9️

Servers dashed from one table to another with drinks and food atop a round ceramic tray. The diners and players were noisy, to say the least. Men and women in their youth and age laughed, drank, and betted their fortunes on games being played. Charades, cards and chess majorly occupied their interest. A loud cheer erupts from the right as a man seems to have won with an acclaimed margin. He indeed did- Dorin seem to fit fine with these people, I wasn't even offered a drink because of the age issued by my feminine face attached to a body clad in clothing made for men of sizes ample than mine.

I was surprised no one had tossed me a candy yet with the probability of how little they make me feel.

"This is ridiculous" slurs Slate, by how many visitors greeted him so far it wasn't hard to put a name to the golden face of Mr. Willows son. This reminds me that someday I need to surround myself with women to make up for my lost etiquette. I drum my fingers restless as I watched a game of chess one row in front of us. There were so many mistakes the one I am rooting for had been committing, that it was now physically painful for me to just sit-stay and watch. "I have been practising years for tomorrow, then what's making me so anxious" he slaps his palm hard against the top, he was too flushed to even keep his lips open.

"It's natural" Dorin assures, he seems to have taken up the role of a pacifier no matter who he came across. He would be a good father someday. "We all get nervous before our big day"

Slate squeaks a hiccup and arch's a brow at Dorin.

"You ever attempted an Warriors trail? I mean- you certainly look the part"

"I did- not"

He breathes a chuckle.

"Then you don't know what it's like to please those snobs and kiss their ass to even get inside their good books, let alone a reputable rank"

Their conversation was ruining my focus- so I brought my attention to Slate and his whining nose.

"So- do you have any strategy to help your nerves before tomorrow?"

He nods sides ways, then his gaze lights up. There are stars in them.

"Why don't you suggest me Tammy"

"It's Timo. Timo Kasper"

"Both are bad names, doesn't change a dime to me"

I provide him with a sickly smile, I slide him the rest of the drinks loitered on the table.

"Why don't you cautiously try and manage to get drunk, pass out for the night perhaps?" I suggest.

His brows pull as if he was angry, but then he leans over and gently uses his fist to pat an adoration.

"You are quite useful to have around, spoken like a sage"

Dorin grins, as my leg rattles at another one of the wrong moves he did with the queen. Serving her to the territory. Two more rooks and his game was done for.

"It's moronic, how can someone be so sour at such an easy one?" I huff, crossing my arms and look at Dorin who too had been following the game. Though he never won with me- he knew the rules and was a wise player. For me, I had been a pupil of old man. It was the only activity he would allow me to share with him. He probably was the only person ever I lost to. Then again, I am the entirety of his making. So I had to learn from somewhere. And it had to be the cranky veteran.

"You learn too fast for my liking" he once said, but even in his compliment, there was dismay "Beware, boy, never take pride in your knowledge. Because there is always more to learn and the ones more learned than you"

But tonight I can't stop my disappointment.

"If it was you, you would have ruined them long ago" Dorin states.

"You play?" Chimes a confused slate.

"He does" Dorin answers for me as I crane to get a glimpse of the final straw that I had predicted.

"You any good?"

I slouch back as the crowd boos the wretched loss.

"I don't know. Might be" I say taking a bite of bread that swam in a broth. I hear the announcement for the winner as claps thunder the room, they ask for willing players. Many raise their eager hands and cigars. Men old enough to run an industry. To witness So many people in a place enjoying and participating was overwhelming. But when the host gestures at me, are when heads turn.

"Looks like we are going with an young expectant tonight"

It's when I notice.

One of the Slates hands was raised-

And the other one pointed at me.

***

It showered thunderously,

The applause and appreciation. I receive pats on my back and coins on my palm. Dorin rapidly fills our bags with it- ushering me to go for another game. So far I had won six games and each with less than ten moves. It seems to have attracted the attention of watchers as they piled it to bet on a boy who has been cemented in a seat for longer than two hours. Not a single loss or even draw in the streak. And the staggering gain was I was making credits while I enjoyed.

I look around at the nests of lights in glee as my name gets chanted with simultaneous cheers.

Timo...Timo...Timo...?

I hadn't felt the need to ask the old man why he chose the name for me, it might be he disliked me with his whole heart to address me by something that feels like it legitimately belongs to a toad or mice. But I see their happy faces as they let a girl squeeze through, they stare at her with pity as if she was a sacrificial goat. And she was- it took me a single discovered attack to corner her king.

She was the sixth, so when the room roared with claps- I was prepared for it to go on for a while. But it didn't, it slowly dispersed. Perhaps it was too occupied with studying the board and its placing. Or might have been too ignorant to realise sooner that the audience I had wasn't even focused on me, they acted as a bystander, parting a path for a man.

Those who sat stood up, and those who were lazy- scrambled straight.

I held my vice and watched as he walked, each of his steps held a value. Each second of him under this roof seems to brew a kind of importance that I can't explain.

