He still stood by the side of the pool table, his hand idly playing with the bull-shaped play piece. It had gotten quiet, real quiet since Baron Norrvakt had left the inner court, but such was to be expected. Perched on top of the mountain next to the Imperial city, the palace always had a very distant and quiet feel to it. The inner gardens were called the gardens of tranquility for a reason, "the same reason nobles would use to sometimes plot treason", he thought to himself. On the pool table stood two crystalline glasses, one empty and one with but a savoring of liquid left from some unfamiliar imperial vintage.
He walked around the pool table and squatted to the floor, picking up the play pieces that had been discarded and tossed off the table in the conversation held not too long before now. As he moved to reach for the horse play piece, he could vaguely still make out the lingering scent left behind by his previous conversation partner. It was a scent of something earthy, like wet blades of grass in the rain mixed with dry twigs in the dirt, a scent your dog would have when it came running into the house after the showers outside, covered in leaves and all manner of insect. There was a hint of sweetness to it, perhaps a tabacca, or perhaps he just liked carrot cake, it was hard to say. The people he talked to were likely not aware that he was more accute to people's smells than they could possibly know, and often tried to gleam a lot from what their scent meant. Cedric did always think to himself, "a person without a scent, is someone not to be trusted, someone who is in need of hiding something". "Luckily for Norrvakt", he thought to himself, "This does not seem to be the case".
He lifted up the bear play piece, and made a noise of disgruntled disappointment at the fact that he had somehow managed to chip one of the ears in roughly tossing it off the pool table half an hour before. He looked at the piece in his hands, turning it over a couple of times, and then smiled without making a noise at the irony of the chipped ear and the reflection of reality in the set piece. There were many pieces like it, all different animals and objects. They likely belonged to some sort of strategy board game, but the exact origin didn't matter for him. Cedric often liked getting his hands on something, and then using it entirely out of context for himself, make it his own, make it so he would like it, and perhaps in that moment, he allowed a lingering throught whether the same applied to people.
He turned his head, still squatted on the floor, so his nose and eyes reached out above the pooltable, to cast a glance at the bull play piece that still stood on the opposite side of the pool table, with the crystalline glass next to it. He wondered for a solid minute to himself how much he had changed the person represented in that piece, how he had changed him to his own liking, or how he resisted that upon numerous occasions. It was perhaps in this reflection in the moment, that he was unsure whether this was something that was fair, whether it was a flaw in him as a person, or whether this was natural in people. To want something to be a certain way, and to grief against it until it complies or until it disappears.
Wherever this train of thought was going felt uncomfortable, like a hand invisibly pulling at your stomach after a heavy meal, so the soldier did what the soldier does best, which is bury feelings, and continue doing what he planned on doing all along: to clean up the mess he made with the play pieces, put them back in the game cabinet from where they came, and hope that no-one would notice the chipped bear piece. It was likely some priceless carved piece, hand made, and at least one hundred years old. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't, but it didn't really matter. It didn't matter if you were a commoner, a duke, or a prince. One does not disappoint big brother the Emperor.
After a while, he had finally re-arranged the pieces together on the pool table. From the left stood the bull, the bear, the horse, the wolf, the wolf perched on a rock, the tower with the raven on top, the sword embedded in stone, and finally the glass with still a few droplets of drink in it. He reached over to the far left to the glass that Norrvakt had left behind, and grabbed the piece that stood on his side of the table, the oak tree, and put it at the end of the row of play pieces. He then leaned on the pool table, squatting in such a manner that he could rest his chin flat on the edge, his forearms crossed underneath, and looked at the pieces from left to right, like a child inspecting a toy spectacle or an ant-farm caught in a large glass vase.
In a metaphorical sense, there was a lot of emotions between these pieces. Friendship, hate, love, passion, disgust, betrayal, and sacrifice. Each piece evoked a different response, some of them very mixed, some of them very much the same, yet each with its own appeal, like that of people. The bull evoked a memory, the smell of food, freshly baked bread, cured hams, sugary tarts, moldy cheese, the list went on and on. You could never quite tell which was more dominant over the other, or which indeed had been consumed more than the other. The only thing that was ever certain, was that there was a lot of all of it.
The bear evoked a memory of sand. Like getting your pants filled with sand and then being forced to endure the chafing of the fabric on your skin, and live with rashes for weeks to come. He didn't quite understand why that came to his mind, but come it did, and it also went again when he turned to the horse. The horse didn't really evoke a memory of smell, which is probably why it was so questionable. Or why he had tossed the piece off the pool table earliest before. Maybe there was a faint hint of flowers, but that was just meant to mask the pristine lack of anything else, scrubbed and painted over like an unpleasant truth that ought to be masked. Or maybe he was reading too much into it, again. Who knew.
