Chapter 1 -Together

“Come my boy, you are the only one here who listens to me, everyone else has forgotten this old man.”

Gregor walked over and sat down next to his grandfather. The old man watched his grandson, and with a smile reserved for bittersweet nostalgia, praised him, “My, it was only yesterday that these seats were too high for you to comfortably sit-down in. Now look at you, practically a grown man …How time does not wait. May Evelilas preserve us.” An awkward silence held the boy as his grandfather trailed off, lost in thought and gripped by melancholy, but it did not last. The man had seen much in his old age and had found his own personal philosophy.

Some called it wisdom. He called it selective apathy. He did not care for how the elderly were supposed to act. Seeing his grandson’s discomfort, he dispelled the silence with an exaggerated yawn that shook the room like the howl of bear. “yyeeeeeeAAAAAAAAWwwwwhhh!” The sound had startled Gregor, and it seemed like it would go on forever, but despite his surprise, Gregor was smiling when his grandfather finished.

“Sorry, was that too sudden?” his grandfather asked with a wry grin. “I just can’t help myself sometimes, being stuck in this house all the time, an old man gets bored. At least if they sent fair maidens my way so that they may soften my eyes in these last few years I have left.” He paused, then looked at his grandson and wiggled his eyebrows, “now would that not be a sight to see!”

His grandson looked at his grandfather in shock, trying to stifle a laugh, “What would grandma say?” Hearing this, his grandfather was nonplussed, but he scratched his chin in thought anyway, “Hmm, you are right, that would be a problem. But I can always just blame it on you. You are a growing boy, and a prince. It would not be too unlikely.”

Gregor stammered in indignation, but before he had a chance to say anything, his grandfather continued, “Of course, there’s no need for any of that. Do I not have you to keep me company? Why would I need anyone else? Now, tell me about the past week. How are you, how has your tutoring passed? What have you learned in your lessons this week? How is your father and mother?”

The boy looked wearily at his grandfather for a moment, checking his sincerity. When he was satisfied that the previous comments amount women were only a joke, he sighed, “Tutoring is going well, we have begun astronomy so now I have another lesson to learn on top of everything else. Fencing lessons are as tiring as ever. Military arts are still dry. Not to mention everything is lonely. But now I get to see you, so my chest is lighter and everything is better.”

The old man puffed up with pride, “Ah you charmer. Who taught you how to coat your tongue with such soft silk?” The boy’s eyes twinkled, “Why, I learned everything from the greatest of teachers, Sir Garent.”

His grandfather feigned ignorance, “Who is this Sir Garent fellow? I need to have a word with him, it does no good to teach young boys how to talk so smoothly.” After a pause, his grandfather said with satisfaction and a foolish smile that lifted his eyebrows into upside-down crescents, “Oh, yes, it’s me. I am Garent.”

Gregor’s cheeks began to hurt, but he could not help himself and his smile persisted. The old man acted like a fool at times but seeing his grandfather joke around was better than the other times he had seen him. It was better than feeling the palpable silence that sometimes descended upon the guarded rooms or witnessing the piercing sorrow in the old man’s eyes as he stared into nothingness.

His grandfather was the one person Gregor could truly talk to, the one person that would listen to whatever he had to say and not silently judge him for it. Garent would ask his grandson questions as he listened, intently following everything Gregor had to say. He would follow up with his own take or knowledge when Gregor wanted advice, but he could tell when the boy only wanted an ear to listen, then he would simply listen.

A few months before, the young boy had visited his grandfather daily. The two would talk, play strategy games, arm wrestle, read books, gossip, and enjoy each other’s company. But since then, Gregor’s lessons had picked up, and his advisor had appointed him a limited time, once per week for a maximum of two hours, to meet with his grandfather. Gregor had complained to his father, but his father only told him to listen to his advisor.

When Gregor had broken the news to his grandfather and told him that they would no longer meet every day, the old man was not surprised. Poorly contained disappointment flashed across the old man’s face and sunk like a flag taken out of the wind. But he saw Gregor’s own displease, and his eyes began to twinkle once more. With a flourish and a smile, he bowed, “I look forward to our meetings your highness.”

