It started, as so many of these things do, as a petty argument between kings. The honor of a queen was brought into question. Voices were raised, tempers were lost in the blazing passion of the moment, challenges were issued and gauntlets were thrown. The armies of the Northern Kingdom rode down to meet the forces of the South, and they met in an epic battle for the ages.
The expeditionary skirmishes that opened the conflict had rapidly snowballed and total war soon enfolded the land. In the beginning both armies had been proud and strong, but the attrition of days, months and years of answering attacks with counterattacks had ground both sides down to mere shadows of their former glory.
In the thirty-sixth month of combat, morale in the Northern camp was low. The South had made a costly gamble, and although many Southern men had died, their blood was paid for by the capture of the Queen of the North. Even now she was being held for ransom in the camp of the Southern king, but the Northern king's coffers were empty, and he had fled the battlefield for the safety of his last remaining stronghold in the East. The surviving foot soldiers of the terrible and glorious Army of the North were reduced to the ignominy of waiting for the death blow to come.
But even as the Southern king rallied his troops for the final offensive, a lone Northern horseman rode down the flank and cut a swathe through the Southern lines like a scythe through a cornfield. The Southern archers loosed their arrows in desperation, and some found their targets, but the dark rider rode on and the last Northern foot soldier, against all hope, ran behind him and broke into the Southern encampment. He freed the Northern Queen, who cut the throat of her Southern counterpart herself. The dark knight of the North reigned in his stallion over the King of the South and named his terms.
"You are defeated, O King, therefore yield and save your life!" said he.
"Never while my Queen's blood is unavenged," replied the Southern king. The Northern horseman spurred his steed forward, and the King of the South retreated. He never saw the Queen of the North waiting for him in the shadows, with her bloody knife at the ready.
"Checkmate," said Joey.
David scowled at the chessboard, sighed, and laid his king on its side.
"How about best out of three?" he asked.