The Will of the Many (Hierarchy Book 1)
The Will of the Many: Part 3 – Chapter 60

I SPEND THE NEXT TWO weeks mulling the various aspects of my plan, trying to smooth over its roughest edges, weighing up exactly what I need to risk to make it work. By the end, though, I’m as confident in it as I can be.

But I can’t do it alone.

“I have a favour to ask.” I’m walking with Emissa to the Labyrinth. Wandering, really. Her arm’s looped through mine.

Her eyes sparkle as she looks up at me. “Oh?”

“I think I may have a way into Class Three.”

“What makes you think I’d want to help you with that?”

I give her a gentle bump with my hip. “Please. The lure of seeing me all day is too strong, and you know it.”

She sighs dramatically. “Fine. Let’s pretend I’m interested.” She’s still smiling, but sincerity enters her voice. “You’re going to have to do some serious convincing for Scitus to get Sianus dropped down. He’s been working twice as hard since hearing about you at Suus.”

“Not Sianus. Belli.”

Emissa slows, just for a second, clearly thrown. “I’m listening.”

I outline my plan to her, keeping my voice low despite our isolation; we’re almost to the Labyrinth but no one’s in sight at this time of night. Emissa listens with a frown, at no point looking particularly convinced.

“That’s not a good plan,” she confirms once I’m done.

“It will work.”

“It might work. Maybe. With some luck. And if you’re actually as good as you think you are.”

“It’s worth the risk.”

“If you say so.” She stops, leans in, and kisses me gently. “But, yes. Of course I’ll help.”

I beam stupidly at her. “Thanks.”

“When do you want to do it?”

“Tomorrow. Dinner.” There’s no point delaying.

“I’ll be ready.”

We keep walking. “There’s one other thing. Belli…” I sigh. “Belli has something of Callidus’s. I can’t tell you what,” I add as she opens her mouth to ask, “but I’m going to try and use this to get it back.”

She studies me. “This is why you’re gambling, rather than just working your way past Sianus.” She says it with such a mixture of frustration and affection that I have no idea whether it’s an insult or a compliment. “I hope he knows how lucky he is to have you as a friend.”

I shrug awkwardly. “He’d do the same for me.”

“He would,” she agrees reluctantly. Definitely more affectionate than not, this time.

I grin at her, and we head down into the Labyrinth.

EMISSA AND I ARRIVE EARLY to the mess the following evening. There’s no one else around; dinner won’t be served for a good half hour yet. We take the Foundation board that usually sits on Class Three’s table and bring it down one level to mine, then sit opposite each other.

“Are you sure about this?” I say quietly as we set the pieces. “She’s going to know you helped.”

“If you knock her out of Three, she’s going to assume I had something to do with it anyway,” Emissa observes cheerfully. “And Belli has always been clear on the fact that this is a competition to her. She can hardly complain when someone tries to compete.”

We start to play, not with any haste or intensity, and me purposely making a few mistakes to provide Emissa with a distinct, though not overwhelming, advantage. Soon enough other students start to trickle in. The other Fourths eye Emissa in surprise, but when they see what we’re doing, give polite greetings and talk among themselves. I can see them checking on the progress of the game occasionally, though—Aequa, especially. Curious to see if I can beat a Third.

It’s another five minutes before Belli arrives, Iro trailing after her. Emissa and I pretend not to see them. It takes only another minute before there’s movement and a small stir as Belli wanders down a level again.

She stands behind Emissa. “You took our board.” Mildly irritated.

“Vis and I thought we could get in a game before everyone came. Sorry.” Emissa smiles brightly across at me. “I won’t be long.”

I make a face at her, then move one of my red stones deliberately to the right. A reasonably smart move. Unorthodox.

There’s a heartbeat when Belli balances on her toes, looking like she’s going to retreat once more to the Class Three table.

Then she settles again. Studies the board.

Emissa examines my move, then responds in fairly predictable fashion. I’ve seen Emissa play Belli before, and she’s like most of the other Thirds: she’s smart, can think a few moves ahead and has a good understanding of the fundamentals of the game, but she doesn’t stand a chance against anyone with real training.

