The Sunroom of Arcton was nestled in the heart of the palace, strategically constructed to receive an abundance of natural light during the day.
One of its walls was crafted from shimmering planes of glass. Light filtered through these ceiling high windows from dawn to dusk, bathing the chamber in delightful warmth.
Thickly draped walls muffled the footfall of marching troops and scurrying maids outside, making it a sanctuary of peace and tranquility. It welcomes anyone with its soft ambience – inviting them to unwind and bask in the sunlight.
Facing the panoramic view beyond the glass wall was an ornate, hand-carved wooden bench and a short side table. Simple yet opulent, these tasteful pieces of furniture added a touch of elegance to the Sunroom. The floor was adorned with intricately patterned marble, complete with a plush, elegant white rug that provided warmth and comfort underfoot.
A fragrant cluster of River Blues sat on the table, arranged neatly in a ceramic vase. Mellow sunlight gently kissed their soft, vibrant petals. It seemed as if the sun itself was enticed by their unrivaled beauty and the intoxicating perfume that permeated the air inside.
Seated on the bench, Lucian Verlice seemed engrossed in something, his spine as straight as a brush and shoulders held back. Golden embroidery adorned his pristine white suit, sparkling under the sunlight and enveloping him in an aura of regalness.
Subtle wrinkles at the corners of his keen black eyes and streaks of gray in his hair spoke of a man who had gracefully weathered the passage of time. His gaze, cold and haughty, commanded respect from all who stood before him.
Pale lips pressed in a firm line; he regarded the fine, checkered board on the table in front of him.
Lucian Verlice traced the scratches on the dilapidated board, the sole remnants of a bygone era. The well used black surface and its fading white grid stood testament to the countless tactical battles it had witnessed over the years. He arranged the wooden pawns in two neat arrays, on opposite factions- the process almost a muscle memory to him.
He brought the Archer in his clasp closer to his face, inspecting it.
This one had the same standard design as the rest of the hollow pawns- two inches tall with a slightly wider base. It was marked with an arrowhead, depicting its role in the game.
King, General, Archer, Wizard, Dragon, and Soldier.
He turned it upside down, scrutinizing the tiny, round hole on the base. Closing his left eye, he looked through it, albeit with difficulty.
He knew this was futile; the inside of a pawn was too dark to see anything. Yet he strained his eye, trying to see if the tiny golden ball was inside it. Giving up, he shook the Archer into his cupped palm one last time, like a tiny saltshaker.
Nothing.
His brows creased as he reluctantly placed the Archer back on the board, feeling the smooth surface of the worn wood under his fingertips. With a soft "tak" sound, the piece settled into its designated spot.
He was looking for the keystone inside each piece for the past half an hour, with no avail. It was nowhere in the sunroom, either. It seemed the pinhead sized ball was lost to the world forever, again.
Despite it being the most crucial element of the gameplay, it was the easiest to go missing, too. If you take your eyes off the small golden ball, even for a second, it will roll off to only- God -knows -where.
How many keystones had he lost over the years? Possibly over a hundred. It had a divine power to disappear when he was desperately searching for it, only to reappear when he was too busy to play.
Finding the keystone to start the game was just as difficult as finding it to end one.
"I can't find the keystone!"
That was phrase this sunroom had heard the most.
Lucian glanced at the board, a faint smile pulling on his lips. The stage was set- two groups of pawns standing on their respective positions, ready for battle.
A soft knock reverberated through the chamber, interrupting him.
"You may enter." he commanded; his voice thick with barely veiled irritation.
The creak of the door opening was closely followed by the clutter of footsteps, an unwelcome intrusion upon his peace. He did not even bother to see who it was. His only interest was how soon they left.
"Twenty fifth Northern troop reporting!!"
"Please," Lucian Verlice winced at the jarring racket the soldier made. "Speak softly."
"This lowly one apologizes!" The soldier blurted out, still too loud for his liking. "It's urgent! Your majesty!"
Lucian Verlice sighed deeply. "Proceed."
"Lord Raven Alistair and his company had arrived at Frostgate." The shoulder yelled, completely forgetting the previous order to keep it down. "General Huxley awaits orders!"
The Northern King nodded to himself; his eyes still fixated on the board. "What about His Highness the crown prince?"
The soldier inhaled sharply, unmistakably ready to scream on top of his lungs again. "We have lost track of His Highness!!"
"Are you under the impression that I'm deaf? " Lucian Verlice glared at him over the shoulder, sending the soldier stumbling to his knees.
"THIS LO-"
"Silence, if you please," the king gestured dismissively, his anger nearing its peak. Taking a moment to compose himself, he clasped his cold hands together and closed his eyes, contemplating his next command.
