A Game of Chess

“Coda. Finn. Come here, please.”

“What is it, Father?” Coda asked, his whiskers twitching in curiosity as he and his brother entered their father’s private work area. The writing desk that was usually covered in half-written scrolls and inkwells was unusually cleared. All that rested upon it was a checkered wooden board. The old red fox had turned the desk sideways so that two chairs could sit across from the other. Their father had already taken a seat at one of the chairs, raising a familiar ink-stained paw to beckon them in.

“We are going to play a game,” Arthur said to the two adolescent boys, placing a wooden box that had rested in his lap onto the table. He opened the box and rummaged inside while the young red fox and panther looked on in curiosity.

“What kind of game?” Finn’s ears perked in excitement. He couldn’t recall a time when their father had asked to play a game with them. Usually when they were invited into the writing room it was to be lectured or taught some sort of profound lesson that was to stick with them into their adulthood. Yet the young fox’s face quickly turned into a scowl as he recognized the pieces his father was pulling out of the box.

“Chess? Isn’t that an old person game?” he snorted in disgust. Coda remained silent throughout the procedure, still looking curiously at the board and the pieces their father arranged on top of it. The young panther was always the more thoughtful of the two. He was sure it must be an important game, though he did not understand how or why.

“Chess is a game of strategy for both the young as well as the old,” Arthur replied, his eyes never leaving the board as he put the final piece in its place. His spectacles had fallen down the bridge of his snout, and he replaced them as he finally looked up at his biological and adoptive sons. “It is a game of skill and sacrifice. And if it makes you any happier, it is a game of war as well.”

“War? Like with knights and stuff? That’s sounds awesome,” Finn’s ears perked back up and his eyes lit up in excitement. Still Coda seemed hesitant, eyeing the board with misgiving. “What kind of sacrifice?”

“Yes, like with knights and stuff,” the old fox repeated with a small smile before answering Coda’s question. “Like in times of true war, sacrifices must be made to protect the king and kingdom. If the king is lost,” he said, holding up the tall white piece with a large crown. “Then the kingdom falls with him and the game is finished. Like with real war it can be messy, and the losses may be substantial on both sides. By the time one kingdom is overthrown, there may not be much left of the other kingdom to take its place. That is why you must weigh your decisions carefully. Protect the king at all costs, but keep your losses to a minimum. Remember that even the most insignificant piece can still hold great value.”

“Take this pawn, for instance,” he said, holding up the small, rounded white piece.  “He can only move two spaces forward if he has not yet been moved, and he can only move forward a single space after his first move. His capturing ability is limited as well, for he can only capture another piece diagonally. Because of his limited range he is the most commonly lost, and people often forget of his hidden potential. You see, if he survives long enough to make it through the enemy lines,” he moved the pawn, letting it hover over the other side of the board, “Then he is rewarded. For his efforts another piece that was lost may be brought back into play. Like this counselor,” he said, placing the pawn back in its space and holding up the piece with a long pointed hat. “Now he is a little more powerful. His range is longer than the pawn’s, but still limited. He can move any distance, but only diagonally.  It is quite different from the rook,” he set down the counselor and held up the guard tower shaped piece for the boys to see. “It also has a limited range, but can move any distance forward or backward, or from side to side.  However, it cannot move diagonally like the counselor can. So you see so far, each piece is special in its own way.”

“Now the knight is a funny piece,” he said, holding up the armored figure. “He has a special move that even the most powerful queen, who is able to move any distance in any direction, cannot perform. He only able to move in an ‘L’ shaped pattern,” the fox demonstrated, moving the piece a single space forward and two spaces to the side, then moving the knight two spaces forward and one to the side. “Because of his uniqueness his moves are often harder to anticipate.  Use him wisely and he can be a great asset.”

“Though you would think the king would be the most powerful piece, his movement is almost as limited at the pawn’s. He too can only move a single space, though he can move in any direction. Because of this, the king often relies on the strength of the other pieces to protect him. Like with real war, the game is ended either when one side resigns or when the king is captured. The king is only captured when he is left without the defense of his subjects, and when he is unable to defend himself. Those are the basic logistics of the game, but as always, the best way to learn is through experience. Who would like to play first?”

“I do,” Finn said, immediately moving forward to take his place in the other chair. “Even if it’s a stupid old person’s game,” he added, trying ineffectively to hide his eagerness with an air of indifference.  Hearing no objection from Coda, who was still eyeing the board and pieces reflectively, lost in his own thoughts, Arthur nodded his consent.  “Very well. Though white typically makes the first move, since you are still learning I will allow you to go first.”