I push at a red piece, lining it up with two others. I don’t look at Belli but I hear her breath released through clenched teeth, as if having to physically restrain herself from castigating me over such a bad move. Which it is, I have to admit. Three moves along and Emissa will be able to break apart my pyramid entirely, cutting through my lines and weakening my force catastrophically.

I let a flash of irritation cross my face. Show her I’ve heard, but don’t say anything. I’ve seen Belli watching other matches. She inevitably comments. Usually snidely. I have to wait for that.

I don’t have to wait long.

Two moves later, I make another poor play. Not an obvious one, but one which will effectively finish the game in a half dozen turns if Emissa is alert to the possibility. Belli scoffs as my finger leaves the stone, shaking her head disdainfully. “I thought you said you’d played before.”

Inwardly breathing a sigh of relief—if the match had ended without her provoking me, this wouldn’t have worked—I glower at her. “Must be nice, thinking that beating the same five people all the time makes you an expert.”

Belli flushes, more visibly stung than I would have expected. It probably doesn’t help that almost all the Fourths are watching with unabashed interest, and I’ve slighted one of the few things she truly prides herself on. “You had your chance to play me. You said you were too scared,” she says dismissively.

I let my back stiffen. Gesture to the board, trying to look offended. “Care to show everyone how good you are, then?”

“Vis.” Emissa shakes her head. Visibly warning me off.

We’ve drawn a small crowd by this point. In the corner, Nequias and Scitus are peering over, too, though they’re too far away to hear what’s being said.

Belli hesitates. Her reputation in Three is built on her intelligence, and rightly or wrongly, much of that is tied to her ability in Foundation. It’s a trap she’s built for herself, an idea she’s pushed too hard. Her constant victories are seen as incontrovertible proof that she has a superior tactical mind, that she’s a stronger strategist than any of the others in the class. A loss to me would be embarrassing. Maybe even affect her standing.

“No thanks. Not worth my time,” she says airily, recovering quickly. “Besides. You’re already playing Emissa.” She doesn’t think she’ll lose to me, but she’s too smart to risk it.

“That’s alright. I concede. She’s going to win anyway.” I irritably start setting the pieces back to their starting positions.

“Still not worth my time.”

“You’re afraid I can beat you.” This baiting is something that I’ve been considering for a long time. The problem—the reason I haven’t attempted to act on this idea much sooner—is that Belli really is very good. I’ve played since a young age, taught by some of the greatest to ever have played the game, and I should be able to beat her. But it’s no certainty.

Belli looks like she wants to walk away, but there’s a crowd now. Even if she backs out, there’s enough interest to ensure that this is a competition that will happen sooner or later. “Fine.” She rolls her eyes and sits huffily in the chair Emissa’s just vacated. “Let’s make this quick.”

“Praeceptors!” Iro is beckoning over Scitus and Nequias, who have been watching but keeping their distance. “You might be interested in this. Vis and Belli are going to play Foundation.”

It takes all I have not to laugh. I needed at least one of the Praeceptors to take an active interest—Emissa was going to call them over if they didn’t investigate themselves—but Iro thinks I’m going to be embarrassed here.

“This will be interesting,” agrees Scitus, arms crossed as he comes up to the table. “Vis, I didn’t know you played.”

“A little, Praeceptor.”

Nequias glowers at me. “This is a waste of Belli’s talent.” I rarely interact with the severe, hazel-eyed man, but he’s never hidden his dislike of me.

“I suppose we’ll see,” replies Scitus, motioning that we should continue.

Soon enough the stones are laid out in their starting pyramids, my red arrayed squarely against her white.

“You know what? We need to make this fair,” says Belli, loudly enough for everyone to hear. “You can take a piece off the board. For free. I wouldn’t feel right, otherwise.”

There’s a smattering of laughter, and I feel a flash of panic. She’s taking a precaution, pre-empting any real competition by allowing herself to start at a disadvantage. It’s a clever move.

I recover. Shrug, reach down, and remove one of my own pieces.

