A week later, White Stone Mansion.
The elegant and tranquil White Stone Mansion welcomed yet another morning, its courtyard bathed in rose colored dawn light.
The air was filled with the fragrance of blooming roses from the back garden, and in the distance came the crisp calls of morning birds.
On the second floor corridor, light footsteps sounded.
Carolina wore a neat maid's uniform, her white apron glowing softly in the morning light.
At this moment, a girlish innocence and confusion showed in Carolina's ice blue eyes.
She walked along the corridor lined with a deep red carpet.
Passing several landscape oil paintings hung on the walls and decorative silver candlesticks, her footsteps were completely absorbed by the thick carpet.
Finally, Carolina stopped before the oak door of Orum's bedroom, carved with an exquisite vine pattern.
Standing outside the door, Carolina raised her fair hand and knocked gently.
"Knock knock knock,"
Three polite, rhythmic knocks echoed through the quiet corridor.
"Master Orum, it's Carolina. Are you in there?"
Outside the door, Carolina tilted her head slightly to listen.
Light filtered through the corridor's stained glass windows, casting dappled shadows on her pale golden hair, and her expression carried a trace of unease.
A moment later, Orum's low and composed voice came from inside the room.
"What is it, Carolina?"
The voice, passing through the thick oak door, sounded somewhat muffled.
Outside the door, Carolina bowed slightly, though her master could not see the gesture, it was a courtesy ingrained in her very bones.
"Master Orum, have you seen my sister Ristina?"
Her voice was clear and carried obvious confusion.
Carolina's brows furrowed slightly. "I haven't seen her since this morning."
From inside came the rustling sound of pages turning.
Then Orum's calm, natural reply followed.
"Oh, Ristina is playing chess with me right now."
"She's quite busy at the moment."
Hearing Orum's words, Carolina outside the door froze for a moment.
A deeper confusion flickered through her ice blue eyes.
She unconsciously leaned toward the crack in the door, but the thick oak door fit so tightly that nothing could be seen.
"So it's chess..."
Outside the door, the girl's fingers unconsciously twisted the edge of her apron, a habitual gesture she made when uneasy.
Various questions surfaced in her mind.
Why would her sister be playing chess in the master's room so early in the morning? Why hadn't she said anything to her?
"Go on and get started on breakfast."
Orum's voice came again, his tone as flat and even as ever, as though stating the most ordinary fact.
"Oh, and there's one more thing I need you to do."
Carolina immediately set aside the doubt in her heart. Her professionalism snapped her back into work mode.
"Yes, Master! Please tell me!"
Her voice was clear and earnest.
"Carolina, heat up some water for me. I'll be taking a bath later."
Orum's voice carried a faint trace of languor.
"Remember, the water should be moderate, not too hot and not too cold. Just like always, thank you."
"Yes, Master!"
"I guarantee I'll get it done!"
Carolina lingered outside the door a moment longer, her ice blue eyes fixed on the closed oak door, still filled with confusion.
What kind of chess was her sister really playing with the master inside? Why couldn't she hear anything at all?
But since the master had said so, it must be fine.
In the end, Carolina chose to believe it. She turned and walked away down the corridor, her footsteps gradually fading.
Only the swaying morning light in the corridor and the ticking of the wall clock remained.
The corridor fell silent again.
Inside the room behind the oak door.
Orum looked toward the door, the corner of his mouth curling into a faint smile.
He could easily imagine Carolina's confused yet obedient expression at that moment.
"Carolina really is such a pure child."
His voice carried a hint of fondness and appreciation, as if he were commenting on some precious work of art.
The light inside the bedroom was somewhat dimmer than in the corridor, the heavy velvet curtains blocking out most of the sunlight.
Only a few strands of morning light slipped through the gaps in the curtains, casting thin golden bands across the floor.
The air was filled with a faint scent of sandalwood mixed with other indescribable fragrances.
