Rematch
The rematch was to be held in the main temple area she’d beaten him at previously. She’d quickly excused herself to abscond Rozien back to the ship. The dragons were a powerful and magically curious peoples. Discovering an enchanted tome bound to the soul of the first officer of the first spell ship might raise more questions than Morwen was interested in answering. Considering discovering the lost spell ship was her actual mission. She’d want nothing more than to be done with these pathetic political games, and she absolutely detested social gatherings for their own sake. But she had to admit, getting the chance to show Keimut what a pompous prick and full-blown child he was at a game he felt himself her superior made the agony worth suffering through. She had a score to settle, and she wasn’t done taking her pound of scales yet.
She arrived just outside the temple where they would play shortly after sunrise. An enormous crowd gathered around them already. They weren’t particularly loud or rowdy. It seemed like there was some sort of ceremony about to begin. As she watched, Keimut stepped out from behind his throne and approached Captain Morwen. She looked up at him as he stopped before her. “Good morning, Keimut. Thank you for accepting my offer to a rematch,” she said politely.
“I accept your challenge.” He spoke curtly, but not unkindly. His eyes narrowed slightly, though. “You seem less confident this time?”
Morwen kept her expression neutral and stern. Fighting back the smirk that threatened to flash across her lips took more effort than she wanted to admit to. That arrogant, condescending little shit! Oh, how she wished she could do something other than beat him at his favorite game again. To finally humiliate him completely? Yes, please. A few days ago when she’d won so easily, she hadn’t been able to resist letting him know exactly how much she enjoyed crushing his pride.
Keimut took his seat, waving a hand over his arm, then over a space next to the table. Amidst the motes of aether, a stack of glittering blue and white scales appeared. Morwen fetched her own considerable stack from her void storage portal with prim care. She leveled her gaze at Keimut with a nod. She was ready to begin.
Keimut studied her carefully, paying more attention to her this time than he had the previous game. Last time he was too self concerned with preening for his sycophants. This time, however, he was dialed in and focused. She’d proven herself a threat to him, and now he was treating her with the care that merited a threat. Or maybe he simply didn’t trust her anymore. Either way, she appreciated the respect.
Keimut placed a scale first. A black one in the upper right quadrant. Morwen followed suit, placing a white scale in the opposite lower quadrant. Keimut’s approach to the opening of a game was pretty standard as far as Morwen could tell. He took no extreme risks, and his moves were an even mix of predictable and unorthodox. Nothing she wasn’t capable of keeping pace with.
One after another, the two of them placed their scales on the game board. Click, click, click. They beat out a steady rhythm as they tapped their scales down in turns that ended as quickly as they began. Morwen and Keimut both focused on the board for the beginning of the match. Neither was willing to break their concentration and look away from the board. As they played and the empty spaces filled with black and white scales, the board began to magically expand. Morwen recalled rumors that some games lasted centuries between dragons and game boards could envelop continents. She’d heard a rumor of one game becoming so unwieldy that the two players created their astral dimension to play in. If that were true, she wondered if the game could encompass entire worlds. What was the largest world Keimut had ever visited? Did he have anything larger than his home? Had anyone seen Keimut leave Anazi Prime? Was he truly immortal? Her mind raced with possibilities.
As the board grew wider and longer, she noticed the gathered crowd grew with it. Many began to softly gossip about Keimut as the two played. Morwen noticed that where before, the preening dragon had been sucked in by the idle chatter. This time he remained focused. Morwen almost felt bad for him. She was confident he lacked the ability she possessed. To be able to pluck at the web of fate and follow all of its strands to their terminus. It made little games like this trivial since all she had to do was find the proper path to victory and then make it so.
Keimut lost before he even began playing. All that remained now was simply going through the motions. While she’d normally find such a task tedious, this one time? She went through all the motions for the sake of enjoying the look on his face when she soundly beat him again. Keimut may have possessed a minor modicum of power. He may wield influence. He might cow the other dragons afraid of challenging him. But she was god touched. Capable of seeing the very threads of fate. Any power Keimut thought he had was insignificant against her own. He was a child playing an adults game.
And she was having fun doing it.
The game continued until the final turn came. Morwen laid her last white scale atop the pile of black ones. Keimut stared in what she’d taken as raw disbelief. His lip twitched from neutral to a thinly concealed snarl and back. So quickly she nearly missed it if she hadn’t seen the gesture nearly a thousand times over via her divination power. The dragon clenched his eyes shut for a moment as he took a moment to school his expression back to neutral. He was no fool. She gave him that much credit. He knew she’d made a grand spectacle of the rematch. Morwen ensured the match was public and easily accessible. Keimut’s supporters would view him losing again.
