Here in Chess, war has been forever. When peace gets established, it doesn't last for long. It's shattered almost immediately and all of the bloodshed, all of the pain was for nothing. Being sent to war is usually a death sentence. Barely anyone survives and no one does a thing about it.
'We need to fight,' my brother tries to convince not only me but the entire white kingdom, 'They're evil. Just look how ruthless they are, look how many lives they've taken from us. We need to fight them until we win. Until this horrible nightmare ends.'
People cheer. I do too. We cheer because nothing else is left to be cheerful about. In a land constantly out of supplies and food, where all money goes to weaponery, there's barely a reason to cheer. Not when the sons have to go to military camp at age 13 and the fathers are dying on the field. For the greater good, they say.
To us, the black people are in the wrong. They take lives. They train soldiers. They send their people to war for them to die. There are stories in which they are sent straight from hell, and we believe. We believe all of it. Believe in the fault painted on them, believe in their wrong doings, in our right to fight back.
No one ever stops to think about how they see us. If they see us the same way we see them. If we're more alike than anyone would ever admit. Nobody doubts the system. Nobody doubts the rulers. The scary part is, neither have I.
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Queening. - A Chess Tale
Фэнтези! Updated Weekly ! In the land of chess war has been forever. White against black, black against white. For the white queen's daughter fighting is inevitable for she can only become queen once she reaches the other end of the board. But when she get...