Orum's gaze moved downward, the playful note in his voice growing stronger.
"Why is it that her sister is so completely different?"
"Elegant on the outside, twisted on the inside, how does that work?"
As Orum's words fell, a head with pale golden hair pinned up and delicate cheeks framed by ice blue eyes slowly emerged from beneath the desk.
It was none other than Ristina Lorran, sister of the maid Carolina.
At this moment, Ristina's demeanor was completely unlike her usual self.
Her normally ice cold cheeks were now flushed as red as sunset clouds.
The pale golden strands of hair at her forehead clung messily to her skin, damp with sweat.
Her ice blue eyes were clouded with moisture.
The gaze she fixed on Orum was a mixture of shame, grievance, and some unspeakable emotion.
Ristina looked up with a resentful expression, gazing at Orum's faintly smiling face before her.
That look seemed to be protesting some great injustice, or perhaps resenting her master for putting her through such a humiliating situation.
But at this moment, her resentful gaze only made her all the more capable of stirring up a desire to possess her.
Ristina's half elf ears peeked out from beneath her pale golden updo.
The tips of her ears were tinted an unnatural shade of pink.
In the morning light they looked crystalline and delicate, like the finest crystal artwork, trembling faintly in the air.
Orum reached out with interest.
His slender fingers gently touched the pointed tip of her ear.
A warm, delicate sensation traveled through Ristina's ear, softer than the finest silk, and she could even feel the faint pulse of blood beneath the skin.
"Mm!!"
Ristina's body trembled violently, as if struck by an electric current.
Her ice blue eyes instantly lost focus, growing hazy and moist, and even her breathing quickened.
From the tip, sliding down to the base of the ear.
At the base, tracing the outline of the ear's curve.
"Your ears feel really nice."
Orum remarked with satisfaction.
The delicate, pointed ears unique to the half elf race were entirely different from human ones.
They trembled at the touch, clearly very sensitive, and highly responsive.
Ristina could not break free of Orum's fingers.
She struggled to suppress the sound rising from deep in her throat.
It was clear that Ristina was enduring a tremendous amount of restraint.
"Master, don't touch, my ears, mmph."
The sound of swallowing rang out, her throat bobbing.
But the smile at the corner of Orum's mouth only grew more wicked.
"Oh?"
Orum blinked, deliberately affecting a tone of surprise.
"Now that's interesting."
"After all, I recall a certain someone didn't say that before."
Ristina's cheeks instantly flushed even redder, the color spreading all the way to the tips of her ears.
She wanted to protest, but her throat could only produce a faint, muffled sound.
She couldn't form a complete sentence at all.
"Then I'll go find Carolina."
Orum said in a deliberately light and casual tone.
A sly gleam flashed in his eyes.
"I'll go touch her ears instead. Carolina is so obedient, she surely wouldn't defy her master's orders the way a certain maid did."
Hearing this, Ristina's pupils suddenly contracted.
The haze in her eyes was instantly replaced by a look of urgency.
"Master, don't lay a hand on Carolina."
Ristina said urgently.
Her voice was full of worry and protectiveness.
"Mmph."
Just as she spoke, a pair of hands suddenly cupped her cheeks.
The warm palms pressed against her burning skin.
The two of them were close enough that they could clearly see their own reflections in each other's eyes.
Ristina's body temperature rose rapidly.
It was as if an invisible flame burned across her skin, her fair complexion flushing an unnatural shade of pink.
Her ice blue eyes lost focus entirely, turning hazy and feverish.
"Why not?"
Orum asked deliberately, his thumb gently stroking her burning cheek, feeling the delicate skin and the rapid pulse beneath it.
"Carolina, she, she's still young."
Ristina managed to say the words with difficulty.
Her voice carried obvious worry, and in her eyes flashed the protectiveness particular to an older sister.
"Mmph, she doesn't understand these things yet."
Orum laughed. "How is she young? Carolina was only born one minute after you. You two are twins, the exact same age."