There’s more laughter from the crowd, though this time a little disbelieving, as if shocked at my disregard for Belli’s abilities. Nequias snorts, and even Scitus just sighs and shakes his head.

“This is not worth my time.” Belli’s face is as red as her curls. She looks as if she’s about to get up and leave, despite all the attention.

“Why don’t we put stakes on it, then?” I ask, flipping the red stone I’ve just picked up from one hand to another.

“Like what?” She sneers at me, increasingly annoyed at being forced into this contest. “What could you possibly have that would interest me?”

“I’ll pledge to Governance if you win.”

The chattering and laughter fades. The Praeceptors look a combination of shocked and outraged at my casual offer. Belli’s eyes are wide. Even just as a Fourth, switching loyalties like this wouldn’t go unnoticed by the outside world—and I’m Catenicus on top of that. It’s a coup that would raise Belli’s stock considerably, within Governance as well as in here.

She licks her lips. “And if you win?”

“I get your spot in Class Three. Which”—I glance over at the Praeceptors—“I feel should happen anyway, if we reach that point.”

Emissa steps forward, puts her hand lightly on my shoulder. I look up to see her eyes so full of concern, I almost laugh at how well she’s playing her role. Or maybe it’s not feigned. I didn’t mention what I was going to bet. “Don’t,” she says. Softly, but the gist is undoubtedly obvious to anyone who’s paying attention. “She’s too good.”

I wave her away, maintaining my façade of irritation. Emissa gives me a frustrated look.

Belli says nothing for a long time. The crowd has swelled well beyond the Fourths, word of the contest spreading. I spot Eidhin in the back, expression unreadable. Several people call out for her to accept. She ignores them, but I can see her calculating. Weighing risk against reward. Trying to decide whether backing down now, in front of all these people and the Praeceptors, is going to hurt her chances in Class Three. I think it would, and I think she believes the same. I can see the realisation in her eyes, and then—looking at me again—the hunger. Above all, she believes she’ll beat me. She thinks she can bag a prize here, strike a blow against Military that her father will be proud of.

“Alright.”

There’s so much in that word. It’s eager and pensive and confident and confused, all at once.

I don’t display anything except for vexed acceptance. That, unfortunately, was the easy part.

Now all I have to do is win.

STARTING A GAME OF FOUNDATION without one of your stones isn’t a death sentence, but it does rely on your opponent making at least one mistake.

Belli, from what I’ve seen, doesn’t make many. The question is really whether she’s truly adaptable: favourable position though it is, beginning from a stone up is unusual, and an unforeseen advantage still requires adjustment. Many of the strategies she’d try are suddenly rendered pointless. And while I’m theoretically suffering the same disadvantage, I have had a deal of experience at playing from a stone down. Whenever I’d play against Cari, I’d always let her take stones off the board. And she had the same tutors as me. She got quite good, toward the end.

There’s a swell of emotion at the thought of my sister, and I take a moment. The Praeceptors have stepped away to argue: Nequias is vehement, Scitus calm but firm. I can imagine what Nequias is saying, and I’m glad to see that Scitus is having none of it. If I do beat Belli here, it will be nothing but infuriating if the Praeceptors don’t recognise the bet.

Callidus has appeared alongside Eidhin at the back of the crowd. I make eye contact with him, see his questioning look. Shrug. He glances from Belli to me thoughtfully.

Dinner’s been underway for a while, but few people are eating. That doesn’t bother me. Belli, on the other hand, is clearly unsettled. She scowls constantly, her face is flushed, and she keeps glancing up at the crowd as if waiting for them to exhort her. She rubs her thumb across the nub of her missing finger between turns, as if it’s cold.

It’s a good sign, but Belli’s not stupid, either: she knows she’s distracted, and she knows I’m not. The first few moves, she takes her time, refusing to let the pressure of the onlookers get to her. I’ve set the stakes high, and she’s not going to let anything rush her. That’s fine. Distraction is still distraction. It will show itself not in the immediate moves, but in the missing of strategies later on.

