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“So you can only move these pieces in certain ways?” Stelle asks, contemplatively staring at the checkered board in front of her.
Dan Heng nods across from her. They’re sitting together at one of the tables in the parlor car, a “chess” board—as Dan Heng had called it—spread out between them and a bunch of pieces scattered to the side. The sounds of Himeko and Welt softly talking to the side are barely audible. Pom-Pom is diligently sweeping the floors.
“For example, this one here,” Dan Heng places a gentle finger on a piece that has a circular top with ridges around the edges, “is the rook, and it can only move horizontally or vertically.”
Stelle has to take a moment to remember which directions those are again. Horizontally… like the horizon, so that must be left and right. And vertically… that must be the other one—up and down. Like a column. Why isn’t it called columnally, or something, rather than vertically? Stelle thinks that would be much more intuitive. If she had an authoritative say in how language worked, she’d make that change in a heartbeat. She has such great ideas.
Dan Heng goes on. “This one is called a knight,” he picks up a piece that looks like a horse, “and it can move in an L-shape. So, one square horizontally then two squares vertically, or vice-versa.” He demonstrates this by showing her all the different combinations in which it can move. “Got that?” His aqua eyes flick up to her.
“Yeah,” Stelle says. The horse moves in an L-shape, she repeats in her head. The horse moves in an L-shape.
“The purpose of the game is to keep your king, which is this piece here, safe from your opponent. If your opponent puts your king in danger, that’s called ‘check.’ When that happens, you have to immediately protect your king somehow, whether that be moving him, or moving another piece. If your opponent puts your king in danger and there are no moves you can do, that’s called checkmate, and you lose.”
“Okay. Just gotta keep my king safe,” she mutters, more to herself than anything.
“Exactly. Are you ready to try a round?” Dan Heng asks.
Stelle smacks the metal armrests of her chair with her palms, the sound only dampened by the fact she’s wearing gloves. “I was born ready,” she says.
—
Just a couple rounds in, it’s starting to become apparent that maybe, she wasn’t born ready.
“You can’t move the bishop like that,” Dan Heng states when she’s sliding one of her pieces further onto the board.
Stelle pretends that she remembers that this piece was called a bishop. “You said you could move it, uh, horizontally and…uh,” Damn it, what was that word again? “Ver… vermicelli?”
“Vertically,” Dan Heng corrects without even batting an eye. “The rook moves in that way—horizontally and vertically. The bishop, however, moves diagonally. So you could do this instead.” He adjusts the piece.
“Oh.” She frowns. “Okay. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he says, nodding. “You’re still learning.”
A couple of moves later, Stelle picks up her horse piece—whatever it’s called—intending to move it but she can’t remember the way in which she’s supposed to do so. Was it, in an R-shape? No wait, that feels too complicated. Besides, how big would the R be? Stelle has no idea. Or maybe it’s like a T-shape, or something, that sounds a lot easier.
Of course, she could just ask the man sitting in front of her since he definitely knows the answer, but that’s boring and lame. Stelle is smarter than that, and she doesn’t need help.
Exuding as much false confidence as she can, Stelle moves the piece in a T-shape. When Dan Heng doesn’t say anything, instead just taking his next turn, Stelle can’t help the smug smile that plasters itself on her face. See? She got it right!
Her smugness only lasts until Dan Heng speaks, however.
“Check.”
Check? Isn’t that what someone says when they win or something? Did Dan Heng win the game?
Sensing the confusion appearing on her face, Dan Heng reminds her, “So now, you have to defend your king against my piece. How do you want to do that?”
Oh, so she still has hope. Feeling a lot better, Stelle moves her king to where Dan Heng’s opposing piece is, replacing it and taking the piece for herself.
“You can’t do that, Stelle.”
“Why not?” She sulks and her shoulders droop, in the way Dan Heng thinks makes her look like a sad little puppy. Or more like a sad little raccoon, March had told him at one point. Maybe her description is more accurate.
“The king can only move one square out from where he was prior,” he explains to her.
“But that’s dumb. He should be able to move wherever he wants. He’s literally the king.”
“It has to be that way for the game to work,” Dan Heng is patient when he explains. “If not, the king would never be in danger, and so there would be no use playing.”
“Who even made this game,” she grumbles, putting her king back to where it was. “I gotta have a talk with them. And by a talk, I mean a fight. They’ll have to answer to the wrath of my baseball bat. Beware of the galactic baseballer, you chess-creator, whoever you are.”
Her tirade draws a subtle smile from Dan Heng that Stelle doesn’t see. “Once you get more used to the game and play it more, I’m sure you’ll become good at the game and appreciate it being the way it is. I’m certain it wouldn’t take too long.” Though Stelle may behave a bit…interestingly (for lack of a better term) in social settings, Dan Heng has noted—while thinking back to all the times he’s observed her in battle, fought alongside her—that she’s surprisingly sharp when it comes to combat. And what is a game if not just a form of combat?
—
Stelle loses three out of three games before they decide to stop playing and retire for the night. Snug in her bed, she decides to research more about the game, starting with finding out the creator of the game…
The origins of chess are difficult to identify, given its age.
