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There's a new painting on the right wall. Hera is waiting in the office, seated in the chair she always sits in, hands folded in her lap. Very still – her fingers don't fidget, her feet don't swing. She's finally grown enough that her toes comfortably touch the floor. Only her eyes flicker, down to her hands, and then up again, to the right wall, to the new piece of art that hadn't been there before.

To her eyes, it's a strange collection of rectangular shapes, among which she can barely make out what looks like a head, a neck, shoulders. Maybe arms. She counts the colors, white, blue, black, beige, lighter blue, darker blue. She perceives something that reminds her of light, light through a window, so that it makes bright squares on the floor that mingle with the shadow around it. She knows that it's Terran art. The head and neck and shoulders don't have to belong to a Terran, and yet, she knows. It's the kind of art he would have. And there was art like this, in the house, before –

She stops her thoughts at that, goes back to counting colors. Gray, like steel. Orange, a light orange, like rust.

He wouldn't make her wait if he didn't have to. She knows that. She feels no impatience, not even any curiosity as to why he called her in. There's always a reason. And with nothing else to occupy her, she sets her focus on memorizing this painting, just as she has memorized every other object and corner and space of this office.

Pale yellow. Dark green. Maybe, around those shoulders, the back of a chair.

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Thrawn takes it from her, turning it over in his hand while he studies it out of narrowed scarlet eyes. He smiles briefly, then rests it on the board as well.

"This is a piece called the queen. She can move in any way the other pieces move, forward and backward, but not the way the knight moves. She can take any number of squares at a time, again unlike the other pieces. Some would call her the most powerful piece on the board."

Hera's eyes linger on the queen for a moment, and then the matching black piece still in the box. But she already has enough wisdom to know that if there are so many other pieces, each must be important.

So next she picks out the shortest piece, with similar curved edges but rounded top.

"There are a lot of these," she says, turning it over in her fingers before also holding it out to him.

"Those are what Terrans call pawns."

He looks down at her as he says that word, enunciating clearly.

"Have you heard them use it before, if you remember?"

Hera looks back down to the piece in her hands.

She stays that way for a few seconds, not turning the piece over or moving it at all from where it rests on her palm.

But with her eyes still down, she answers quietly, "Yes."

"They are the pieces that some might claim are the easiest to sacrifice if a player wished to lure her opponent out. Bait for a trap, if you will."

He pauses after that, attention turning from the chess pieces to Hera, watching for her reaction. And to see, perhaps, if she chooses to ask any question.

Hera's eyes stay down for another moment, but then she lifts her thumb, and again rolls the pawn over in her hand. It's not a question that comes to her mind, but a deduction.

"Then it's important, too."

From a certain point of view, in any case.

Thrawn smiles.

"Precisely. A person that is aware of that is one step ahead of her opponent, if they are of the opposite mind."

She nods, then lifts her hand again, to hand it to him.

The next one she chooses is another she thinks she recognizes - the shape of it, at least. It's taller than the last, also with smooth, curved edges, but she runs her fingernails of along the neat square edges that ring the top, sure she recognizes the pattern from images of old Terran buildings.

"This is the rook," he says, arching one eyebrow. "Not to be confused with Rukh, who is another one of my operatives. You'll meet him soon, if his most recent mission has gone well."

The chances that it hasn't are present, but not very likely.

"It moves only in straight lines, but it may move any number of squares, and both backward, forward, and sideways."

She glances back down to the piece, and then to the board, mentally illuminating the possible paths for such a piece.

Then she sets it on the board, closer to Thrawn, and reaches into the box for another piece. There are only two left - one with only the opposing color as its twin, which by its size and shape she could tell was also likely important. She chooses the other, again the same smooth, curved edges, but a strange shape she doesn't recognize at all as its top, a kind of rounded teardrop, with a single slice cut through it.

She looks back up to Thrawn, with no guess at all for what this could be.

"English calls it bishop, and I believe that name refers to the piece's shape, which has something to do with the clothing of a priest."

