This story follows More Than a Game.
In times of peace, Bishop Conrad had said he would give his life for the Kingdom of Castellvi. Yet, now, his hands trembled as he entered the King’s War Chamber at dawn. He hid his tremors under the long, flowing sleeves of his holy robes. The gold brocade on the green silk would conceal his concern.
“Your Majesty.” Bishop Conrad bowed low and cleared his throat when his voice broke a little.
“You know why I’ve called you here?” the King asked.
The Bishop swallowed, but his mouth was dry. “I wouldn’t dare to presume — ”
“We are at war, man!” the King snapped, leaning forward in his throne. Bishop Conrad flinched, but the King continued. “We have a slight advantage over our opponent, now, but if we do not press it, we could lose everything.”
Bishop Conrad clenched his hands into fists at his side and kept his head bowed so the King wouldn’t see his brief spark of anger. True, Vinyoles would not rest until Castellvi was conquered, but only when the King fell would the war end. Did the sacrifices of loyal soldiers like Verron or holy Bishops like himself even matter, in the end?
How much blood would the King’s loyal subjects shed before their victory? Could Conrad avoid a tragically premature demise on the battlefield?
Bishop Conrad was an ordained representative of the Sacred Light. He couldn’t possibly be expected to confront the enemy so soon! Yet he knew, from his years of studies, that one of the most common and advantageous attacks for a kingdom in their current position was to send a Bishop out onto the battlefield, preparing him to eventually infiltrate enemy lines and trap the opposing king — at the cost of the Bishop’s own life.
“Your Majesty,” Bishop Conrad began, “I completely agree, and I am in the confidence of your most noble Knight. He is eager to ride forth and prove his loyalty. Send Sir Habberon to claim glory in the name of our Kingdom.”
The corners of the King’s mouth turned down, but he made no response.
“Or…” Bishop Conrad continued, “you could advance one of your stalwart soldiers. They would be honored to prove themselves in battle, I’m sure!”
Again, the King did not respond. Bishop Conrad’s palms began to sweat. “Or, Your Majesty, you could surprise the enemy with a move from your Queen! If she took the field — ”
“Do not be a fool, Conrad,” the King growled. “When my Queen takes the field, there will be blood. Her move will spell the beginning of the end for Vinyoles. But it is too soon for her to strike, and you know it. You, Bishop Conrad, will ride out to support our Knight already in the field. Hold the center but stay out of the path of their Queen. Stand fast. Prepare what you will need to sneak past enemy lines. And await further orders.”
Bishop Conrad’s knees wobbled, but there was only one thing he could say to such a direct order. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Bishop to c4.
“Ours is a holy cause!” Bishop Pavin shouted over the ranks of Vinyoles’ soldiers. Roaring cheers rose up through the assemblage. The butts of spears pounded stone in the courtyard and men banged their greaves against their shields to prove their zeal.
Bishop Pavin raised his arms for silence and the red silk of his robes shimmered in the morning light.
“Many of you,” he said solemnly, “might be wondering when you will whet your appetite for battle. You may, even, be questioning the motives of our esteemed King. Sending a young woman to face the Castellvi soldier? Sending our beloved Queen to avenge her — and then calling Her Majesty back to his side? Where is the cunning strategy in that?”
Bishop Pavin let the crowd murmur their agreement. Surely they could see as well as Pavin that the Castellvi currently held the advantage on the battlefield. After all of Vinyoles’ scrambling on the first day of the battle, they had gained no visible advantage.
“But fear not!” Pavin called. “Your King is more brilliant than you realize. My good people: soon, I will be called to divine service. My noble King will make good use of my prowess on the battlefield and I — guided by the Sacred Squares of Light — will strike down our enemies in service to the Vinyoles’ cause. It has been willed by the divine! Place your faith in me and I will — ”
“Make way for Sir Dorgon!”
If there was anything Bishop Pavin hated more than an interruption, it was an interruption by one of those prancing Knights.
“By order of His Majesty the King,” the page’s shrill voice cried above the crowd, “Sir Dorgon will take position on the battlefield and prepare to face our enemies. All hail Sir Dorgon!”
Bishop Pavin’s crowd betrayed him immediately. The spirited fervor he’d stirred with his words was instantly converted to respect for that helmeted lump of horseman.
“All hail Sir Dorgon!” Bishop Pavin’s crowd cheered.
From his place on the temple steps, Bishop Pavin seethed as he watched Sir Dorgon clop through the crowd.
Knight to f6.
“Bishop Conrad tells me you are eager to see battle,” the King of Castellvi said to Sir Habberon as the midday sun beat down on the castle’s fortifications. In the distance, they saw Vinyoles’ Knight riding onto the battlefield.
“Bishop Conrad never tells it straight,” Sir Habberon grunted. “What sort of fool is eager for battle?”
“With any luck, our enemy,” frowned the King. Habberon grunted again, this time in agreement.
“I’ll saddle up the ol’ destrier… but if Your Majesty doesn’t mind me asking, I’d appreciate a small favor.”
“Anything within my power to offer.”
“It’s my wife, see,” Sir Habberon mumbled, scratching at the stubble on his chin. “She’s… well, I’m not sure how she’ll do with me gone to war. Just… maybe you could send someone to check in on her from time to time, Your Majesty?”
The King of Castellvi nodded. “I will see to it. Thank you for your service to our kingdom.”
Sir Habberon released a long, huffing sigh. “That’s what I’m here for.”
Knight to f3.
If the Queen’s attendant, Alicya, had been here, she would have stopped Bishop Pavin from slipping away, but that sharp-eyed girl was dead and now there was nothing to curtail Pavin’s ambition.