The wolf and wolf on the stone were pointed at each other, and he simply let out a smile. Then, he remembered there was actually a piece missing, and felt a twinge of regret over both past actions, and how much could be read into his neglect towards that one piece. "How could I forget a person so profoundly" he thought to himself, as he looked back to the cabinet behind him, hoping to see another wolf play piece to put in the line to make it complete. Alas, there was none easy in view, and perhaps it was better this way.
The tower with the raven on top and the sword embedded in stone did not elicit a response in the slightest. Just like the pieces seemed dated, the context was out of view and out of mind. It was like introspection in a life lived a long time ago, but suddenly coming to the realization that this was likely a different person and a different time.
He let out a deep sigh, looking over all the pieces once more, before standing up again, cleaning out the glass of the last of its contents, and carrying all the items on the table to the game cabinet. He started loading them back into their respective places among the other pieces, all manner of knights and animals and buildings. The dust had settled in the areas around the pieces, leaving behind dark and clean circles in the mahogany material, surrounded by fading gray. "Alexander was never a man for playing games" he thought to himself. "He only pulls out a game or some sort of puzzle, if he is trying to prove a point. The game is always the method of conveyance, not the actual objective itself". He felt with a hint of sadness that he had somehow been roped into doing the same with chess, a game he didn't inherently enjoy playing just for the sake of getting to know the political ins and outs of others. He would much rather do other things, like matches of holding breath underwater, running through the trail at Rothburg, or racing up Saint Helena to see who could reach the top first.
With a sigh, he put the last piece in the cabinet, the glasses on top for some other servant to pick up and clean later, and held his hands on the corners of both cabinet doors, giving it one last look-over to make sure all the pieces had been neatly re-arranged to their order in the games, as well as perfectly matching the dust circles left behind from ill-use. He had made sure to put the bear in the back so it wouldn't draw any attention, but faltered when he was about to close the doors.
He reached for the oak play piece, held it in his hand for a moment, before putting it on the corner of the cabinet, in such a position where it could hit the incoming sunrays when the sun would inevitably rise in the morning. That seemed fitting, away from the stuffy confined ranges of the cabinet, away from the restrictive and pristine knight pieces, a cabinet surface to be free in, to catch the first light of day, and to be different. Maybe this one was going to be different. Or maybe it wasn't going to be.
Cedric then closed the cabinet doors proper, and walked his way out of the inner chambers. On his way out, he could hear the crunching of sand particles against his boots on the marble floors. He didn't even look down, knowing full well that the Baron Norrvakt had likely left a small trail behind in his wake, neglecting or perhaps even intentionally forgetting to brush his boots properly when making his way into the inner chambers. It was more than likely forgetfulness, but Cedric wanted to believe if just for the moment that he had done it intentionally to prove a point, or make some point, continuing on with a smile as he walked.
He liked it better this way. He would like him better this way.
He walked around the pool table and squatted to the floor, picking up the play pieces that had been discarded and tossed off the table in the conversation held not too long before now. As he moved to reach for the horse play piece, he could vaguely still make out the lingering scent left behind by his previous conversation partner. It was a scent of something earthy, like wet blades of grass in the rain mixed with dry twigs in the dirt, a scent your dog would have when it came running into the house after the showers outside, covered in leaves and all manner of insect. There was a hint of sweetness to it, perhaps a tabacca, or perhaps he just liked carrot cake, it was hard to say. The people he talked to were likely not aware that he was more accute to people's smells than they could possibly know, and often tried to gleam a lot from what their scent meant. Cedric did always think to himself, "a person without a scent, is someone not to be trusted, someone who is in need of hiding something". "Luckily for Norrvakt", he thought to himself, "This does not seem to be the case".
He lifted up the bear play piece, and made a noise of disgruntled disappointment at the fact that he had somehow managed to chip one of the ears in roughly tossing it off the pool table half an hour before. He looked at the piece in his hands, turning it over a couple of times, and then smiled without making a noise at the irony of the chipped ear and the reflection of reality in the set piece. There were many pieces like it, all different animals and objects. They likely belonged to some sort of strategy board game, but the exact origin didn't matter for him. Cedric often liked getting his hands on something, and then using it entirely out of context for himself, make it his own, make it so he would like it, and perhaps in that moment, he allowed a lingering throught whether the same applied to people.
He turned his head, still squatted on the floor, so his nose and eyes reached out above the pooltable, to cast a glance at the bull play piece that still stood on the opposite side of the pool table, with the crystalline glass next to it. He wondered for a solid minute to himself how much he had changed the person represented in that piece, how he had changed him to his own liking, or how he resisted that upon numerous occasions. It was perhaps in this reflection in the moment, that he was unsure whether this was something that was fair, whether it was a flaw in him as a person, or whether this was natural in people. To want something to be a certain way, and to grief against it until it complies or until it disappears.
