This story follows A Game of Strategy, Not Passion. [Content warning: bird attack]
Bishop Lernid stood in the dimness of the Temple of the Dark Squares and lit a candle for each of the tragic sacrifices of this war. One for poor Verron, taken in a risky move at the very beginning. Another for Noble Sir Habberon, who’d faced the enemy Bishop’s poisonous wrath. Dutiful Sir Granset had fought more bravely and done more for the Castellvi cause than any other warrior, thus far, but now he too was commemorated. Even Bishop Conrad had proven himself astonishingly brave in battle. His had been the first move to strike mortal fear into the enemy King’s heart. The last candle was for sweet, innocent Ferria, whose ambition and enthusiasm took her too close to danger and cost her life.
Vengeance, perhaps, was called for.
The Queen was poised to attack, ideally positioned to take the life of that contemptible soldier who slew Ferria so soon. Perhaps she could —
The Castellvi King entered the Temple of the Dark Squares, regal and poised. He paid his respects to the fallen. Then he turned to his only surviving Bishop.
“You knew this time would come,” the King reminded him.
Bishop Lernid nodded and placed his hands upon the altar he had tended so diligently all these years.
“Your Majesty, I leave the care of this Temple in the hands of my acolytes. Tell me where I might serve you best and I will leave at once.”
The King inclined his head. “Your devotion is our kingdom’s greatest gift. You need not ride far, for now, but I want you in position to defend broad stretches of our territory.”
Bishop Lernid bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty. May the Sacred Darkness be with you.”
Bishop to e3.
Bishop Paolas held his tongue as the King of Vinyoles vented his futile rage into the air.
“First we lost the Queen’s Pawn, then Bishop Pavin, then those two soldiers at the outpost, then our Western Rook-keeper, and even Sir Tollston has fallen to the enemy, now. Is no one in this Kingdom even remotely competent? We should have the Castellvi’s on their knees by now, yet their warriors have threatened me twice, instead. Twice!”
Bishop Paolas said nothing but exchanged a glance with the Queen herself. Neither could blame the King for being afraid, but a fit of temper was distinctly unbecoming.
“Your Majesty, I merely came to report that the enemy’s Bishop has taken the field.”
The King jumped to his feet. “He has? Squares take it, what are they playing at?”
Vinyoles’ Queen put a soothing hand on her husband’s arm. “My love, not every move has deep strategy behind it. Sometimes, a King simply needs to send powerful pieces out from behind the walls to prepare for later attacks.”
The King snapped his fingers and whirled on his wife. “You’re exactly right, my dove. This is precisely what we will do. Bishop Paolas! You should do the same.”
Bishop Paolas blinked. “I beg your pardon, sire?”
“Ride out!” the King demanded. “Prepare for battle! Put yourself in an advantageous position!”
Paolas swallowed despite his dry throat, and turned a desperate look toward the Queen.
She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Of those of us still behind the castle walls, you are the one who can go farthest.”
Paolas winced but hid his dread by bowing low to the lieges. He couldn’t help but feel that no good would come of copying their enemy’s strategy.
Even so, he struck forth onto the battlefield, for his duty to the King demanded nothing less.
Bishop to d6.
Lady Sarenne, Keeper of Castellvi’s Western Rookery, was in the habit of speaking to her birds. Nobody minded this, much, when she was stationed at the outpost, but she did get some strange looks from the marketgoers and soldiers she passed as she made her way to the Royal Palace.
“Do you think the Vinyoles monarchs know what they’ve done?” she asked the keen-eyed rook on her shoulder. The bird didn’t answer — she hadn’t expected it too — but she nodded as if it had. Surely it had noticed the soldier, Bishop, Knight, and Queen all lined up in a tidy column and all but undefended.
“Very unwise of them. But their blunders are our windfalls, I suppose.”
As she walked, her thoughts turned to the letters she’d kept hidden.