Ristina opened her mouth.
She wanted to argue that her sister's nature was purer, not like her own.
But under the gaze of Orum's deep black eyes.
All her words caught in her throat, unable to make a sound.
In the end, Ristina could only let out a faint, muffled sound.
Watching Ristina's obedient yet reluctant expression.
The mischievous satisfaction in Orum's heart was thoroughly fulfilled.
His hands cupped Ristina's cheeks, feeling her burning temperature.
For a moment, the bedroom fell into silence.
"Enough."
Orum said suddenly.
His tone carried an air that brooked no argument.
With a single motion of his arms, he lifted Ristina up from beneath the desk.
The maid's slender body felt weightless in his arms.
Ristina let out a soft gasp, and instinctively used her long, powerful legs to hook tightly around Orum's waist.
The force was so strong it seemed as though she meant to snap his waist in two.
Ristina clung to him entirely like a koala.
Her arms instinctively wrapped around Orum's neck as well, her body pressed tightly against his. Her rapid heartbeat rang out clearly in the quiet room.
At this moment, Ristina's ice blue eyes were entirely consumed by feverish heat.
Her pupils were dilated to their limit, her gaze scattered and hazy.
The elegant, cold aristocratic bearing she usually carried had vanished completely in this moment.
Ristina's lips parted slightly, revealing white teeth and the pink tip of her tongue.
Her ragged breathing washed over the side of Orum's neck, carrying a scorching warmth.
Her entire being radiated a dangerous, seductive air.
"Orum, Master."
The sunlight shifted into the brilliant gold of midday.
Steam rose from the bathing pool at White Stone Mansion, mist drifting through the air like something out of a fairyland.
A few fresh rose petals floated on the surface of the water.
The pink petals swayed gently across the water, releasing a delicate fragrance.
It mingled with the scent of the bathing tonics, forming a unique aroma.
Orum leaned back in the pool, the warm spring water covering his chest, the comfortable temperature letting every muscle in his body relax completely.
The muscle fatigue from the morning's exertions had vanished entirely.
He closed his eyes, his head resting on the cushioned edge of the pool, enjoying this rare moment of leisure.
By his ears, the sound of water gently lapping against the pool's walls brought an overwhelming sense of calm and relaxation.
Ristina and Carolina were both by the pool's edge.
The two half elf maids wore special bathing attendant attire, thin white linen dresses.
Their sleeves and hems were rolled up to a suitable height, convenient for their work while still maintaining propriety.
Carolina was in charge of handing over towels, soap, and other items, her movements gentle and careful, her ice blue eyes holding nothing but focused attention on her work, occasionally using a towel to wipe the sweat from her master's forehead.
Ristina, meanwhile, was in charge of the massage, her fingers nimble and strong as she pressed against Orum's shoulders and neck, though her expression was far more complicated.
Her gaze would occasionally sneak glances at Orum's body, a flicker of shyness, lingering memory, and some emotion only she herself understood passing through her ice blue eyes.
Still, her expression remained as calm and icy as always, masking her true feelings well enough that Carolina noticed nothing out of the ordinary.
After the bath, it was time for lunch.
Lunch was already prepared, the rectangular oak dining table draped in a spotless white tablecloth, set with exquisite silverware.
On the plates were steaks seared to perfection, their surfaces crisp and fragrant, the interiors still tender and pink, dressed with a butter sauce that gave off an inviting aroma.
Beside them was freshly baked bread, its crust golden and crisp, the inside soft as clouds, still steaming when cut open.
There was also a rich vegetable soup on the table, paired with savory braised venison, delicious enough to leave a lasting impression.
Orum sat at the head of the table. Ristina and Carolina stood attending on either side, cutting his steak, pouring sweet wine, and passing him napkins, their movements graceful and coordinated.
"Master, how is the steak done?" Carolina asked with concern.
Orum chewed a bite. The meat was tender, the juices rich.
