by Pirateaba
“What?”
The young Human man showed Niers a letter, a very fat one marked with salt flecks and other travel stains.
“I regularly correspond with a [Strategist] I’m acquainted with in Izril. He lives in one of the Walled Cities and apparently he’s recently received some very interesting letters himself. He sent me a copy! Please, professor, read it! It’s about chess!”
“Chess?”
Despite himself, Niers took the letter and with some difficulty, unfolded it on the table. His students gathered around. Niers frowned at the title.
“A ‘newsletter’?”
It was…a chess newsletter. A magazine. A letter to any [Strategists] interested in chess—this one was addressed ‘to the [Strategists] of Zeres’. It was from Liscor.
“‘I, the humble [Tactician] and student of chess have four games to offer you this week, dear readers. In each, I am sure we will uncover a multitude of lessons to be learnt. Most importantly, we see various strategies matching against each other and I am sure my addition to this letter, a new game of which I have been informed, will also please and delight’. Huh, this Drake likes to write, doesn’t he?”
Umina frowned over the letter. Her eye caught the first page of chess notations and she blinked as she read through them.
“Hold on. This is—this is good. Great, even! Professor, have you seen—professor?”
She got no reply. Niers was staring at one of the games. Staring and not saying a word. He could read it. Pawn to D4. Pawn to D5. Knight to F3, Knight to F6. And then…Niers didn’t have to read it to know. Bishop to F4.
“It’s you.”
He whispered it at the parchment. He knew. It was his game. The one he’d played after so long—it was the same game, written down for all to see! His students were exclaiming over it, but Niers was overcome by a different emotion.
“This Olesm. Is he the—the author of these games? Did he play them?”
“No, professor. He says he witnessed a game.”
“Witnessed.”
The word was bittersweet on Niers’ tongue. He knew. Olesm Swifttail. From Liscor. The same place…the same place—
“Professor, have you seen this? Look! There’s instructions for another game here! It’s says it’s called…‘Go’. Go? What an odd name for a game!”
“What?”
Niers pounced on the second piece of parchment. He tore it away and stared at the drawing of a Go board, the instructions on how to play the game. He turned. His students were staring.
“Well? Don’t just stand there! Get me a quill and ink! And parchment! And stones! Black and white!”
He roared at them and they fled in excitement. In minutes, Niers was drawing out the go board, placing stones, reading the game.
“Capturing stones…I see. Strings, liberties, I see!”
Niers played a game against Umina, and his hands shook as he placed Go stones on the board. He won the game, crudely, but he won it. The second game started as Marian shouted for someone to find more stones so they could play the game.
A new game. A new game.
“It’s you.”
Niers stared at the piece of parchment. It couldn’t be a coincidence. This Olesm just happened to see a game he’d played with his opponent, and then…found a new game? It couldn’t be coincidence. It was them. They had shown the Drake this game.
They had shown Niers this game.
Something opened up in Niers as he played against Umina, as Cameral took his place, as Niers lost a game and his students tackled the Dullahan in a mad rush. He sat back and felt the world blurring in front of his eyes.
A new game. A new world, opened up at his fingertips. They were out there. They knew of new games. They were in Liscor.
His heart! Niers clutched at his chest, which alarmed his students. But it wasn’t pain or age that was making his chest ache so. It was joy. Pure joy.
This was new. This was brilliant. Niers couldn’t see through this game. It wasn’t simple. It was fresh. He felt like a novice dipping his toes in an ocean of mystery. He felt young again.
“Someone find me the address of that Swifttail. Olesm. I’ll send him gold—and an enchanted ring myself! Anyone with the creativity to come up with this kind of idea deserves a reward. Class is dismissed. Enjoy this new game.”
“Won’t you play with us, professor?”
“No.”
Niers was smiling. He felt like the years were dropping off. In Liscor. They really were. It was confirmed. And they knew of more than chess. More…he felt like he was ten years younger.