She hadn’t intended to commence a secret correspondence with a soldier from Vinyoles. Her first letter was meant to be delivered to the balustrade of the Castellvi fortress. Unfortunately, to a rook, one stone battlement looks much like another, so Lady Sarenne’s heartfelt plea for a friend to ease her loneliness had been answered by a man from the neighboring kingdom, instead of her own.
She’d often considered ending their connection, knowing her kingdom would likely go to war against his, someday. Yet every time she wrote what she thought would be her last letter, she received another from her secret friend and couldn’t bear to leave it unanswered.
She didn’t know his name or position, or even if he was still alive at this point in the war.
All she could do was her duty to the Castellvi cause and hope that if he survived the battles, they could be together after a Castellvi victory, when the two kingdoms merged together to rebuild.
“Am I being foolish to hope for that?” she asked the bird on her shoulder — the cleverest of her flock, who delivered the most letters. It rubbed its beak against her hair, consoling.
“Welcome, Lady Sarenne,” the King of Castellvi greeted as she crossed the drawbridge. “We are delighted you could finally bring your extraordinary birds to visit. I hope you’ll forgive the lackluster reception, war being what it is. Furthermore, I’m afraid I can’t invite you for an extended stay, but you are welcome to rest and refresh yourself here for the moment.”
“Would you like that, my lovelies?” Lady Sarenne asked, turning to the deadly flock perched on the battlements behind her.
A cacophony of cawing, the rasp of black wings fluttering, the ominous click of talons against metal answered her words.
She turned back to the King with a low curtsy and the sweetest smile she could manage. “We are honored to accept this position, Your Majesty, though I hope we need not stay long. There is blood in the air. My birds smell it. They hunger for it.”
Rook to d1.
“Their Rook-keeper,” the King of Vinyoles breathed, staring out across the battlefield. “All those birds, all that power… she’ coming for us. I understand, now. That is why they moved their Bishop. What of our own Rook-keeper? The one who survived. Can she come forth?”
“She’s been shielded by the Eastern Outpost, but it would take far too long to free her from behind their lines,” the Queen observed. “Castellvi is pushing their advantage. Their position is stronger, but we are not yet defeated. In fact, I see a very good strategic option for us, though it will take time to develop.”
“Do we have the time?” the King asked, releasing a shuddering breath.
“We can never know how much time is given to us,” the Queen murmured, taking her husband’s hand. “We can only take to the field with as much wit and courage as we can muster. It is time to let me go, my love. Let me do what I was made for. Let me face the enemy.”
The King clutched her hand more tightly. “No. Please. What will I do without you at my side? This is your place, as my Queen. I beg you. Stay with me.”
The Queen of Vinyoles closed her eyes. “Sir Dorgon will protect you, my love. You are defended, but our Kingdom is still at war. Our people have already seen so much suffering. So much death. Let them now see courage and intelligence. Let me go and prove my worth.”
The King of Vinyoles wept, but the Queen did not stay to comfort him. Instead, she took up her sword and resolved to drown the sound of her husband’s weeping with the mortal cries of their enemy.
Queen to f6.
Lady Sarenne had visited the Temple of the Dark Squares and seen poor Ferria’s candle burning.
“The soldier you’ll attack first is the one who took her life,” the King of Castellvi explained.
When Sarenne sent her birds after him, her heart was set on vengeance. The man fell quickly to the wrath of her rooks.
Their beaks and talons were stained crimson as they took to the skies at her command, allowing her the space to inspect to fallen figure.
Yet Sarenne was surprised that the flock was not wholly dark. The cleverest of them bore a roll of familiar white parchment in its talons.
She coaxed her bird closer and took the missive, stained as it was with the soldier’s blood.
My Dearest — the message began.
Lady Sarenne read no further but rushed to the soldier’s side and attempted to staunch the bleeding from the dozens of wounds her birds had inflicted, to no avail.
