Tale of Four

Hours of combat passed. Elias easily worked his way through the ranks, climbing to be one of the few finalists who would compete on the final day. Alongside him were Cillian, Lord Clover, Lord Sunflare, a few knights competing for their lords and a small number of skilled but lordless knights who wished to attain glory and recognition. Nodding in satisfaction, Anton rose as the finalists formed a line and raised his hand to silence the cheering crowds.

"Although a reward has been promised to the winner, I believe there are different desires amongst some of you." Anton’s eyes scanned the lordless knights who fully deserved to be amongst the greats of the realm, showing the potential to climb to the role of king’s guard. "Any winner or finalist after the competition will be given the chance to personally serve me as my guard. Whilst you may not claim to be Kingsguard, those in the Vallies and Hilllands who fought with me in the Silent Hills have labelled themselves the Hill Born, in recognition of those days."

Anton smiled, "Starting from this day, those who are called Hill Born shall be invited to serve me personally as my champions and protectors, under an organisation called The Hill Swords." Around a few men who called themselves that grinned and bowed. "For those of you who have proven yourselves and serve no one, I offer you a place in this, if you wish to accept." Anton went back to his seat as the crowd erupted into conversation, some lamenting about not having taken part, others annoyed at having been kicked out so early. Amongst the Lordless knights, they all failed to hide their excitement.

Those titles, the Hill Born, were all famous in the Vallies and Hilllands, as survivors who fought alongside Anton during the Battle of the Silent Hills and claimed they were reborn in those Hills through blood and starvation. Tristan stared ahead and took a deep breath ’He’s gathering loyalists around him, ones he has already trusted with his life before.’

Anton’s intent was clear, and looking at Lord Sunflare and Clover, he could tell they also realised this. ’But with the Blackwell threat made clear, it is no surprise.’ Looking towards the Blackwell stand, he saw the corpse of Lady Bridgeway, sitting with a thin smile; the upper half of her face was hidden behind a black veil, unsure of what she thought about the entire affair.

Shaking his head, Tristan rose and left with Edmund once Anton had left, and enough time had passed without their departure being rude. Walking around, conversations regarding the Hill Swords were all anyone could talk about, being the first military organisation created by the Royal family since the formation of the King’s Guard. The more Tristan thought about it, the deeper he realised Anton’s plot went.

It wasn’t just a spur-of-the-moment thing, but soemthing Anton must have been thinking about since he was crowned. The King Guard, whilst highly skilled, was small, housing only six members at all times and never allowed to have any more. They were the pinnacle of what a knight could achieve, but it didn’t give a lot of options for skilled knights to serve the Royal family without having to do so through their lord or the slim chance they could swear themselves directly to the King. The Hill Sword bypassed this, making the criteria to join less strict than the King’s Guard, but also able to incorporate a wider number of people.

’It already has a foundation. Every one of those guys in the Vallies and Hilllands swore themselves to Anton after the battle, according to the stories. A legacy of loyalty to the king, even if it is for the man himself and not the throne, is a good thing.’

"Tristan." Cillian called out from behind and rushed over alongside his sister, stopping Edmund and him, "Do you have any plans?" Tristan looked to Edmund, who shook his head, planning to walk around until they found soemthing. With a smile, Cillian dragged Tristan away.

Tristan sighed but did as told, making sure to ignore the looks Elsa threw his way, already able to see his kindness the night before had planted a strange idea in her. "Where are we going?"

"You refuse to participate in anything, but I’m not letting you. You think the battlefield is the only way our family is showing strength. My father has another way." Being dragged along to a large tent by the jousting grounds, Cillian threw the tent open. Slow, soft music played in the background as numerous tables were packed with people who returned from the melee and took up seats, preparing board games on each one of them.

At the head of the tent, Brandon sat alone, readying himself before taking his monocle off and wiping it, wondering when someone would come to approach him. Tristan saw people throw glances Brandon’s way, and although they obviously wanted to play him, he hesitated, the defeat in their eyes already there, created during the previous two days of the tournament.

"Father hasn’t lost yet. I think he said he played thirty-odd games over the two days. He drew a few, and one he said he had to force the draw or he would have lost, but even still, no one wants to try their luck with him anymore." Tristan looked at Cillian after he spoke and turned to his sisters, the youngest finding a table and starting a game of her own.

"Then play him," Tristan said, able to tell Cillian wanted him to play Brandon, making the man laugh and shake his head.

"I have, and I lost. I don’t wish to be embarrassed by him again." Cillian turned to Edmund, who inched closer to a table before taking a seat when a place cleared for him, "Even little Edmund is playing, you may as well." Cillian didn’t give a moment for him to respond and pushed him forward towards the head of the tent, where Brandon sat, forcing Tristan into a seat. Pulling a chair up, he leaned close and waited.

