Episode 98 — The Strategist’s Repose

The clamor of the banquet had faded into a pleasant afterglow, and the guests were guided to the high-end accommodations established in a corner of the new city.

As night fell, Felsen was wrapped in the soft radiance of countless magic stone lamps. The nobles walking the paved streets were struck by the mirror-like smoothness of the cobblestones beneath their feet.

Duke Daryl stood alone on the balcony of the guest house, letting the night breeze wash over him.

Stretching out before him was the neatly organized cityscape, with the lights of the casino sparkling like a jewel at its center. This place, which he had once looked down upon as a "dying territory," was now radiating the most brilliant glow in the region. Faced with that undeniable reality, he began to feel a stir of respect he could no longer suppress.

"Your Grace. I hope the accommodations are to your liking."

Daryl spoke without turning back toward the voice.

"Lord Gustav... Yes, they are beyond reproach. I did not think I would find such peace in another man’s territory at my age."

Gustav stepped up beside him, gazing out at the same night view. Daryl pulled the ebony Knight from the wooden box he had been gifted and traced its intricate carvings with his fingertip.

"This game of 'Chess'... I became a bit heated earlier, but it truly is a magnificent thing. It is different from an actual battlefield. It is immaculate and brutally logical. Yet, strangely, I found parts of it familiar."

"To hear that from a strategist as renowned as yourself makes the effort of preparing it all worthwhile."

"Hmph. If one pushes this game to its limit, will they not eventually reach a certain horizon? If both players read the best possible moves and fight without a single opening... in the end, no one wins. It ends in a 'draw.' Am I right?"

Gustav’s eyes widened slightly. When Zect had handed him the manual, he had mentioned the "end result of perfect optimization" as an aside. Daryl had grasped that core concept of game theory after only a few matches.

"Precisely. I have been told that when high-level players give their all, the board becomes a stalemate, often resulting in a draw."

"War is the same. When both sides have reasons they cannot retreat and neither is incompetent, what awaits is endless attrition—a draw known as mutual destruction. Three years ago, the Gray Winter was ultimately a miserable draw where no one truly won."

Daryl narrowed his eyes slightly, quietly gripping the Knight. In that moment, he was not merely a greedy lord, but a leader shouldering the lives of his people, his voice steeped in deep regret.

"That is exactly why this is so valuable. Moving the battlefield onto a board, competing with intellect while enjoying fine food and wine... Lord Gustav, what you are building is not just a convenient city. This is a 'stage' designed to triumph without fighting, or perhaps to stand as equals without bloodshed."

"Your words are far too kind."

"But do not misunderstand me."

Daryl turned to Gustav with a defiant, toothy grin, looking like the young general he once was.

"Next time, things won't go as they did today. My territory is home to many sharp-witted scholars. I intend to study these pieces thoroughly with them, and the next time we meet, I will shatter the very foundation of your theory. I haven't grown so mellow that I can simply swallow such a humiliation in silence."

It was a challenge issued as the highest form of praise, mixed with an undeniable spark of camaraderie. Gustav accepted it, a proud and certain smile touching his lips.

"Is that so? Then perhaps... I won't be the one to defeat you next time."

"What? Is that humility? Or are you already preparing an excuse to flee?"

Daryl’s brow furrowed suspiciously, but Gustav shook his head.

"No. It is simply that Felsen is home to someone who understands the abyss of this board far more deeply than I do. Next time, that person may be your opponent."

"Ho... So a strategist even greater than yourself is hiding here in Felsen?"

Daryl let out an interested snort. A person whom Gustav—the man who had just bested him—claimed was "above him." What kind of hero could that be?

"Fascinating. Bring this monster of intellect before me, then. I’ll defeat them with the same relentless will. I look forward to it, Lord Gustav."

"As do I. Well then, Your Grace. Tomorrow, I shall show you the city’s infrastructure. For tonight, I wish you a peaceful sleep."

Gustav gave a polite bow and left the balcony. Left alone, Daryl turned his gaze back to the night view. The Knight in his hand glowed dark and sharp under the moonlight.

"Felsen, hm? It seems we are in for a fascinating era."

He muttered quietly to himself, laughed with satisfaction, and headed toward the exquisite bed that had been prepared for him.

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