Chapter 38 - Beneath the Great Oak's Shade

“How?” came the slow, gravely voice, as though from a quiet tomb stirred by an ungentle wind.

“I defeated the North Star in a far away battle, years ago. He caught my eye, so I offered him a job,” came the casual reply, though deep undercurrents of some obscure emotion could be felt rippling under the man’s indifferent surface. “He asked for time to consider. Years later, he invited me into his inner garden to receive his answer. Little did I know, it would be in the form of a match in this ‘Game of Life’, as he called it.”

Stahl’s gaze followed the man’s as they both stared at the board before them, the latter quietly reminiscing, while the former quickly made the connections in his agile mind, thinking out loud as he followed each logical step.

“My son presented you with an impossible scenario, to wrest victory away from a vastly superior foe under impossible circumstances,” Stahl mumbled, almost as though to himself, his gaze growing distant while his mind explored the further implications of the words he uttered. “And this was your answer. Defy all logic and convention, and conduct a campaign so terrible in its brilliant, brutal slaughter, that either side would at most be able to claim a pyrrhic victory. As it stands on the board, the spirits of black have been shattered, its confidence absolutely broken. All it would take is a mere push from black, and white would be slaughtered. Yet, black cannot move a single step forward.”

Stahl drew in a slow, hissing breath as he eyed the center of the board, where the last few remnants of white’s stones stood tall, unbowed and unafraid. In fact, it seemed as though at any time they might once again lead another terrifying assault against black. Each strike had meant countless stones being lost in either side, and though each strike had been beaten back it had been repelled by a mere hair's breadth. The stakes ran too deep for Stahl to so casually commit his forces, and though he was no coward, each strike from white had driven deep into each of black’s core formations no matter how well defended they were.

This had led to a situation where black had lost all initiative. Now that the flow of the game finally stood at a standstill, Stahl could once more place himself as an impartial observer and see at once the overwhelming numerical advantage his own black stones held on the board. However, every time his eyes drew close to that indomitable clump of white at the center of the board, he could barely suppress the tinge of unease as he dreaded the next assault.

Stahl closed his eyes, and nodded to the man in acknowledgement.

“Of course, this whole bloody campaign was your strategy all along. No wonder, for I had never taught my son to be nearly so reckless,” Stahl continued after a long pause. “Nor so brilliant.”

“You are answering the wrong questions, General.”

Stahl’s hand closed over the smooth round stone he held and trembled with barely suppressed emotion, but he managed to keep his voice relatively calm.

“Indeed. The main question remains. Why? Why would my son engage in this reckless, suicidal assault?”

Stahl’s intelligent eyes flashed as they lost focus for a moment, but when they returned, they blazed with fury.

“No, it cannot be,” Stahl whispered, and the flashing fire in his eyes slowly died down, his face becoming ghostly pale. “The Emperor?”

The man shrugged his shoulders and didn’t utter a word.

“I.. I knew the current Emperor was far weaker than his sire, yet never would I have thought that he would go so far as to sell out his own inheritance. Having barely consolidated his own grasp on the throne, the young Emperor had to know he would lose most of his support if he openly surrendered to our enemies. All these years, he must have been biding his time, slowly letting our power to dwindle while the enemy gained momentum. Just how far back did my son know of this foul betrayal? Why did he not tell me? Why?”

“Would you have believed it?” came the dry reply.

Stahl closed his eyes, and after a long moment of silence a slow, defeated sigh escaped his lips.

“The Emperor must have been approached by the outside powers supporting the rebels. Whatever he was offered, he betrayed us all. His country, his army, his generals. It all makes sense now. The stubborn refusal to wage war on the rebels, even before their power gathered momentum. The bitter politicking freezing the heart of the Empire. Even this, the uncanny manner in which our enemies have been able to second guess us during this retreat, when no one but the Emperor’s closest aides should be aware of our movements. And this final betrayal where we find you, an unknown third party, instead of our promised reinforcements.”

“Why act as though you’re surprised? Surely you knew this all along?” the man cut in.

