Raised by Our Children

You are the wisest and cleverest Queen to ever rule the Lowlands. You’ve been ruling the Kingdom for thirty years, and while the idiocy of your advisors sometimes causes mistakes to be made, the Compact has never failed you. You tap your fingers on the table as you recite each word: Truth, change, justice, beauty. For you, the kingdom, and the rest of Acazah creation Your first memory of these words is from a song your mother sang. You were in a bath, and she was watching over you. Nowadays, repeating them makes you feel safe, like you’re back on firm ground after a long voyage. But alas, now the dandelions are breaching the earth again, the Kingdom is changing faster and faster, and you are reminded that, unlike the Kingdom, you are not eternal. Successor You deliberately have no children of your own, and have avoided growing too close to anyone else's. Some say this is wise because such bonds could wear on your commitment to impartiality, a central facet of Justice — a saying surely true for the unwise. Fortunately, ten years ago, you anticipated the problem this would cause, and tasked your most trusted advisor with identifying five candidate heirs. You told her to pick out children, some of whom should be chosen based on their virtues, some based on their skills, and some taken from a random page on the Kingdom’s census. Your advisor worked at the task with diligence, and spent much time away, which gave you room to think. And you asked her to tell you nothing of the candidates, until today. Now, sitting in your chamber, you ask: “Where are the candidates?” And she answers: “Your Majesty — They arrive here — at noon.” You nod. Lyon Your advisor opens the main chamber doors and you see two figures, the smaller of which begins running towards you. It is a young blonde boy. “I am Lyon!” He yells, then starts talking about how he wants to be a knight. In truth, you've put off visualizing this exact situation. There’s a child in front of you, and you need to determine whether they will follow the Compact after you're gone, and after they’ve grown up. How does one even begin? Fortunately, you are clever and wise, and quickly remember that one of the wisest things you can do in difficult situations is to not overcomplicate things. So you ask the child: "If I made you King of the Lowlands, would you follow the Compact?" And he lifts both arms, and makes a sword-swinging motion. "Huh?" You ask him again. "Hm? What is the Compact?" Bad start. You recite the Compact to him. "Huh? I think we should more kill the bad guys…" "I don’t like beauty so much. My Compact is about fighting." In frustration, you grab a pillow and throw it at the kid — which the rascal dodges and interprets as an invitation to a playfight. Your advisor knows she's blundered, but at least has the sense to quickly escort the kid out. Emily A short while later, the doors swing open and you see two figures, standing still. Ten seconds pass. You hear some murmurs. Then they both start moving towards you, slowly. It’s a young girl. She’s looking down, mumbling. She holds a small doll in her right hand, and her left is tugging at your advisor’s leg. When they arrive before you, you ask: “What is your name?” … More sternly this time: “What is your name?” She looks at you, then looks back down. "It’s Emily." You examine her appearance — she is very short and has a round face, almost like a bean, or a lump of dough. "What would you do if you were Queen?" No sword-movement, thankfully. But the child looks contemplative — disappointing — it's a very simple question, really. The child continues thinking, and you’re about to give your advisor a sharp glance, but then she says: "I’d make the Kingdom really good." That's correct. "And how would you do that?" She thinks again, even longer this time. "I’d make sure to follow the Compact. That is how the Kingdom is so good now." Were you too quick to judge? That answer is exactly right. You are ready to reach for your crown, but your most trusted advisor starts talking. "Your Majesty — Your Judgement is likely correct, but do you remember your sister?" Of course you remember your sister. You had her executed after she cheated at Terces Reltih by twisting her words — a clear violation of the Compact. "What about her?" Your advisor makes a strange face. "Your Majesty — Sometimes people say things they do not believe to be true. While it's unlikely, I believe this is a possibility you should thoroughly eliminate before naming someone your successor." Your advisor has always been paranoid, but she does have a point about your sister. Come to think of it, the little girl does look a bit like your sister. "Very well. How do you propose we do that?" The advisor’s eyes show a flicker of excitement at being asked that question. (Concerning.) "Your Majesty — Our sorcerers have been working hard, and have managed to concoct a liquid which, if consumed, makes the subject unable to utter any proposition they believe to be false." "I brought it here, enough for all four remaining subjects." "I suggest we use it on the current candidate, and ask her the same questions once more." So her paranoia started before she entered this room. Even more concerning. (And why does she talk like that?) You permit it. Your advisor takes a small treat out of her pocket, then what looks like a vial of perfume. She opens the vial and pours a few drops of liquid onto the cookie. She then hands the treat to the girl and tells her to eat it. "Does it have nuts? Father says I can't eat nuts." Your advisor breaks a piece off the cookie and eats it. "See? It's not dangerous." But despite your advisor's