Gargon sniffed, a smug smile on his face, content not to say anything for now. He arranged his pieces with nimble fingers, letting his haughty air overpower everyone on the table with its stench. Ai stifled a blush as she was forced to clear her seat so that Gargon might play. He hardly noticed her.
In contrast to Oliver, Gargon fielded six archers amongst his ranks, as well as a balanced mix of spear and sword infantry, and a pair of cavalry units. He noted Oliver's lack of those.
"Typical of a commoner to want to keep things simple," he said. "Well, I am ready. White goes first, so I'll begin, I suppose. Bown, forward."
Because the constraints of the pieces' movent was closely tied to the students' own command of them, Oliver had noted the tendency to skip calling out the number of squares that you wanted the pieces to get sent forward – because they typically wouldn't be able to move that far anyway.
Indeed, Gargon's pieces – an impressive five bown – went marching forward at a swift pace that matched his confidence, and managed to traverse a distance of 3 squares forward, putting them in range of Oliver's infantry imdiately.
"Ah, I suppose we'd better start rolling the dice, then," Gargon said triumphantly. So that was the worth in putting the archers up first. If you had sufficient Command to close the distance, you could imdiately begin firing on the enemy… That sort of forced both sides to field archers on their front, so that they might match the enemy barrage when the turn ca to an end.
As it happened, Oliver imdiately lost three pieces. He didn't panic, though. He'd given pieces at the start of his battles with Dominus at tis, and then gone on to win. And, at least, he had the infantry to spare here – Gargon didn't. As soon as his bown lost their range advantage, they'd be slaughtered, and Oliver would seize an easy victory.
He smiled in anticipation. He'd fought on the battlefield, he'd lead an army of three hundred. How would his mastery of Command compare to Gargon's, who rely ordered people about like it was his birthright? Beam had won those that had followed him – they hadn't been forced into it with coin or oaths. When crisis ca, he was the leader that they chose.
"Frontline infantry, forward," Oliver said, testing the waters with a broad command. He'd learned from the Professor that one did not need to command specific pieces. General commands did just as well. Specific orders were delivered when one's mastery over Command was low.
He spoke confidently, and clearly, surprising even himself with the authority in his voice.
He waited in anticipation for the mana crystals on the bottom of the pieces to react to his words…
And yet, nothing happened.
There was the slightest quiver, as the whole front line vibrated in place. He saw Gargon's expression rise into shock as he saw that. But then, the quivers settled, as though they had been nothing more than a minor earthquake. His pieces had not even moved off that square.
Oliver frowned, his grip on the corners of the table tightening. Sothing was wrong there. Sothing was interfering, he was sure of it…
"Well, I suppose not all of us are cut out to be nobility. I had always wondered what it would look like if a commoner was to use one of these boards – and now I know. Your turn has passed. Let finish this," Gargon said.
"I haven't even moved," Oliver said.
"Oh, that did not escape my attention, commoner. But it's up to the board whether it counts as a turn or not. If it hears my order, your turn has already passed, and your order was simply too weak to move your pieces."
"Cavalry, move up to join the bown on the left flank. Infantry, those that are ready, move to follow," Gargon said. His pieces moved imdiately. The cavalry shot off as though it had been waiting for that very command. Both pieces covered a distance of four squares, leaving themselves in front of the bown, so they could ward off any attacks before it reached them.
They covered that distance easily. It seed that piece mobility still applied for them. Command was only the ans by which it was multiplied.
Two spear units trailed along after, not quite making it to the bown, but saddling up just the square behind. It was weaker than his first command, but it worked just as well.
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Gargon laughed, a thoroughly spiteful laugh, as he reached for the dice and began to roll for the fate of Oliver's pieces that were still in range of his bown. In the boy's spite, he had not remanevoured his archers that did not have any targets, and so Oliver's losses only resulted in a further two units, which was paltry compared to what it could have been, but still it didn't feel good.
"Why?" He murmured to himself. It was not a desperate plea, there was no weakness in it, rely a lack of understanding. On pure animalistic instinct, he could feel that Gargon's ability as a leader was beneath his own. In the sa way that a wolf could tell with a single sniff if an adversary was above it in the dominance hierarchy, and so why..?
Even if, hypothetically, he was above Gargon – he was definitely not above everyone else in the room. As far as he could see, every noble in the room had the ability to move their pieces. Maybe there was the problem. Maybe the board saw the heart of the matter that the rest of them didn't see. Maybe the board saw through to his commoner birth, and refused to allow him to lead.
That seed probable, even likely. It lined up with the Professor's explanations that nobility were naturally higher in the ability of Command than Serving Class students were. There had even been studies taken to prove that. But how many of those studies were the result of birth, and how many of those were as a result of a lifeti of giving their servants orders?
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