Thirteen times. Thirteen times, Baldwin has bested you in this game of king and pawns. Was he not supposed to be teaching you? It seemed instead he was taunting you, hellbent on making you look like a fool. He's explained the rules over and over, but you just do not get it. His eyes, visible through the eyeholes of his mask, seem to be filled with amusement and... smugness, perhaps?

Across the small table, Baldwin sits up straight in his chair. A half-full glass of deep red wine previously poured by one of the servants rests beside the chess board. The moonlight streaming through the open window of his chambers catches his mask, making it glint in the otherwise dark room save for the flickering flame of the candle at his desk some paces away. He has not touched the wine, his focus entirely on the game.

You can almost hear the gears turning in his head as he contemplates his next move. It seems like an eternity since you both were children, you tugging at his sleeve, begging him to teach you this game and now, after all these years, he's finally found the time to do it. His slender, gloved fingers hover over a piece on the chessboard. The rook, you remember.

"This piece," he begins, his voice low and soft, "moves horizontally and vertically, nothing more." His fingers close around the piece before he slides it across the board, not stopping until it reaches the opposite side. "Do you understand?"