"Very good. Your skills keep improving."
Carolina broke into a happy smile.
"Master, do you have any plans for this afternoon?" she asked innocently.
"I'll keep reading and playing chess in the inner hall," Orum replied.
"Is there anything we can help with?"
"Ristina will come with me to the inner hall. Carolina, you take care of clearing the dishes."
Carolina nodded obediently, while a faint, barely noticeable flicker of anticipation passed through Ristina's eyes.
After the meal, satisfied and well fed, Ristina wiped the corners of Orum's mouth with a napkin.
Then Orum rose and headed to the inner hall on the second floor, the place where he had spent most of his time lately, his private space for studying tactics.
Carolina stayed behind to clear the table, while Ristina followed her master to the inner hall.
The inner hall was a spacious, bright room located on the sunniest part of the second floor of White Stone Mansion, covering roughly thirty square meters, one side connected to a terrace through three enormous floor to ceiling windows.
The room's furnishings were simple yet refined, with a set of comfortable leather sofas arranged by the window.
Along the walls of the inner hall stood a row of tall bookshelves made of dark oak, neatly lined with all kinds of books, treatises on military tactics, historical records, and works on magical theory, all recently purchased hardcover volumes.
Orum walked over to the sofa by the window and sat down, casually picking up the thick, hardbound book from the side table, the specialization training manual titled White Raven Tactics.
The book's cover was made of specially treated monster hide, processed to a deep brown, its corners wrapped in exquisite copper.
The pages were made of fine parchment, tinted a faint cream color, thick and durable, resistant to wear even after repeated reading, giving off a faint scent of ink mixed with the distinct smell of leather.
The book was quite heavy, weighing an estimated five or six catties.
Orum sat on the leather sofa by the window, resting the heavy White Raven Tactics manual steadily on his lap. His slender fingers gently turned the cover, producing a faint rustling sound.
The afternoon sunlight poured in through the floor to ceiling windows. A beam of gold light landed precisely on the pages, making the text written in ancient ink appear especially vivid. Every character seemed to dance in the light.
This White Raven Tactics manual was entirely different from the Iron Heart Force and Stone Dragon manuals he had studied before. Those two specialization training manuals had focused more on personal combat skill and defensive cultivation, while this book represented an entirely different dimension of knowledge.
The pages were densely packed with a vast body of military theory.
Starting from the most basic classification of troop types: infantry, cavalry, archers, spearmen, heavy infantry, light cavalry, and so on, each type accompanied by a detailed explanation of its characteristics.
Infantry were suited for defending fortresses, but were easily scattered by cavalry on open terrain and were poor at pursuit and surprise attacks. Archers had long range but extremely weak close combat ability.
Heavy infantry excelled at forming ranks but moved slowly, while light cavalry had good mobility but lacked the strength for a frontal charge.
Next came methods for building and training armies.
Including how to recruit soldiers, how to conduct daily training, how to boost morale, and how to manage troops.
There were even dedicated chapters discussing soldiers' diets and weapon maintenance.
Training a competent unit of spearmen required at least three months.
While cultivating a skilled archer required a full year.
Further along, the content grew even more specialized and complex.
The establishment of command structures, the construction of tactical frameworks, the counter relationships between troop types, the influence of terrain on combat, and considerations of weather.
The book explained in detail why a spear formation could counter cavalry.
Because spears had a longer reach, and when fixed firmly against the ground, could use the ground's reactive force to knock cavalry off their horses before the charge could land.
But spearmen feared archers' ranged attacks, as dense volleys of arrows could quickly collapse a spear formation.
And archers in turn feared cavalry's high speed charges, unable to flee in time before being trampled.
This formed a complete cycle of mutual counters.
The latter half of the book delved further into strategic thinking.
How to judge the timing of war, how to prepare before battle, how to formulate long term strategy, how to maneuver among multiple competing powers.
"The outcome of a war is often decided before the fighting even begins."