"Tristan." Brandon placed the monocule back on his face and smiled, "Do you wish to play?" Tristan glared at Cillian, who innocently turned away and shrugged.

"Fine." With a smile, Brandon tapped a small device next to his board.

"Unlike those people, I don’t play normally. Each of us will be on a timer. Winning can only be achieved by checkmate or if your opponent forfeits. If either side fails to achieve this, then whoever’s timer runs out first loses." Brandon fiddled with the small wooden box next to the board. Clicking a jewel on it, the top opened as two hourglasses popped out. Clicking the blue jewel next to them, arcane runes flashed over it. "The Magi do like making meaningless things, but I found use for this one." Brandon smiled.

"I see why you haven’t lost," Tristan said with a groan about the rules, forming his pieces on the chessboard, "No one would have practised playing under these rules."

"It is meaningless to complain. A man skilled at this game creates a plan and predicts his opponent’s next few moves as soon as he places his piece. This isn’t a game solely of skill but also confidence in reading your opponent and trying to see their attack." His finger hovered over the final white jewel, "Shall we?"Tristan nodded, "I will click the button and play; you must do the same to stop your own hourglass. Every second wasted is valuable, so do not hesitate."

Tapping the button and moving a piece, Brandon swiftly tapped the button, every action taken in a second. Tristan didn’t delay, copying Brandosn’s opening move and doing the same.

"What do you think about the King’s latest action?" Brandon said, making his next move.

"It strengthens the crown and brings loyalists closer to him. There are no complaints." As he spoke, he played his move and tapped the jewel. Brandon chuckled, and as if he didn’t think about it, moved a piece.

"But what about the reaction of the other great houses?" Brandon asked. Cillian leaned closer to listen to the conversation, using it as a chance to learn. Slowly, a small crowd formed around the table.

’He must have assessed that this isn’t a dangerous conversation to have in public, so long as my responses are correct.’ Thinking to himself, Tristan moved his knight to take Brandon’s pawn, taking the first piece in the game.

"It depends on who you ask? The Valleys and Hilllands will be supportive, seeing it as recognition for their sacrifices, although he may need to halt the addition of new knights to it for a while to keep that goodwill. Whereas the Desertlands will be hateful. But that is not an issue." Brandon moved, placing a piece in a position that was free to be taken by Tristan’s knight. "After all, they have made their disloyalty clear."

Not biting at the bait, he played it slow and waited to see Brandon’s strategy. The man thinly smiled and placed another piece that could easily be taken. ’He is obviously skilled, but is placing so many pieces to be sacrificed. Why?’

Shaking his head, Tristan bit at the bait and took the second pawn with his knight. Reacting quickly, Brandon took it and ended his turn. "Cillian. Your thoughts?"

Cillian thought for a moment. "The pros outweigh the cons. The North will be uninterested, like always, and, as Tristan said, the Valleys and Hilllands will feel respect. If his grace can manage the remaining Great Lords, then only the Desertlands will have an issue with it."

Brandon’s strategy suddenly changed, moving a piece on the other side of the board that he had neglected so far. "So how would you appease them?" Brandon asked as Tristan moved to begin focusing on the left side. Like before, Brandon moved again without hesitation, placing a piece as bait to lure Tristan in.

"Marriage is the easiest." Cillian replied, "Lord Wells can be used to appease Lord Clover. If they don’t accept that we can lift tariffs or lower taxes for a while, and then slowly return them to normal once things have soothed over." Nodding, Brandon watched as Tristan’s clock slowly ticked down as he analysed the board, trying to gauge what Brandon’s strategy was.

Taking the piece, the two exchanged numbers of pieces, with Brandon having most of his pawns taken and Tristan only losing a knight and bishop. "It is normal to be aggressive when so much is made available to you." Brandon said with cool grace as he looked around the crowd that had formed, unbothered by his timer dwindling down, "But you should have read by now what I planned to do. After all, I am not letting you win."

Grabbing his queen that he had slowly moved around the board in a way that made it look like he was protecting it from being taken, he knocked over Tristan’s knight stationed near his king and slowly placed it down, "Checkmate." Tristan frowned and sighed.

’I knew he was doing soemthing, but I thought I could have put him in check before he countered.’ Seizing his opportunities, Tristan did the only thing he could and moved a rook to block his king. Brandon knocked it over, bringing the inevitable closer, "Checkmate."

"I surrender." Tristan said with a groan, ’Two more moves and I could have his king in check. He must have realised why he went on the attack.’

With a smile, Brandon leaned back and looked at the people watching, noticing a few faces of those who drew with him, making notes about the game and nodding to themselves, treating it like an art to be studied. "Make sure you are at the feast later." Saying that he showed Tristan away and let another take his place, smiling when he saw his opponent, and sticking out a hand to shake the older man’s.