"My directive remains unchanged," he declared flatly. "Retrieve that individual by any means necessary. Even if it requires deploying the entire Verlice-Huxley Force. I expect them before me within two days."
Lucian Verlice's gaze shifted to the flower arrangement on the side table, his eyes glinting like a honed blade in the sunlight.
"In one piece or in several, I require his presence within two days."
"U-understood, Your Majesty"
After the annoying guard left, Lucian Verlice turned attention back to his disrupted, solitary game.
His fingers itched, craving to play another round, where everything was at stake. He longed for the exhilaration that sent his heart racing with each pawn moved across the board.
This wasn't just a game; it was a relentless struggle where victory or defeat teetered on a razor's edge. Lucian lived for the intensity that left him breathless, his mind racing ahead of his opponent, calculating and strategizing with lightning speed.
It was this kind of high-stakes game that Lucian craved to experience one last time before he met his end. The taste of victory in such an intense duel was akin to heaven, and he yearned to savor that sensation once more.
But Conquest was not a game one could play on his own.
There used to be four of them. Now, only he remained in this lonely sunroom, to keep this Conquest board company.
To truly enjoy a game, one had to be good at it.
This, Lucian Verlice had no doubt about. He was good, perhaps too good in this treacherous game.
Next, one needed equally skilled opponents. Defeating someone way weaker than himself was no fun, at all.
All his life, only two people managed to hand him a crushing defeat in this game he excelled at.
Both of them now dead.
Nowadays, it was hard to find good rivals like that. Shu was a man of brute force and was incapable of having two consecutive thoughts without the third one rolling into oblivion. He was somewhat good in his youth, when they all played together in this very Sunroom. Gathered around this very table. Now Shu no longer remembers how to play it.
Valor wore all his emotions on his face and kept gawking at his key piece like an idiot. Even his year-old granddaughter could easily defeat him.
In Conquest, the strongest pawn was not the King that could move freely on the board. It was not the General or the Wizard.
It was whatever pawn that had the keystone inside of it.
The Key piece.
The goal was to protect your key piece while trying to eliminate the opponents' one. One should manipulate all his pawns to hide the identity of the key piece while trying to see through the deceptions of the other party to figure out theirs.
If your key piece is taken off the board. You are done.
Not that Valor liked his father enough to play Conquest with him, anyway.
He moved the pawns around the board idly, mimicking a game to relieve the itch of his hands. It felt wrong not to move them.
So here he was, twenty-four years later, longing to play but no one to play with.
"Luzan, I won again!"
He reminisced, recalling those scorching summer days of his youth. This bench was Lucian exclusive domain during their matches—a seat that he was quite attached to because it allowed him to gaze down at his opponent without shifting his head.
He was a prince after all. His pride would never allow him to sit on the same level as his opponent.
Back then, he would position himself on the floor in front of the bench Lucian sat on. Not only was the floor cooler, but this close proximity allowed him to practically press his nose against the game board. It was a necessity; any distance further back and this masterminded player would struggle to see the board apart from the table it rested upon.
She laid on the floor, her head resting on his lap.
She, despite being the most lethal player in the room, never bothered to take a part in the game unless she got a whim to do so. She only graced a peasant like Lucian Verlice with her presence because the love of her life enjoyed playing with him. She would sleep on the cool floor the whole while, rarely lifting her head to see how the game ensued, never once sparing the crown prince of North a passing look.
Her hair fell pass her hips in a waterfall of liquid ink. More beautiful than a goddess painted in a Vorine shrine, she carried herself with pride and grace fit for such a divine being. Lucian Verlice never understood how a mere mortal could be so alluring.
And those eyes. God, those eyes.
Sky and sea were envious of her eyes, that they stole their azure color in a pathetic attempt to mimic her beauty. Stars exhausted themselves to shine as bright as her eyes but they could only burn out in defeat.
Those eyes alone could bring any man to his knees. If there was a man who could withstand her charm and remain on his feet, he was destined to be taken down by her sword.
Khara.
That was her name. The most beautiful woman Lucian has ever laid eyes on, also the strongest. The woman who only had eyes for a fool that couldn't even see clear enough to recognize her apart from a pillar.
The first woman who brutally crushed Lucian Verlice in a game of Conquest. A defeat so cruel that Lucian Verlice gave up his heart to her as compensation.
But she was never fated to be his. She had a heart as cold as her sword, just as loyal to a single wielder. She would gladly die faster than betraying her love or kill just as fast too.
The woman who came to Arcton palace, changing his whole life; Khara Devendora.
The woman who would die, by a cruel twist of fate, as Khara Verlice.
Khara River Verlice.
Author has something to say.
This chapter is unedited , too.
nothing funny.
If you think Lucian Verlice is a scum bag, hold that thought.
He is an overachiever so he will prove that he can exceed ur expectations.