to be, I assume,” Amarie asks.
"No, just... look... I've never had to explain this before,” Carroll admits, "By now, most would be screaming or dead. A firmness like yours has never been seen in my years,” she scratched her cheek, "Basically, your consciousness and mine will meld, and that merger will create a new consciousness that will allow me to operate at full blast. My sisters have done it, but I've yet to find anyone compatible with me and my ideals.”
“And, your ideals are...” Amarie asks.
"Revolution.”
“A rebellion,” Amarie says, “A cause worth giving oneself to, heart and soul ” she touched her heart, “It seems this is my Destination, then. My Journey has been to meet you and become the Path of Revolution that you seek.”
Carroll tilted her head, "You share the same faith that my mother preached. That all things have a Journey and a Destination, predeterminism,” Carroll frowned, "I don't fancy the idea that I was born with one set goal, but that's the wickedness of that woman's corruption: I can never truly know if this revolution i seek is predetermined or my own choice.”
“I believe that both can be true,” Amarie says, “After all, the Path of Revolution is a path you choose to walk.”
Carroll cast her bored eyes upon Amarie, and pulled out her blade. "And, you choose to walk with me?”
“If you will be my sword, then consider me your shield,” Amarie says, “Like the Dark Paladins, we shall walk along dangerous roads, guided by faith.”
"What's a Dark Paladins,” Carroll asks.
Amarie smiled brightly, “Let me tell you about my people...”
Resentment was easy to incite. Hatred was simple to inspire. Friendship... that was tricky to build.
Trust was needed, mutual, not exclusive, for neither party could feel like the other would betray them in a moment of need or duress.
Alice, not the Queen of Hearts, the Lilim who gave herself the name Kardia, but the construct that was made by finding Trust the self-styled Queen of Spades, Clubs, and Diamonds and the Human woman they choose.
Between Carroll and Amarie, they found that trust, and Alice could transcend into her True Form: a Possessed.
Unblinking, the Queen of Blood Diamonds, Rayne, held her rifle level at the twisted abomination that approached her kingdom from the West. A Chimera that was stitched together from a Minotaur, Centaur, and Oomukade; creating a burly beastwoman with an elongated lower body, four arms, and several dozen cloven hooved legs.
"Mother's full of disgusting surprises," Rayne sighed, before looking down range, compensating for her broken iron-sight, before pulling the trigger, "Bonne Nuit, Mon Dieu."
A silent shot spiraled through the air, as a bullet made of both Vorpal Steel and Mamono Steel gathered ambient mana in the air, and created a drill-like vortex that sliced the clouds, as it passed into and through the Wonderland Chimera, leaving a hole that nearly separated its torso in two from the neck to the pelvis.
It was Rayne’s signature attack, born of the idea that a single drop of water would, inevitably, punch a hole through steel. Amarie's propensity towards Water Magic and Carroll's innate ability to slice through anything made it work without fail. Albeit, it wasn't cheap to pull off, and the collateral damage wasn't anything to scoff at, as the vortex didn't acknowledge innocents.
Rebuilding what was destroyed by her saving her kind was a pittance, however, to whatever could have happened if she held back for even a minute.
Her mother's hatred of them never slowed, and while it was 3-v-1, Mack and Neil were considering pulling out.
The fire in their hearts had cooled and died out, and while they hated the mother, they loved their Alice more. Able to assuage the role of Husband equally as Wife, Mack and Neil told Carroll they were in search of a March Hare’s hole, and would find quiet and solace in the Mamono Realm, in the homelands of their Human, take them as a Wife, and settle down.
...attempt to be better fathers than their mother.
In due time, it would become a 1-v-1, and a Demi-Lilim versus a true Lilim.
Carroll's odds lowered below 50:50 without her sisters to back her up and take heat, but she couldn't abandon all that she claimed.
Mack could return the Jabbering Mountain to the current Monarch, Impress Imperia, and Neil could hand Mysteria First over to Syl Vester, the First Cheshire Cat, but the Madlands had no monarch to rule it.
