Attack on Titan Fanfiction – The Stowaway: Chapter 14

Live Cargo

Six months after the war with Marley ended

“Saw that little stowaway making a beeline for the police station,” a sailor told Jean as he alighted from the gangplank.

Jean nodded his head in acknowledgement, but was wondering, why in the world was that kid heading for the police? Did something happen on the ship that he hadn’t been made aware of? For all the weeks they were out at sea, the boy was either with him or his aide-de-camp, Corey Feldman. Jean swore by his aide’s good character. 

But if something bad happened to the child during his watch, he ought to learn what it was. Note to self: go check out what’s going on with the police. But later. There were many tasks left to do after a battleship had docked. 

It took Jean two hours to finally get himself to the port’s constabulary. What he learned there made his jaw drop. He looked at the boy sitting on a chair, looking very small and despondent. 

What the fuck.

---

They had been in the middle of the southern sea off the Port of Shiganshina when he first met the child, his aide bringing him to his office, holding him by the back of his collar. 

“Found this little stowaway amongst the cargo,” Feldman deposited the child before his boss.

Jean gave the surprise human cargo a once-over. Name? Philip, the child replied. Age? Six. Where from? Shiganshina. What was he doing hiding on a ship? Ran away from home, was the reply. Where are your parents? Dead, said the boy. 

“He looks famished. Give him something to eat. Get him to wash up, he’s so grimy I can’t see his face. I’ll deal with him later,” Jean had told his aide. 

Feldman gave the brat some water and the standard Navy rations. The child tore into them like a starving rat. 

“Where’d you want to go?” he asked the boy.

“To another country,” was the vague reply, between gulps.

“Well, you’re only six. Do you know what happens to orphan brats in a strange country?” he asked the stowaway.

The child shook his head.

“They get picked up by gangs and turned to pickpockets and supplicants. Sometimes they gouge out the eyes of the boys to blind them and make them more effective as beggars. You should be glad you’re not in another country.”

“You’re not sailing to another country?”

“Nope. This ship is called the HMS Dot Pixys II. Old one got sunk during the war with Marley. She’s newly built, our very first made-in-Paradis battleship. Cool, eh?  Taking her on a test sail. Should be back to port in three weeks.”

“Where did you get your battleships before?”

“Imported them from Noblain, a country in the continent.”

“You’re not going to Noblain now?”

“Nope. Don’t you have anyone to stay with now that your parents are gone?”

“I’ve an aunt, but…” the boy replied with uncertainty.

“Well, if you have nowhere else to go we’ll have to put you in an orphanage.”

“I want to go to another country.”

“Tough luck, kiddo. But I told you what happens to small boys in a strange land. You’re lucky you ended up in the Pixys. Admiral Kirschtein’s one of the good guys. If it were some salty sea captain from one of the foreign merchant ships, he’d have tossed you overboard to feed the sharks, for the crew’s entertainment.”

The boy stared at him in horror.

Feldman proceeded to orient him. “So the man you just met, that was Admiral Jean Kirschtein. He’s the highest ranking officer in the military. You address him as sir at all times, and do whatever he asks you to do, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now you’re too small to be of any use. I could put you to work as a galley boy, but you’ll just get in the way. You’re so tiny Cook might mistake you for a bag of bones and toss you into the sea. So stay away from the galley, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

After the boy had washed, Feldman took a good look at him. He was a scrawny little thing, with very light blonde hair and pale blue eyes. His bones jutted out of his skin, as if he’d only been fed once a day. He looked nowhere near six years old, size-wise, but there was a wary, haunted look in his eyes. What to do with this creature? 

They’d had stowaways before, but all have been older. The ones old enough to join the military were put there. The younger ones were either returned home or housed in one of the children’s homes across the island. While on the ship they were given simple chores such as scrubbing the deck. But this small boy in front of him, he had so little weight he’d be tossed overboard by the rolling and pitching of the ship in heavy seas.

“Can you read and write?”

“I went to town school for a year…”

Good. So he can at least hold a pencil. He’d have the boy make copies of documents then, for want of something to do. Then a light bulb lit in his head.

“Have you heard of the board game called chess?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to learn it from now on. Make yourself useful to the admiral. Else he might decide to trade you for textile with one of the foreign merchant ships. We don’t want that now, do we?”

“No, sir. I’ll learn the game, sir.”