Thrawn's smile is thin again.

"In other Terran languages I believe the word is different, but perhaps that is a concern for later."

He reaches to slide the piece along the board.

"This one moves on the diagonal, one on the lighter squares, one on the darker squares."

Again, Hera follows the movement in her eyes, watching the possible paths for the piece spring up along the board.

She nods, once, and then reaches into the box for the remaining piece.

"The King?" she asks, pressing her thumb against the cross shape that tops it rather than a crown.

"The King," Thrawn agrees. "His loss ends the game, but this piece can only move one square at a time, though in any direction. It is a quandary, no? How the most important piece can also be the most limited."

He holds out his hand, palm-up, as if requesting Hera put the king in his palm.

She blinks up, and without pause reaches to put the piece in his hand.

"He has all the other pieces to protect him."

"That is one way to look at it, certainly," Thrawn acknowledges, setting the king into its appropriate position on the board.

"And he is, indeed, the most well-sheltered of the pieces to start."

Demonstrating that is simple enough, as Thrawn assembles the ranks -- pawns in front, queen next to the king, with bishops, knights, and rooks flanking them in that order.

"But only to start."

She looks to the lined up pieces, the pawns all lined together and the symmetry of the pieces installed aside the king and queen.

"Then they have to attack."

Again, a deduction. You can't win the game if you only defend.

"That, or lure the other side into attacking, preferably unwisely. Though there are ways to make it appear as if you are advancing when, in fact, you are merely waiting."

Which is to say 'yes, but -- '.

Hera listens, blinking between him, and the lined up pieces.

When he's done, she reaches into the box, and pulls out the black pieces, lining them along her side of the board just as he had lined the white pieces along his.

"White," Thrawn says, once she is finished assembling the ranks of black, "goes first."

She meets his eyes, and nods her acknowledgment, before looking back down to the pieces along his side of the board, perhaps imagining what his first move might be.

Thrawn takes the pawn in front of the queen piece and advances it two squares, what some would call a classic opening.

He watches Hera consider her own move, or at least it appears that way. In truth he is already plotting multiple moves ahead, relying on his understanding of the girl to theorize what her own likely plan will be.

It is a skill he has long been good at. And while the pace of the game is slow, as befits a teaching game, his own moves are ruthless, as it would be no good otherwise.

And once the detritus of black's ranks has been swept from the field, Thrawn sits back, steepling his fingers to study Hera's final reaction.

"It was not a terrible first attempt, to be sure."

Hera didn't really expect to win, and has no particular feelings of hurt pride. The feeling of anything coming quickly to her is still very new experience, and she's never found anyone who would go easy on her.

Still, she does show some consternation at how ably Thrawn seems able to predict her moves. She tries to jump to other strategies, attempting to elude his pursuit, but this in turn distracts her from studying his moves. It frustrates her, as even if she didn't expect to win, she can't lessen her effort any for that. Hera's sure he would know if she wasn't truly applying herself.

Hera stays leaned close to the table even when the game is over, watching the board, her mouth pressed into a thin line. She doesn't look up until Thrawn speaks.

And that, at least, is a trap she can recognize.

"Then I want to play again," she answers.

Thrawn merely nods, though he does not look displeased.

"Good. This game is not particularly well-suited as an actual metaphor for battle, but as a way to practice understanding your opponent it is very nearly unparalleled."

He pauses, hand hovering over one of the white pieces.

"But not, I think, tonight. You'll need time to think about a new strategy."

As well as to consider what she imagines Thrawn's might be, he's sure.

Edited 2018-07-26 12:40 (UTC)

Her eyes fall back to the game board.

But again, she just says, "Yes, sir."

And then she lifts herself up, leaning over the board again, but now to help collect up the pieces, and replace them in the box.

"There is no shame in it," Thrawn says, as he sets pieces back into the box, leaving room for Hera to do the same.

"This time. Quite likely the time after this, as well."