The Odds

'Zinefic Article: The Archivist Plays Chess

"This was your great-aunt's board, you know. I managed to grab it at an auction a few years back; my family had to hold off on the expansion of our summer home, but I told them it was worth it. Very few objects from the Warwell era are iconic as this board."

Coeus toys with the white queen in their hand, running their finger along its ridges, fingering the tip of the diadem atop its head. This is one of the few modifications that indicate that this board really did belong to Alithia Warwell, once upon a time; it's a Head Gamemaker's board and Coeus merely dabbles on its surface. They bought the item for its power, but they'd be a fool to think they could ever claim it for themselves. There's a power in the Warwell name, a power that far predates Panem's once-president, and it fascinates Coeus. To a historian, legacy is everything. Dynasties have their own sort of magic, to those who study them.

"I learned to play on this chessboard," Carys says. If Coeus squints, they can see that she looks like her great-aunt, but only if they look for the similarities. The young woman rumoured to take over as Head Gamemaker – Coeus hears the gossip; they may have left the political circle of the Games, but everything reaches the scholars sooner or later – is not as sharp as her ancestor. Nobody in their right mind would call her soft, but her jaw isn't quite as angular and her hair isn't cut as severely. The scowl for which Alithia Warwell was so famous doesn't appear on Carys' face. Instead, she prefers a neutral, almost unreadable look. It has its own appeal, its own authority. It commands respect. She will do well, Coeus thinks, but this isn't news to them. They've held this opinion since the two studied in the Academy of Excellence together. Carys has always been a bright woman; all she needed was an opportunity, and now she has it. Allegedly, anyway, but rumours in the Capitol are rarely wrong. If there's one thing people around here trust, it's the voice of the people. Even after all these years, The Odds still reigns over the newsstand. Some things never change.

Coeus raises an eyebrow and places the queen back on the board. "I didn't know you played chess."

"Not well."

"Me neither. I know the rules, but the strategy eludes me. I've been told my strategies are too linear."

"You? Linear? I never would've said you had a one-track mind, Coeus."

Carys tints the sentence with a hint of irony, and Coeus smiles in response. She's seen them in classes and worked with them in the archives, however briefly, so if there's someone who's well-placed to know how their mind works, it's her. Coeus knows what Carys wants, and they're sure she's aware of that, but the two of them edge around it nonetheless. They push a pawn two spaces and forward and give Carys an expectant look. She lets out a sharp bark of a laugh.

"I'm not playing chess with you, Coeus. I have no interest in re-enacting my great-aunt's meetings."

"It's like you said," Coeus replies. "When I get my sights on something, I don't stop. You know I won't give in until you make a move – and, if I'm not mistaken, you want something from me. Surely, you can do me this one little favour."

"No, Coeus." They stare, unflinching. She sighs and moves a pawn of her own. "Fine. But just this once."

Coeus smiles and stares at the board. Normally, they'd move a knight now, or maybe they'd sneak in a bishop through the space they opened up with their first move, but both of these feel drab at the moment. Routine. The occasion warrants something different, something new, but the options are limited this early in the game. Eventually, Coeus gives in and pushes the bishop three squares down the diagonal right and looks back up to Carys.

"So you know why I'm here, then. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

"Apollus Maven, huh? I've heard good things about him, especially for someone from the districts...You're assembling a pretty unconventional team, by the looks of it."