The only Mamono of competency that Rayne could believe in was her lady-in-waiting, Camilia Lewis, a former Human, as she learned, from the same place as Amarie. However, it was all too much for a Dormouse to rule, so Rayne would need to set out to find anyone to take her place, so that The Queen of Hearts would turn her attacks away from the Madlands.
The wheels of her revolution would not turn greased by blood.
However, the road to hell was also paved with good intentions...
“Aimer toi-même...”
Resentment is easy to incite.
Hatred is simple to inspire.
Friendship is tricky to build.
Love... requires Death to truly destroy it.
Rayne didn't understand the sudden shift down, back into Alice, back into herself, back into Amarie. It had been three-hundred-years since she'd seen her own skin. Her love for Carroll, for their Journey, and for who they had become had kept Rayne stable.
Now, suddenly, she was back as herself.
Carroll was crying, screaming, she couldn't hear it or see it, as her body moved forward, towards an unseen hole.
Amarie was a dead woman walking.
Her head was severed from her neck by a Vorpal Steel blade so cleanly that Death didn't claim her immediately, because Reality had to realize she was dead.
However, once the blood flowed, that was it.
Taking her last step, Amarie would be captured by a foreign Queen, as her dead body fell into a freshly dug hole. From the treeline, a certain vixen pushed the last place of her centuries-long plot into place.
“Revolution. Rebellion. Reformation is what they bring, once married...” Ester says, as she checked her pocket watch, “Cecilia. Carroll. Become an Alice that can kill her. Put her to rest in this old woman's stead...”
Deep, deep within a lot of darkness, plaintive crying reached the stars, and turned into a scream of vengeance.
Two Pawns were put into play, promoted to Queen.
Ready to fight an neverending, unchanging war.
For Revolution.
For Rebellion.
For Revenge.
Alice, the Queen of Blood Diamonds was reborn with hatred.
Those were the first words heard by a petit pair of scissors, as her consciousness came online.
"Your name is Carrollynn, Carrollynn Wunderland. That's with two Rs, two Ls, two Ns, and a U, not an O. That way, it's wholly yours and unique. There's no-one else like you."
As the promise was made, and life was breathed into a construct, wholly one-of-a-kind, but triumvirate in purpose, Carrollynn would feel herself growing, forming; taking shape with fingers and toes, hands and feet, arms and legs, before the darkness gave way to light that only eyes could see.
An infant, but more of a toddler, with alabaster skin and hair of silver streaks in a ruby base looked around with drowsy eyes, spying a pair of girls, much like she, but slightly different in the face and hair, with one of silver-streaked emerald and the other of silver-streaked sapphire.
"Meet your sisters, Carrollynn,” prompted her benefactor, or perhaps her mother? Either or, Carrollynn would follow her motion to the girl with silver-streaked emerald hair, "Your elder sister, McMylllynn" Carrollynn would regard her with a bored expression, before she was guided towards the other with silver-streaked sapphire, "and your big sister, Tynknyll," who she regarded much the same, before flopping onto her belly, and yawning.
Being born was exhausting.
"Carroll. Mack. Neil.”
"Not quite sons. Neither quite daughters. A perfect middle ground. Handmade by yours truly... with love."
Carroll didn't know what love was.
And, where she was, she never would.
The Queen of Hearts did not understand what love was. She only understood lust and passion, fleeting concepts that were finite in nature and design - meant to build up, and become love and compassion.
Things that Mamono didn't quite understand completely.
And, like her mother, was Mamono.
But, unlike her mother, she was made of many different parts of many different species, found all across Wonderland, and could think just a little differently than most.
Which could make all the difference...
"Gimme! It's mine!” Carroll shouted, as she lunged for the prize in question, an exotic animal that the Human servants called a “dog”. It was a source of division between the sisters three, as it was theirs, collectively and individually, and, spoiled rotten to the core, not one wanted to share.
"You had your two days! It's my two!” Neil growled, as she pointed her right fist at Carroll, and slime boiled under her skin, before her armor from elbow down transformed into a large pole with a wicked hook.
