At Len's question, Eric stared at the black and white pieces for a few moments. Then, lifting his crimson eyes toward Len, he said in a flat tone,
"I don't know how to play this."
Eric's refusal did not dampen Len's spirits; instead, it only brightened the spark in his golden eyes. "It's okay, I'll show you!" Len chirped. His small hands moved with great agility toward the pieces arranged on the board.
Len touched a white pawn and slid it forward with a steady hand. "See, these are the small soldiers. They always move straight," he began to explain with great earnestness.
Then, he pointed toward a wooden knight, "And this... this one leaps two and a half steps. It has the power to jump over obstacles."
Eric sat in silence, watching the movements of Len's fingers. His focus was on the craftsmanship of the pieces and the paths they traveled. Len then picked up the Queen and placed it in the center of the board
. "And this is the most powerful piece. It has the freedom to move in any direction; no one can easily stop it."
As he arranged this new world of pieces on the board, Len's face glowed with joy. Eric touched a black piece with his fingers; it felt slightly cold and heavy to the touch.
The light from the palace torches danced across the board spread between them, where one boy was innocently teaching the art of strategy, and the other was absorbing those rules within him.
When all the pieces stood elegantly in their respective places on the board, Len tilted his neck slightly and asked, looking into Eric's eyes, "Do you understand everything now?"
Eric's crimson eyes were fixed on the black pieces standing like his army on one side of the board. He nodded slowly and said briefly, "Yes. But who starts the game?"
"According to the rules, white moves first," Len replied with a smile. He gripped a white pawn with his fingers and moved it forward two squares with confidence. After making his move, he paused, curiously reading the expressions on Eric's face.
Eric thought for a moment, then touched a black pawn with his long fingers and placed it directly in front of Len's piece. The cycle of moves had begun. In the hall, only the faint 'thud' of wooden pieces hitting the board echoed.
As the game progressed, their conversation began to blend with the movement of the pieces.
"How long had you been sleeping there?" Len asked, moving his Bishop in a diagonal path.
Eric did not lift his gaze from the board. Advancing his Knight, he said in a cold tone, "I have no account of time. When I opened my eyes, you were before me."
Len observed Eric's move closely and, capturing a piece, asked, "You are very calm. Do you not feel afraid?"
A faint shadow emerged on Eric's lips, something that could hardly be called a smile. "Fear is for those who have something to lose.
" He made his next move and, for the first time, looked directly into Len's golden eyes and asked, "And you? Within these palace walls, do you feel safe or imprisoned?"
This game of chess was no longer just a game; with every move, they were probing the layers of unspoken truths hidden within each other.
In the silence of the hall, the faint clinking of silver utensils and the sound of footsteps suddenly echoed. Both pairs of eyes remained fixed on the chessboard, where many pieces had already left their marks.
The maid stepped forward carefully, placing the platters of food upon the table.
"Forgive me, Master, it took me a little longer than expected," the maid said with a polite bow, a slight hesitation in her voice.
Len lifted his golden eyes from the board and looked at the maid, nodding calmly. "It is fine," he said in a low tone.
Beside the chessboard, the aroma of warm food began to drift across the table.
The state of the board had changed significantly; several white and black pawns and a bishop had already been removed from the battlefield, lying lifelessly at the edges of the board. The game had deepened.
Eric lifted his gaze from the board and looked at Len's face. In that dim light, Len's features glowed like those of an innocent angel, carrying an unknown softness.
"We should eat first," Len said, smiling with a mischievous glint in his golden eyes.
Eric gave his neck a slight jerk and parted his lips to refuse, "I am not hung—"
But before he could finish his sentence, Len's hands moved with the speed of lightning.
He scooped a spoonful from the sweet dish on the table and, without any warning, thrust it directly into Eric's mouth. Eric's words caught in his throat, and his crimson eyes widened in astonishment.
That sudden assault of sweetness was so unexpected that Eric didn't even get a chance to protest. He simply stared at Len in a daze, who was now smiling with even more innocence, his eyes crinkling.
In the quiet air of the hall, Len's faint giggle blended with the sweet aroma, while Eric, chewing the morsel, couldn't decide whether to be angry at this little "enforcement" or simply remain silent.