Queening. - A Chess Tale

Chapter One

Chapter One
December 1874, First Winter Battle

   
    I am so not ready for it. I lace up my white ankle boot, one foot propped up on a bench. The bowtie had become loose during exercise. I'm going to have to tie them more properly tomorrow. Tomorrow... The nauseous feeling returns, creeps up my stomach, remains in my throat. I am glad I didn't eat this morning. Throwing up on a bunch of soldiers is not on my bucket list. I tie a bow and knot it again before I return to my seat. I smooth down my skirt. Everything's going to be fine.

    Antoine and I spent the entirety of the last week coming up with a plan to get me away from the battlefield unnoticed and into the safety of the trees. As king he should have encouraged me to fight and cross the battlefield in an honorable way to prove that I am worthy of becoming queen. But as my brother he knows how terrible a fighter I am. All he wants is for me to survive. So when he had to cash in favours for things that border illegality such as using explosions in an ongoing battle, he didn't hesitate.

    'Soldiers, listen up,' one of the generals exclaims. Immediately the room quiets. 'We have assigned you to squares. The lists are on the wall behind me. Please read carefully and report to your leading general.' As soon as she steps down from the bench again, all of the soldiers rush past her, eager to find their name.

    I stay back and wait for the space to clear up. I study the list, fully expecting to see my name written in section D2. It's not there. I study the list of D2 soldiers again and again. My name's not there.

    I read through the other sections. There it is. Claire Khatri, section E2.

    With only a few steps I'm at the general who had announced the lists.

    'Excuse me!' I exclaim.

    'What is it?' she says with a look that tells me to stop bothering her.

    'There seems to have been some sort of mistake. You see,-' I continue but she cuts me off with a wave of her hand.

    'We don't make mistakes.' Her tone doesn't allow any discussions. I ignore it.

    'I'm supposed to be in section D2,' I say calmly. If she gets mad, there's no chance of convincing her.

    'If your name isn't written in section D2, you're not supposed to be there.'

    'But-'

    'End of discussion, soldier.' With those words she turns around and walks away. The first step and the plan's already going wrong. Way to go, CeeCee, way to go.

♕

    The following night I can't sleep. I roll around my bed, try to find a comfortable position but there is none. My thoughts won't leave me alone. How am I going to get away if the explosion won't be close enough to cause a distraction? Am I going to have to fight my way through like all of the white queens before me? Am I going to die tomorrow?

    My head is spinning, the nausea returns. It's so hot in here. So hot, I can barely breathe. I close my eyes again. I need to get some rest. I need to sleep. I can't. The thoughts, my feelings, the heavy blanket, the nausea, my pulse. They all threaten to suffocate me. Bury me beneath them until I'm nothing more than a pile of pity.

    I get up. I take my coat, put on my boots. I'm going for a walk. I close the door behind me. The air is crisp, the moon is high. In a few hours I'll be in a carriage transporting me toward section E2. Not D2. Not the one that's going to move first. Not the one this plan was designed for.

    I push the thoughts aside and start walking away from the block made up of little houses, the soldier's accomodations, away from the training field and over to the big brickwall encapsulating the campus of the training facility.