Black Pawn K2 - K4

The Herald strode forward, hoping to the Gods that no one could hear his knees knocking together and his teeth chattering. Or, if they did, that they assumed it was due to the biting cold rather than due to the fear that coursed through his veins like ice.

He stood firm at the center of the battlefield, as he had been instructed. This was the ceremonial way of declaring that his King was prepared for battle.

White Pawn K2 - K4

The White King responded as expected. He signaled his own Herald, who walked forward looking considerably more confident and happy than the Black Herald had been.

The Black Herald produced a scroll, and announced loudly, “His Royal Majesty, King Jerome declares his intent to battle this day, upon this field of glory.” A small nod indicated that the first portion of the ceremonial declaration of war has concluded.

The White Herald likewise produced a scroll, but that is when things started to go terribly wrong.

“His Royal Majesty, King Troy says you should piss off.”

Taken aback, the Black Herald almost dropped his scroll, which would most assuredly have cost him his head. Of course, he expected that his counterpart on the other side of the field would also be losing his swiftly, but the King only smirked at this declaration.

Clearing his throat uncomfortably and looking around while shifting his feet back and forth to prevent the snow and ice around them from seeping into his boots, the Black Herald continued. “King Jerome wishes to settle the matter of the bauble called ‘Earth.’ The Writer has declared that he is the rightful owner, but because King Troy does not see fit to acknowledge this fact, His Royal Majesty seeks to prove his right upon the field before us.”

The White Herald again referred to his scroll. “Bite me, Dickface.”

The Black Herald, having no idea what a “dickface” was, nor having any idea why he would agree to bite the other Herald, looked to his King for direction. Jerome the First motioned for the Herald to stand down, and then immediately signaled his Queen’s Knight.

Black Knight Q_N1 - Q_B3

The Queen’s Knight; a rather effeminate chap who called himself Sam, trotted forward on his steed to stand just behind and to the left of the Herald; providing him a flanking protection that he believed he would most likely need in the very near future.

Sam placed a finger to the side of his helmet in acknowledgement of the Herald, as if to say “I’ve got you covered,” then turned to glare at the White King’s Herald.

The White Herald responded by displaying the middle-finger of his right hand; for reasons that neither the Black Knight or the Black Herald could decipher.

The White King nodded in apparent satisfaction, turning to face his own Queen’s Knight.

White Knight Q_N1 - Q_B3

As the White King’s eyes turned to face his Queen’s Knight, all eyes followed his, and there was a mutual intake of breath that passed across both sides of the battlefield. No one had noticed anything unusual about the Knight until he began to advance forward. Red glowing eyes shone from behind his closed visor. The hand that grasped the sword was fleshless; the white bone shone as brightly as the virgin snow that covered the center of the field. The steed he rode upon seemed to swell in size as its muscular frame surged from his starting position. His eyes, too, shone a fierce red, and smoke poured from his nostrils as he exhaled.

King Troy the White smiled as his secret weapon was revealed. He turned to his Queen Anastasia, who returned his smile with what might have been a moment’s hesitation.

Black Knight K_N1 - K_B3

King Jerome was not pleased. And yet, he did not show any of the fear his Herald felt standing so close to the enormous evil that now dominated the center of the field. He had no doubt that this Hell spawn rider and steed could decimate the entire board if they so chose, and yet he seemed content for now to follow the rules of the game. How long this would continue to be the case was anyone’s guess.

Jerome nodded his head at his own Knight, and the horseback warrior strode forward. Though he did his best to look strong and confident, he was visibly shaken by his counterpart, who merely nodded his head slightly while his mount pawed the frozen ground in impatience; seeming to melt the snow as his hooves dug deep trenches into it.

White Knight K_N1 - K_B3

Troy nodded; obviously expecting this move, and motioned to his own King’s Knight ot follow suit. The Black Herald wondered when the White King would decide to stop mirroring his own sire’s movements as he watched the stern and silent (and much more human) White King’s Knight take his position across the board from his Black counterpart. He looked across the snowy plain at the assembled Black forces and sneered in disgust before turning to fix his cold black gaze on the Herald.

Black Knight Takes Pawn Q_B3 - K4

The Black King reviewed the board, and leaned to his Queen Charlotte to confer. Some might have taken this as a sign of weakness, but those who knew Charlotte understood what a source of strength she truly was. After brief whispering, Jerome nodded in satisfaction, and gestured to his Queen’s Knight.

Sam strode forward and quickly proved that his effeminate manor did not mean he was any less of a warrior. Before the White Herald even had a change to pull his own short sword, his head had been removed from his body.

The Black Herald jumped away quickly to avoid being spattered by his mirror image’s blood. As he did so, he looked to the skies in a desperate attempt to commune with the gods.

He knew that the White King had two choices; he could continue his mirroring of King Jerome’s move, ensuring both a series of bloody exchanges of warriors and also ensuring his own demise, or he could choose to be cautious and set up a less bloody strategy.

One look in Troy’s eyes, and the bloodlust that burned there, was all the Herald needed to see to know that his prayers would not be answered.

White Knight Takes Pawn Q_B3 - K4

“Take Him!” King Troy the White screamed as he stood up in his saddle and brandished his sword.

The White Queen’s Knight, with sunlight streaming through the gaps in his gleaming armor, did not charge forward. His massive horse moved towards the Black King’s Herald in what could only be described as a saunter. There was no reason to expend energy on this small victory. This was one that could be enjoyed with little effort.

The Black Herald did not raise his own short sword to defend himself. Instead he removed his chain mail hood and dropped his shield. “Creature of unquestioned power, please kill me quickly, as my lady’s own Knight had the nobility to do.

The rumbling that came from within the White Knight’s helm formed a clearly distinct word. “Gladly.”

The Black Herald never saw or felt the sword touch him. All he felt was an overwhelming darkness, and knew that he would never feel anything else.

The Game Continues?

The White King’s Herald?