The young fox stared at the board with great concentration, already formulating his plan of attack. He moved the pawn in front of his queen forward two spaces, opening up a space for his mage to eventually come into play.

“What happens when your king is attacked?” Coda eventually asked as his father moved the pawn in front of his king forward two spaces, so that the two pawns met each other diagonally.

“If a king is threatened by another piece, you can do one of three things” the old fox said as Finn planned his next move. “If you are able to, you can move your king away from the attack. You can also capture the other piece if you are able to, or you can move another piece to block the attack.  Of course, that could leave your other piece open to be captured,” he sad as Finn took his pawn; the young fox finally figuring he was not being baited into a trap. “And your king may not be any safer. If your king is unable to move and none of your pieces are able to defend him then checkmate is called and the game is finished.”

“And you said you can resign and end the game as well? Why?” the panther asked, his eyes still glued to the board and the building collection of lost pieces on both sides, though admittedly the white losses appeared greater than the loss of black pieces.

“A person may resign early if they know they are going to lose,” Arthur replied, his usually calm and reserved demeanor starting to fade as Finn’s knight took one of his rooks. “If he or she has suffered too many losses, then they may resign early instead of prolonging the inevitable.”

“Are there other reasons to resign?”

“Well a truce might be called if a game has lasted for an extended period of time. Depending on the skill set of both sides, that can be quite common. Checkmate may also be called early if both sides agree that a loss is inevitable. I suppose it is also like a resignation.”

“Hey, what happens when you attack the other king?” Finn piped up, finally breaking his own silence as he looked up at his father.

“When that happens, the attacker calls out check to let the king know he is being threatened and must defend himself if he can,” the old fox said, still trying to maintain his calm composure. “If the king cannot defend himself, or knows he will soon be unable to, then checkmate is called and the game is over.”

“Oh, well then check,” his young counterpart said, moving his rook in the white king’s line of attack. The old fox could no longer hide his flustered countenance as he looked down at the board with a small frown.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” he quipped, moving his queen to take the castle. Yet in his distraction and agitation he had been unable to see the bigger plot his son had formed. All the plotting and carefully designated losses came down to this final attack as the black queen rose to capture the white queen. With the king left open and vulnerable yet again, there was no escape this time.

“Checkmate,” the young fox said with a small smirk as his father stared in bafflement at the board. “That was kind of fun, for an old person game.” He rose from the chair with a self-satisfied air as Coda took his place at the desk.

“Well I suppose some have more of an aptitude for the game than others,” Arthur quipped yet again as he rearranged the pieces on the board.  “You have a very shrewd mind for someone as young as yourself. Do not misuse it.”

“Sure, sure. Can I go now?” Finn asked, glancing outside the window at the clear and sunny sky.

“If you must,” their father sighed, knowing the lesson was lost on the young fox. Wasting no more time at the dismissal, Finn dashed for the front door.

“See you soon,” he called back to his brother while Coda still stared in thoughtful concentration at the board. His mind made up, he looked up at his father with steady determination. “Do I still get to go first?”

“Since I let Finn go first, it’s only fair that you should take the first turn as well.”

“Then I resign,” the panther said with resolution, pushing the chair back from the table. The old fox’s earlier look of bafflement returned to his face. “But we haven’t even begun the game.”

“Yes we have. And I resign,” Coda said in the same resolute tone, holding his steady gaze.

“If it’s because you want to join Finn, then-“

“It’s not that,” Coda’s tone hardened at the accusation. “But if I resign, then nobody dies.”

“It’s just a game, Coda,” Arthur’s expression softened at the realization. “Nobody really dies.  It’s a game that forces you to think about the decisions you make, and sometimes those decisions will be difficult, but it’s a game nonetheless.”

“But you said the game mirrors real war. And in war, people die. So I resign,” the panther repeated, rising from his chair.

“You do realize that by resigning, you allow for the other king to take control? Are you sure his rule will be better for the kingdom?” the old fox asked in a last appeal.

“They won’t be dead,” the young panther shrugged, walking towards the door to join his brother outside. At the door’s closing thud Arthur removed his spectacles and sighed, rubbing the bridge of his snout.

“What am I going to do with the two of you?” he shook his head, though not without a small, wry smile.