He had to know. This instant. Niers walked through the Fraer-ways until he came to Peclir’s working area. He summoned the [Chamberlain] and ordered him to bring him a mage specializing in divination magic.
“I want you to find the cousin of this board. They’re magically linked so it shouldn’t be difficult.”
He gave the [Diviner] his chessboard. The [Mage] bent over it, nodding and carefully touching the small, precious, thing.
“Of course, Lord Astoragon. Do you wish me to set up remote surveillance if possible?”
“No. Just show me where it is right now. It’s probably indoors—give me a view of the entire room.”
The [Diviner] nodded and traced a square in the air. Within the lines of shimmering light, an image appeared, as clear as day. Niers found himself looking down at the chessboard. His heart squeezed in his chest.
It was the other chessboard. Shimmering with ghostly pieces—sitting on…was it a table of some kind? He looked around, frowning. It was in some kind of inn. Was his mysterious opponent travelling? Did they live there?
There was no one in the room at the moment. But the [Diviner] had added sound to the spell. The [Mage]’s eyes were shut with concentration as he tried to maintain focus. Niers heard footsteps, muted voices. Someone was in the inn.
Was it them? Niers’ heart began to beat wildly. He stared at the image. Stared at the board. The footsteps were drawing nearer. In a moment he would know. It might not be them. What if it was? How would he know?
Someone stepped into the picture and Niers’ head jerked. He looked away.
“No. Cancel the spell!”
The [Diviner] did so at once. Niers looked back as the image vanished, panting, sweating, gasping for air as if he’d seen a ghost.
“Lord Astoragon?”
The [Diviner] was clearly worn out from casting the spell, even for a few moments. As he should be, since it had gone around the world. Niers thanked him and went back to his room, holding the chess board in his hands.
“No. No. Not yet.”
He sat on his table, clutching the board, shaking. The Fraerling felt hot and cold, trembling with what he’d almost done. For so long he’d wanted to know. And he’d always known he could find out. In that moment as joy had filled his chest, he’d had to know. Only to realize…just now, the terrible truth.
He was afraid.
And sometime that night, as Niers sat with the chessboard in his hands, trembling, he processed the fact that he was afraid. He stared at his shaking hands, felt the fear churning in his stomach, and shot to his feet.
“I’m afraid? I’m afraid!”
He laughed like a madman. Fear! Actual fear! He felt adrenaline running through his veins, and in the next moment, ran over to the mirror. He stared at himself, a greying Fraerling wearing a doublet with—lace? He sneered at the reflection. His hair was one thing. It was just hair. But lace? That was old. And pathetic.
“Damn the lace. Damn insipid Human fashions!”
He tore it off his chest, shredded the clothing, burnt it in a candle. The rest of the mess he kicked off the table. Now half-naked, Niers looked around. His eyes narrowed as he saw the Fraer-ways.
“Rat droppings.”
—-
It was dark, and all the rats in the academy were in their burrow they’d hollowed out in a wooden part of the structure. There were a lot of them. They were big,
fat from a life spent stealing from students and living off of pilfered goods. And they were smart too, smart enough to avoid Peclir’s cleaners and not eat the poisoned bait.
They were a breed of intelligent rats indigenous to any place with magic. Some kinds could talk. This lot were smart enough to have hollowed out a huge den in the woodwork, and had harvested wax candles. One was lit near the entrance, a sure sign of rodent cunning. Not that the lighting of it indicated they were that intelligent; some of the magical breeds of rodents could breathe fire.
A shadow passed by the candle in the dead of night, making it flicker and dance. The rats, feasting on some dried meat they’d stolen from a larder, paid no attention. And then the lone figure moved.
Niers kicked over the candle. The rats all looked up as one. He drew his sword and grinned.
“Hello. They call me the Titan.”
—-
The next day, Niers’ students sat in class, eagerly expecting their professor. They’d played games of Go all night and were hoping to challenge him. At the very least, they expected him to be in a good mood. And he was.