His hair was dark and his eyes were as blue as the suit he wore. Navy in pallet and held by the button of silver. His black bottoms descend by the table as he comes to a stop. He looks at the host with a charm that eases the tightness in the air. He is built like a knight, and in the moment and then, I decided that its what he was-

An Armin.

The medals gleamed on his shoulder and the engraved phoenix on his ring- his rich scent and that heavenly smile.

It could only belong to them.

"Heard of an unbeatable trouper. Had to see him myself" he says, his words are lasaxed. Arrogant but ardent. I made myself smaller, my gaze searching for an exit or crack before whoever he was got to me.

The host was an ageing woman with tulips on her braid and a strange kind of affection as she replied to him. Almost like she expected his presence.

My heart raced at the possibility of them having found out about us.

Was he here to take us?

Kill us?

What can he do? Burn- freeze or explode. There are so many possibilities and ranges to a highborn Armins power. They are as lethal as they sustain.

"You never miss a chance to find a match, don't you?"

Find a match? A wife? Lover?

'That's an insult to my legacy Cilan, no one has been a worthy equal in a decade" he smirks at the lady as a few chuckle uneasily and in awe. His sharp gaze swipes over them, it doesn't show interest or appeal. He was tall, towering upon the group of five to six near him. The lady who he addressed as Cilan warmly smiles.

"You had always been an arrogant Boy Dear"

Boy.

Indeed.

He was ridiculously young to be donning such a uniform which is often linked with dominance and chaos. He could be in his early twenties the most. And he wasn't attempting to puncture a sword through a throat or glare a nuisance to death. Instead-

"My time is scarce. I would love to defy the myth surrounding this new gentleman soon. Where is he?" He asks as the lady gestures toward me. I sense a claw cripple by the back of my neck, I don't have to turn to know that it's Dorin and his warning.

"Not a man. A kid" the woman states with a stifled laugh.

Our gaze meet.

And then i am heavy on the seat. As if my bones and flesh were separating from others in a quest to evaporate from his view. They are strong and they held a lack of judgement that I wasn't foreseeing. In fact, he looked quite amused.

In a stride he is near, for a second he stares at the board piece from my previous game. Reading my plot and antics. He takes a seat and his lips go tight as he bites on them, everything about him is shinier and grand.

Polished.

And that's when I get up.

"I am done for the night" I state, it was pathetic to be afraid of someone that I don't even know. But it wasn't a secret that this world has been hostile to us. The warriors and Armins were ordered to capture us- kill us on sight if we tried to escape. My dignity demands that I don't sit with him. I should be disgusted.

But instead, I quivered with intimidation and fear.

He doesn't change his stance, doesn't even look at me. There are whispers of surprise and shock from the watchers, few warn me with their gazes in haste.

A clink resounds. He pulls out a black pouch from his coat and drops it on the table, still studying the board.

"I don't -

"It's gold" he finally looks up, his eyes are calm. "You will receive more if you stay"

I don't know where Slate was, but I felt Dorins hand on my back. This wise it tugs me down. So I fold myself back on the chair. Not for the gold, but to stray from arising a suspicion. He seemed contented by it, gathering and arranging the pieces. It takes me a quick raise of his brow to start helping him.

And then it began.

An hour later my vision blurred at how intense my mind kept processing his next move, but I failed nonetheless. and I was splurged back into the room with the old man. Striving to plough a balance between us when he snaked through my net of tactics with ease, it was envious. I can't- I cannot get to him, the Armin was witted, experienced and quick. And I was here reminiscing about the old man- wondering what would he do if it was him.

The tavern was eerily quiet- from a whisper, I realised that there hasn't been such a long interval with the nameless Armin till this day. Which certainly informs of his popularity. It didn't smooth me off the frowns, I can't let him win with a lack of trying.

Coursing with what I could, and what old man would- if alive. I exhaled with a blow when the play began to serve me. My kind was out and wounded- but so was his. He butchered through me in the halves, and this wise i returned his favour. Soon we were out of options-

Unless we settled on a draw. A pact of peace. An acceptance of equality.

Though we were anything but.

He looks up at me, I don't squirm.

What did he see?

A scrawny young boy with messy blonde hair chewing on his lips?

Certainly not someone who he should have used such long minutes of his life on.

But then he surprised me with a smile, his eyes gleaming under the golden night as he extends his hand up for a shake.

The acceptance.

The only way the Old man ever let me have a friendly gesture.

My hands are cold and clammy when I take his. It holds mine firmly. There are gasps and expressions of amazement in the air. But nothing more- not when he was involved.

"Who is your mentor?" He asks, a curious edge in his tone

"I didn't have one" I lie.

"Name?"

My name-

"Timo Kasper"

There is a pause. He slides the pouch towards me still maintaining the smile.

"Hann Slantis"

The action begins....i believe.

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P.s unedited.