Gregor knew he was the only one that visited his grandfather. Not even grandmother Zana, Garent’s his wife, visited him. His grandfather was not allowed to leave and see people either. Although he had several rooms to himself, the young prince knew it was essentially a prison. The old man could not leave and was kept under guard. Few knew he was alive, and those that did needed to receive special permissions before they could see him. Not that any of them wanted to.

His grandfather interrupted Gregor’s meandering thoughts, “You did not tell me how your father was doing. How is Garshik, how is my son?” Gregor replied pensively, “He is doing okay. I do not see him often, and when we do meet, it is only for a short time.” The boy paused, expecting his grandfather to ask about his grandmother, but the question did not come. Instead, the old man spoke up, “So, Zana and Garshik are well, if slightly distant… And you are here for our weekly meeting. Life is simply splendid.” Garent sighed contentedly and closed his eyes, relaxing.

Ah, so that is why he did not ask. She must have visited him this week, I wonder why… Gregor thought to himself. After the boy let his grandfather relax and enjoy the silence for a time, he began to pester him, “Teach me something. Tell me a story.”

Garent opened one of his eyes, “Don’t you have enough lessons during the week? What are you doing asking for more? How about I challenge you to a game of Draughts?”

“Draughts? Again? Aren’t you tired of winning? How about we play something else?” Gregor responded. To which his grandfather just gave him a pointed look. Gregor lazily spoke up again, “Yes, yes, it is impossible to get tired of winning, I understand.”

The old man chuckled, “No, I don’t think you do. It’s not simply about me getting tired of winning, it’s about you needing to learn how to win. And how about this, if you win, then…” he paused as if considering, but before he could complete his sentence, Gregor interjected, “If I win then you’ll tell me stories?”

Garent paused apprehensively, he had not thought of this, but his gut reaction was to not accept. The boy’s father made it clear he did not want the boy learning anything about the family’s past. Not that Gregor would win, he still made the same old mistakes he always made.

After a moment’s deliberation he acquiesced to his grandson’s request, perhaps it would get the boy to play better than he usually did. Gods knew he needed some proper motivation. “Alright, if you win, then I will tell you a story, and if I win… then we arm wrestle.” This posed no problem for the Gregor, either way he would be enjoying himself. All it meant was that he was spending quality time with his grandfather. He still wanted to listen to Garent’s stories, but to do that he just needed to win. Simple enough.

As Garent got up and walked to the closet in his room, where he kept his few belongings, he shouted to the boy who remained seated in the lounge studying the familiar walls, “Gregor, before we start, you keep asking for stories, but let me warn you from now, I am not the best storyteller. And besides, you need to tell me, what sorts of stories? Folk tales I was told as I child? Records of explorers to east or sailors to the north? Or is it perhaps religious stories of Evelilas the mother and Akharis the father that intrigue you? I do not believe your education would cover those, none of those are quite needed for a future emperor’s studies. -Aha, here it is! I really need to sort through my stuff once more, I have really let this mess of clothing get out of hand… where was I… yes, education! I suppose an argument could be made that learning these stories would or perhaps could establish a connection between and emperor and his people, which would then help them become better leaders for their empire, However, there are more effective manners of doing that.”

The old man continued to lecture the boy as he walked back to the lounge, “for example you could speak with some of the servants to learn of their plights, but that might be a whole different problem… I doubt any of them would be truthful or comfortable in their speech with you. There have even been stories of kings and queens disguising themselves as commoners to experience things from their point of view and get the unfiltered opinion of the people. But I am rambling, what was it that you wanted to know about?”

“…My father,” he muttered.

The old man looked at his grandson with sympathy and regret as a blanket of discomfort began to descend around the boy.

“Well... it is a deal. If you win, I’ll tell you what you wish to know, how does that sound?”

Gregor looked up hopefully, “It’s a deal!”

