Chess always served as my way of understanding people. Strategy gives me great insight into people's minds. The same can be said for the ship girls, the powerful individuals that rule the waves under Crimson Axis control. While all of them are specifically built for waging war, not everyone is a strategist or thinks critically on the battlefield.
"Check." I murmur to my current opponent.
She grunts in contemplation. Dressed in heavy and somehow revealing clothes, I still don't quite understand the whole mechanics behind her creation. My opponent had her legs crossed over, sticking one out to side of the desk. If I were to follow the theory that these girls are based off of human thoughts, then humanity fails at hiding their perverse nature.
This woman represents a sizable fraction of Iron Blood's air power. Once an aircraft carrier, she was, and is, given life as a tall overly endowed pessimistic woman. One of the few carriers brought back for service. Her grey hair almost spilling over the pieces. Gloved fingers move them back over her shoulder.
As she does, I survey the damage. Most Iron Blood go for the middle four squares. The more aggressive ones, like Odin, start off with the common Caro-Kann Defense. Or Pirc. Those two tend to be a favored approach among my regulars.
Not Graf Zeppelin. She is different.
"…Check."
"Hmph." She responded, her eyes narrowing at my next move.
For a member of the Iron Blood to always aim for the Queen's Pawn position, it is a perplexing and fitting. In name and strategy. A queen in her own right but her strategy rarely reflects that.
She tentatively holds onto her black queen, stationed still by her king. My stranglehold on the position disallowed her any movement, yet that did not appear to be her concern. Her real goal is obvious - kill off all the important pieces. Leaving the queen to its own devices.
Personally, this is a detrimental mindset. Regardless, I respect it. She's not doing this out of pride or arrogant inconsideration. No, the reason why she refuses to capitalize on that piece is simple – me. Before principle and value, at least Graf Zeppelin sees practicality. Using her queen only in the direst of circumstances. With this in mind, I watch her eyes dart to the pieces I have taken. Only to narrow her eyes at the ones that she has slain.
"Herr Kommandant."
"Yes?"
"Why do you waste your pawns so effortlessly?"
Stupefied, I blink, briefly observing her look. Cold and unmoving. Discerning her thoughts have never been an easy task for me. Unable to read her expression, as it looked naturally tired and bored like usual, I shrug.
"The use and importance of the pieces behind them, outweigh their supposed waste." Biting my bottom lip, before sliding my queen into position, "In the crucial moments, they can be the most dangerous pieces."
Graf Zeppelin reaches for one of her pieces. My last few words struck a chord somewhere. She puts her legs down and leans back. Arms folding under her chest.
"What do you mean?"
My attention moves to the last remaining pawn on the board. Down to a handful of pieces on both sides, I still field two of my favorite pieces. The knights. Supported by their queen, they corner Graf's king.
"Check," I state, then roll my jaw side to side, "To answer your question, do you see that pawn of mine?"
"Obviously."
Said piece creeps closely to abandoned queen. Threatening to take it. Alas, I am unable to. Example of the dreaded, 'impasse'. Graf holds down her corner with a rook, that would inevitably place my king in check. Why she has not taken it has been a question of my own. Yet, I shoved my confusion aside an hour ago. Curiosity being my main drive in discovering her reasoning.
"This one stands at the cusp of a victory or defeat." I explain keeping my eyes on the table. "For a piece that can only move twice on its first move, but once afterwards, pawns are generally useless pieces. Most people throw them out in order to save their more important pieces. Like how you use your bishops."
Graf Zeppelin holds her gloved hand to her mouth. Thinking. Then she made her move.
"But," She holds an index finger at me, stopping my turn, "That still does not answer my question."
Graf crosses her legs, "Why then do you send them out to die first? Before all the more important ones go."
"So, I can win."
She purses her lips and narrows her eyes again, "Then why do you value our lives so much?"
I pause. There it is. Luckily, I was prepared to explain myself. Hopefully, it would suffice.
"I don't see any of you as my pawns. Instead, I see you as my important pieces. The ones I lead to the best of my abilities."
She interjects, her tone hides a taste of resentment, "Yet, you give them up whenever you have no choice." A gloved hand waves over all the bishops, rooks, and the knights. "Then you see us as tools?"
"No. I said my important pieces."
For the first time since I started playing her today, I see her shift in her seat. Eyes muddy with an emotion or thought that entered her mind. She finally lands her attention on the one piece I value quite a bit in the late game.
