Episode 94 — The Discrepancy Between Theory and Calculation

The office of the Felsen Lord’s manor.

Late at night, the faint light of a magic stone lamp illuminated Gustav’s refined profile.

"There. That’s the last of them."

Gustav pressed his heavy official seal onto the final invitation, written on special parchment. The recipients were the most influential lords of the surrounding territories, including Duke Daryl and Earl Baran, along with every other noble he could call to mind.

Following Zect’s advice, he had stripped away the long-winded greetings and redundant prologues detailing ancestral heroics. Instead, he had written it as an invitation to a "Trial Version" of the new city. It offered special casino perks, cuisine never before seen, and an invitation to a "Game of Intellect" hosted by the Lord himself.

Gustav could easily imagine them being bewildered—yet struck by an irresistible curiosity that would lead them to knock on Felsen’s gates.

"Once they read this, they won't be able to stay away. It’s eerily logical... but certainly effective."

After handing the invitations to a waiting messenger, Gustav leaned back deeply into his chair. The curtain had finally risen on the battle known as diplomacy.

However, he still had one more important "mission" to complete.

He pulled a booklet from his desk drawer. It was the book Zect had given him, calling it a "Manual." It was printed on paper so white and smooth it was unlike anything in this world. The title read: *Complete Compendium of Chess Openings: Establishing Early Dominance*. It contained concepts that simply did not exist in this reality.

(Incredible. Every move has meaning; it’s a crystal of pure logic, reverse-engineered from a board state dozens of moves ahead. Even Zect’s hobbies are optimized this thoroughly.)

For the past few days, Gustav had cut into his sleep to pore over the book.

As a lord, the chess "openings" made startling sense to him, but they also sent a chill down his spine. If he mastered this, he was certain he would be invincible. Confident in his new knowledge, he called for Argo late one night.

"Argo. I apologize for the late hour, but I would like a match."

"I would be honored, Mr. Gustav."

Argo sat before the ebony board with his usual polite grace.

As the game began, Gustav unleashed the sharpest offensive opening he had learned from the manual. He developed his pawns, seized the center, and coordinated his Knights and Bishops to trap Argo’s King within his sights.

(Good. So far, it’s exactly according to the theory. Now, Argo... how will you respond?)

However, Argo didn't spend even a few seconds in thought before quietly moving a piece.

The move was unorthodox, appearing nowhere in the manual, yet it was a terrifyingly optimal solution that tore Gustav’s constructed logic apart at the roots.

"Checkmate, I believe, Mr. Gustav."

Before he knew it, Argo’s Knight was sealing the King’s fate with surgical precision.

Gustav stared at the board in a daze. He had been following an "inevitable path to victory" according to the manual, yet he had been utterly defeated.

"Argo. Forgive me, but have you also read that manual?"

"No? I’ve been busy with 'Distribution and Price Trend Predictions' for the territory, so I haven't seen it yet. Is something wrong?"

Argo tilted his head apologetically as he adjusted his glasses. He had simply been performing the best "calculations" on the spot, choosing the optimal solution over and over again.

(I can’t win. No matter how many 'openings' I memorize, our raw 'processing power' is just on a different level...!)

A realization bordering on terror flashed through Gustav’s mind. Argo would undoubtedly reign as an absolute champion. Simply having this man sit before a board would leave the neighboring nobles feeling a sense of overwhelming defeat—as if their own intelligence, cultivated over a lifetime, was being invalidated.

At the same time, Gustav braced himself.

(But I cannot play Argo for the first banquet. First, I, as the Lord, must overwhelm them myself.)

Among the neighboring lords were veteran generals who had survived many battlefields and cunning old strategists. He could not afford to be careless. To lead this diplomatic strategy to a flawless success, not a single loss could be permitted.

(The Lord of Felsen must stand intellectually far above the other territories. My role is to define that first impression of the 'Felsen Brand.')

"Argo, one more game. I’ll hold out longer this time."

"Certainly. Mr. Gustav, regarding that last move... if you focus more on the coordination of your right wing, your defense will become much more robust."

Argo smiled gently, like a master instructor. Taking those lessons to heart, Gustav continued to sharpen his "tactical eye" with the logic of another world.

Suddenly, he looked out the office window toward the knight’s training grounds and Garam’s workshop in the distance.

"Mr. Zect... you gave me chess. What on earth did you give them?"

A perfect "stage" was coming together, one whose full scale even he, the master, could not entirely grasp. An exhilaration akin to fear pounded in Gustav’s chest.

The first official diplomacy of the Felsen New City—the day the common sense of the surrounding territories would be overturned from its very foundations—was now close at hand.

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