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***

"Hey, hey, hey! Quit bein' so stiff, lad! We're all friends 'round here!"

A girl with a childish voice called out to the kneeling Emir before 'He' could respond.

Yet the man her words addressed didn't even shift an inch, staying in a kneeling posture. "Aye, ye be givin' the cold shoulder, eh? How rude~... But, by the Forge! I'm mightily impressed! Not any youngin' can sense Mr. Player's strength at first sight, and judgin' by how ye reacted, I wager yer instincts went wild. Am I right?"

|| ||

Emir was still, his mind like a clear river.

"Hey, stop ignorin' ! I'm just tryin' to give ye a complint here, ya know!"

|| ||

She received nothing but silence again.

"Oh, is that 'cause I didn't introduce self? Ye can call Ms. Knight, lad."

||||

Once more.

"So ye want to introduce the rest too? Well, ye should've asked, shouldn't ye!"

Ms. Knight didn't even wait for him to give her the cold shoulder for the fifth ti and began introducing those next to her.

"As yer 'blood' told ye, this opposite o' ye is Mr. Player, a Class-Two..."

'Class-Two? Like the second-highest rank?'

"An Angel, a Malāk, a Cherubim... A Paragon."

Emir flinched slightly as he heard that last word, which confird his thoughts.

Paragon.

'He...' or rather he was a Paragon?

A being of such power was not a Class-One? A Primordial?

He wasn't a Class-Zero? A being 'Above The Hierarchy?' But a Class-Two?... Him?

Such a thing Emir could not fathom.

"Mr. Board be the one sittin' to Mr. Player's right..."

Her words got him out of his drowning thoughts as his head turned to whom she pointed, showing respect while still not raising his head.

Mr. Board wore a plain dark coat suit with a white shirt.

His eyes were different-one black, the other white-giving him an interesting look, especially with the presumably unneeded wire-rimd glasses.

He kept his hair neatly cut around his surprisingly long, pointy ears, with one-half white and the other black, mirroring the striking duality of his eyes.

His build looked to be that of an average Celestial, and the last highlight of his appearance was the silver ring on his finger that showed a tiny chessboard.

"Hmhm."

He glared at Emir, only letting out a worded nod.

"While Mr King sits to his left."

Mr. King's presence commanded attention, yet much of it stemd from his opulent attire. His all-white three-piece suit radiated luxury, reminiscent of a king from tis long past, with subtle flecks of gold accentuating its grandeur.

His eyes were a striking shade of golden brown, radiating ambition, frad by ticulously styled hair that shimred like spun gold. Around his face, a well-grood beard boasted a lustrous golden hue.

His physique was above average, marked by broad shoulders, towering height, and an almost statuesque presence.

Adorning his fingers were multiple regal gold rings, each embellished with precious stones. Luxurious gold watches and bracelets marked his wrists, with one standing out-a bright gold crown, reminiscent of the king's chess piece.

The man looked to be gold all over and nothing but, he had more money on his body than so entire sectors on Earth.

"Happy to have another... you show better promise than most that ca before."

Mr. King complented Emir while shuffling his fingers.

"Our lovely Queen sits next to her chess husband-"

"Oh stop that, it's a dead joke..."

Ms. Queen had an almost goth-like appearance, effortlessly blending gentleness with undeniable sex appeal, even Emir would not be able to deny how sweet she looked.

Draped in a fitted black dress crafted from luxurious velvet, it molded to her curvaceous figure. The dress boasted lace detailing along the neckline and sleeves, adding a touch of delicate beauty.

Her srizing eyes, a deep shade of purple, emanated both warmth and mystery. Silken strands of hair cascaded in loose waves around her delicate neck, flowing down to her lower back, their rich, dark purple hue adding to her allure.

Silver jewelry adorned her wrists, so undoubtedly gifts from her countless suitors, while a subtle vine tattoo grew gracefully around one wrist.

Much like Mr. Board and Mr. King, she too had an item denoting her status: a pair of black- -colored queen-chess piece earrings.

