Moon 514 || Blaze and the White Griffon

27 || Checkmate

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Last revision: 3/19/2013 

Grateful that he had stuffed two pistols in his belt, Blaze slowly grabbed one, held it out, and dropped it to the ground, pushing it away with his foot once it hit the ground.  He disposed of the second pistol in similar fashion.  Receiving a suspicious look from the gravelly voiced man, Blaze held his hands up in the air in submissive position as if completely defenseless – but continued to keep a strong grip on his staff with his thumb. 

“That’s better,” grumbled the scratchy baritone.  “Are you ready to discuss terms now?” he continued in a jesting fashion.  

“Terms for what?” Blaze genuinely queried while looking for any weak position his new opponent might offer and warily watching the four other men entering into the room.  They decidedly formed a semicircle facing Blaze while staying behind the new ringleader.  One soldier was moving a little too close to Evelia and left Blaze feeling uneasy.  The slightest noise from Elayuh really could deliver Blaze into a checkmate position here and he wasn’t especially anxious to give himself up after gaining so much ground.  Were he to be bound up, there would be no more hiding of his staff.  Evelia was injured and Blaze doubted whether or not her mental persuasions would be very effective under these circumstances – especially when she had been relatively unable to do anything a little earlier.  Sweat started beading on his brow.  Stress.

“Terms for your allegiance of course.”  The rather burly man who belonged to the gravelly voice was eyeing Blaze’s handiwork as if he had zero emotional attachment to any of the fallen men.  “It looks like having you on our team might be worth more than at least thirty of master’s soldiers,” he added rather matter-of-factly and with an emotional indifference that made Evelia shudder as she huddled in her hidden corner.

Blaze slowly lowered his hands as he stood in front of the five soldiers and casually rested them next to his side.  “What sort of allegiance are you talking about?” Blaze queried again.  He wanted more information but he was also fishing for an opening to control the situation.  He noticed the man tended to rest his weight on his left foot while Jazz was being held with his right hand – counterintuitive, Blaze considered.  He is not nervous.  Jazz, in contrast, was very nervous. 

“Who is your master and why should I believe that he will not make every effort to kill me at his first opportunity?  Look around,” Blaze commanded with a small wave of his hand towards the many fallen men on the opposite side of the room as Evelia and Elayuh.  “Was it not your master that rigged the tournament this morning?  Was it not your master that helped Jerron smuggle a real weapon so that he could try to kill me in the simulator?  Was it not your master that sent these thirty men to kill me?  Who is this man that I should trust him?”

“Oh, not so,” beamed the man as if greatly amused by Blaze’s accusations, “but fair enough. …  I can see where you are coming from.  First of all, Jerron was an ambitious soul – he acted on his own.  Undoubtedly, he was trying to gain favor in the sight of master but his efforts were not under any compulsion or order of master.  Second … these men,” he added, his voice trailing a little.  “These men were ordered to initiate negotiations – nothing more.”

Blaze listened to the explanation and felt an initial feeling of guilt and remorse before recalling details of conversations that suggested otherwise and before remembering their threats towards Evelia.  No, these men were no negotiation team, Blaze concluded.  He was being fed lies and he knew it.  His budding remorse turned to indignation and anger.

“No matter,” the burly man continued, interrupting Blaze’s thoughts.  “If they are unfamiliar with the art of negotiating, that is no matter to stop us from coming to a mutual understanding is it?” The question was not really a question and Blaze understood that so he said nothing and simply nodded politely to encourage the man to continue speaking.  Jazz was struggling somewhat to get away from his captor and received a fierce tug backwards in return, resulting in a short but powerful blow to his little head.  The young boy staggered, struggling to retain consciousness but only barely holding on.