When Orum read this line, he could not help but pause to think.
"Ample provisions, fine equipment, well trained soldiers, sound tactical arrangements, these preparations matter more than performance in the moment."
The content of White Raven Tactics was intricate and interconnected.
Each chapter built upon the foundations laid by the ones before it.
Like a pyramid of knowledge rising layer by layer, requiring a solid climb from the base upward.
Orum's dark eyes moved slowly across the pages.
He focused intently on the chapter about "formation tactics."
Occasionally furrowing his brow in thought, or breaking into an expression of sudden realization.
"So that's it, the core of a formation isn't its offensive power, but its stability."
"Through tight formation and unified movement, an entire army becomes like a giant hedgehog that no enemy can easily break through."
Perhaps because he had personally experienced several skirmishes and tasted mortal combat firsthand.
These real experiences gave Orum a far deeper understanding of the theoretical knowledge in the book.
Terms that might otherwise have been obscure and difficult to grasp all found corresponding scenes from real battles in his mind.
When the book mentioned "flanking maneuvers," he could recall the scene before the small dungeon, when the Ice Hawks Company had launched a surprise attack from the side against the goblins.
That was when Felix had sent Melina, Raygore, and Orum around to the goblins' flank, striking while they were unprepared, a textbook example of a flanking maneuver.
When the book discussed the importance of "terrain advantage," he thought of the streets of Roen City.
The scene of the dwarves using stone steps to fire down on the orcs.
As well as the suffocating feeling of fighting in a narrow underground passage.
Terrain truly could dramatically affect the outcome of a battle.
The side holding the high ground gained both a field of vision and the advantage of gravity.
While in confined spaces, numerical superiority was greatly diminished.
This method of combining theory with practice made Orum's progress astonishingly fast.
Even he himself found it somewhat surprising.
Knowledge that he had originally expected would take years to master now seemed within reach.
He silently calculated his learning pace in his mind.
At his current rate, if he devoted four to five focused hours a day, it would take only a month to reach the basic knowledge threshold set by White Raven Tactics.
If he took a more relaxed approach, spending two or three hours a day woven into his daily routine.
Then two months would be enough.
This pace far exceeded his original expectations.
Still, mastering the theory alone was far from sufficient.
The true essence of White Raven Tactics lay in flexibly applying this knowledge to actual combat.
This required extensive practice and drilling.
Orum closed the book, his slender fingers tapping lightly on the white raven emblem embossed on the cover.
He fell into a brief moment of contemplation.
Beyond studying theory, he also needed a way to continuously practice tactical thinking.
Orum's gaze fell on the center of the room.
There stood a square chess table, its surface inlaid with ebony and ivory, the massive square board divided into three sections, the dedicated board for Lionheart Chess.
Around the table stood four high backed chairs, their backrests carved with exquisite patterns, the cushions filled with soft velvet, comfortable enough that even hours of play would cause no discomfort.
On the table sat an exquisite set of Lionheart Chess pieces.
The ebony and ivory carved pieces gleamed with a warm luster in the sunlight.
This particular set of Lionheart Chess had been purchased specially from a high end trading house in Roen City.
The price had been steep, costing him a full fifty gold coins.
But the investment had been worth it.
Lionheart Chess was the most popular military strategy game among the noble class of the Sacred Gani Kingdom.
Its rules were extraordinarily complex, featuring as many as sixty different types of pieces.
Covering nearly every type of army found across the continent, even including foreign legions and hero units.
The board consisted of three large map sections, and could be expanded further to accommodate more players, supporting up to eight players at once.
Each player began the game with twenty four pieces, chosen freely by the player from among the sixty distinct troop types.
Among the sixty piece types was the "Lionheart King" representing the monarch, and the "War Lord" symbolizing the commander.
There were powerful "Dragon Knights" and "Paladins," as well as ordinary "spearmen," "archers," "cavalry," and other basic troop types.