The visitors to The Forgotten Wing Company were also lined up against one wall, eager to listen to the famous Titan give another lecture. Thus, the hall was packed. They waited for Niers to arrive. And waited. And waited.
He was late. He was never late. A [Servant] went out to find him, and after a few minutes of low conversation, there was a shout. The entire room saw the door to the lecture hall swing open and Niers walked in.
He was naked down to his waist and covered from head to toe in blood. He had a sword in his hands, covered in blood and gore. It dripped onto the ground as Niers walked further into the room.
Someone screamed. Niers had his sword in one hand, and a severed rat’s head in the other. He dragged the head along the ground in the complete silence, walking towards the head of the lecture hall.
Every eye followed the tiny Fraerling as he left a trail of blood behind him on the way to his lectern. His students gaped at Niers. He climbed his lectern and looked around.
“Apologies for the delay. I was attending to a pest problem and was distracted.”
“Sir?”
Marian nervously trotted forwards. Niers grinned at her and she froze in place.
“Marian, good! Take care of this for me, will you?”
He tossed the severed rat’s head at her. She nearly dropped it.
“Have someone remove the flesh, but save the bones. I have a mind to turn it into a drinking cup.”
So saying, Niers turned to his class.
“My lessons have always emphasized the same things. Caution. Prudence. Adaptability. In that third vein, I would like to state the topic for today’s class.”
He rested his bloody sword on the lectern.
“Sometimes a [Strategist] must throw caution to the winds. There are times when you, and only you, can deal with a matter yourself. Exercise judgment in those cases. A [Strategist] is cautious, but caution is not the same as cowardice. Good? Class dismissed!”
He addressed the rows of shocked faces at the back of his lecture hall.
“Esteemed guests, I will meet you in the banquet hall shortly. Allow me a few minutes to freshen myself up.”
He hopped off of the lectern and found Peclir and Foliana waiting for him. Peclir looked horrified. Foliana grinned. So did Niers.
“Get me our tailor.”
—-
The Forgotten Wing Company employed all kinds of specialists. A [Tailor] was a must, especially given how many high-profile events Niers had to attend. In this case, the tailor in question was actually of a higher class, and she hurried into Niers’ rooms after he’d finished washing all the rat blood off his clothing.
She was a [Stitchmistress], and predictably, one of the String People. Niers knew she was high-level and usually delighted in dressing people up. Today she looked crushed by the weight of the tyrannical lace, which she’d incorporated into her own dress. The effect made her look like she was half-sewn, which worked for her. Nevertheless, the Stitch-woman looked miserable as she laid out a selection of replacement fabrics for Niers to peruse.
“I can have you in a replacement lace suit in time for the mock battles and banquet—”
“No. No lace.”
The [Stitchmistress] brightened up at those words. Niers stood with a towel in front of the mirror, looking at the drab fabrics and shaking his head.
“I want something flashy. Get me bright colors. Red. And trim it with whatever colors you want, but make it bold and bright and eye-catching.”
“Eye-searing?”
“Even better. I’ll have a hat as well. Something reminiscent of a pirate. With a—an ornament of some kind.”
“What would you like?”
Niers cast around and he grinned as he saw a bird flit past the window.
“The feather of a Sparklewing bird.”
“I can get you a fledgeling’s—”
“No. I want a full feather.”
The [Stitchmistress] sucked in her cheeks.
“A feather that long would be as tall as you are.”
Niers grinned wildly.
“So? Counterbalance it with the hat. Use weights if you have to!”
The [Stitchmistress] looked positively giddy, but then she frowned.
“I have to warn you, this does fly in the face of the current trend.”
Niers laughed.
“Fashion? I’m a former Named Adventurer and the second-in-command to one of the Great Companies of Baleros. They can have their fashion. I’ll have my dignity.”
She grinned as he winked at her and got to work.
