In my defense — and hers as well — we could not possibly have imagined what the full consequences of our actions would be. I have many faults, but they do not include the sort of temperament that would burn, salt, and put to the sword an entire kingdom to avenge a personal slight, nor even consider it.
A draft was put in place. My master the printer was shot for refusing his summons, and I forced to become a girl again in order to escape. The cities were ransacked to supply the war, as once the towns and villages had been to supply the cities. Only the villas of the nobility were spared. I retreated into the countryside, though not to my old home, and took up hunting again. It seemed to me the surest source of sustenance in such times, but the diet of game without grains or vegetables to supplement it made me frequently ill.
It was months before news came of the merchant's daughter's death. By this point I was not so much sorry to have lost a friend — I suppose she was a friend — as I was relieved that the war would finally be ending. When that did not happen—
Well, what can I say about "when that did not happen"? I must have gone mad. Looking back on those times, recalling my actions, trying with limited success to recall my frame of mind, that is the only conclusion I can come to. It was not at first my intention, when I walked back to the place of my birth, barged into a home that was no longer mine, and donned my father's armor, to amass an army large enough to necessitate the calling back of the queen's. At that time I had only one thought: I will kill her or die trying. But as, inexplicably, the rest of the town came out to follow me — I suppose they must have been as mad as I; I suppose our country had reached the point that madness was necessary to survival — the idea occurred to me gradually, like a soaked cloth sinking into the muddied waters of my mind. So we marched from town to town and village to village, gathering to us few swords or spears but many pitchforks, hatchets, and sickles.
(I suppose this is as good a time as any to address some of the crass stupidities I all too frequently encounter in depictions of these scenes. In writing and song I am given stirring speeches that soar to the loftiest reaches of political philosophy. I will tell you right now that such theories were at the moment the furthest thing from my mind; that establishing self-rule would not even occur to me until after the battle had been fought and won, and as of recent I sometimes regret it ever occurred to me at all; and that, furthermore, the longest speech to pass my lips in those days was, "Everyone, come with me!" In paintings and tapestries I am shown as a grimly beautiful warrior woman, more often than not with form-fitting armor. In truth, my armor barely fit at all, and as for beauty, the kindest word that could be used for my appearance then is "sexless." After all the time I'd spent in the woods, even "handsome" would be going too far.)
We advanced on the capitol. The queen's army had been withdrawn from Midori to protect the city, but when the drafted men saw that our forces were made up largely of women and old men, most of them defected to our side or else threw down their weapons and refused to fight. The career soldiers remained, and they far outmatched us in skill and equipment, but their numbers had been diminished by the fighting abroad. It seemed to be a stalemate: they could not fight us off, but we had little hope of breaking through the city's outer defenses. Laying siege was out of the question; the capitol, after all, was where most of the nobles were concentrated, and they had more supplies within the walls of their castles and villas than we did in the rest of the country combined. Nevertheless, we set up camp. Skirmishes broke out now and again when the queen's army attempted to chase us away, but as time passed it began to look as though nothing would come of the campaign besides a few more corpses.
I admit I fully intended to be one of them. I fought recklessly, determined to kill as many soldiers as I could. As each one fell I told myself, this is the man who slaughtered the hens I raised from chicks. Or, this is the man who stole our harvest and starved my father. This is the man who shot my love's dogs. This is one of the two who dragged him away. The grislier their deaths, the worse the crimes I projected onto them. What I wanted to destroy were the facts; I wanted everyone and everything I used to love to be alive and well. My sword could not strike at anything so abstract, so it tore through flesh and bone and left me always panting after more.
When finally my carelessness caught up to me, when one soldier seized me by the throat and hefted his mace above my head, and at last a sense of peace washed over me and I felt that I had done enough — that was when Prince Kaito arrived with an Aoan battalion, and my attacker crumpled and fell, pinning me to the ground and bleeding on me from where the blue-fletched arrow pierced his throat. Only the gradual realization that we were now strong enough to take the city and storm the castle could motivate me to shove him off and get to my feet.
That was the moment that determined the battle's outcome. For the rest, there is little to tell. Through nothing but sheer bloody-mindedness I was the first through the city gates, the first through the castle doors, the first into the throne room. I found her there. Prince Kaito was directly on my heels, and at his insistence my sword stopped at her throat. "It can wait," he said. "There is a proper way of doing these things."
The queen looked up at me indifferently and pushed the blade away with her bare hand. I was struck by how absurdly large that hand was, and what a contrast it posed to how perfectly, primly lady-like she appeared in every other aspect. I imagined such clumsy hands must have been a constant embarrassment to someone like her.
"How rude of a man!" was all she said, and lifted up her skirts to walk into the hands of the prince's guards.
"Do you mean to make a mockery of us with your composure?" I asked. "How long will that last? Do you think there can be any dignity for a severed head?" She gave no response, but I knew I was right. I had won. I should have been elated, or at the very least relieved.
I was not.
Why am I writing this? I just looked over what I have so far, and suddenly I cannot remember. I said some odd things about truth at the beginning, and compared keeping secrets to having a fever. Did I think that was clever? Why was I even trying to be clever? I don't need to impress you; you're all already more impressed than you have any right to be. I should stop here. I have by this point brought to light some facts that I am sure you will find shocking and unpleasant, but they are facts that could be set aside even in a relatively honest telling of history. Not everything I have to say is of that nature, and, now that I have come to the main point of the story, I have to wonder: what, really, is the use of turning everything people think they know upside down just for the sake of truth?
Anyhow, if you care enough to try, you can piece the rest together on your own. I have given you all the clues I had when first I figured it out for myself.