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The Otter
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Creative Chaos
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Lunamaria Hawke
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Fading MemoryAlexander Kherol
The Last Ascendancy Commander
The Applause
People sometimes wondered how Alexander could keep such emotionless calm amidst danger and chaos. In response, the Grand Admiral would crack a joke or two with that same face they described. But it was uncomforting sometimes, especially being at the top, with all eyes on him looking to see what the genius would do next.
His first brush with that sort of expectation is the moment he stepped on the playing hall of the exhibition match with grandmaster Babir. The 11-year-old emerged from backstage with the pair of opaque glasses given to him by the organizer's CEO. Prompted to look intimidating and mysterious, the young Kherol crushed his contender in his first 17 games with the unpredictability of a creature beyond their comprehension. Now he walked into game 18 with the star of the event, the chess grandmaster from Korta; the two facing off in good old fashion classical chess: 90 minutes for the first 40 moves then 30 minutes for the remainder of the game, and 30 seconds addition for each move. It would be a very tiring experience for Alexander, who rarely had to go through the format before. But he was prepared regardless. He had his night's sleep, a good run through of the grandmaster's old games, and now as he approached his opponents, shook his tusk sat down readjusting his pieces, he kept his nerves under control and flow with the ticking clock besides him. And the game began with a loud clatter as the Babir started Alexander's clock.
Without hesitation, Alexander played the bishop and queen's pawn, otherwise legendarily recognized as the Queen's Gambit. This sudden deviation from his normal aggressive style of king's pawn openings went completely against Babir's expectations as all he had prepared from the first 17 games were thrown out the windows. He still had a huge reservoir of reply from years of studies, and he picked one to test the young prodigy. Alexander took little time with his openings, having already visualized the positions hundreds of times in his head. A few moves in and both sides emerged into the middlegame with no clear advantages.
However, the grandmaster already felt the unease on his shoulders, as he saw his own reflection in the motionless, emotionless Alexander. It was as if the boy's breathe disappeared the moment he put his palm on his cheek. He also took his time with his ingenuity. It was cold, unnerving and terrifying even, looking this kid in the eye, wondering if he was actually an android who probably had more emotions than he does, wondering if he's actually looking back, if he's actually calculating the game, or he's actually planning to strangle his opponents. He did all of them.
What followed was immediate suppression on Babir positions. Due to the nature of Babir's reply, one of his bishop's movements will be really negated, and in response, Alexander's innovation is to create an peculiar and innovative pawn structure to suppress other bishop as well. Babir gradually realized the significance of his opponent's intentions. Alexander was aware of Babir's flexibility with open attacks, so he forced the aging chess player into not only an extremely confined middle-game. He'd even do what was unthinkable - throwing away castling right and walked the king up out of possible bishop breakout checks, or even nonchalantly sacrificing minor pieces - to continue the movement suppression. Babir could feel the strangle tightening his noose, his pieces couldn't move anywhere meaningfully. Despite being superior in material, none of those were significant. He had no decent pawn break left; the other ones completely shatter his fortress. There were few good moves for the grandmaster.
Casually, as the noose was tightened, Alexander took his time improving his own pieces, getting them into positions. He was a lot more mobile, he had plenty of time on the clock, and his opponent couldn't meaningfully respond. The death blow did not come from any dramatic immortal sacrifices, or aggressive quick maneuvers across the board, but a gentle and stone-cold pawn push. Regardless of that pawn being taken or not, the queen would infiltrate and he's dead. He lost, there were no convincing otherwise. Babir slowly reached his hands for the clock. A loud clatter echoed the playing hall once again. It was move 56, Alexander's time sat at 50 minutes, while Babir at merely 10. He was annihilated by an 11-year-old, whose inhuman calculation and genius innovation crafted a masterpiece.
It was at this moment, that the Kortan grandmaster Babir Anchovisch, having beaten much more experienced opponents than Alexander, stood up from his chair, weakly smiled to the boy sitting across the table and gave him a round of applause. The claps was followed by hundreds others in the hall, complete in awe to the spectacular performance of this genius from Alexandria, who had just now reeled back to reality. He realized what he created, and to the thunderous applause of everyone including even his adversary, whom he had only viewed as such until now, he could only give one final handshake before hurrying off stage.
It was too much for him.
He walked to a hallway full of journalist ecstatic for a snapshot or a shameless question thrown his way. He didn't have the energy or charisma left to answer any of the 'how do you feel?' or 'did you calculate all of those moves?'. He desperately squeezed his ways into the bathroom nearby. Hunched over the sink, Alexander let out a nauseating pant. In front of this mirror, he was cold and frightening. His stomach churned; he ripped off his glasses and wiped the sweat off his brows in front of this incomprehensible creature. He did all of that. Those merciless play, the slow strangulation, the emotionless disconnect into the unearthly reality in his head.
It wasn't him pretending to be someone else he wasn't. It was him all along.