Each piece had its own unique movement rules and methods of attack.
Complex, realistic counter relationships existed between them.
Even more complex, Lionheart Chess introduced concepts of "terrain" and "military supplies."
Making the rules of play even more intricate, requiring extensive thought.
There were also mechanics for "morale" and "elite rank."
When one side lost too many pieces, the attack and movement power of the remaining pieces would decline, while units with a higher "elite rank" could resist the negative effects of "morale collapse," perfectly simulating the way real armies could crumble in morale on the battlefield.
Through repeated play of Lionheart Chess, a player could cultivate tactical thinking, sharpen their sense of the overall situation, learn resource allocation, and master the rhythm of offense and defense in practice, truly becoming an outstanding military strategist, precisely the core competency emphasized by White Raven Tactics.
This was also the reason White Raven Tactics recommended Lionheart Chess as a learning tool.
Fortunately, the half elf twins Carolina and Ristina had both received a complete noble education, and both knew how to play Lionheart Chess.
Among the nobility, Lionheart Chess was one of the required social skills, just as important as dance and music, something every proper noble child had to master in order to display their intelligence in social settings.
As former members of the once illustrious Lorran family, Carolina and Ristina had naturally studied Lionheart Chess as well.
However, Carolina's skill level was only at a beginner's stage.
When Carolina played, her expression was extremely earnest, and she always followed the basic patterns and set plays she had learned, step by step, lacking flexibility. When faced with unexpected situations, she often became flustered and easily lost her rhythm.
Ristina's skill, by contrast, was on an entirely different level, capable of reaching the standard of a low tier professional player.
Ristina's style was sharp and incisive, keenly seizing on every opening, skilled at using wave after wave of offensives, attacking from multiple directions simultaneously to break down an opponent's formation.
Her calculation ability, sense of the overall situation, and competitive mindset all far surpassed Carolina's.
Although only at the level of a low tier professional, for an ordinary person this was already quite an impressive achievement, more than enough to prove her natural gift for tactical thinking.
For this reason, Orum decided to make Ristina his primary sparring partner, honing his tactical ability through constant matches against a skilled opponent, with the added benefit of reviewing each game afterward, far more effective than playing against Carolina.
And so, during this period, a distinctive daily rhythm took shape at White Stone Mansion. Orum played three set matches every day, as regular as the three daily meals.
In the morning, after waking, he would first go through a warm up routine before chess.
Once the warm up ended, Ristina would tidy her disheveled clothes and hair, then sit properly at the chess table, waiting to play the first "morning match" with her master.
After lunch, when the sun reached its highest point in the sky and both were well fed, Orum would play a leisurely "noon match."
The afternoon sunlight streamed through the floor to ceiling windows into the inner hall, the warm light filling the room with a languid air. Ristina sat across the chessboard from him, and the two would occasionally sip black tea.
This session felt more like a pleasure than the tense atmosphere of the morning, nor did it carry the undercurrents of the night. Instead it was an intellectual contest carried out in sunlight and the fragrance of tea.
Late at night, Ristina would always thoughtfully send her sister Carolina to bed early, with the excuse, "I still need to play chess with the master, so you should go to sleep first," and then make her way alone to Orum's bedroom. In these late night matches, if Ristina won, Orum would give her a reward.
If Orum won, he would administer a punishment to this maid who appeared cold and elegant on the outside but was in truth scheming and audacious.
Through this constant back and forth of practice, Orum's skill in Lionheart Chess improved at a visibly rapid pace.
Like a sponge frantically soaking up water, he learned something new from every single match.
At first, whenever he faced Ristina, he was completely overwhelmed.
Often, the outcome would already be decided by the midgame, and he could only hold on through sheer stubborn will until the end.
Back then, he had been like a child just learning to walk, facing off against a fully grown adult.
But as the number of matches increased, things began to change.
Orum gradually began to grasp the use of various tactics.