Talons dug into the pristine wood of arm rest on Keimut’s chair. The air became heavy with an angry aura. Keimut did his best to reign in his emotions in, but Morwen could taste the bitter taste in the air it left in its wake. He’d spoken down to her, insulted her squad, and threatened her people. Not to mention he’d practically ordered one of her people to be executed simply for defending himself. And on top of all of that, he’d demanded that should she lose the first time, that her mages be appropriated by his own powerbase. A crime she wouldn’t forgive him for. So she took her pound of scales in the only way that would affect him. Public humiliation. She’d never been good at subtlety anyway.
He opened his mouth, preparing to speak, but she cut him off. “We’re done here. I win. Do give our alliance the consideration you promised.”
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She rose smoothly, the Captain in control of the situation. She’d watched this situation play out a thousand different ways in a thousand different angles. Keimut rose, barely containing the rage that boiled within his breast. The first time he’d stormed off, she’d been uncertain she’d made the right move. But now? He could sit and spin for all she cared.
Keimut offered no words of congratulations and turned, marching away. Morwen watched his blue and white striped wings and tail swishing with agitation as his disappeared into the crowd. Matron Azil emerged from the gathered viewers like a shark breaching water. She gave an amused smirk at Keimut’s exit, then studied Captain Morwen.
“Well done Captain. I dare say that may have effectively shaken his position here.”
“I’m not here to upend your political status quo Azil.”
“Indeed, and yet, you’ve managed to do so anyway. That alone merits congratulations.”
Morwen sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. The toll of using her divination power demanding payment. Already the makings of a small migraine took root. “I don’t need your congratulations, matron. I need your people fighting the Sauridius at best. At worst, I need them to stop allowing them to take root here. They are not to be trusted.”
Azil chuckled melodiously. “My dear Captain. What makes you think they are trusted?”
Morwen spotted Tanak skulking around at the fringes of the party, unable to press forward into the crowd as though held back by an invisible barrier. Azil pointed directly to the hatchling who shrank under the attention and did her best to be lost in the crowd.
“You see? The inner circle is warded. Keimut wields them like blunt tools and a little more. He’ll no doubt cut his war dogs loose now. He’s suffered too many insults to let the matter rest without reprisal.”
“He would move on me after losing twice?”
“Directly? No. He’ll let the Sauridius come after you and feign ignorance.” Azil said with indifference in her expression.
Morwen got the impression this was just the status quo and didn’t push there. “And I’m assuming that we can’t expect any aid from your people?”
Azil frowned. “Would that my position were less precarious than it is. If I’m seen supporting you against them, it could be argued I’m playing favorites and I can’t risk that. When the binders come for you, and they will. You will have to deal with them alone.”
Morwen cursed mentally. This was less than ideal. Akamori was off on some kind of ritual suicide by trial combat routine. Amara and Yasiin were miles below the surface. Sirsir was still out. That left her Arjun, Fennex’s marines, and Sala. She’d been in worse situations, and caught herself when she realized that having more than a few mages had spoiled her lately. It was an odd realization. Being a credible threat to her enemy instead of a pity. She would have to remind these Sauridius why she’d earned her nickname the Valkryie of Tohrun.
Morwen gave Azil an appreciative smile and bowed her head. She excused herself of the Matron and wove a quick teleport spell. After a stomach lurching jaunt through the Umbral realm, she stood at the ramp of the Cadaver crasher where a few marines were working on the landing gear, smeared in grease. They snapped up and offered Federation salutes as she strode up the ramp into the ship. When she reached her cabin, she sat back in the chair in her personal quarters and sighed contentedly. It wasn’t the kind of victory she wanted, but given the mission, it would have to do.
“I’m guessing by your pleased look, you won again.”
“Was there any doubt?” Morwen asked, turning to face Rozien.
“Against a child like Keimut? No. Against a veritable god? Perhaps.”
The tome floated above the counter in front of her mirror. Morwen undid the too tight ponytail and let her jet black hair spill out around her shoulders. She set about her standard nightly routine of brushing her hair. She sometimes forgot that the tome’s soul had more lived experience than she’d ever hoped to match. It was easy to think of dragons like Keimut and Azil as being so old. But what was a few centuries against a few millennia? As her brush stroked through her hair, she pursed her lips. Perhaps that’s the same perspective the dragons applied to the riders? Viewing that as lesser because of a shorter lifespan?
“Rozien, you served with Aeryn. How would she have handled this situation?”
“The same way you have. By putting the best people she could in position to deal with the many issues she faced, and trust they could see it through.”
“Did it work?” Morwen asked, pausing with her brush, and a handful of hair stretched out.
“More often than it didn’t. She may have wielded god level power, but she was still fallible. She made mistakes. Was led into traps. Being a god doesn’t exactly come with a user’s manual.”
“Hmm. I wonder.” Morwen said, eying Rozien curiously.