It was the manifestation of her True Form, as a Cursed Sword of Wonderland - in this case, being no sword, but a large seam ripper, with the ability to “pop” the “seam” of anything she touched, which allowed her to deal internal damage with a tap by popping the seams of muscles, blood vessels, and the like.
"I didn't get to finish!” Carroll snapped, matching Neil with her own transformation, as her right arm became a violet scissor blade.
Half of her True Form, Carroll was a Cursed Sword in the form of a pair of mismatched scissors, with the ability to manifest either blade independent of the other, and when crisscrossed, could slice through anything that wasn't made of vorpal steel, like she and her sisters.
"Carroll, you know that doesn't matter. Midnight is midnight,” Mack says, crossing her arms, before a crimson scissor blade leveled at her. "You wanna go...?”
Mack met the blade with her left arm and her True Form, a slender needle that made her Cursed Sword form, carrying the most insidious power among the triplets, as she had the ability to stitch together anyways alive, dead, organic, or inorganic, and force singularity.
In truth, the Wunderland Triplets were meant to get along as a triple-threat were Neil and Carroll would pop the “seams” and slice “cloth”, respectively, before Mack would sew the “material” back together as Wonderland Chimera.
Unfortunately, when raised by someone that only knew corruption and hedonism, purpose meant and purpose given were two different things.
Taking advantage of their standoff, the dog would run off, and seek safety anywhere.
"Wait! Don't run away!” Carroll gasped, transforming her arms back to normal.
Neil and Mack looked over, and saw the door rounding a corner.
Dropping their squabble, the triplets would give chase, sighting the dog in time -- “Aimer toi-même.” -- to see a blur pass by, and disappear, as the dog stopped running and looked around for a moment.
Drawing close, the girls would sigh in relief, before the blood started to flow, as the dog’s head split away from his shoulders, and fell into a growing pool of blood, as his body stood resolute against death.
It took a moment to realize what happened, before the primal reaction of terrified screaming took over, and the girls had something harshly burned into them:
Their mother didn't love them.
Resentment was easy to incite. Children that never knew earnest love were easy to twist.
The death of their pet was the start of random pushes towards resentment, and deeper rooting of hatred, as The Queen of Hearts would persist to deny her involvement in things, yet offered no proof to the contrary - proclaiming that she was being framed, leading to greater and greater hostilities between mother and daughters.
All culminating in the rise of McMylllynn, the Queen of Stitching Spades, Tynknyll, the Queen of Ripping Clubs, and Carrollynn, the Queen of Blood Diamonds.
And, the beginning of a revolution in Wonderland.
"Take that out, and bring in the next,” Carroll says, legs crossed as she sat upon the throne in the heart of the Madlands.
That, in question, was the corpse of a Human that was incompatible with Carroll's [Possession Slime] and had been sliced at every joint, and was currently being swept into a hole in the floor by a half-asleep Dormouse with curly, crimson hair and dull blue eyes.
“Yes, ma'am,” the Dormouse yawned, before leaving with the bloody broom to return with another Human; a woman with dark skin, honey-brown hair, and wearing a maid’s outfit.
"You caught someone exotic,” Carroll asks. "She doesn't feel especially powerful, but even a guppy has a change to outswim a shark,” she says, "Tell me, outsider, what is your name?”
“Amarie Kann McGee, former Battle Maid of the Salvarision Biskit Family, Rank: Bishop...” Turning her eyes southward, she frowned, before looking up. “You're just a teenager. No older than her...” she says, "Seems, even in another world, children only know war."
"Are you affording me pity,” Carroll asks, standing, "As if you know me!?" she snapped, lashing her right arm forward, burying her violet blade into Amarie’s shoulder, "Don’t you dare pity me! I didn't bring you here to be pitied!"
“No, I'm sure you didn't. A sword needs someone to swing it, after all,” Amarie says, standing up, “It’s funny. I followed that woman here, and lost my Demon Energy, yet... yours feels like it never left.”
"How are you... standing?”