Holy passion coursed through Bishop Pavin’s very blood as he struck out onto the battlefield.
Further, further, he pushed himself.
He would go down in history for this.
His name would be remembered forever.
His move would be the turning point in this war!
Thoughts of immortal glory clouded his better judgement.
He was in enemy territory before he knew it, poised to end the threat of the Castellvi Knight.
Bishop to g4.
The Queen of Castellvi met her husband in the War Room and proposed a trap none of his advisors had dared to suggest.
“The Vinyoles’ Bishop is impulsive and shortsighted,” she said calmly. “We have an opportunity, here, to end this war before nightfall. If you are brave enough, my dear.”
The trap was simple. Elegant. It took advantage of Castellvi’s swiftest and most dangerous warriors and required but a single sacrifice.
The Queen proposed it so dispassionately, so rationally, that the implications took a long moment to reach the King.
“Send Sir Habberon out to the center of the battlefield,” she advised. “Have him ride fast and hard, to position himself where he might next attack the enemy frontlines.”
“But, my dove,” the King gaped, “Sir Habberon is all that stands between you and that vile Bishop. With him gone, the enemy will come for you.”
The Queen took her husband’s hand. “Yes. My life is the price of our victory. While all eyes are on me and the enemy’s Bishop is gloating… send our Bishop Conrad into the enemy ranks.”
“You would have that coward claim the Door to the King,” the King realized.
“Yes,” the Queen said. “Conrad is not courageous, it is true, but he is competent enough to take the life of a single enemy soldier, and if that soldier is the one who guards the Door to the King, and if Sir Habberon is positioned to attack both possible escapes their King might take, then that is the end of Vinyoles. That is our path to victory.”
The King of Castellvi had never thought he could hate the word victory with such vehemence.
If the other advisors had been in the room, the King would have found a way to maintain his composure, but he’d dismissed them. Alone with his wife, he let his tears fall.
The Queen sat beside him as he wept and offered a handkerchief instead of solace. She knew what her sacrifice would be worth and accepted it. She knew her husband could accept even this, for the sake of their kingdom’s triumph.
When the King of Castellvi regained his composure, he wiped his eyes and rose to his feet.
“I’ll send the orders to Sir Habberon by messenger hawk,” he said, focusing on the next, simple step. But he held his wife’s hand tightly, as if that alone could keep her safe from her own strategy. “We will take full advantage of their Bishop’s foolhardy attack — ”
Pounding footsteps in the corridor caught his attention just before the door to the War Room burst open.
“Your Majesties! There is movement on the battlefield!” a page declared.
The King’s eyes widened. He hadn’t ordered any attack, and yet —
Pawn to h3.
Bishop Pavin had expected the Castellvi Knight to run scared when the holy shadow of death loomed.
What he hadn’t expected was a strong-armed matron charging onto the battlefield wielding nothing but a rolling-pin.
“Get away from my husband!” she roared.
“Eldoria — no!” the Castellvi Knight cried. He’d seen, just as Bishop Pavin had, that her attack put her in harm’s way.
Bishop Pavin smirked. But why — with the choice between a Knight and a Knight’s foolish wife, would he ever attack the weaker piece? It would gain him nothing, and he couldn’t see any possible advantage.
By contrast, now that the Castellvi Knight was distracted…
He lunged with his poisoned dagger and the screams of his enemy’s woman rang like music in his ears.
Bishop takes Knight on f3.
The King of Castellvi hated himself for feeling so relieved by the course of events. Sir Habberon’s wife had rendered the Queen’s winning strategy obsolete. Although it had cost a noble Knight his life, the King couldn’t help the insidiously selfish thought that this foolish move had spared his Queen.
“Are you ready, my dove?” the King asked his love as she donned her armor.
The Queen’s deadly gaze, fixed on her opponent, was answer enough.
The King watched from the safety of his walls as his beloved Queen avenged Sir Habberon. That fool of a Bishop had barely enough time to water the grass where he stood before the Queen’s sword drained the holy fervor from his eyes, forever.
Then she faced the enemy lines, her attention hungry and dangerous, ready to come for them all.
If the King of Vinyoles wasn’t very afraid already… he should be.
Queen takes Bishop on f3.
The King of Vinyoles struggled to breathe steadily.
“Look at their position!” he shuddered, looking out at the battlefield. “By the Four Corners, they have a Bishop, a Knight, and their Queen on the field, and that’s not even mentioning that wild woman with the rolling pin! By comparison, what do we have? Sir Dorgon? He can’t even defend the Door to the King! Oh, Sacred Squares, their Bishop could ride for our ranks at any moment!”
The Queen of Vinyoles slapped her husband across the face.
“Stop whining,” she commanded. “You are the King. If you are so afraid that your Door is undefended — defend it! Send your personal guard out to support the soldiers who guard that weakness. That is not a poor strategy, for it will enable Bishop Paolas to take the field later. This game is far from over. We are strong, my sweet. We can wait, and when the time is right, we can reclaim our advantage.”
“You’re right.” The King’s breathing eased. “Good. Yes. We can recover.”
He called for a page. “Send my guard, Worstan, to add an extra layer of defense to the Door to the King.”
The people of Vinyoles obeyed without question, unaware of their other vulnerability.
Pawn to e6.
Thank you for reading! I confess, I’m not a good chess player, but love learning about the strategy from the masters and Grandmasters. This phase of the game opened my eyes to the importance of the f3 square (the “Door to the King”) and how players have to be flexible enough in their strategy to adapt to their opponents’ blunders (Bishop to g4, here) or disadvantageous moves (Pawn to h6, here).
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