The kind of mates I'm contemplating

[bishopsgambit]

The air was scented with tobacco and whiskey, smoke thick and creating halos around the incandescent bulbs that hung in the light fixtures of the cramped speakeasy. The wooden boards overhead periodically creaked and groaned with the passing of patrons in the legitimate business above them on the ground floor of the building, faint notes of muffled jazz music making their way through to the din of the less than legal outfit going on below. There were murmured voices all around them, shadowy figures, but Leofstan rarely concerned himself with making up the extras in his dreams - they remained blurry and insubstantial until needed to play a role, and right now the only person that mattered was his opponent.

It was a table in the middle of the floor they were seated at - no place Leo would pick on his own in reality, but fitting for a dream where this took center stage so to speak. Along with their drinks - a glass of wine for Leofstan and a cigarette in his free hand - there was a chess board between them. Bespoke quality, the whole thing was carved of pearls sourced directly from Rebma, the black and white both iridescent when the light caught them right. With the haze of the speakeasy, they practically glowed, all the pieces carved to look like specific towers of castle Amber so that if you put each side together the right way you could make a miniature replica of the castle if you wanted. Leofstan knew the board intimately, because he had the real thing, a gift from his mother when he officially came of age.

He studied the board. Time blurred together. It was heard to tell exactly how long they had been playing, but this opponent was not like his usual fare. Masters he has dreamt who could win against him, because ultimately he was only playing himself in these games even if he made up a new face to sit across from him.

"... you're not very good at this, are you?" He asked lightly, amusement in his voice.