He learned how to set traps, how to feint in one direction while striking in another, and how to find a chance to turn the tables even from a disadvantaged position.
Orum began to understand the essence of troop counters.
He no longer mechanically memorized rules like "cavalry counters archers," but truly understood why such counter relationships existed.
And how to make use of them in actual play.
Next, Ristina taught Orum how to read the "momentum" on the board.
Much like the concept of "influence" in the game of Go, even without capturing an opponent's pieces yet, one could still occupy an advantageous position that would lay the groundwork for a future offensive.
More importantly, he began to be able to predict his opponent's next move.
By observing Ristina's eyes, the time she spent thinking, and the patterns of her previous moves, he could guess what she was likely to choose.
This ability would prove equally vital on a real battlefield.
Through these matches, Orum learned to remain calm under pressure.
Even when the situation looked dire, he never gave up easily, always managing to find a glimmer of hope even in a desperate position.
This mental fortitude proved more valuable than any tactical skill.
As his skill improved, the matches between Orum and Ristina grew increasingly exciting.
"I win," Orum said, placing his final piece to end the game.
"Master is truly impressive," Ristina said, casting an admiring glance at Orum.
Now, with a handicap in his favor, Orum could even occasionally beat Ristina.
Though his win rate still remained low, at around thirty percent, this already represented enormous progress.
Every time Orum defeated Ristina under a handicap, he could see a flicker of surprise and admiration in her ice blue eyes.
That feeling of being recognized by an expert brought him genuine pleasure.
And Ristina, too, would offer a faint smile, as if pleased by the progress of a student.
In this battle of wits, Orum gradually began to feel a joy and satisfaction he had never experienced before.
Every time he successfully broke through one of Ristina's carefully laid tactical traps, every time he managed to turn a losing position around, every time he crushed his opponent's defense with a clever combination, the thrill of it left him utterly absorbed.
As the saying goes, there is boundless joy in matching wits with another.
This was a pure contest of intellect, without the bloodshed of a fight to the death, yet no less thrilling.
The afternoon sunlight filtered through the clouds, casting mottled shadows across the floor of White Stone Mansion.
The whole world seemed wrapped in a languid, warm atmosphere.
Time itself seemed to slow in that moment.
In the inner hall, the only sounds were the soft clack of chess pieces touching the board and the occasional murmur of the two players' thoughts.
Orum sat at the chess table, his slender fingers gently lifting an ebony carved "Dragon Knight" piece.
He moved it to a key position on the board, the corner of his mouth curling into a confident smile.
"This move should cause you quite a bit of trouble."
Across from him, Ristina's brow furrowed.
Her ice blue eyes stayed fixed on the board, her pale fingers tapping lightly against the tabletop.
The rhythmic "tap tap tap" echoed through the quiet inner hall.
Clearly, she was thinking through how to respond to this sudden threat.
Ristina's expression turned focused and serious.
Her eyes swept quickly across the board, calculating every possible response.
"Master, that move is quite clever," Ristina said softly.
But her tone carried no trace of panic, only a note of appreciation.
This particular afternoon match of Lionheart Chess lasted nearly an hour and a half.
Both sides traded blows, the fighting exceptionally fierce.
The situation on the board shifted like a real battlefield, unpredictable, each move concealing hidden danger.
Orum's offensive came in waves like a rising tide, trying to overwhelm Ristina's defenses with sheer aggression.
But Ristina's defense held firm as bedrock, always managing to defuse the crisis at the critical moment.
Orum's skill had visibly improved over the course of these matches.
He was no longer the novice who relied purely on brute force, and had begun to understand tactical coordination and psychological maneuvering.
Every piece on the board carried the weight of the two players' battle of wits.
The direct clash between the "Dragon Knight" and the "Paladin."
The ranged suppression between the "archers" and the "Griffon Legion."
The command and coordination of the "War Lord."
Each troop type performed at its fullest in its own position.