Still, I struggle to keep her at bay for the first ten minutes, particularly as she becomes more confident, more aggressive. It’s absolutely the right way to play from her position—attacking from all sides, trying to replace the opening that inevitably comes from my inferior number of pieces. But she’s predictable, too. Can be led. I’ve had the advantage of watching plenty of Belli’s matches. I can pick her favourite moves, favourite stratagems. I give her glimpses of holes in my line, tempting her to position for an attack that will overextend her.

She doesn’t take the bait the first few times, but eventually impatience—or perhaps the pressure of everyone’s expectations—gets the better of her. She thinks she sees an opening. She moves in.

I’ve heard Foundation described as a beautiful game. That usually comes from people who don’t play it, or don’t play it well. It’s not a dance, not a show. It’s as blunt and bloody as war; you win through positioning, which allows you to maximise attrition. You don’t mind losing a piece if you can take two. You don’t mind losing five if you can take six.

At the end of that first exchange, I’m down eight pieces, and so is she. She missed the way the first bloodbath—where I lost one more piece than she did—would set me up to initiate the second, where I took four of hers with only two lost. When I complete the final move of the sequence, there’s a low murmuring. The weight of eyes is on me rather than just the game, now.

I risk a glance up. Belli’s staring at the board, but something’s changed in her gaze. There’s not just concentration anymore. There’s fear.

She’s realised she has a fight on her hands.

In the background, I can see the two Praeceptors standing together, looking on with a curiosity which is as intense as the students’. Nequias is openly dismayed, while Scitus, seeing my glance, gives me a nod. I quickly return my focus to the game, not letting anyone see my relief. Scitus wouldn’t have made the gesture if Nequias hadn’t conceded that they had to honour the terms of the bet.

Belli’s wounded by the exchange, retreating to resupply her pieces; I do the same, ensuring that we essentially reset to equal status. The positioning’s different, but we’re back to the start of the match—this time, without my disadvantage.

I attack.

I’m not shy about what I’m doing, going about it like a blunt instrument, smashing my pieces against hers in ferocious equal exchanges. It’s a common ploy for players who think they’re outmatched, who can’t handle or process the breadth of options a full board gives them. Belli knows it, too, and though there’s nothing visible, she starts to make her moves with more certainty. She was thrown by the fact I managed to claw back to even, but I can almost see her deciding that there had to have been luck involved, or perhaps inattentiveness on her behalf. That I’m not capable of outplaying her consistently, not if I need to resort to this.

But again, I’m positioning myself. This was one of my tutor’s favourite tactics: using seemingly random carnage to carefully organise, not allowing any respite, not allowing your opponent to do anything but react. Small skirmishes that form a master plan.

It works—works perfectly, to my surprise. Belli’s playing as if from a textbook, responding to every single move in the smartest way—except for the fact that she’s gradually, gradually, leaving her pieces where they will expose the heart of her pyramid. I look around again. Everyone’s fascinated, but nobody’s seen what’s happening, as far as I can tell. Emissa looks worried. Callidus looks worried. Even Scitus has gone from approving to a thoughtful frown.

Belli’s the first to spot what I’m doing, but she sees it too late. I hear her caught breath, see the way her hand hesitates and then falls as she realises what I’m about to do. There’s thirty seconds of silence as she studies the board. A minute. Her face becomes more and more pale as she sees there’s no way out, no sequence of events that can save her except if there’s a mistake by me. Her hand starts to tremble.

I glance around and then stand and lean over, mouth to her ear, voice low. “We can still draw. If you want to renegotiate.”

She doesn’t look up from the board, and for a few seconds I wonder whether she’s heard me. “What do you want?”

“What you took from Callidus. All of it. Right now.”

She stiffens. “After.”

“No. You’re in no position to haggle. We take a break, you fetch it, and if he confirms it’s all there, I’ll settle for the draw.”

Her jaw twitches beneath clenched teeth. “What’s to stop you from winning anyway?”

“Nothing. But I’m one, maybe two moves from everyone realising my position. So if you don’t want it to look suspicious, now’s the time.”

She sucks in a deep breath. “Alright.”