—-
When Niers entered the ballroom of the academy, carried by Peclir on a silver pedestal, every eye turned. Most of the jaws dropped. The [Grandmaster Strategist] was wearing an eye-catching, eye-searing red overcoat lined with silver thread, over a comfortable, decidedly lace-less shirt and pants which he could move around in without tripping.
His shirt under the coat was brilliant white, and his pants were a dark black, making the coat stand out more. His shoes could have been used as a mirror, but pride of place was the hat on Niers’ head, a sweeping grandiose affair that somehow supported a huge yellow feather that shimmered and somehow stayed stuck in the hat and didn’t drag Niers over backwards as he stood there.
“Nice clothes. Mine are more comfy.”
Foliana appeared as Peclir put the pedestal down in the center of the room. Niers grinned as he felt every eye lock onto his. Suddenly, the rows of lace-covered dresses in their subtle colors seemed downright silly. He looked at Foliana and noticed that she hadn’t changed out of her clothing. Her work clothing.
“The feather’s not practical.”
“I’ll take it off if we have to kill someone. But this? I rather like the coat, don’t you?”
“Professor!”
Umina approached, wearing a concoction of laces and trying not to laugh at his feather. Niers smiled at her.
“Yes, Umina?”
The Lizardgirl hesitated. She looked like she wanted to laugh, but contained it to ask her question.
“Didn’t you tell us that caution and prudence were important, sir? A red coat and a feather—isn’t that—that sort of obvious?”
He exchanged a look with Foliana. Niers adjusted the hat on his head and spoke for everyone to hear.
“Practicality and caution have their importance, Umina. However, speaking for myself, if I can’t win a battle in fashion, I’d rather be dead!”
He looked out one window and saw his students facing off with both armies. It was Venaz against Wil this time, and both were wearing plate armor in the heat. He saw Umina depart and rush out to speak with Venaz. The Minotaur turned, looked back towards Niers, and then took off his helmet and hurled it to the ground.
Niers laughed. As the wary guests circulated around him, he saw Foliana moving towards a dais near the front of the room. Niers sh
ook hands and then pulled a piece of parchment from his coat that he’d prepared as Foliana appeared at the dais.
It was hard to notice her at first. Peclir had to clear his throat and ring a small bell a few times before people noticed Foliana. When they did, there was silence.
The Squirrel Beastkin stood at the dais, and when she spoke, her quiet voice was magnified by a spell so it was projected into everyone’s ears.
“Mm. A decade ago, the King of Destruction launched an invasion from Chandrar. He sent his armies sailing to each continent in the world, conquering, claiming lands and overthrowing kingdoms. He sought to conquer the world.”
Everyone stared at her. Foliana stared ahead, not at anyone or anything, speaking to the air. To herself. To Niers.
“His Seven were legendary. Each one could defeat an army, and his great [Strategist], the Gambler of Fates, Queravia, he sent to Baleros. Here. He sent his other vassals across the seas, to Izril, establishing footholds, battling his foes. But the world was turned against him and the seas themselves sought to stop his advance.”
Niers could remember the sound of drums. He closed his eyes as Foliana continued.
“Only one of his fleets reached Baleros. The others were stranded at sea. But it was Queravia who first set foot here. She crushed the port city of Zaland in a day, and established a foothold, though her King’s armies had yet to reach here. But she would not retreat. There she planted the King of Destruction’s banner and challenged all the companies of Baleros. By herself! With only a single army, an advance force! And she held that ground.”
Foliana’s eyes grew brighter, or maybe the world grew dimmer. Niers could still see the smoke, rising in the distance. It seemed like the skies themselves were black during those days.
“No one could defeat her. No one could kill her or rout her army. Not assassins nor legions of her foes. She defeated Three-Color Stalker, flushed them out of hiding and sent them fleeing, nearly dead of their wounds. She slew the leader of the Armored Legion Company, Grandmarshal Sorolat, and broke both his company and the Flowing Wind Company with her forces.”