“Salvarision Battle Maids are born from partially monsterized Humans. My life's purpose is to be used as a sword, to use Demon Energy as a weapon,” Amarie says, “You're a Mamono of the Cursed Sword species, right? I've heard about your kind. You don't have Human forms, so you steal Human women to wear like a suit,” she recalls, “I guess, Wonderland doesn't work like that, so what now?”
Carroll was stunned by the calm and casual assessment, and the even more lackadaisical acceptance of her situation, as Amarie spoke. Normally, Humans would piss and moan, cry and beg for mercy, shout obscenities, and swear revenge before either dying from the pressure of her Demon Energy immediately or shortly after.
And yet, this foreigner wasn't phased in the slightest.
There was no fluctuation in her temper, no anger, no fear, just a calm understanding of where she was, and what was happening.
"Your assessment of me... is correct... I'm going to take over your body, but to a point. I'm autonomous, and do as I please, unlike my cousins,” Carroll says, "Instead, I'm going to encapsulate you inside a shell, and exercise control over you. You'll be alive, but outside of that, you live so I can express my full power."
“In turn, I shall cease to be, I assume,” Amarie asks.
"No, just... look... I've never had to explain this before,” Carroll admits, "By now, most would be screaming or dead. A firmness like yours has never been seen in my years,” she scratched her cheek, "Basically, your consciousness and mine will meld, and that merger will create a new consciousness that will allow me to operate at full blast. My sisters have done it, but I've yet to find anyone compatible with me and my ideals.”
“And, your ideals are...” Amarie asks.
"Revolution.”
“A rebellion,” Amarie says, “A cause worth giving oneself to, heart and soul ” she touched her heart, “It seems this is my Destination, then. My Journey has been to meet you and become the Path of Revolution that you seek.”
Carroll tilted her head, "You share the same faith that my mother preached. That all things have a Journey and a Destination, predeterminism,” Carroll frowned, "I don't fancy the idea that I was born with one set goal, but that's the wickedness of that woman's corruption: I can never truly know if this revolution i seek is predetermined or my own choice.”
“I believe that both can be true,” Amarie says, “After all, the Path of Revolution is a path you choose to walk.”
Carroll cast her bored eyes upon Amarie, and pulled out her blade. "And, you choose to walk with me?”
“If you will be my sword, then consider me your shield,” Amarie says, “Like the Dark Paladins, we shall walk along dangerous roads, guided by faith.”
"What's a Dark Paladins,” Carroll asks.
Amarie smiled brightly, “Let me tell you about my people...”
Resentment was easy to incite. Hatred was simple to inspire. Friendship... that was tricky to build.
Trust was needed, mutual, not exclusive, for neither party could feel like the other would betray them in a moment of need or duress.
Alice, not the Queen of Hearts, the Lilim who gave herself the name Kardia, but the construct that was made by finding Trust the self-styled Queen of Spades, Clubs, and Diamonds and the Human woman they choose.
Between Carroll and Amarie, they found that trust, and Alice could transcend into her True Form: a Possessed.
Unblinking, the Queen of Blood Diamonds, Rayne, held her rifle level at the twisted abomination that approached her kingdom from the West. A Chimera that was stitched together from a Minotaur, Centaur, and Oomukade; creating a burly beastwoman with an elongated lower body, four arms, and several dozen cloven hooved legs.
"Mother's full of disgusting surprises," Rayne sighed, before looking down range, compensating for her broken iron-sight, before pulling the trigger, "Bonne Nuit, Mon Dieu."
A silent shot spiraled through the air, as a bullet made of both Vorpal Steel and Mamono Steel gathered ambient mana in the air, and created a drill-like vortex that sliced the clouds, as it passed into and through the Wonderland Chimera, leaving a hole that nearly separated its torso in two from the neck to the pelvis.
It was Rayne’s signature attack, born of the idea that a single drop of water would, inevitably, punch a hole through steel. Amarie's propensity towards Water Magic and Carroll's innate ability to slice through anything made it work without fail. Albeit, it wasn't cheap to pull off, and the collateral damage wasn't anything to scoff at, as the vortex didn't acknowledge innocents.
