A genius at chess. Someone who could defeat a Level 64 [Strategist]. Not even a [Strategist], in truth, a [Grandmaster Strategist], an odd subclass he had obtained shortly after learning to play chess.
At the moment, said Titan, [Grandmaster Strategist], feared foe to his enemies and so on and so forth was cursing. He’d just stepped in rat droppings and it had gotten all over his dress boots, which of course, had lace.
When Niers entered the ballroom of the academy, carried by Peclir on a silver pedestal, every eye turned. Most of the jaws dropped. The [Grandmaster Strategist] was wearing an eye-catching, eye-searing red overcoat lined with silver thread, over a comfortable, decidedly lace-less shirt and pants which he could move around in without tripping.
Peclir dashed out of the room and several of Niers’ students looked at the [Grandmaster Strategist]. Niers frowned as he peered at the magical slate upon which the [Message] spells were appearing. Foliana munched on a carrot muffin as she sat next to him.
Venaz spoke with passion, and Niers saw a few of his students nodding hesitantly. The [Grandmaster Strategist] just sighed internally and scratched at his growing beard. He looked for the right student to call on and saw Umina scratching at the colorful frills on her neck uneasily.
Niers remarked to Foliana. The two were watching the broadcast. Niers had been watching the fighting. To the [Grand<em>master</em> Strategist], it had been a fairly neat retaking of the walls. Too slow for his liking, but Chaldion had executed the counterattack well.
One foot high, and still athletic. Far stronger than he looked, although that was strong for his size. And…the [Grandmaster Strategist] checked his hair.
Niers was a [Strategist]. Just a [Strategist]. A [Grandmaster Strategist], true, but he didn’t gain other classes. Honestly, he didn’t know if he could.
The [Grandmaster Strategist] had a range far exceeding lesser [Tacticians] and [Strategists]. Basic Skills took on new potential at his level. He realized the ‘enemy’ wasn’t even within a mile of his position. More like four miles.
Yet Bird was able to communicate Niers’ will, and by that, what Niers knew would work. He was still a [Grandmaster Strategist], and he had observed inefficiencies or simple faults in this group already.
[Grandmaster Strategist]. We make excellent pacts, don’t we? You help me, and I’ll help you. It’s not like I have an army to return to. It will be a while before I can use it again, but I was saving it for now.
The Titan never moved. The [Grandmaster Strategist] looked Venaz right in the eye, then slowly turned his head. To look at Numbtongue, Snapjaw, Ulvama, and the others.
The Level sixty-six [Grandmaster Strategist] exhaled. Fighting the Witch of Webs, surviving Peclir’s treachery, the High Passes, leading an army around—plus all of what he’d been doing before this?
The [Grandmaster Strategist] looked at a woman who reminded him of Ekrn. Not because the hair was the same—hers was fury-red and combed. But her leather armor and the spear leaning against the table were the kind of gear a Fraerling used to mobile fights in the open carried.
