Queening. - A Chess Tale

Chapter 2

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I wake up to a loud hammering sound. There's the soldier hammering against a door trying to break it open. I close my eyes again.
Soon after I sat down last night, the soldier left too, wandering off somewhere else, taking the matches with him. Eventually, he started lighting a few torches that he had found sitting on the walls. I don't know how much time had passed while I was looking through the letters and maps, notes and what-not but eventually I was starting to get tired. I hadn't taken the time to take in the room quite yet. It was small, bookshelves lining two of the walls. The desk I was sitting at was placed in the centre of the room, but scooted back a bit so that there was also space for a small sofa next to a door. Between the sofa and the desk there were rocks lying on the ground. Rocks that had fallen from the ceiling with us. The hole in the ceiling was completely shut by more rocks so big they didn't fit through. The soldier had been lying on the sofa already. I layed down on the carpet behind the desk, before I fell asleep.
I breathe through several times, trying to gather up some strength to get up. I open my eyes again and stand up, heading directly towards the desk and sit down. The torches are still lit while the candle has already burned down. I start where I have left off.
Yesterday I found a map of what must be the tunnel system we're in. But there was something else. Something far more interesting. It's letters from my brother to someone named Georges. They seemed to be very close. According to the letters, Georges' father had fallen sick and died. There was also something about Antoine wanting to protect him from something. Someone. A girl to be specific. But none of the important questions of who, why or how were answered.
But there was one letter in particular that peaked my interest. One letter that I haven't read yet. It's still sealed and, according to the date, the last one. My curiosity is getting the better of me. I carefully break the wax seal and open the letter. I take out the paper and start reading.

For a moment, I just sit there, trying to take in all of the new information. Georges was the name of the boy my brother loved. Georges died.
'He's dead.' I whisper underneath my breath. Somehow it was still loud enough for the soldier to hear. For a moment he stops hammering.
'Who is?' he asks. He's still facing the door, his back turned toward me.
'The owner of this place, I believe. This Georges person. He died.' Suddenly, he turns around and with a few steps he's in front of me, plucking the letter I was holding out of my hands. He quickly reads it and then his eyes focus on one point of the letter.
'Did you know him?' I ask carefully. He folds the letter and tugs it into his pocket.
'No.' He says and returns to the door. He lifts the hammer and-
'Wait. Try the keys.' He pivots on his heel, puts down the hammer and I toss him the keys that had been in the drawer along with the letters. He catches them and tries every one of them, until he finds one that fits and opens the door.
'Why didn't you tell me sooner?' he asks.
'It was quite entertaining. Man against steel door: Who will win?' I joke. I want to lift the mood a little. To my surprise he actually laughs a bit. He takes a torch off the wall and is about to step through, when I start talking again.
'Hey, can we like, start anew?' He sighs, turns around and walks a few steps toward me.
'If you stop putting your nose in other people's businesses, and reading their mail.' I don't see what he means, since he's the one who took both the notebook and the letter but I don't complain.
'Hi, I'm Claire, nice to meet you.' I offer him my hand. He takes it and starts shaking it.
'Hi, Claire, I'm Matthieu. It's nice to meet you too.' He doesn't sound like he means it but at least it's something. I stand up, take the map that's still lying on the desk and walk around it. Matthieu is already holding the door open for me. I step through, into a tunnel. Matthieu joins me. Earlier, I used some of the pencils to draw a route to the exit. It was coming in handy now. Matthieu is in front of me, in case of potential dangers. I'm behind him, reading him the directions. Other than that, we don't talk much. The only sounds are our footsteps. But the silence between us isn't loud. It is quiet. Comfortable. I'm very thankful for that.

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I don't know how long we've already been walking for but my feet are starting to hurt.
'Matthieu?' I say, exhausted and a little breathless, 'Can we take a short break?'
'What for?' He sounded genuinely curious and perfectly fine.
'My feet are killing me.' I'm practically panting. I don't wait for his reply. I stop and sink to the ground. My legs won't take me any further.
'No, come on. We need to get out of here, before we run out of water.' He had turned around and is now looking down at me.
'You have water?' If I could, it would have said it louder but instead it was a sorrowful whisper.
'You don't?' The surprise in his gaze is sincere. I shake my head. He sighs.
'Come on,' he says, 'I'll carry you.'
'You don't need to carry me.' I try to sound convinced, when I'm not. He gives me a look.
'When was the last time you've eaten?' I think.
'I don't remember,' I admit.
'Come here,' he says, offering his hand to me. I take it and he pulls me to my feet. He pulls out some crackers out of his pocket and gives them to me. I take them gladly and bite into one. As soon as I swallow, the feeling of hunger that I had already forgotten, returned. I took another bite. Now, Matthieu was also offering me his water bottle. I swallow the cracker and take a few sips from the water, careful not to drink too much. The cold liquid is running down my throat. It was heaven.
'Thank you.'
'No worries.' I hand the bottle of water back to him. The rest of the crackers I put into my skirt pocket for later. He closes the bottle and puts it back into his pocket, 'Now, are you ready to keep going?'
It really wasn't much that I've eaten, not nearly enough to satisfy my empty stomach but it did give a little bit of life back to me. I nod. He turns around again and starts walking.
'Why are you doing this?' I ask him.
'What am I doing?'
'Helping me. Why don't you just take the map and run away on your own, leaving me behind? It's not like you haven't tried to kill me before.' I hurry trying to keep up with his steps.
'I don't know anything about you, but what I do know is that you're a good person. You had the chance to fight me, multiple times but you never did. You could have snuck out while I was sleeping, leaving me behind without a map or a torch. You didn't. I want to give that back to you.'
'I- Thank you.' I stop walking for a moment.
'No, don't thank me. You would've done the same.'