Tales of the Vangen: The Siege of Middengard (Book 2)

Chapter 3: Obedience

{The noble houses of Middengard surround Ferrus Keep like fingers clutching desperately at the bastion's walls. The stone towers rise and fall to the whims of the Stelecasters, causing a crab bucket of in-fighting, espionage, and even murder if given half the chance. For years I've watched my family struggle to scrape by, scheming with a dozen minor lords, only to backstab half of them later, just as they are backstabbed in turn. It's pathetic honestly, but then, it is the game we all play. The only game that matters within these twisted walls.}

-An excerpt from the published journals of Brand, heir to house Golbegger

"Siege."

The ivory chess piece clicked against the cherry wood board with the same finality as a judge's gavel. Brand felt his guts turn to ice water as he stared down at the devilishly carved queen, her ivory white crown impeccably polished, just a few horizontal squares away from taking his star-steeled king.

"Did you hear me, boy?" Brand's father sat across the table with his arms folded, dressed in formal house robes, staring daggers beneath his bushy gray brows. "I said, siege."

"Yes, father." Brand mumbled. He looked at his remaining pieces, counting in his head what remained. Most of his footmen were gone, taken in the early game. Both of his knights too, captured after they'd sallied to the front lines. Even his queen was dead. All that remained were a couple towers, a cleric, and the king, tucked away in the left corner.

But father had seen fit to beat down his defenses, his queen at the ready to lay siege. And then Brand would lose.

"What is your next move?" Brand stared back at the board, but he might as well have tried reading Byzan. Nothing could be gleaned from the mess that lay before him, except of course his father's momentary victory. The thought alone made a lump form in his throat.

"I...," Brand hesitated. He didn't know what his next move would be. The ivory queen had him pinned against the edge, an error his father had exploited. Tucking the king beside his towers had left Brand surrounded now that his footmen and knights were decimated. The cleric, ironically, was just as useless.

"This is what happens when you are reactive to those against you," Brand's father chided him. He tutted as he unfolded his arms, resting them on his lap instead, his sturdy fingers drumming impatiently across his thigh. "You leave yourself at a disadvantage."

"That's correct, father." Brand reached out to his pieces, trying desperately to keep his fingers from trembling.

"What will you do?" The question hung over Brand's head like a guillotine. What could he do? His king was surrounded, his armies were devastated, his last remaining pieces utterly worthless against his father's queen. He thought about giving up, then realized it was in his better interest not too. If he squirmed a little, tried to fight back in some capacity, then perhaps his father would go easier on him when he lost.

No, Brand thought. It would never get easier. He'd learned this lesson early in life and it was the only reason he'd kept sane for all this time.

Seeing no other option, Brand moved his tower, blocking his father's queen.

"You're reacting." Brand's father frowned deeply as he moved to take the chess piece, his queen now one square away from the steel king. "Siege."

Brand felt his heart leap into his chest then. The ivory queen sat diagonally across his star steel cleric. Had it been a trick, or had his father unintentionally left his queen exposed? Either way, he could cut his cleric across, take his father's queen and cripple his army for a few moments longer. All he had to do was make the move.

"Well?" Brand's father said impatiently. "I'm waiting."

Brand swallowed. If he was going to act, it would have to be now. His hand made the decision for him, sliding the steel cleric piece down across the board, tucking his father's queen between thumb and first finger.