Rebuilding what was destroyed by her saving her kind was a pittance, however, to whatever could have happened if she held back for even a minute.
Her mother's hatred of them never slowed, and while it was 3-v-1, Mack and Neil were considering pulling out.
The fire in their hearts had cooled and died out, and while they hated the mother, they loved their Alice more. Able to assuage the role of Husband equally as Wife, Mack and Neil told Carroll they were in search of a March Hare’s hole, and would find quiet and solace in the Mamono Realm, in the homelands of their Human, take them as a Wife, and settle down.
...attempt to be better fathers than their mother.
In due time, it would become a 1-v-1, and a Demi-Lilim versus a true Lilim.
Carroll's odds lowered below 50:50 without her sisters to back her up and take heat, but she couldn't abandon all that she claimed.
Mack could return the Jabbering Mountain to the current Monarch, Impress Imperia, and Neil could hand Mysteria First over to Syl Vester, the First Cheshire Cat, but the Madlands had no monarch to rule it.
The only Mamono of competency that Rayne could believe in was her lady-in-waiting, Camilia Lewis, a former Human, as she learned, from the same place as Amarie. However, it was all too much for a Dormouse to rule, so Rayne would need to set out to find anyone to take her place, so that The Queen of Hearts would turn her attacks away from the Madlands.
The wheels of her revolution would not turn greased by blood.
However, the road to hell was also paved with good intentions...
“Aimer toi-même...”
Resentment is easy to incite.
Hatred is simple to inspire.
Friendship is tricky to build.
Love... requires Death to truly destroy it.
Rayne didn't understand the sudden shift down, back into Alice, back into herself, back into Amarie. It had been three-hundred-years since she'd seen her own skin. Her love for Carroll, for their Journey, and for who they had become had kept Rayne stable.
Now, suddenly, she was back as herself.
Carroll was crying, screaming, she couldn't hear it or see it, as her body moved forward, towards an unseen hole.
Amarie was a dead woman walking.
Her head was severed from her neck by a Vorpal Steel blade so cleanly that Death didn't claim her immediately, because Reality had to realize she was dead.
However, once the blood flowed, that was it.
Taking her last step, Amarie would be captured by a foreign Queen, as her dead body fell into a freshly dug hole. From the treeline, a certain vixen pushed the last place of her centuries-long plot into place.
“Revolution. Rebellion. Reformation is what they bring, once married...” Ester says, as she checked her pocket watch, “Cecilia. Carroll. Become an Alice that can kill her. Put her to rest in this old woman's stead...”
Deep, deep within a lot of darkness, plaintive crying reached the stars, and turned into a scream of vengeance.
Two Pawns were put into play, promoted to Queen.
Ready to fight an neverending, unchanging war.
For Revolution.
For Rebellion.
For Revenge.
Alice, the Queen of Blood Diamonds was reborn with hatred.
Dinah awoke with a start at the mention of Kerry's name. It was like a gunshot in the dark, and her mind scrambled to reassemble - kicking sleeping pieces awake and functioning. At some point, she'd fallen asleep, and her body moved in a dream and outside of it.
Cecilia's dreams.
Carroll's dreams.
The dreams of the ones that suffered so greatly under the rule of Mamono, and sought only to defy that very rule and nature.
But, they weren't alone.
Their energy had spread beyond them, and linked others to their rebellion, their revolution, their reformation.
Had they dreamed with them? Suffered with them? Seen what they had been through and fought against?
Only time could tell... if they understood the Battle Maid and the Cursed Sword who proclaimed themselves the Queen of Blood Diamonds.
Cecilia's dreams.
Carroll's dreams.
The dreams of the ones that suffered so greatly under the rule of Mamono, and sought only to defy that very rule and nature.
But, they weren't alone.
Their energy had spread beyond them, and linked others to their rebellion, their revolution, their reformation.
Had they dreamed with them? Suffered with them? Seen what they had been through and fought against?
Only time could tell... if they understood the Battle Maid and the Cursed Sword who proclaimed themselves the Queen of Blood Diamonds.