"We…are your queen pieces?"
"Precisely."
My queen slides into its last position.
"Checkmate."
I look up. The Iron Blood carrier stares off to the side. We have been playing for a better half of the evening. My watch and the clock tick passively in my office. All the work for the day complete. Sharper winds beat against the windows, the moonlight gracing the floors. The icy cold frost of the winter consumes the glass.
"If you want to know," I say, while I place the pieces inside my board. Black and white wooden portable box. It acts as both a flat surface and a container. "All the other pieces are simply resources. My time, thinking, and what I do as an officer. They also encompass how I see myself and each piece represent that. I may be a subordinate to Herrin Bismarck, it is my duty to care for my fleet as an officer. As an Iron Blood. As a true German."
When she did not answer me, I continue, "You know, Graf, you've been awfully bold with your questions lately. Do you have something on your mind?"
No response. The signs are subtle. Fingers tentatively lock her arms in place. Her words failing her one way or another with life dancing behind her eyes. Unable to really discern her mind, I leave her to deal with her turmoil. Standing up, I place the chessboard into the shelf. The dual purpose of serving as a board and container being my favorite part about it.
Meanwhile, Graf mutters softly. Face downcast.
"But the king determines the outcome of the game."
I turn around to see the air carrier rise from her chair. Graf walks towards the nearest window. Silently gazing at the streets below. Watching her for a moment, I eventually join her, standing by her side. Both of us watch the snow fall outside.
Winter on the North Atlantic base tends to bring the most snow out of all our facilities. Other than the small hidden refueling stations across the Europa shores. Most of the sleep is split between here and one other location. Kiel Harbor containing the rest of the fleet under Herrin Bismarck.
Three stories above, plenty of Iron Blood girls wander about at night. The weekend draws near, and many are preparing for their days off. Diligent patrols, those returning from missions, and the occasional laughter from siblings winding down their time. Light posts keeping these activities lit alongside the dazzling stars above.
I follow Graf's gaze. Nothing particular caught her attention.
Her previous statement hangs on me for a bit.
"Sadly, I wish that were always the case."
More snow fell, "As the king, all I can do is act as a liability. I cannot charge into battle like a knight or strike from the background like the bishop. If I were to stand against my enemy as a rook, that would kill me. I would only throw my life away if I were a pawn's spot. All I can do is tell my queen where to go. Where to fight."
Graf Zeppelin lowers her head, deep in thought. That was my que to keep quiet. Interpretation is a special skill around this woman.
Out of everyone on this base, I found it difficult to understand her line of thinking. Her beliefs conflicts with most of the fleet, with the amount of depressive gloom negatively impacting those around her. Such an aura is capable of catching the stalwart Bismarck off guard at times. Leaving her sometimes in a blinking silence. Nihilism and loathing of the world. Unlike her peers, her brutal outlook on life makes it easier for me to deal with the reality of my situation.
"Then I will let you tell me where to go."
I look over to take in her words. Her eyes now on me. She straightened her back and stares past me. Somehow, there is a change. Whatever it is, resembling a facial expression.
She looks content.
"Thank you, Herr Kommadant. Good night."
At that, she walks away. Her black heels click across the red carpet. I watch carefully as she opens and closes my door. Leaving me alone.
Better. At least this time she did not leave in an explosive huff. No slamming doors or stomping away. How that is accomplished in heels is beyond me. Aside such stray thoughts, the polite farewell is an added bonus. Adding to it, I sensed a certain resonance behind her parting words. Acceptance? For what, when it comes to this woman, I may never know.
I sigh grumbling under my breath to no one. Turning towards my desk. Black and crimson draperies embellish the décor. Deterring the plain practical interior with a sense of military regality. I ruffle through one of the drawers. Hidden in layers of white satin. Unwrapping it gently, I rub my hands around the carefully maintained object. Faded black and white picture nestled within a cracked frame. Burn marks across the edges.
A picture of an old man and a little boy holding a model ship. Both smiling at the photographer.
One of the hardest things about interacting with Graf Zeppelin is the after thoughts that come from our conversations. Her very presence exudes it. The pit feeling, I believe she feels every day. This feeling only makes me pity the woman even more. I shake my head at these thoughts. Someday I will understand her fully. Until then, I can only wallow in the same despair she probably experiences on a daily basis. I can only hope someone can give her a light I believe she so desperately requires.
Maybe someday, I can find that peace too.