Stahl opened his mouth to reply, but after a while he closed it soundlessly, realizing that he had indeed known for a long time. It was merely that he hadn’t been able to admit it to himself.

This, he supposed, was what became of old, stubborn fools.

“What now?” came Stahl’s bitter words.

“We finish our game, of course. I am a man of my words, after all,” the man smiled at Stahl like a hungry wolf looking at his prey, and the old general felt a shudder running down his spine.

Stahl threw a sideway glance towards the candle slowly burning by his side. Almost all of the candle had been consumed, and only a flickering flame burned still, dancing in the breeze. Then his eyes returned to stare resentfully towards the stack of documents piled on top of the table. They had, of course, lost all meaning now.

A pact with the Federation? What use was such if the Emperor himself was a rebel, fully willing to throw his own Empire to the wolves? A lifetime of honorable service, where he had sacrificed his own wife, his son, and now his very life, and yet, this was his only reward?

Stahl felt the bitter ashes of a defeat more complete than any in his life.

If only he had not been so stubborn. If only he had listened to his son. If only..

The crisp, unmistakable sound of a stone hitting the board jolted him out of his reverie. A white stone. But it hadn’t been the man’s turn to play! The penalties. The rules! What game was this man playing?

Stahl looked to the board and immediately recognized where the new stone had been placed.

“Another assault?” came Stahl’s incredulous voice. This time it was right in the middle of his own black forces. This was no longer simply foolhardy or reckless.

It was suicide.

“Time presses, General. Make your play, for my men and I have already wasted enough time in this wretched war,” came the impatient response.

“You must know that, by any standard of the game, victory is impossible for you at this point,” Stahl pointed out in a low, uncharacteristically shallow voice.

“Hmm?” came the disinterested reply.

“I admit you have threaded the needle very finely indeed. Even I would not be able to dance about on such the razor sharp edge between life and death as you have done. Still, each assault, though psychologically strong, leaves you at a greater numerical disadvantage. Though such mental blows might be able to tilt the scales at a crucial moment, you have broken your own spell and I have now had time to..” Stahl continued to explain, but found his words cut off by the man’s clear, crisp words.

“Stahl, I always, always play to win.”

Stahl paused, taken aback. His eyes came up to meet the smoldering gaze of this strange man and froze as he read into its depths.

Indeed, he was playing to win, the madman.

No, in the man’s eyes eyes, Stahl found nothing but the utmost assurance of victory. Not even the smallest sliver of doubt remained.

Inwardly, Stahl was startled. Had he missed something? A careful trap? A devious strategy? His eyes roamed the entire board as he glanced to his side, towards the dying light of the candle.

Stahl looked down to the final stone once more, the one deeply thrust into the core of his own formation, and with a start he realized it lay right at his own King piece's back. Then he began to recall the man's words:

”Should you lose, this document will become invalid and I will personally lead all my men away from this disaster posthaste.”

”My men and I have already wasted enough time in this wretched war.”

“Stahl, I always, always play to win.”

Then, just like that, Stahl knew. He realized what was truly at stake, and he was surprised to find a bitter smile stretching his lips. The first in what felt like an entire lifetime of ashes and defeat.

An exasperated sigh came from the man sitting across from Stahl, as though he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

Stahl sighed as well, shaking his head slowly from side to side. Of course, to the man it must have felt like an insufferable long time while Stahl finally understood. From the very beginning, there had been no point to this game, for there could only have been one result.

No, Stahl reminded himself. It wasn’t pointless. Rather, this had been the most important game of his entire life. He knew now that this relatively simple game that had spanned a mere hour or less would come define his entire life hereafter.

Stahl finally understood. This game was not about victory or defeat, about winning or losing.

It was about what lay within its heart, the deeper meanings hidden within and their undercurrents.

What truly lay at stake.

Life.

The Game of Life. Aptly named, Stahl supposed.

“I surrender,” came Stahl’s calm voice.

“Finally!”

An impatient hand slapped down against the table, scattering the many stones laid on the board. Then the man threw Stahl one last meaningful glance before standing abruptly and turning around.