"And hello there, handso~."

With a gentle smile gracing her lips, she extended her hand in a small, adorable wave, even though she knew Emir couldn't see her.

"If ye fall for our wee succubus, ye won't glimpse the light o' day again, so mind yerself."

"Why say that? You know I'll never harm those in our little club."

"Aye, aye, Ms. Maneater... Now, onto the next, Mr. Rook. He's the one sittin' beside Mr. Board."

Mr. Rook, in stark contrast to the vibrant aura of others, presented a somber figure, enveloped in an air of gloom. His appearance reflected his lancholic state, draped in muted tones that

lacked refinent.

He wore dark, oversized clothing that hung loosely on his fra. His body seed diminished, burdened by unspoken sorrows, his posture slumped under their weight.

His unkempt hair, long and black, fell in disarray around his pale face, devoid of luster. A stark contrast to his dark locks, his eyes burned with an intense, blood-red hue, radiating an eerie ferocity that reflected the depths of his despair.

Adding to the unsettling aura, his mouth revealed a set of sharp, pointy teeth, reminiscent of

a creature from the shadows.

Mr. Rook bore a subtle yet symbolic trinket that signified his identity as the rook chess piece. It was a small, unassuming pin that adorned the lapel of his worn jacket.

"I don't like you... much too talented."

Mr. Rook complained while not even bothering to glance at the newcor, his head remained

glued to the table.

"Have no worries 'bout him, he's not always like that, just a tad bipolar... Now, over yonder is Mr. Bishop, sittin' next to Ms. Queen, and of course, yourself."

Mr. Bishop possessed a striking appearance with neatly styled blond hair, a strong jawline,

and expressive green eyes. His hair and face were partially covered by a 'Keffiyeh,' held in

place by an 'Agal' atop it.

Clad in mourning attire, he wore a 'Thobe' of charcoal. The flowing fabric draped elegantly around his slender yet silently strong fra. Subtle buttons graced the cuffs of his thobe, each

one carved in the likeness of a bishop chess piece.

Completing his ensemble, he wore a black 'Bisht,' its rich fabric adorned with delicate embroidery along the edges. The man truly looked to be a man of the sands, embodying an

ancient oil baron.

"Peace be upon you, young one... May ti embrace you with more endurance than those who

ca before you."

He smiled warmly at Emir, though his eyes betrayed a hint of sadness behind the words.

Ms. Knight, who acted as if she didn't hear his somber words, pointed at herself and loudly

stated:

"He rattles on in gibberish now and then, but ye'll grow accustod to it, no doubt. And last but not least, self! The finest of the lot!"

She, though short in stature, possessed a sturdy build. Her long ginger-colored hair cascaded over both of her front shoulders, adding a touch of warmth to her presence, a different type of warmth compared to Ms. Queen, it was one that most would feel when eyeing a child. Her eyes, a captivating shade of orange-brown, reflected the intensity of her character, and her attire seed to contradict her wild deanor, as she opted for practical yet well-tailored

garnts.

She wore a fitted dark green jacket adorned with gold-brown stitching. Underneath that, a subtle light green sundress reached her knees, offering comfort for easy movent. Additionally, her neck wore a black choker featuring the knight chess piece, delicately crafted

in the shape of a horse, with gold accents, slightly dimr than Mr. King's almost blinding

accessories.

'Thanks, kid... Or dwarf.'

Emir nodded his head, silently thanking the petite girl while still not uttering another word, awaiting his acceptance.

And finally, after silence returned to the room, a lody-no, a voice-resounded.

It was Mr. Player's to be exact.

His voice was like music to the ears, almost in a literal sense of the phrase due to its heavenly

quality. Rather than feeling suffocating, it was relaxing, reminiscent of the jazz lody that

had captivated Emir earlier.

"Welco to the hidden gathering of chess pieces, Mr. Pawn."

The verbal chains that Emir had imposed on himself began to loosen.

"Welco to the esteed Chess Club, Setrenc."

And as those words registered in his mind...

"Welco to the ga." They snapped.

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