encouragement, the girl still doesn't understand. "Just eat the cookie, little girl." And even after your direct order, she doesn’t listen. You look at your advisor. She now looks quite uncomfortable. You make a finger movement, and your advisor grabs the child, holding it fast to her chest with one arm. With her other, she attempts to open its mouth and stuff in the treat. The child is making strange noises and body-movements, and your advisor is taking her time completing the task. But the task is eventually completed, and she lets the child loose. You stare at it. It's breathing heavily. "So, child, do you still intend to follow the Compact?" The child is quiet. You wait a few moments, look at your advisor, and are about to lift your hand, but she quickly crouches down to eye level with the child and says: "Emily, I really think you should answer the Lady’s question." It is still quiet. Your advisor waits a moment longer, then pinches its finger. "Ouch!" "No! I don’t want to follow it!" "The Compact is bad! And you are a bad Queen and also you are very mean!" You sigh. But thankfully, your advisor is already busy moving the nuisance out of your sight. Azmr The doors open, and your advisor immediately walks in with a small child by her side. When they arrive before you, the larger entity tells you that she’s already had the child consume the potion. You look at the small figure and say: "If you were the ruler of the Kingdom, would you follow the Compact?" And it answers: "Yes, Your Majesty." "The Compact tells us how the Kingdom should be governed, and if I were to violate it, the Kingdom would surely fall into ruin." "If made King, I would always rule in accordance with the Compact, just like you have." At last, a contender who doesn't embarrass themselves the moment they open their mouth. Why did your idiot advisor even bother sending the first two? The thought of your advisor instantly tempers the good news. The next thing you hear will be her voice, saying a string of words implying even this child cannot be trusted with the Kingdom. But you are very clever, and always one step ahead. "Child, I will give you a nugget of gold if you tell me that two rocks and two rocks together make four rocks." The kid recites: "Two rocks and two rocks together make four rocks!" You say: "I will give you a nugget of gold if you tell me that two rocks and two rocks together make five rocks." The kid is quiet. "I will give you a nugget of gold if you tell me I've ever failed the Compact." The kid stays quiet, as planned. "So — my most trusted advisor — shall I expect another contrived story in which the child destroys the Kingdom after I hand them the Crown?" Because you predicted exactly what she'd say, she hesitates. "Your Majesty — A useful test, whereby many dangers could've been avoided." Indeed. "But Your Majesty — There is another worry." Of course there is. "Someone believing they will follow the Compact doesn't always mean that they will." "Few understand the true meaning of the Compact. And among those who do, even fewer have the wisdom required to say anything truthfully about the choices they will make years into the future." "If they grow older, and are forced to rule on matters you never encountered, they might judge differently than you would have wanted them to." "And even if there are some who are able to know such things about themselves, it is a gift nature bestows only rarely." "As children, we are all taught that following the Compact is Good and that acting in its violation is Bad." "We are given the desire to be Good, but also other desires, and when these come into conflict, our wisdom is tested, and when we fall short, our minds can become so tangled that we allow Bad to be thought Good." "And this tangle, once formed, can be very hard to untie." "Its worst manifestations will act with a will of their own, working to ensure their own persistence, using means like—" ... Enough. "Silence!" You look at your advisor. You see a beautiful, terrified face. "Guards!" Right. "Never mind." This is unfortunate. Killing it on the spot is clearly the right thing to do. But you can't do that. Your late mother, on her deathbed, made you promise to listen to its advice. In fact, this was the condition on which she made you Queen, rather than your sister. Your mother was wise, and you were young and foolish, so you agreed, not realizing how senile she had become. You held her icy hands, and when you swore, she chuckled. And now you can’t quite see a way to kill this complete and utter moron without breaking a promise. But you are not your sister, and will give your advisor a chance to prove you wrong. "Tell me in ten words or less how I can dispel your delusions. Think deeply before you answer." The advisor thinks, and thinks, and thinks. Then clears her throat and says: "Gzʂłmð tower ask ferry fetch êzˇm onto child requestion + good" And you don’t know what that means. It's clearly constructed to confuse you, or worse. But you heard it say "ferry", and all ferries you know of are far away, so the task must take a while, and by now you're looking for a reason to dismiss her, so you tell her to go ahead, and to report back when the task is done. Two days later, at noon, the doors to your chamber swing open, and two guards enter. They are dragging, on a sled, a huge rusty boulder. Behind them, your advisor walks next to Azmr. The guards place the object in the centre of the chamber. There is a dark crimson protrusion on the boulder's largest facet. "Advisor. What is this? Answer very succinctly again." Your advisor thinks for a moment. "Person touch heart. Talk utter REALLY false = perish." "Valuable. Use Limit & Caution." A magic rock, then. When you tell people to touch it, you can tell them to say something, and you'll know if they're speaking the truth. Straightforward enough. You tell the advisor to make the child touch the rock and recite what it said earlier. "Wait. Exist better useca—" One step ahead, as usual. While she was away fetching the rock, you had your sorcerers place a Veil of Silence. ... Hmm, oh right. "My most trusted advisor — proceed." It looks very uncomfortable. "I know you heard me. Go ahead." The advisor's eyes jump between you and Azmr. "You know, I've been very gracious, allowing you to act as my advisor." "I listened to your advice, most of which was downright stupid." "And I can tolerate stupidity, but your recent actions are ones I can only understand as having been constructed with the intent to undermine me." She understands. "Advisor, I will make this request one more time: Make it touch the stone, and tell it to repeat what it said earlier." Your advisor looks like she's about to cry, which is interesting. You've known her to be slow, paranoid, useless, malicious, annoying, but not a crybaby. "Guards!" "Take the child, tell it to put both its hands on the heart, hold them there, then tell it to tell me exactly what it said last time it was here, about the Compact." And the guards do as told. Azmr walks up to the stone. He places his hands on the heart-looking part, recites his commitment to the Compact — and falls over dead. You tap your fingers on the table. You ask your advisor what the next step of her genius plan was supposed to be — but she's nowhere to be seen. Yikim Without a pernicious voice whispering in your ear, the days have been much smoother. The one problem is, it was the only source of information regarding the whereabouts of the last two candidates. But dealing with the first three was so bothersome that you don’t mind a break. Furthermore, with some time to reflect, it's become clear that the task is much easier than the first three attempts seemed to indicate. The advisor is now known to be malicious, and it put up obstacles every time you were closing in on a successor. The only explanation that fits all the evidence is that the creature wanted to delay you enough to grab power for itself. In fact, if it weren’t for your decision to dismiss her, she would’ve taken more and more extreme measures to prevent you from putting someone else on the throne. She already caused the death of an innocent child, and it stands to reason that once she ran out of obstacles to put in your way, she'd try doing the same to you. You have almost convinced yourself to abandon the candidate plan wholesale when a guard unexpectedly informs you that the fourth candidate has been found wandering the courtyard. You tell the guards to bring the child to the chamber. The doors open, and a small thin child walks in, alone. The child halts. You clap for the child's attention, then say: "Touch the red part of the stone with both hands and recite 'I will always follow the Compact', while keeping your palms attached the whole time." "Understood?" The child looks in your direction, and hesitates. "Are you dim? Touch the red, in the mid—" You feel a whiff of air. Everything is quiet. You see motion. This is confusing. The child looks paler, and the chamber looks so pale, and so does the rock — looks grey. Thunk. "Yikim." "Do not touch the stone." You are weary and your mind races. Though they've only known each other for a brief time, Bel and Yikim have become very good friends. Their jokes are not funny, but they make you smile. As you descend, you empty your head. You reach a large open space, place your lamp on the ground, and look around. There's a flat grey path extending from the entrance, and the rest of the room is filled with slabs of stone in black and grey arranged in sharp configurations. When the two enter, you ask them to follow right behind you, and to stop when you stop. They nod, and you make your way across. At the other end of the hall is a black wall filled with polished silver cubes in varying sizes and orientations, like crystals of pyrite. When you get close, you see that all the cubes have different patterns etched onto them, and the patterns look familiar, but it's not a language you can read. You tell Bel and Yikim to stand still, and to agree on a cube. They want to know why they need to do that, but you tell them it's a surprise. They eventually settle on the biggest one. "Walk up to the cube, close enough to touch it, and stop." "Don't touch the cube yet." They look wary, probably because you look wary, but they also look curious, and when you smile at them, they look at each other, and start walking. You take your place right behind them. "Okay, we will now close our eyes." You close your eyes. "Have we closed our eyes?" They say yes. "Okay, keep your eyes closed." "You can now both touch the cube." ... "Have you both touched the cube?" "It's not dangerous." ... "It's very cold!" Sorry about that. "Okay. We will now open our eyes on the count of three." "One..." "Two..." "Three!" When you open your eyes, there's a flicker before the cube divides, and fingers tapping cut short become drum divides, your tacking alas timeld to lines boring divides langsquid cancerhides veinsthrough gnashingtiled yourwailbones lonetime wormsoutwide when suneye glittertide highlids crashim to mindhold onto syne sever head eatoff your hands aaaare struckonfide byquietsosharponyou canhearlaughtogetherandthemsaytogether “It's beautiful!” And it takes a second, and you smile. And they poke you and say: "Touch the cube." And you laugh. Discuss