Sam Sanders had never been particularly interested in chess. It was a game that his father had loved and therefore he had learned to hate it from a very young age. However, on this rainy Thursday morning, he found himself regretting his dislike.
The map in front of him was filled with small toylike pieces, looking a lot like chess figures. He knew what they portrayed, but still he felt like he couldn't grasp all the meaning behind them. Which of those players were able to skip over several squares? Which one would lead to their victory when destroyed? He kept his gaze on the map, on the different figures, trying to find a solution to all his problems. He had spent hours making battleplans the past weeks, consulting the king's generals, soldiers, and guards from all districts.
He knew exactly where everyone would be positioned in the coming battle, both his army and the enemy's. Still, he felt like he hadn't gotten all the information he needed. He was missing something.
It took Sam a short while to get his head back into reality, to lift his gaze from the map. While he had tuned out, the generals that were assembled in the large tent had started discussing their latest plans. Plans that they considered madness – for once they all agreed on something.
"We have to wait with the attack," Garry exclaimed. The middle-aged man looked exhausted, as if the stress of the past days had been eating him alive. He had dark, nearly black, circles around his eyes.
Sam sent him an angry look. "Do you think, I don't know that? It's the King's orders: We have to attack now, even if our allies haven't reached the south river yet." The battleplans he had so carefully made, thought through, had been knocked on the head by the King only hours ago. The ruler had decided that he wanted to have a war right now, that he couldn't wait a few more days for their allies to arrive.
Sam wasn't stupid, he knew why the King did it. It was to show his men, and especially him, the power he held over them. Sam had gained too much power for the King's liking the past few months, he had climbed up the ranks too fast, had too many men trusting him. Sam was dangerous to the King. And the King – mad, evil, and heartless – would do anything to dispose of this threat. Even if that meant to endanger the victory of an entire war.
"They won't make it in time to help us. We will be alone." Paul muttered; the soldier had seen far too many wars under his king to expect something differently.
A quiet sight left Sam. His shoulders were sunken, his eyes didn't hold the same spark as before. He knew that it was partly, if not mostly, his fault. He would be the reason many men in their army would die. "Yes, we will be alone."
"Thousands will die. We will probably die." The oldest of the generals spoke. Markus didn't even try to hide the fear in his voice. All the men in this tent had seen each other at their worst. They all felt the same fear, for they all served the same king.