Staring at the man’s receding back, Stahl could only shake his head helplessly.

““What Great Oak,” the man mysteriously muttered, before tilting his head back towards Stahl impatiently. “Coming?”

“Yes, General,” Stahl called out, then turn around to motion to his troops. “Move out. We have new orders.”

“Ah, General? Is he.. From the Emperor’s men?” came one of the voices from behind him.

Stahl slowly shook his head.

“No, we follow a new General now. Move out.”

Thus, General Michael Lee led his men - both old and new - out of that hellhole.

***

Stahl kept his eyes on the bewildered Zhao while placing one final stone on the board. He hadn’t managed quite so well as the General, after all. Perhaps, it was simply not his style. As much as he had danced on the knife edge between life and death countless times while following the General’s orders, he still felt that he hadn’t been able to condense that same deadly finality into each of his attacks like the General had done that day upon that clearing, many, many years ago.

One day, he vowed. One day he would.

Of course, after that one Game of Life, the General had adamantly refused to play a single more game.

”A pointless waste of time, Stahl. If you’ve got the time and energies, old man, we’ve got plenty of live enemies to kill.”

“Ah, no time. The, eh, the Council has issued a new order.”

“I’m sleeping. F*ck off, old man.”

Ultimately, Stahl had been reduced to resorting to extortion, of sorts. To prove that the Game of Life was as much a matter of life and death as any real field of battle to him, he would exchange missions for stones. The more closely threaded together life and death became, the more stones would be demanded. Each single stone, in turn, could be exchanged for a match in the Game of Life.

Of course, Stahl no longer spent these as thriftily as he once had. For every stone, Stahl would milk the game for the very last of its essence, stretching their matches for hours and hours on end.

It drove the poor General insane, of course.

Understandably, he had become remarkably stingy with the stones down the years.

But here now lay a wondrous bounty! Three stones was definitely a record. He would be able to torment the General with many, many hours in the Great Game.

Zhao looked down at the last stone Stahl had placed, and shook his head slowly from side to side.

“Good story, commander Stahl. However, how will you win this game now that you have told me its secret? All I have to do now is to ignore your attacks and surround your stones, crushing all resistance with my numbers.” Zhao looked up to Stahl with a venomous grin. “Just like I will do in mere moments to the last pitiful dregs of your army. What do you think of that, oh so vaunted commander Dominik Stahl.”

Stahl merely smiled placidly, almost complacently, and nodded to Zhao. “Glad you enjoyed the story. However, Colonel Zhao, it seems you have not learned the true lesson of the story, after all.”

“Huh?”

“You are asking the wrong questions.”

Zhao narrowed his eyes as he tilted his head to one side, scratching his beard with one hand while surreptitiously reaching under the table towards his leg, where his hidden gun was strapped. “What do you mean? I grow tired of your senseless game, old man. If you hadn’t been entertain..”

Zhao’s voice faltered as he abruptly raised his head and stared at Stahl and slowly muttered,“Why?”

Stahl nodded wordlessly.

“Why would you tell me..”

The next words died in his throat as a stream of bright, blue-hued sparks lit the shadow behind Zhao’s figure, and the cold edge of a blade materialized itself next to his neck.

Impossible! Even with a cloaking device, how had anyone penetrated his personal EM shield without him realizing it?

Zhao didn’t even dare to twist his head to see his captor, when a soft, velvety voice purred softly behind his ear. “Old man, that is not fair. I thought I would finally hear the end of the story. I’ve been waiting for so long.”

Stahl smirked enigmatically, while calmly gathering the stones back into their respective containers, “Then you shall have to wait a while longer.”

Realizing there was treachery afoot, Zhao growled as he slammed a fist against the table while his other stealthily reached just a little lower, towards his gun, “You cannot possibly think you can get away with this. My men will slaughter you!”

The edge of the blade nipped lightly at his skin, and a small trickle of blood slowly slid down his throat as Zhao froze, hardly daring to even breathe.

“Quiet, pig,” came the same rich female voice, though any playfulness was gone and instead there was only a wintry chill pervading his heart, sending shudders down Zhao’s spine.

