[h3]The Great Game Begins[/h3]

[i]Afternoon, 17th of Sun’s Height, 4E206
Ken Muhyr
Ilessan Hills, Glenumbra, High Rock[/i]

Solomon hurried up the stairs, familiarizing himself with the layout of the keep once more. He passed the half-empty library, the alchemical workstation, the arcanery and a bunch of rooms and suites on his way to the top, but none of them held anything for him. He knew what space he wanted -- nay, needed -- for himself. Big enough to serve as a strategium and high above the everyday going-ons of the castle below, where he could plot and scheme undisturbed. The spiral staircase ended at last as Solomon reached the top floor, slightly out of breath and with an ache in his knees. He’d gotten soft. At least the climb would help him get back into shape. 

A large, circular chamber awaited him, already furnished with chairs, tables, rugs, closets and a mahogany bed. Solomon dropped his backpack on one of the cabinets and lit a few of the candles with a snap of his fingers. He meandered through the room, his fingers brushing against the furniture and the tapestries on the walls that bore faded images of battles fought long past. A large table dominated the center of the room and Solomon looked at it for a few seconds. Returning to his backpack, he produced his map of High Rock and unfurled the papyrus across the wooden tabletop, pinning the corners down with paperweights. Solomon took a step back and looked around, ducking low and rummaging through the cabinets. 

“Aha,” he said and held up a box of chess pieces. The white king went in the center of the Ilessan Hills, representing the fortress of Ken Muhyr and its new inhabitants. He deliberated over the next piece and eventually settled on the black rook, placing it over Daggerfall -- the High Priest of Stendarr. Not the leader, but an important avatar of strength for the cult. He fingered the black king and sighed, placing it off the map. The Lord of Moths, High Priest of Akatosh, waiting in the wings, his location unknown. In a similar fashion, the rest of the black pieces were distributed across the other cities of High Rock, painting a gloomy picture; a single white king surrounded by nothing but enemies. 

“Big things have small beginnings,” Solomon whispered.

Pulling up a chair, Solomon sat down and allowed himself a moment of rest. Eventually his gaze looked beyond the map in front of him and he replayed the events of the past days over and over in his mind. The people he had lost in the inn. His guests. His barmaid. Lucy, the old cook. Henry had been close to her. Solomon knew that she had snuck him treats every so often, like the grandmother he’d never had. He’d allowed it. Was there something he could have done differently? Could he have saved them all? The Imperial rubbed his temples and noticed that he was chewing his jaw and tapping his foot. 

[i]You can’t let the stress eat you alive,[/i] an old commander’s voice echoed in his mind. [i]Don’t live in the past. Don’t live in your regrets. Focus on the here and now, and on the future. You cannot change the past. You can always change the future.[/i] Solomon dropped his hands to the chair’s armrests and exhaled slowly, forcing himself to sit still. Tension was still wound tightly into his limbs and the knot in his stomach threatened to squeeze the life from him if he paid attention to it. He hadn’t felt like this since he was a young man, when the Great War had been its most hopeless. But he had other commanders back then, orders to follow, superiors to trust. All he had now was people looking to him for leadership, or people doubting him and telling him this new war was already lost. No matter how large the room was, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the walls were slowly closing in on him. Abruptly, Solomon got to his feet again.

He stepped through the double doors on the other side of the room, emerging onto a spacious balcony. The wind immediately tussled his hair, as high up as he was, and he leaned on the railing on both hands, looking out over the valley and the Ilessan mountains that surrounded it. Pine forest stretched ahead as far as the eye could see, punctuated here and there by rivers and other bodies of water, and wisps of cloud drifted by lazily overhead. He took a deep breath of fresh mountain air and closed his eyes, savoring the sensation of the sun on his face, and he allowed its light and warmth to expel the darkness from his mind and his heart a little. There was still hope, no matter what Janus said. They had this place, for one, and they had their lives and their freedom. Wars had been won with less. Sometimes all it took was one person to tip the scales. It was his duty to be that person or to die trying. What else did he have to live for?

After a minute or two had passed, he straightened back up and rapped his knuckles on the stone railing. “Back to work.”