1865-09-16: A Powerful Man, Part 3
A Powerful Man, Part 3
Summary: The chessmaster takes stock of his most recent gambit, and ponders his next.
Date: Septebre 16, 1865 IE
Related: A Powerful Man, A Powerful Man, Part 2. Pretty much everything.
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:

???????

The Powerful Man sat in front of the chessboard, considering the stalemate that played out before him. It was not unexpected. Indeed it was precisely the opposite, but the manner in which it had unfolded was most illuminating. It was an old board. Popular in the days of the Thirty Years war…the black pieces accented with the colors of Romante and the White of al'Ramar. It suited well enough.

The Raid in Four Corners had accomplished all it needed to, for his part, but the efficiency with which fighters of both Aequor and Galenthia had joined with the natives of the city to repel the raiders was…an unexpected variable. Not a disaster…not yet…but something to be accounted for in the next game. War between Aequor and Galenthia had not been a short-term goal, but he would have to be watchful. Too great a thaw in relations between them would make things more difficult. Still, there should be enough in each Kingdom to keep them occupied. In theory.

The game had ranged all across the board. Galenthia and Kentaire and Four Corners and Aequor and even Rikton though few, if any, would ever recognize the moves that had taken place there. The Thorns had worked marvelously. It was rather pathetic how easily they were turned to whatever direction he desired, but desperation for revenge and victory made for simple manipulations being all that was required.

Now it was time for a new game to begin. He began resetting the pieces to their starting points once more. This time, however, he was beginning to realize what or more importantly who…each piece represented. More so on the Galenthian side. As he placed the pieces, the names came unbidden to his mind…The Queens Bishop…Tristan Romante. The Queen's Knight, Jaren Cassomir (how could it be anyone else?), and the Queen's Rook, Letholdus Romante. Curious how often his attention found focus upon those three. On the opposite side of the board he had tentatively marked the King's Rook as Gauvain Tarris. For all his tactical prowess, he was easy to goad into charging in straight lines. One only had to make the pathways to victory just difficult enough to not appear the trap they truly were.

The Queen's Champion was proving himself quite the impediment, but perhaps a new approach was required. A letter from a Princesses' maid among the royal correspondence had contained some…particularly interesting news. Perhaps the best way to remove the black knight from the board was with another black knight. A defeat of spirit rather than of flesh. If he maneuvered carefully enough, he might even be able to foil the marriage of Little Alessa and the Queen's Champion before it happened. He would have to see what he could do to put pawns in place to channel matters in that direction…or turn those that were not already moving at his whim into his pawns, knowingly or otherwise. Perhaps a few bits of forgery, properly timed and placed, would be more than enough. It shouldn't be difficult to find proper samples. A torrid affair, of course, passionate declarations of love and yearning. Promises to meet exchanged. It would ruin Alessa's reputation as surely as the younger Cassomir, but she had yet to prove herself more than a pawn. Regrettable, but sacrificing a pawn for a knight was simple arithmetic.

On the Aequor side things still remained uncertain, beyond the obvious King and Queen. All save the Queen's Bishop…Alina. She would be dangerous to leave on the board too long, but part of him reveled at the challenge of it. Her letter had revealed that she and the Prince of Fools knew enough to be a problem. He wasn't sure if he should be ashamed that he felt relief and disappointment that the wound she took in Four Corners did not end her. Still, she and the Romante might prove useful still, now that he knew they were players. Besides, what good was a game without worthy opponents? After all, regardless of what she represented, she still played upon his board.

He picked up a white pawn, and then set it down, outside the boundaries of the board. Lord Marco D'Myrin. Regrettable that the man's foolishness had gotten the better of him, but he had left little choice as to allowing his elimination. A replacement should be found easily enough.

Before long, the pieces were arrayed again, sans the white pawn. But The Powerful Man did not begin moving them again just yet. The board had been shaken, and he would need to see where the pieces truly fell before he would know best which moves to make. The Thorns and the Barbarians should do more than enough to keep the fires burning in the interim. The next move would be audacious, but it should well be the tipping point…at least in one nation.

Finished, the Powerful Man moved over to stoke the fire that burned in the hearth. A chill wind from the north had brought autumn rather suddenly to the entire western shore of Aequor, from Lyionesse to Alasce. He poured himself a half-cup of Rhonish icewine, grown on the sides of the Ergonian Mountains. Just sweet enough to not quite cross into cloying. He drained it quickly, then shrugged out of his robe, moving to climb into bed beside the beautiful woman that was warming it. She stirred slightly, and he kissed her neck, as he settled in beside her. She did not fully wake, and before long, the Powerful Man too drifted into dark dreams….

YEAR ONE CONTINUES….

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License