“Old man, maybe I should just let you die here after all.”

Stahl shrugged indifferently. “Maybe you should.”

“Ah, y.. Yes! I will pay anything, just kill this..” Zhao mumbled desperately, while slowly reaching down with his hand. Just a little more.. There! He could feel his fingers brushing against the cool, burnished steel of his gun.

Unfortunately, that was the last his fingers would ever feel.

“I said, be quiet pig,” were the icy words as the blade pressed harder against his throat, while at the same time a sharp pain clawed at his hand. Zhao pulled his hand back from under the table to stare at the missing stumps where two of his fingers had been cleanly sliced off.

“Aggh!” his agonized scream was cut off short by a simple twitch of the blade held against his neck, forestalling any further sounds as Zhao gripped his maimed hand in agony.

The voice’s owner ignored him completely as it drawled on, “Old man, do not think I’m bluffing.”

“I know you don’t,” Stahl serenely replied, stowing away the last of his stones.

A long pause ensued with only the muffled grunts of pain from Zhao and the soft clattering of the board being folded and stored.

“Grr, I hate smelly old men,” the voice finally muttered, then there was a flash of light as the shadowly figure slowly dissolved into brilliant motes of light. “This is not fun!”

With a final growl, the blade biting against Zhao’s neck was gone. Before Zhao even had time to rejoice at his freedom, a violent kick against his back sent him sprawling on top of the table and with a solid THUNK another blade thrust into his back, nailing his shoulder deep against the cold surface under his face.

“Aaghh!” Zhao howled in pain, unable to move his body at all, let alone try to wrench the sword biting deeply into his shoulder.

“This is not over, old man!” came the last, ominous yet almost peevish words as the last of the glowing silhouette flickered, then was completely gone.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Stahl replied, while nonchalantly reaching down to draw Zhao’s own gun, then resting the cool barrel against its owner’s forehead.

“Now, let us discuss terms, Colonel Zhao.”

***

As Stahl escorted his bewildered hostage back towards the fortified positions of the Federation army, he couldn’t help but smile bitterly at the memories that relentlessly flooded back.

For this story did indeed have an end, though it was not the end.

The father had, against all odds, survived the death march that had seen his son dead. By the time he’d returned to the capital, news had already reached him of a daring assassination plot.

The emperor lay dead. At about the same time when a certain match had been played at a mundane clearing not too long ago.

Without the Emperor’s opposition, the once-retired General had been able to rally support for the emergency parliament to accept the terms the United Federation had extended. Thus, the Empire had been smoothly integrated into the gigantic machine that was the Federation.

The rebels were wiped out to the last man within weeks of the final signing of the pact.

However, the father was not there to witness the battle, nor the signing.

The last time he was seen was months previous, slowly walking by himself into a small, secluded garden within the massive complex belonging to his family.

His son’s private garden.

Stahl recalled the exact moment this garden had become his son’s possession. He had been walking with his son, as always lecturing the youth on the precepts duty and honor, a large retinue of advisors, bodyguards and servants trailing behind. As they reached this particular stretch of the grounds Stahl had frowned at an unsightly old tree casting its shade on the more exotic and well-pruned plants nearby.

“I want it cut down by tomorrow. Only by burning away the old can the new grow and prosper,” Stahl had commanded out loud, all the while looking directly at his son.

The youth had looked straight back at him, his eyes unreadable.

Later that night, his son has uncharacteristically requested a boon before their daily match in the Game of Life.

“Father, I would like to have my own garden from the main grounds, to cherish and protect as a man should,” the precocious child had stated.

Stahl had considered for a brief moment before nodding.

Now, over twelve years later, Stahl could not hold back the broken sigh from escaping as his misting eyes read the words carved below the massive tree that grew in the middle of his son’s private garden.

It was the same great oak tree that Stahl had ordered cut down. Beneath it lay a plaque that read:

“Ask not the mighty Great Oak,

Why its branches in the sky are laid,

For I would be the gentle willow,

Resting ‘neath the Great Oak’s shade.”