A Pawn Inspired

"You are a pawn, expendable and worth nothing more than a defensive wall to protect us, the valuable pieces in this brutal game."

The king and queen looked on in silence while the knights, bishops, and rooks guffawed.

Pawn, infuriated, retreated to its quarters, mumbling to itself.

He questioned the king's authority, after all, the king was as slow as he was, but then the king's extensive training trumped his argument. The king could beat any individual in close quarters combat and had done so on the battlefield for years. Pawn, perhaps, had a body count of five, while the king had dozens. Pawn's limited combat prowess left him at the bottom of the totem pole. He could only swing his blade hard enough to take down a single opponent to his right or left in front of him, but if the enemy was directly in front of him, he was easily stifled and incapable of progress. He couldn't compete with the Bishop's sweeping strikes that closed off entire portions of the battle field, the knight who could penetrate most defenses, nor the rook who beat down the toughest of foes with his charging blows.

The queen's training made her capacity nearly unattainable for a measly pawn. What to do?

A tiny inkling of hope crossed Pawn's mind. There was an army fast approaching. He could earn his merit then, but he needed to make an impression and the other soldiers were seldom impressed.

"Yes, that could work." An idea, like wisps of smoke formed in his mind. He wasn't sure about the chances, but there was possibility.

The following day, the red army appeared, ready to draw on all their might to deplete their victims of any hope for a future. The black army manned their positions and Pawn set his plan into motion.

The front lines clashed head-on, resulting in few casualties. The Rooks, despite all their brawn, were stifled, left to defend a portion of the battlefield as they were herded into a concentrated cluster. The knights were hindered as they couldn't work around the red army's heavy defenses, nor could they reach their comrades in the Rooks or the Bishops who were maintaining a line for retreat. Cannons fired, roaming catapults flung their stones, but careful training and tight, coordinated movements kept everything at a stalemate.

Considered useless, Pawn made his way past the front-lines, taking down a few enemies in the mid-ranks and rear and made it to where the red army kept their fresh horses for their knights. Pawn rushed the mobile stables and slashed down a guard. The other guards were taken aback, just enough for Pawn to press the advantage and break a horse's lock. He pulled on the horse's reigns and mounted.

Using the horse's thundering power and his mighty swing strengthened by the horse's momentum, Pawn barreled around the red army's rear, cutting down their soldiers one-by-one. In a materialistic sense, he was hardly putting a dent in their numbers, but he sowed chaos. Soldiers made a racket as they turned to defend their compatriots only to be wounded or hacked down in the process. Red army soldiers in the front lines turned their heads, turning their attention to the commotion and losing focus on the enemy before them. The black army rooks broke the enemy front line and united with the knights who offered hit and run tactics to keep the red army in tatters.

The battle was lengthy, but eventually a portion of the red army was isolated and defeated, forcing the rest to retreat. And, from among the enemy lines came one soldier, a self-appointed knight, ragged and battle-worn, who received bowed heads and kneeling ovation for his service to his royal highness.