Time slipped away quietly amid the fierce contest.
In the end, Ristina secured victory with an exquisitely executed "flanking maneuver."
The timing of the tactic's execution was pitch perfect, successfully breaking through Orum's defenses.
"Checkmate," Ristina said softly, pointing to the "Lionheart King" now surrounded on the board.
Looking at the state of the board, Orum had no choice but to admit defeat.
His "Lionheart King" was completely encircled by Ristina's pieces, unable to escape capture no matter which way it moved.
And this was the "Lionheart King's" third and final life. Once captured, it would be a true "checkmate," with no chance of a comeback.
"Master's progress really is remarkable," Ristina said, beginning to gather up the pieces on the board.
Her tone carried genuine admiration, though a flicker of pride flashed in her eyes.
"But today's match, I won."
Orum smiled helplessly and stood up, stretching his somewhat stiff body.
Sitting in the same position for so long playing chess had left his neck and shoulders slightly sore.
He rotated his neck, producing a series of cracking sounds.
Then he stretched his arms and did a few simple stretches, getting the blood flowing through his body again.
"True, that flanking maneuver of yours was beautifully executed," Orum said, rolling his shoulders as he acknowledged her victory.
"I still lack in overall strategic vision. I keep getting distracted by local gains and losses."
Ristina placed the last piece back into the chess box, her movements graceful and orderly.
"Master is already quite skilled. To make this kind of progress so soon after starting to learn Lionheart Chess is truly remarkable."
Her tone carried encouragement, but the pride in her eyes grew even more obvious.
Orum noticed the trace of pride in Ristina's eyes, the corner of his mouth curling into a sly smile.
"Well then, dear Miss Ristina, please draw tonight's reward card."
He took out a deck of pink cards from his pocket, spreading them out like a fan and holding them out before Ristina.
This was a rule Orum had set for Ristina.
Every time Ristina won, she had to draw a card from the pink "reward" deck and carry out the action written on it.
The moment Ristina saw the pink deck of cards, her expression shifted slightly.
She, of course, knew exactly what was written on those cards.
These cards were novelty items Orum had specially purchased from a succubus brothel.
The extent of those "rewards" made her blush and her heart race every time she thought of them.
But since it was a rule set by her master, she couldn't defy it.
"Master," Ristina took a deep breath and reached out her hand nervously.
Her slender fingers hesitated for a moment over the fanned out cards, before finally settling on the one in the middle.
She carefully drew the card and turned it over to look at the face.
The instant she saw what was written on it, Ristina's face flushed a deep crimson.
Even the tips of her ears turned an unnatural shade of pink, as though her entire body were about to catch fire.
"This card." Ristina stared at the card before her in disbelief.
Her slender, fair fingers began to tremble uncontrollably.
Written on the card in elegant cursive script were a few lines of text, the content so mortifying she nearly fainted.
It was a "reward" she had never imagined having to carry out at night.
"What's wrong with that card? Bring it here and let me see," Orum said with great interest.
He, of course, knew exactly what was written on it, after all, he was the one who had bought the deck himself.
He remembered the content of every single card clearly.
Hearing Orum's words, Ristina's face flushed even redder.
She clutched the card tightly, as if holding something scalding hot.
"Master, I'm going to go help my sister Carolina tidy up her room."
As if struck by an electric shock, Ristina shoved the card into Orum's hand.
Then she turned and fled toward the door, her steps quick, almost breaking into a run.
Her retreating figure looked flustered and undignified, utterly lacking the graceful, composed bearing she usually carried as a noblewoman.
Watching Ristina's reaction, Orum could not help but smile.
He glanced at the card in his hand, and indeed, the content written on it was rather bold.
He then put it back into the deck, a satisfied smile on his face.
Seeing the usually icy beauty Ristina flustered and fleeing like this always brought him a strange sense of pleasure.
Orum straightened his clothes and headed toward the back garden of White Stone Mansion.