Wherever this train of thought was going felt uncomfortable, like a hand invisibly pulling at your stomach after a heavy meal, so the soldier did what the soldier does best, which is bury feelings, and continue doing what he planned on doing all along: to clean up the mess he made with the play pieces, put them back in the game cabinet from where they came, and hope that no-one would notice the chipped bear piece. It was likely some priceless carved piece, hand made, and at least one hundred years old. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't, but it didn't really matter. It didn't matter if you were a commoner, a duke, or a prince. One does not disappoint big brother the Emperor.
After a while, he had finally re-arranged the pieces together on the pool table. From the left stood the bull, the bear, the horse, the wolf, the wolf perched on a rock, the tower with the raven on top, the sword embedded in stone, and finally the glass with still a few droplets of drink in it. He reached over to the far left to the glass that Norrvakt had left behind, and grabbed the piece that stood on his side of the table, the oak tree, and put it at the end of the row of play pieces. He then leaned on the pool table, squatting in such a manner that he could rest his chin flat on the edge, his forearms crossed underneath, and looked at the pieces from left to right, like a child inspecting a toy spectacle or an ant-farm caught in a large glass vase.
In a metaphorical sense, there was a lot of emotions between these pieces. Friendship, hate, love, passion, disgust, betrayal, and sacrifice. Each piece evoked a different response, some of them very mixed, some of them very much the same, yet each with its own appeal, like that of people. The bull evoked a memory, the smell of food, freshly baked bread, cured hams, sugary tarts, moldy cheese, the list went on and on. You could never quite tell which was more dominant over the other, or which indeed had been consumed more than the other. The only thing that was ever certain, was that there was a lot of all of it.
The bear evoked a memory of sand. Like getting your pants filled with sand and then being forced to endure the chafing of the fabric on your skin, and live with rashes for weeks to come. He didn't quite understand why that came to his mind, but come it did, and it also went again when he turned to the horse. The horse didn't really evoke a memory of smell, which is probably why it was so questionable. Or why he had tossed the piece off the pool table earliest before. Maybe there was a faint hint of flowers, but that was just meant to mask the pristine lack of anything else, scrubbed and painted over like an unpleasant truth that ought to be masked. Or maybe he was reading too much into it, again. Who knew.
The wolf and wolf on the stone were pointed at each other, and he simply let out a smile. Then, he remembered there was actually a piece missing, and felt a twinge of regret over both past actions, and how much could be read into his neglect towards that one piece. "How could I forget a person so profoundly" he thought to himself, as he looked back to the cabinet behind him, hoping to see another wolf play piece to put in the line to make it complete. Alas, there was none easy in view, and perhaps it was better this way.
The tower with the raven on top and the sword embedded in stone did not elicit a response in the slightest. Just like the pieces seemed dated, the context was out of view and out of mind. It was like introspection in a life lived a long time ago, but suddenly coming to the realization that this was likely a different person and a different time.
He let out a deep sigh, looking over all the pieces once more, before standing up again, cleaning out the glass of the last of its contents, and carrying all the items on the table to the game cabinet. He started loading them back into their respective places among the other pieces, all manner of knights and animals and buildings. The dust had settled in the areas around the pieces, leaving behind dark and clean circles in the mahogany material, surrounded by fading gray. "Alexander was never a man for playing games" he thought to himself. "He only pulls out a game or some sort of puzzle, if he is trying to prove a point. The game is always the method of conveyance, not the actual objective itself". He felt with a hint of sadness that he had somehow been roped into doing the same with chess, a game he didn't inherently enjoy playing just for the sake of getting to know the political ins and outs of others. He would much rather do other things, like matches of holding breath underwater, running through the trail at Rothburg, or racing up Saint Helena to see who could reach the top first.
With a sigh, he put the last piece in the cabinet, the glasses on top for some other servant to pick up and clean later, and held his hands on the corners of both cabinet doors, giving it one last look-over to make sure all the pieces had been neatly re-arranged to their order in the games, as well as perfectly matching the dust circles left behind from ill-use. He had made sure to put the bear in the back so it wouldn't draw any attention, but faltered when he was about to close the doors.
He reached for the oak play piece, held it in his hand for a moment, before putting it on the corner of the cabinet, in such a position where it could hit the incoming sunrays when the sun would inevitably rise in the morning. That seemed fitting, away from the stuffy confined ranges of the cabinet, away from the restrictive and pristine knight pieces, a cabinet surface to be free in, to catch the first light of day, and to be different. Maybe this one was going to be different. Or maybe it wasn't going to be.
Cedric then closed the cabinet doors proper, and walked his way out of the inner chambers. On his way out, he could hear the crunching of sand particles against his boots on the marble floors. He didn't even look down, knowing full well that the Baron Norrvakt had likely left a small trail behind in his wake, neglecting or perhaps even intentionally forgetting to brush his boots properly when making his way into the inner chambers. It was more than likely forgetfulness, but Cedric wanted to believe if just for the moment that he had done it intentionally to prove a point, or make some point, continuing on with a smile as he walked.
He liked it better this way. He would like him better this way.
***