My heart unclenches and I stand up straight, addressing the crowd. “I’m afraid my bladder’s going to burst. Sorry, everyone. Back soon.”

A mock groan goes around the room, the babble of voices starting as it’s clear there will be a few minutes before the game resumes. Belli rises too and makes her excuses, moving swiftly to leave. I pause as I pass Callidus.

“Go with Belli. Check it’s all there. Come back and let me know, either way. Then if it is, you go and secure it somewhere no one will look, then pretend you’ve burned it. Straight away.”

Callidus’s eyes go wide as he gets my meaning, but before he can respond, I’m climbing the stairs.

It’s ten minutes later that Belli returns, looking composed. Callidus trails behind her. He meets my eyes. Gives me the slightest of confirmations, then disappears up the stairs again.

Good.

“It’s done,” Belli mutters as she sits.

I take my time after that, grabbing a plate of food, making sure Callidus has plenty of opportunity to hide the evidence. It’s another few minutes before we’re back at the game, and Belli’s making her next move. The only one open to her. The one that splits her forces, gives me an oblique path into the heartland of her territory.

There’s a shuffling from across the room and I see Scitus whispering smugly to Nequias, who’s looking increasingly dismayed. The Praeceptors have spotted the opening, even if no one else has. Belli looks up at me expectantly.

I calmly move my piece, then meet her horrified gaze.

There’s a murmur, soft at first, then rising, as some of the students see what’s about to happen.

“What are you doing?” Belli mumbles, maintaining a façade of calm. She moves again, giving me an out.

I don’t take it. “Showing you what consequences look like.” I’m past her defences now. Her pyramid’s broken, and I’m going to be capturing pieces for the next several turns. “Not pleasant seeing your trust betrayed, is it?”

The crowd’s getting louder, exclamations of disbelief at Belli’s position distinctly audible. “I can still tell them what Callidus gave me. Get them to search his belongings if I need to.”

“Not anymore.” Callidus has been standing at the back for the last minute, almost as if on cue. I surreptitiously indicate him; the blood drains completely from Belli’s face as he waves some charred remnants of paper at her.

“They’ll notice the papers are gone. If I tell Governance what’s missing, they’ll believe me.”

“Maybe, but they sure as all hells won’t let the other factions know it was true. And they won’t do a gods-damned thing without evidence. Except maybe expel you from the Academy for making unfounded accusations.” It was tempting to get Callidus to actually destroy the papers—it would have been simpler—but I’m not sure he would have, even if I’d asked. This way, he has a chance to put them back without anyone ever noticing they were gone.

The girl opposite me says nothing for a good long while. Then suddenly she’s shaking, and then to my shock, sobbing. She reaches a trembling hand for a piece and moves it; I follow by decimating her support base on the board, steeling myself against her increasingly loud sniffs. Even if it wasn’t from necessity, I wasn’t lying about considering this a hard lesson.

Two moves later and Belli’s standing, her choked sobs and glistening cheeks evident to everyone. “I concede.” She’s shoving her way through the crowd, almost sprinting for the stairs. People step out of her way, watching with undisguised shock until she’s out of sight.

I don’t feel particularly good about it, no matter the outcome, but I did what had to be done. I look up at Scitus and Nequias. “You heard that?”

“She resigned. You win.” Scitus confirms the result before Nequias has a chance to speak. The older man scowls, but jerks his head in acknowledgment.

I meet Nequias’s gaze. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Praeceptor.” I give a nod of thanks to Scitus, and walk off before either man can say anything further.

The crowd parts for me too as I leave, though this is less a scuttling out of the way and more a… reverent stepping aside. Callidus is waiting for me by the stairs, and easily falls into step as we leave.

As soon as we’re up in the Curia Doctrina, he laughs out loud. A true laugh, a release, long and deep and joyful. “Gods’ graves, Vis. Rotting gods. Rotting gods.” He curses a few more times, then slaps me dazedly on the back. “Remind me to never get on your bad side. I have no idea how I’m going to repay this.”

I laugh too, his joy infectious.

“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” I say, returning his grin.