Stelle sighs. Looks like the creator is off the hook for now.
She then decides to research chess tactics that are far too advanced for her, considering she’s only learned how to play a couple hours ago. She only lasts about five minutes before she drifts off, phone still in hand, and wakes up in the morning to a dead battery.
—
Maybe her online research hadn’t gone so well, but it’s alright; a week later, Stelle has a new plan. She’s been thinking of tactics on her own in her free time, brainstorming ways she can beat Dan Heng. He described his skill level with the game as “not expert, but decent enough to perform adequately.” That, translating from Dan Heng language to Stelle language means he’s really good. Her plan has to be equally as good, if not better, to have a chance at besting him even once.
And she’s come up with one. It’s unorthodox, but she’s never been opposed to that. In fact, that’s what makes it an even more powerful tactic.
Back in the parlor car, Dan Heng is setting up the pieces on the board between them. She’s prepared, she’s ready.
“Do you need a brush up on the rules?” Dan Heng asks before they start.
“No,” she says. Then: “Maybe.”
—
Stelle is a natural when it comes to combat—this is a statement Dan Heng wholeheartedly believes in. He’d even remarked to himself last week about it, saying how he believes Stelle could easily become good at chess, given games are a form of combat, in a way.
It’s a statement he still believes is true of course.
But… he never expected she’d become this good in just a few days.
When she requested to play again today, he had been under the impression that she might have improved, and perhaps the competition would be more evenly matched today. The truth, however, is that just a handful of turns into their first game, Stelle is somehow beating him by a large margin, and he can’t figure out how.
Dan Heng is no master of chess. He’d picked up the game long ago, and has since played it a couple of times here and there. Himeko happens to be a fan of the game, and so he’d been partaking in a few friendly games with her as of late. The point is, he’s alright, but not incredible, in terms of skill level.
Stelle, however, has somehow surpassed his level in lightning speed. He wasn’t even aware that was possible.
Blinking down at the chessboard, he counts his remaining pieces; one, two, three four, five, six, seven… only seven of his pieces left already? That means Stelle has already taken nine of them. It’ll be difficult for him to try and win the game at this rate, but he ought to still try.
“You two playing chess again?” March 7th chirps, coming up behind him to lean against his chair. “Can I watch? I’m sooo bored.”
“Feel free,” he says, his chin in his hand, debating strategies. “Though we may be finishing up quite quickly, with how this is going.”
“Mhm,” says Stelle.
“Who’s winning?” March asks.
“Stelle is,” Dan Heng says. “I’m impressed. She’s gotten a lot better since we last played just last week.”
“Wow,” March’s eyes get wide. “Good job Stelle! You must be a natural.”
Stelle beams and flutters her eyelashes, eagerly taking the compliment.
March doesn’t know a lot about chess—it isn’t really the type of game she enjoys playing, though she does watch at times when Dan Heng and Himeko play together. She’s never really sure who to root for since she likes both Himeko and Dan Heng, so usually, she ends up alternating her support. Similarly here, March isn’t sure if she should be on Dan Heng’s side, or Stelle’s side.
Inspecting the board she notices that there are a lot less of Dan Heng’s pieces left on the board than Stelle’s pieces. Like, a lot less. It’s surprising, she’s never seen such a disparity in a game before.
Clearly, Stelle must be really good at this then. March can’t help but be surprised, but she’s proud at the same time.
“I just… I can’t figure out how I’m losing,” Dan Heng mutters to himself as he ponders his next move.
“Hm,” Stelle says.
“If you don’t know then I don’t know either,” March says unhelpfully and frowns. Then she looks at Stelle. “How are you doing it? What’s your strategy? You can tell me, I won’t say anything to him.”
“Hmm,” Stelle says. “Mm-mm.”
“Why not?” March pouts.
Stelle shrugs.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” March asks, narrowing her eyes.
“Hmm.” Stelle shrugs again.
There’s something fishy going on, March can suddenly tell. She takes a closer look at Stelle, inspecting her more thoroughly. And she notices…
“Stelle,” March starts, and takes Stelle’s chin with one hand to inspect her closer. “Are you…” Aeons, March is sure she’s—“Are you eating the chess pieces!?”
Stelle freezes. A guilty raccoon caught with a flashlight.
“Mmno,” is what comes out of her mouth, muffled, fooling nobody.
“You’re what?” Dan Heng asks, putting together the situation.
Stelle then promptly turns to the side and spits out about a dozen chess pieces onto the floor, grossly coated with saliva.
“Stelle!” March hisses frantically. “Himeko’s going to kill you Stelle…” She’s almost certain the chess set belongs to Himeko. She looks around, and thank Akivili she isn’t in the parlor car right now. At least they have a little bit of time to fix this. Maybe Dan Heng could dry off all the pieces—or wait, they’d have to be washed first, because that’s gross if not, but then he could dry them off.
Dan Heng looks like he doesn’t really know what to do. At least the mystery of how he was losing is now solved?
Coughing a bit, Stelle sits back up and wipes her mouth with the back of her glove.
“So…” she says. “Did I win?”