Fic: Chess
Title: Opening Moves
Author: Tripsoverhercats
Rating: General
Notes: This is a follow up Piece to Chosen a FF7/Heralds of Valdemar Crossover. Zack and Sephiroth are reincarnated on Velgarth, only Zack remembers his past life, Seph is starting totally over (it’s his last chance basically).
At first glance the scene looked rather ordinary, almost commonplace. Something an apprentice painter might do for a composition piece, perhaps entitled something trite like “The Master and His Pupil”. It was a fine late summer day and the two were seated under an open window, perhaps to catch the breeze, chatting conversationally and playing a game of chess. The fact that the “student” was a girl might have raised a few brows in some circles, but there were very few in the King’s Court who’d sneer at a “mere female” attempting such an intellectual activity. Most especially when there was a white horse poking his head through the window, seemingly engrossed with the game.
Zair - the horse in question, though anyone who’d spent any time at all in Valdemar would recognize him as a Companion - honestly didn’t care for chess much. Perversely, his Chosen adored it and given the choice, Mirya would probably spend all her spare time playing it, whether she had an opponent or not. They’d reached a compromise, one that was working out rather well. She’d get time during the day to play, with a good opponent (today was a personage no less than the Provost-Marshall himself) so long as she never touched a single piece. It was a training exercise for her two Talents, her rudimentary Mage gift would never grow stronger than that of Apprentice, but it could be fine tuned to expertly manipulate small pieces exactly where she wanted them to go. One of the pawns blurred for a moment, popping forward two spaces.
Zair gave her a mental whap. **You Fetched again, Mir.** That was the other exercise, for her to not use her stronger Fetching gift on the pieces, she had a difficult time not using the powerful Talent, leaving her Mage gift weaker.
**Ow. Meanie.** But she concentrated, the pawn floating this time in her Mage gift, back to the starting square and then back forwards. This wasn’t an easy match today, the Provost Marshall was one of the finer chess players in the Kingdom and he’d been playing the game for more than forty years. And he wasn’t just here to give her a match either, he was grilling her on some very obscure bits of Valdemar law, how she answered him was part of her evaluation on her readiness to depart the Collegium. She couldn’t just cite a case or a judgment, she had to apply it to a scenario he’d presented to her.
Between the occasional mental thwapping, the effort of using only her Mage gift and the distraction of supporting an argument that had to take in established law, local traditions and a religious event, Mirya was finding herself being edged into check. She frowned a bit, her chin firming as her eyes swept over the board. Unacceptable, she was a better strategist than this.
Handling many things was a mark of a good Herald and she aimed to be one of the best. Two options presented itself, one was risky, it would involve sacrificing much of her side of the board -and her opponent’s to boot - but there was a chance of victory. The other would result in a stalemate, neither side able to win, but the outcome was more assured. She wouldn’t win, but neither would she lose. She was prideful enough to want the win, to beat the Provost-Marshall would be a great victory. Mirya chewed at her lip a bit, a finger winding in the thick braid binding her hair back.
Her train of thought turned back towards the case she was arguing. Wanting a win there too… it couldn’t happen. There was a road of compromise that had to be tread, neither side fully happy, but it... would be a better choice.
Her mind moved the knight to block, moving the game into stalemate.
It felt right and the pleased expression on the Provost’s face and Zair’s happy whuffle (and attempt to steal the hair tie from her braid yet again) only confirmed it for her. Sometimes you didn’t need a clear-cut victory.
Sometimes just making it through was all you needed.
Author: Tripsoverhercats
Rating: General
Notes: This is a follow up Piece to Chosen a FF7/Heralds of Valdemar Crossover. Zack and Sephiroth are reincarnated on Velgarth, only Zack remembers his past life, Seph is starting totally over (it’s his last chance basically).
At first glance the scene looked rather ordinary, almost commonplace. Something an apprentice painter might do for a composition piece, perhaps entitled something trite like “The Master and His Pupil”. It was a fine late summer day and the two were seated under an open window, perhaps to catch the breeze, chatting conversationally and playing a game of chess. The fact that the “student” was a girl might have raised a few brows in some circles, but there were very few in the King’s Court who’d sneer at a “mere female” attempting such an intellectual activity. Most especially when there was a white horse poking his head through the window, seemingly engrossed with the game.
Zair - the horse in question, though anyone who’d spent any time at all in Valdemar would recognize him as a Companion - honestly didn’t care for chess much. Perversely, his Chosen adored it and given the choice, Mirya would probably spend all her spare time playing it, whether she had an opponent or not. They’d reached a compromise, one that was working out rather well. She’d get time during the day to play, with a good opponent (today was a personage no less than the Provost-Marshall himself) so long as she never touched a single piece. It was a training exercise for her two Talents, her rudimentary Mage gift would never grow stronger than that of Apprentice, but it could be fine tuned to expertly manipulate small pieces exactly where she wanted them to go. One of the pawns blurred for a moment, popping forward two spaces.
Zair gave her a mental whap. **You Fetched again, Mir.** That was the other exercise, for her to not use her stronger Fetching gift on the pieces, she had a difficult time not using the powerful Talent, leaving her Mage gift weaker.
**Ow. Meanie.** But she concentrated, the pawn floating this time in her Mage gift, back to the starting square and then back forwards. This wasn’t an easy match today, the Provost Marshall was one of the finer chess players in the Kingdom and he’d been playing the game for more than forty years. And he wasn’t just here to give her a match either, he was grilling her on some very obscure bits of Valdemar law, how she answered him was part of her evaluation on her readiness to depart the Collegium. She couldn’t just cite a case or a judgment, she had to apply it to a scenario he’d presented to her.
Between the occasional mental thwapping, the effort of using only her Mage gift and the distraction of supporting an argument that had to take in established law, local traditions and a religious event, Mirya was finding herself being edged into check. She frowned a bit, her chin firming as her eyes swept over the board. Unacceptable, she was a better strategist than this.
Handling many things was a mark of a good Herald and she aimed to be one of the best. Two options presented itself, one was risky, it would involve sacrificing much of her side of the board -and her opponent’s to boot - but there was a chance of victory. The other would result in a stalemate, neither side able to win, but the outcome was more assured. She wouldn’t win, but neither would she lose. She was prideful enough to want the win, to beat the Provost-Marshall would be a great victory. Mirya chewed at her lip a bit, a finger winding in the thick braid binding her hair back.
Her train of thought turned back towards the case she was arguing. Wanting a win there too… it couldn’t happen. There was a road of compromise that had to be tread, neither side fully happy, but it... would be a better choice.
Her mind moved the knight to block, moving the game into stalemate.
It felt right and the pleased expression on the Provost’s face and Zair’s happy whuffle (and attempt to steal the hair tie from her braid yet again) only confirmed it for her. Sometimes you didn’t need a clear-cut victory.
Sometimes just making it through was all you needed.