"Martyrs and monsters often share the same stage—the difference lies only in who tells the story."
– A Forgotten King.
Richard remained silent for a few seconds, then snapped his fingers. The chess pieces reset to their starting positions with a soft clatter. He moved a pawn forward, restarting the game, and picked up the last strip of bacon, eating it thoughtfully.
I opened with my knight—the piece that had secured victory in our previous match. Richard raised an eyebrow but said nothing, advancing another pawn.
"So, Richard," I began casually, moving another piece, "I must ask—since when were you the child of a conglomerate?"
"Since the day I was born," he replied, sipping his wine. "My family owns and runs the majority of the Bureau."
The revelation surprised me, yet it explained several things: how I had secured a position so easily and why the Bureau granted me such generous privileges. Still, it did not answer how he had known I was an unnatural-born fae from the start.
As I opened up my position with another move, I continued, "And how exactly did you know I was an unnatural-born fae? I am quite curious— do please indulge my thoughts."
He studied the board in silence, then picked up a pawn as if weighing it. "When you belong to a family dedicated to the proper management of the arcane, you tend to be used like this pawn right here," he said, placing it forward. "We are no different in the greater scheme of things."
I was mildly annoyed that he had dodged the question. I moved my second knight; he responded by bringing out his bishop.
"While I understand the logic," I said, advancing another piece, "I do wish my question did not remain unanswered."
He laughed softly—though I was unsure why—and picked up his knight, studied it, then returned it to its square and moved his bishop instead.
"My family has many connections, some I am not even aware of," he continued. "While we were investigating crimes in the area, I received a call informing me that a special guest was arriving at that specific train station. He was described as a rather handsome young man… almost unnaturally so."
"…I see. Quite the prophecy, I must say," I replied, moving a pawn at the edge. I knew he would take it, but I did not mind.
"Yes, they tend to be like that. They even arranged for me to be your supervisor." He laughed as if it were a private joke, then drained the remaining wine in his glass and moved his knight.
I studied the board like an open battlefield—every move made, every piece sacrificed or soon to be, every open line carefully considered.
"I must ask, Alez," he said, watching me, "how close are you to these spirits?"
"I would say quite close," I replied, making my move. "After all, I did say they braided my hair and prepared my breakfast this morning."
Richard's eyes narrowed as he studied the board, not yet seeing the trap. He reached for his glass, only to find it empty. "You see, I have a confession to make," he said, advancing another piece.
"Do confess your sins, my child. All will be forgiven," I joked, bringing out my bishop.
He laughed. "A week before your arrival, arcane-related cases in Paris skyrocketed almost overnight. Our already short-staffed teams were working overtime. Then you arrived and somehow stumbled upon a major case. One could call it a coincidence… yet, according to both Bureau and family intelligence, there are cases of similar magnitude waiting to be solved—as if served on a silver platter for a certain someone."
He leaned back, gazing at the ceiling for a couple of seconds, then sat forward and moved another piece, locking eyes with me. "We believe this is the work of a higher power—perhaps the gods. But from what you've said, it may be the spirits causing this."
It was a rather open confession and one I had not expected. Yet, from what he described, I could indeed see the spirits orchestrating such mischief. Their bringer had returned, and they required entertainment. Not all spirits desired a dance; some craved adventure.
"Sadly, I can see the spirits causing such mischief," I replied almost nonchalantly, advancing my rook. "Before you ask, I had no prior knowledge of this. And no, I cannot simply tell them to stop. You can guess their reply when I asked if I could cut my hair after they finished braiding it."
Richard rubbed his temples. "While I expected that answer, it still gives me a headache."
He reached for his glass again, only to remember it was empty. He pressed a cleverly concealed bell on the table as I moved another piece.
We continued in silence. A rhythmic knock soon sounded at the door. The elderly butler entered, pushing a cart. She served us fresh dishes: an assortment of cakes and pastries for me, another helping of bacon and eggs for Richard—though I hoped he would at least eat the bread this time. A bottle of wine chilled in an elegant ice container was left behind. The staff bowed and departed silently.
Richard took a piece of bacon and washed it down with wine.
"Just so you know, Alez," he said, "we managed to contact Alexander Holmes' family. It turns out he was attempting to summon a demigod called 'The WishFinder'. He sought answers, but his family doesn't know why he didn't approach the God of Visions or what questions he wished to ask."
"…I see," I replied, studying the board. Both sides had few pieces left. Richard appeared to be winning, so I made a bold move, placing my queen in the open. He captured it with a smug smile.
"I do appreciate your family's efforts to uncover the truth of my birth and what you might call my 'birth father'," I said loosely, advancing my rook to a key position. "But what is done is done. Regardless of his desires, he used an artefact that drove him insane, and he killed himself. A rather depressing story, I must say."
Richard drank what seemed to be his fifth glass of wine as I moved my second rook, cutting off his king's escape route.
He noticed and used his queen to capture my bishop—but that was the trap. I used my second bishop to capture his queen. He smiled and moved his knight; I countered with my second rook, cutting off another escape.
He furrowed his brow, then realised it was over. He moved a pawn forward in a final, desperate attempt. I brought my bishop into position for checkmate.
I heard him sigh, weary but not surprised.
"The castle walls trap the king," I said gently, taking a bite of cake, "while the loyal bishop delivers the final decree—at the cost of lesser pieces."
I met his gaze, a faint smile forming.
"A rather poetic end, wouldn't you agree?"