Sunlight streamed through the lone window, illuminating the entire room in a soft, golden wash. Two towering bookshelves flanked the walls, stretching all the way to the ceiling, packed with volumes on politics, history, and fiction. Opposite the window stood a grand stone chimney. Atop it rested several framed photographs and a large, solemn clock whose ticking filled the silence like a slow heartbeat. On either side of the chimney were heavy wooden doors, and above them hung hand-drawn portraits of the ancestors of the Ducal House of Vanga. The portraits were unsettlingly lifelike, their eyes seeming to follow anyone who dared sit at the center of the room.
At that very center stood an exquisitely crafted table, carved from the finest wood and inlaid with delicate patterns of ivory and copper.
But Adrian had no interest in the table, the constant ticking of the clock, or the unlit chandelier looming above his head.
He was busy losing a game of chess.
Across from him sat the most annoying person he had ever met, a man who, according to Adrian, had single-handedly transformed his long-awaited holiday into a relentless torture of lessons and drills. This vacation was supposed to be fun. He was supposed to relax, explore, maybe even cause a little trouble. Instead, he was trapped in endless tutorials of a game he had never asked to learn.
He did like games. So when the man had claimed that chess would make him smarter and earn his father's approval, Adrian had agreed without hesitation. Only later did he realize that chess was perhaps the most confusing, mind-numbing, headache-inducing invention ever conceived.
It felt far too similar to the private tutoring sessions his parents loved putting him through so much.
Yes, he understood his responsibilities. He was a duke's son, after all. But he was the second son. The dukedom would go to his elder brother. He even had an elder sister. Surely that meant he could enjoy his vacation in peace.
"Check," said the annoying man calmly.
Adrian stared at the board. Again, his king and rook were under attack by the black knight. Or horse. Or whatever it was called. He instantly regretted moving his bishop earlier in front of the king. He should have extended it to D3 instead of E2. Now, he would either lose his queen or his rook. If he captured the knight with his queen, he would lose her in return. And without the queen, how could he possibly win?
The king could only move one square. One. Adrian had never understood why the supposed most important piece was so weak, while the queen was allowed to roam freely across the board like an unstoppable force of nature.
He quickly assessed his options. The king couldn't move left, blocked by his own queen. He couldn't move forward either, as his own bishop stood in the way. That left only one option.
He had to move right.
No choice but to sacrifice the rook.
With a reluctant breath, Adrian moved his king to the right. Immediately, the black knight captured the white rook on the left. In response, Adrian moved his bishop in front of the queen. He hated that knight for catching him off guard like that.
Then the man calmly slid his queen to C3.
That caught Adrian's attention.
He's trying to distract me so I forget to deal with that unruly knight, Adrian thought. Without wasting a moment, he used his queen to capture the knight that had taken his rook.
Suddenly, the annoying man swapped his king with his rook.
"This castling thing is cheating," Adrian complained. "It should never be allowed."
Still, he promptly moved his queen back to her original position to reinforce his bishop.
In response, the man adjusted his posture slightly and moved another knight, this time to G4.
Does he think I'm stupid? Adrian thought. He's trying the same trick again.
Cursing himself for moving the queen in the first place, Adrian shifted his knight to H3 to block the threat.
The man responded instantly, capturing that knight with his bishop.
Adrian's eyes lit up. He immediately captured the bishop with his pawn.
Then, without hesitation, the man moved his queen to F2.
"Checkmate."
Adrian stared at the board.
Fourth loss.
He had been so sure the rook was the real target. Only now did he realize he had been fooled from the start. He should have pushed the pawn forward instead of playing the knight.
A groan escaped his lips. At least this time, he still had a few pieces left. The previous game had been a massacre. This time, at least he had managed to take several pieces with him.
"Mr. Cohen," Adrian snapped, pushing his chair back, "I'm not playing this game anymore. It's useless. And you're annoying."
A faint smile tugged at Mr. Cohen's lips.
"You are missing the essence of the game, young Adrian," he said. "You must think five or six moves ahead. Consider not only your actions, but the reactions they provoke. Analyze, then commit. The obvious move is rarely the correct one."
"What's the point of this stupid game anyway?" Adrian shot back. "It's just a board full of pointless rules."
Mr. Cohen folded his hands. "Chess is not merely a game. It is a simulation of war. A contest between two powers. It teaches strategy, foresight, and leadership."
"If it's about war," Adrian muttered, "why is the king so weak?"
Mr. Cohen smiled. "Ah. An excellent question."
He gestured toward the board. "Imagine the pawns as your people. Peasants, soldiers, artisans, teachers. They form the foundation of your kingdom."
"The rooks," he continued, "represent merchants, financiers, and traders. They influence the battlefield through wealth and commerce, moving horizontally and vertically, signifying how trade and investment reach across every layer of society."
"The knights are your military and intelligence forces. Unpredictable. Striking where least expected."
"The bishops symbolize culture and belief. Artists, philosophers, priests, teachers and even the press. They shape minds rather than conquer land, which is why they move diagonally and are best countered by opposing bishops, the queen, or sometimes pawns with proper support."
"And the queen," he said softly, "is your most powerful agent. A strategist, a diplomat, perhaps even family. She moves diagonally, vertically, and horizontally, acting where the king cannot. She can invest, influence, buy off, or neutralize any target deemed necessary."
"So what does the king do?" Adrian asked.
"The king rules," Mr. Cohen replied. "But he does not act directly. He commands through others. His power lies in survival and strategy, not dominance."
Adrian frowned. "And the pawns?"
"Potential," Mr. Cohen said simply. "Any pawn that reaches the end may become something greater. Notice how they advance straight, yet capture diagonally. Pawns cannot directly influence opposing pieces, but they exert soft power through culture, pressure, and positioning. Sometimes, a single pawn supporting a queen, bishop, or even another pawn makes capturing that piece require a sacrifice. Furthermore when the same pawns reach end game, they can become anything, a queen, a Rook, a Knight, a Bishop "
Adrian leaned back, considering this. Then he grumbled, "Maybe chess isn't so stupid after all."
"Precisely, therefore, I would advise you to take this seriously young Adrian and think outside the box. Everything has a cause and an effect "
Adrian yawned. "Still, I'm done for today. I have a terrible headache thinking about all this. When are my mother and sister arriving? They were supposed to come today."
Mr. Cohen hesitated. "A change of plans. They've gone to visit your maternal grandparents. Your father, brother, and uncle are on an important mission."
"What?" Adrian jumped up. "Why wasn't I told? Am I supposed to stay here alone?"
"You are not alone," Mr. Cohen said. "I am here."
Adrian rolled his eyes. "You don't count. And why are you here anyway? You're always whispering with my father in his study, and I always see you standing beside him in court."
Mr. Cohen chuckled. "That is my profession. Advising in hushed tones."
"So Father left you with me because you're weak?" Adrian pressed. "Because you can't do what he does? Is that why my brother went instead? Because he's awakened and I'm not?"
"Strength has many forms," Mr. Cohen smiled. "Your brother is seven years older and already a mid-level apprentice. You have yet to undergo your Awakening."
"When will that happen?" Adrian demanded. "It was supposed to be months ago. Everyone's too busy. Even after my siblings left for university, nothing changed."
Mr. Cohen studied him. "Being a duke carries burdens. It comes with its own set of responsibilities, especially—"
"Especially what?" Adrian interjected sharply.