They began to set up the board. It was an eight-by-eight grid with sixteen pieces arranged in consecutive rows on either side, with one empty row behind and two empty rows between. The pieces were roughly carved into the shape of soldiers and could only be moved along a straight line by one square at a time. It was quite different from the form of draughts commonly played in the Felian Empire, where pieces could only move diagonally. But despite this version of the game coming from what was once an enemy nation, the aim was quite similar. A person needed to take all of the enemies ‘soldiers’ or render them incapable of making any moves. To take an opposing piece, one needed to jump over them to an empty square, but the normal soldiers could not move backwards, so any captures needed to be made either forwards, right, or left -at least, until the soldier reached the enemies end of the board, at which point it turns into cavalry. The cavalry is then free to move backwards and can move over multiple empty squares to capture a single enemy soldier, so long as the soldier stands alone and has an empty piece behind it. But the complexity lies in forcing an opponent’s hand, and multi-captures. If there is an opportunity for a soldier to capture an enemy soldier, then it must do so, therefore the players needed to practice extreme caution when playing, so as not to position their soldiers in a manner that would tear their formation apart. Generally, this is where Gregor would slip up.

His grandfather would play with the black pieces, letting his grandson start with white. Thinking he was practicing utmost caution, stacking his soldiers so that none were ever alone, Gregor would fail to see is grandfather maneuvering his own soldiers in a way that forced Gregor to capture one of his soldiers. At which point Garent would be free to take multiple pieces and turn his soldier into cavalry which would terrorize Gregor’s soldiers from the back.

This time Gregor decided to play differently. Instead of protecting his pieces, he would force his grandfather out of place and get cavalry before him. At least, that was the plan. It had started well enough, Garent expected him to play cautiously once more, but was pleasantly surprised when he saw him trying a different tactic. The old man had just been going through the motions and not thinking about playing when he found himself forced to capture. At which point Gregor was able to take three of his grandfather’s soldiers. In his next turn he reached the end of the board and upgraded his soldier, but then things took a turn. Garent retaliated, moving one of his soldiers so that it stood beneath Gregor’s cavalry.

Shoot! I was too focused on upgrading my piece and getting my cavalry first, I did not think about what would happen after. Damn it, can’t you go easy on me… Gregor scratched his head as he tried to figure out how to get out of his sticky situation, but there was nothing he could do. He had to use his cavalry to capture his grandfather’s soldier. Which of course, was a trap -losing him his cavalry, getting into his head, and eventually losing him the game.

He sat, slumped in his chair as he watched his grandfather making light work of his soldiers as he cleaned up the rest of the board. Despite trying to win, it was like Gregor had managed to play completely opposite of how he should, as though he was trying to lose everything. The game did not last long, and he was too discouraged to play another one by the end of it.

“Why are they so empty headed. A soldier with half of a brain would never walk into such a trap. And why do you have to move. It would be better if you could avoid capturing other pieces when you don’t want to. I know it’s just a game, but why does it have to be so stupid…” Gregor sighed in frustration, sinking deeper into his seat.

Seeing the young boy’s frustration, his grandfather laughed, “Ah, it’s not that bad, and it is only a game. Keep in mind that we have a top-down view of the playing field. The soldier only sees what is in front of him-”

“Yeah, in front of him is a trap!” Gregor cried out.

“-but you did play better this time, you caught me by surprise, and you managed to get cavalry before I did. I truly am impressed. Well done. Next time though, balance your aggression with some caution, and try to think about protecting your valuable pieces.” Garent paused contemplatively before he continued, “besides, I don’t think this is too dissimilar from war. Those soldiers might not want to be in the position they are in, but there they are, forced into situations they would rather avoid. A fitting representation of what conflict is actually like, wouldn’t you say?”

Gregor was still sulking from his crushing defeat and nodded his head absently.

“Well, now that you lost, get ready to lose again! However… you have grown, and I am only getting older, maybe you can beat me when I’m at quarter strength this time.” Garent taunted his grandson, goading him into arm-wrestling.

The boy laughed and pulled up his sleeve, flexing his arm, “I’ll take you at full strength!”

“Full strength?! No, no.. I can’t do that! I’d send you to the infirmary if I used my full strength! I’ll only use a quarter of my strength, maybe a third if I see that I’m tired.” The two laughed as they prepared to arm wrestle, enjoying the familiar back and forth.

Before either of them knew it, the allotted two hours were over. Gregor left his grandfather with a hug, and his grandfather left him with a promise of stories to come. The boy retired to his own quarters where he stared at the lofty coffered ceiling, tracing each of the intricate hexagonal indentations with his eyes.

Meanwhile Garent sat in silence, tea growing cold in its cup, eyes lost in the flickering of the candle before him.

Three years passed before they saw each other again.