Westeros Chess

"Westeros Chess?"

Sansa was a little puzzled. She had never heard of anything by that name, though she had played Tile Chess with her maids.

Garon nodded. "That's right, Westeros Chess!"

Of course, he knew that nobody present had any idea what Westeros Chess was, because he had just come up with the name.

Garon took two steps forward and came to stand opposite Sansa. Smiling, he said, "Miss Sansa, allow me to demonstrate it for you."

Once Sansa nodded in agreement, he took the pieces out of the wooden box one by one, then turned the box over and laid it flat to serve as the board.

Under everyone's watchful eyes, Garon arranged the pieces he had taken out on the board in order.

Soon, a game of Chess lay before them.

That's right.

The gift Garon planned to give Sansa was none other than Chess, a game from his previous life.

Robb, who had been watching the spectacle from the doorway, couldn't help walking over to Garon's side. Pointing at the board, he asked in confusion,

"This is the gift you said was something nobody had ever seen or heard of?"

"It looks just like Tile Chess."

Garon explained, "Yes, that's right."

"Westeros Chess was inspired by Tile Chess. I came up with it as a new way to play."

"Two people play against each other, one with the black pieces and one with the white."

"The first to checkmate the other's king wins."

Though Robb admired Garon for coming up with a new way to play, he still shook his head.

He wasn't interested in the game before him at all.

"I thought you'd bring jewelry or some other pretty trinket, or something girls like."

"But I never expected you to give her a game..."

He glanced at Sansa, then leaned over and lowered his voice. "If I'd known you were bringing this, I would've stopped you."

"Not just Sansa—even Beth and Jeyne aren't interested."

"If word gets out..."

Robb sighed. He could already imagine the Northern nobles laughing at House Glover at Winterfell's next harvest feast.

Sansa, along with Beth and Jeyne behind her, was just as uninterested.

But mindful of their ladylike image, none of them said anything.

Even Septa Mordane's face showed a trace of displeasure.

In her eyes, Sansa's status was so exalted that Garon's decision to bring her a chessboard as a gift was practically an insult to House Stark.

Septa Mordane planned to tell Lady Catelyn about it later and have her put Garon in his place.

Noticing what everyone was thinking, Garon sighed to himself. I'd love to give her fine jewelry, but I'm broke!

That's right. Deepwood Motte was poor.

Extremely, terribly, outrageously poor!

Just as Theon Greyjoy had described it before, Deepwood Motte was "a wooden piss pot on a barren hill."

The words were crude and insulting, but in a way, they were true.

Looking at the map, the vast lands north of Torrhen's Square and west of Cerwyn, including Sea Dragon Point, all belonged to House Glover.

In theory, with so much land under their control, the Glovers should have been among the wealthiest noble families in the North.

But the truth was quite the opposite.

House Glover's circumstances were comparable to those of House Mormont on Bear Island.

Though their domain was vast, most of it was forest, and there was very little land that could be cleared for farming.

For thousands of years, the Glovers, who worshipped the Old Gods, had lived in the Wolfswood. They had never considered clearing the forest.

There were rumors that House Glover had made some kind of pact with the Children of the Forest in the days of the First Men.

Even now, many in the North believed that House Glover had the blood of the Children of the Forest in its veins.

House Glover neither confirmed nor denied it.

The only people under Deepwood Motte's rule were the four clans who also lived in the Wolfswood.

The clans made their living by hunting, providing Deepwood Motte with plenty of animal pelts to trade.

Some of the Gold Dragons earned from the pelts went toward buying necessities; the rest were exchanged for weapons and armor in preparation for war.

By the time Garon took charge of the family treasury, all that remained inside, besides weapons and armor, was a small amount of money.

So when Ned's letter arrived, Garon had been worried for a while.

If he had to raise an army, he could thump his chest and summon more than two thousand elite soldiers without hesitation.

But if he had to prepare a gift, House Glover was really hard-pressed.

The betrothal gifts were manageable. If he scraped together what he could from the family treasury, he could at least make a decent showing.

But Sansa's gift had left Garon at a loss.

With the storehouses full of equipment, he couldn't exactly present Sansa with a knight's greatsword.

A gift should suit the recipient's tastes.

If it had been Arya, Garon could have won her over with a fine sword.

But Sansa was nothing like Arya, who had the Blood of the Direwolf.

Before going to King's Landing, Sansa had grown up under Catelyn's influence, receiving the traditional education of a noblewoman: music, poetry, dance, and the like.

At this point, Sansa was quiet and ladylike, and enjoyed the traditional pastimes of noblewomen.

Embroidery, for example.

A lady like her would be put off by a gift unique to the North.

But House Glover couldn't afford rare, valuable jewelry.

As Garon was fretting over it, inspiration struck. He decided to have a set of Chess pieces carefully carved from wood for Sansa.

In all of Game of Thrones, Sansa Stark was the only member of the wolf family suited to playing the game of power.

Given her hidden nature, what could be more fitting than a set of Chess pieces?

Thanks to Deepwood Motte's geography, the area had plenty of wood, as well as many skilled carpenters.

At their lord Garon's urging, they had worked through the night to carefully carve the Chess set according to his descriptions.

Unfortunately, almost nobody present was interested in it.

Westeros Chess's debut had gone cold, just as expected.

But Garon had already seen that coming.

He swept his gaze over the room, calmly picking up where Robb had left off.

"Actually, before I came to Winterfell, I'd thought about bringing Miss Sansa a pretty trinket."

"But after weighing it over for a long time, I gave up on the idea."

Arya was quick to speak up. "Why?"

Garon gave Arya an appreciative glance for playing along, then replied with a smile.

"Because no matter how hard I looked, I couldn't find a single trinket that could add to Miss Sansa's beauty."

"Forgive my frankness, but Miss Sansa's beauty is a gift from the Old Gods. Any adornment would only be gilding the lily."

"So, after thinking it over, I decided that instead of that, I'd give her a special gift that could hold my feelings."

"And that's what gave me the idea to create Westeros Chess."

His gaze settled on Sansa, whose face had flushed at his praise. He apologized sincerely.

"Miss Sansa, please forgive my forwardness."

"Half a year ago, I asked Robb about the things you liked."

"I learned that you enjoyed more ladylike... pastimes."

"So I wondered if I could create a game of Chess just for you."

Standing in the middle of the room, Garon looked around at everyone and explained, bit by bit, how he had come up with Westeros Chess.

"Ordinary Tile Chess isn't very competitive, and it's not suited to a clever lady like Miss Sansa."

"But Westeros Chess is different."

Pointing at the board in the wooden box, he said, "Its rules are just as simple, but the strategies involved are incredibly complex."

"To checkmate your opponent's king and win, you need not only intelligence, patience, and talent..."

"You also need to understand every move your opponent plans to make."

Sansa's eyes lit up. She was fascinated by games that tested one's intelligence.

At that moment, Garon looked at Robb and offered another comparison.

"It's like leading an army into battle."

"You have to consider not only your own soldiers' supplies, but the enemy's situation as well."

"You have to figure out the enemy's strategy while making sure they don't figure out ours..."

As Garon spoke with confidence, his expression held Sansa's attention.

She had never imagined that someone would come up with such a complex game just to win her favor.

He must really love me!

Sansa blinked, thinking with confidence.