She wept at his side, instead. Her clever rook fluttered up to her shoulder and rubbed its beak against her hair, consoling.
Rook takes Pawn on d5.
Fardock had known that Worstan would die. The King’s Pawn had been utterly undefended in the center of the battlefield. Both the enemy Queen and their Rook-keeper had been staring him down. Poor Worstan hadn’t stood a chance.
In truth, things looked grim for the Vinyoles cause. Retaliating, rather than initiating, always left one at a relative disadvantage. Bishop Pavin’s blunder and the loss of Lady Carnella and her rooks, were blows they hadn’t yet been able to recover from.
However, Fardock knew better than anyone that there were always ways to turn the tables. Even the most innocuous move could pave the way to victory.
It struck him like a physical blow, that he himself might be the key to a Vinyoles victory.
Impossible, wasn’t it? That a mere soldier could turn the tide of a fateful battle? Worstan fell so easily to the Rook-keeper’s power, and yet Fardock saw the possibility of manipulating the Castellvi Queen to her downfall.
Fardock’s heart began to race. It wouldn’t be easy. It would require the King’s direction. And it would doubtless cost him his own life.
Yet Fardock saw a tactic that had the power to transform his own peoples’ stark disadvantage into the greatest chance of victory they could possibly have.
“Sir Dorgon!” Fardock cried, racing toward the Knight.
The armored warrior jolted awake with a grunt. “Whassat?” he slurred, groaning.
“I need to get a message to the King!” Fardock insisted. “There’s a tactic we’re overlooking! It could help us win the war!”
Sir Dorgon groaned. “Whuh?” he mumbled again, reaching for his flask.
“Listen to me! If I go out to attack the Castellvi Queen, she’ll have no choice but to retaliate, or else be taken herself. Then Bishop Paolas can put himself a position to attack the Castellvi’s King himself!”
Sir Dorgon blinked several times, so Fardock continued.
“It’ll be such a shock to them that they won’t even see it coming. Furthermore, there are only four possible ways to defend against it.”
Sir Dorgon scrubbed his greave across his face. “Four?”
“Yes. They could use a simple soldier to block Bishop Paolas’ attack, or they could use a Bishop of their own, or their King could retreat to a more defensible location, but in any of those circumstances, our Queen is free to take theirs — without consequence! And if their Queen rides to her husband’s rescue, our Bishop will take her down, instead. Regardless of the outcome, I’ve found us a way to kill their Queen!”
Fardock’s voice cracked as he made his final statement, nearly jumping out of his skin with excitement.
The death of a Queen typically marked the Endgame in a war. This could really be the path to the final victory. Fardock reveled in the realization that he himself could bring about the fall of so powerful an enemy.
“You have to let me talk to the King!” Fardock demanded. “Quick! Before it’s too late!”
Sir Dorgon groaned and stretched. “Sorry, kid. King’s barred himself in his fortress now that the Queen’s on the field. And who’re you, anyways, to think you could do something more impressive than a Queen could? Just get back to your post and stop botherin’ me. I’m sure the Royals have somethin’ planned.”
Fardock’s stomach sank. He’d seen the Queen’s position. She probably appreciated the easy access to the enemy’s frontlines and could easily slaughter an enemy soldier in her next move, maybe more after that.
Unfortunately, nothing she could do would tempt the Castellvi Queen into such a vulnerable position. Only Fardock could do that.
But not without the King’s approval. If the King didn’t see the rest of the strategy through to the end, then Fardock’s sacrifice would be meaningless.
If only the King could know what Fardock knew.
But no one paid much attention to a lowly pawn. Fardock watched, dismayed, as his foolish people celebrated their Queen’s strategic maneuver to take a more favorable position. Only Fardock could see the missed opportunity.
The chance to win might never come again.
Queen to g6.
Thanks for reading! Some chess fans might see the “Mate in 2” (checkmate in two moves) that’s coming, but if you’re ready to read it for yourself, go to:
