Act Two, Scene Nine
Palace District
The knock came over an hour later. Catherine opened the door, and it was her brother outside, alone, looking at her calmly through the glasses he hadn’t worn before she left.
“Come in.”
He entered, sat on a chair. She sat on the bed.
“What do you want?” Catherine said.
“What you think,” he said calmly. One hand went into his left pocket, came out with a glasses case. He removed his glasses, quietly closed them, put them in the case, tucked the case away. “I want to ask you to reconsider.”
“Julius, this is stupid.”
“The division of power?”
“The whole thing!” she said, throwing her hands up. “Our system of government is ‘Dad gives his friends jobs so they don’t cause problems’ and the only reason it works is because they like him. You can’t have a succession to that. But splitting power like this is the worst idea he could have had.”
“I know,” said Steelmind. “Our father made a mistake. It isn’t his fault.” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s my fault, and so I need to clean up after myself. But we all have a share of the guilt, and I want your help cleaning up the mess.”
“Clean up after yourself. You -”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“I won’t kill her, but she cannot have power. The more power she has, the more power she will abuse. If you apologise, tell him you’re sorry for doubting him, he will forgive you. He’ll forgive his little girl anything.”
“That’s the problem,” said Catherine.
They were both silent.
“I can’t do it,” she continued. “You do what you have to. I can’t do it. Brother against sister. We already had one of those. We grew up together, and when I left for college, Elizabeth was Liz, and under control - under self-control - and you had powers, sure, but you were calm and nice and smiled and had a crush. And I come home, and Helen is dead, she’s Bloody Lizzy Balog who isn’t happy unless she’s killing, and you’re the Man with the Metal Mind, and when you inherit you’re going to kill each other.”
“That’s what war does to you,” said Julius. “No. That’s what slaughter does to you.” He met her eyes. “Do you know why, in a firing squad, they give one man an empty gun?”
“Killing another human isn’t good for your mental health,” said Catherine. “A little uncertainty helps.”
“We all knew that we couldn’t end the war until Helen… until Countess Ilderia was dealt with forever. We needed her gone, and her supporters gone, but when they lost everything they went into hiding. They were trying to get away. They had a shapeshifter and a bioengineer.” His voice was totally mechanical, now. “There were too many hiding places, too many ways they could disguise themselves among the civilian population. We narrowed down all the places her surviving counts and knights might be hiding, and we gave the warning.”
“The warning?”
“‘In seven days,’” he quoted, ‘“Counties Three, Four, and Nine will be declared enemy territory, and all inhabitants of those regions who do not evacuate will be destroyed. Leave through designated security points and you will receive waivers for your lost property.”’ His eyes were still locked to hers. “I am our army. I can hear through the ears and see through the eyes of more than ten thousand robots at once. I cleaned out three districts, and everyone who had not left, every individual who could not be cleared, I killed.”
“Oh, god.” She looked down.
“I did what I had to do,” he said. “That’s what the king has to do. Sacrifice his subjects. But I understand that you can’t do it. I forgive you.”
And Julius Balog took out his glasses case, put on his metal-framed glasses, and left, closing the door behind him.