On The Edge of a Blade

Horses

Maddox knew. He knew about the bombs, the assassins, and the blood to be shed. Perhaps not from the beginning, but certainly soon enough to stop it.

Or, in this case, soon enough to move pawns into position, both to sacrifice and to save. Why would he let a perfect situation such as this slip through his fingers? These pieces were begging to be moved; he could finally turn the tables in his favor, mold things as he saw fit. And, if there was one thing which he had learned throughout his many years, it was that chances should never be wasted.

Though he smelled of power, Maddox never intended to play the role of the Heavens; he simply saw the opportunity, and took it. He didn't see it as meddling, but rather as Life giving him the opportunity to play a round of its chess game. He would be crazy to pass by such a circumstance. 

And, as it happened, after years of subtle manipulation and a lifetime of hard learned lessons, Maddox was an expert at chess. 

The king was one piece that couldn't be sacrificed. Thankfully, he was easy enough to keep away from the fire; as long as Vincent's lungs took in oxygen, there would always be a spark of opposition. Whether it happened to be the queen's birthday or yet another average day of the week, he wasn't going to be involving himself in an activity meant for pleasure alone. Due to that way in which the king was wired -- all foul business and efficiency -- he wasn't an issue. 

The queen, however, was more disposable. It didn't matter what happened to her; not to Maddox. It would be less tragic if she lived, most certainly, but there wasn't much to be done for Arielle. As unfortunate as the loss would be, she was the only reason the situation was coming to be. Just as a virus needs a carrier, so did Death. Like any artist or storyteller, it required inspiration in order to work. 

And, if history had any rhythm at all, it tended to suggest that beautiful women such as Arielle were always forces that moved man and destiny to act. 

Anthony was the most important piece to dispose of. As long as he was around, Maddox's plan -- with all its strategy and pondering -- was worthless. It was a reassurance to know that he wouldn't put up a fuss. As close to his mother as he was, he'd willingly go on a joyride with her, even if no one else in the family did. Just like his father, he'd be ever so easy to maneuver into position. 

James was the object of Maddox's concern. Out of all the pieces on the board, it was the younger prince whom he wanted to preserve. Unlike his predictable brother, however, James wasn't so easily used or maneuvered. After knowing the prince for years, that much was obvious. Even if the brightest minds in all the world sat and contemplated upon the most infallible design, James would still find a way to become an unanticipated anomaly. 

Because of that, it was better to leave James alone. Maddox wasn't going to even attempt the impossible task of guiding his piece into position. No; there had to be an easier way. 

The retired soldier took action, at war with a new, unanticipated enemy: the Heavens themselves. He entered the stables, making sure it was empty before proceeding. Luckily for him, only horses were there to meet him. 

The Heavens were known for their silence, and horses couldn't speak. No matter how many schemes he created tonight, there was no way for his secrets to ever be shared. 

Maddox approached Despair, James's loyal horse for years. "Hey there, boy," he said softly, stroking its nose with a gentle hand. 

Despair snorted, and didn't move, familiar with Maddox. There was trust in his dark eyes, eyes as dark as his coat, eyes as soulful as any human's. How could innocent faith be so poorly placed? 

"Sorry about this . . . . " 

Maddox had a hypothesis: A horse couldn't travel if its leg was hurt. And, by extension, James couldn't ride a horse recovering from a wound. A very well educated guess -- less of an assumption and more of fact -- and one that would be dutifully experimented upon tomorrow.