And so Feldman taught the little boy named Philip how to play chess. To his delight, the child was bright, a fast learner. A few days later, he was good enough to play a decent game. 

After supper with the crew, Feldman deposited the small boy in front of Jean.

“Here’s the stowaway, sir. He plays chess, ain’t that a miracle.”

The admiral grinned at the boy. “Great! Let’s read a game then.” 

Feldman was relieved. At last, someone to take over the chess duties. He learned to play chess in order to please his boss, but honestly, he didn’t care for the game at all. It bored him to oblivion, especially the part where Jean would go through the annotations from the newspapers of the famous games by the continental grandmasters. Now that he’d taught the stowaway to play, someone else could sit there each night and have a game or two with the big boss. Thank the sea gods!

A coin toss later, Philip obediently read the annotations as he and the admiral moved the pieces. Jean played White while the child played Black.

“White knight to f3, black knight to f6. White pawn to d4, black pawn to e6. White pawn to c4, black pawn to d5. White knight to c3, black bishop to e7. White bishop to g5, black queenside castle. White pawn to e3, black pawn to h6. White bishop to h4, black pawn to b6. White queen to b3, black bishop to b7. White bishop takes f6, black bishop takes f6. White pawn takes f5, black pawn takes d5. White rook to d1, black pawn to c5…”

“Good move!” Jean exclaimed.

“White pawn takes c5, black knight to d7. White pawn to c6…”

“Ah, an interesting move that’s probably good,” Jean remarked.

“…Black bishop takes c6. White knight to d4…”

“An interesting move that’s probably bad!” he analysed.

“…black bishop takes d4…”

“Smart move!” goes Jean.

“White rook takes d4…”

“Another interesting move that’ll turn out bad!”

“Black knight to c5…”

“That’s quite a clever one!”

“White queen to d1, black knight to e6…”

“Good move!”

“White bishop to d2, black pawn to d4…”

“Admirable, that one!”

“White pawn takes d4, black rook to e8. White pawn to f3, black bishop takes f3…”

“Now that’s a great move!”

And on they went. When it was over, Jean proceeded to analyse the game. “Black was always alert when his opponent’s king was in center. He took on d4 with his bishop and after rook took d4, continued with knight to c5. After the queen moved, he went knight to e6 and broke in the center with d4 opening up White’s king. Do you know why?”

“It seems as if Black’s knight doesn’t have a good discovered check as the king is running away to f2?” the child opined.

“Exactly! Very good,” Jean praised the boy. “Any discovered check with the knight was not immediately decisive. Hence, Black found the move: bishop takes f3. An incredible move! Why do you think it was so good?”

“The queen cannot take as knight to g5 check would lose her majesty?”

“Exactly! And after g pawn takes f3 comes queen to h3 check when the attack was decisive,” Jean continued, beaming at the little boy. What a clever child! “There are some pretty lines towards the end. Let’s analyse them, starting with Move 14. Instead of White knight to d4, what else could White have done?”

The little boy thought for a while. “White bishop to e2?”

“Or what about White knight taking d5? You take White. I’ll respond with Black knight to c5.”

“White knight takes f6, check.”

“Black queen takes f6,” Jean made his move.

“White queen to c3,” the boy made his.

“Black queen takes c3, check.”

“White bishop takes c3.”

“Good! That’s a slight plus for White,” remarked Jean. 

They proceed, analysing all the moves till the end of the game. After the reading and analysis was done, they moved on to a live game. Jean took it easy, beating the boy soundly in twenty one moves. But the child had only learned the game a few days ago. 

“I’ll teach you so that someday you’ll be good enough to beat me,” Jean told him. The admiral was delighted with his new little friend who so obviously had not just a head but also a heart for chess. 

Each night the boy went to his cabin to play a few games with him. Jean told the child about how he learned chess, taught to him by two Marleyan Eldians named Reiner Braun and Bertholdt Hoover. 

“I learnt the game when I was twelve, along with my friends Marco and Armin. We all got better and better, but then I started winning all the time, and then no one wanted to play with me anymore. Well, Marco continued to play, just to keep me company…”

“Does Marco still play with you sometimes?”

“No, he’s dead. He died when we were fifteen. Reiner killed him.”

“But wasn’t Reiner the one who taught you two how to play chess?”

“Yep. Turned out he’s a spy from an enemy country. Marco found out about it and got himself killed, fed to a titan.”

The small boy stared at him, shocked. “Doesn’t it make you sad, sir, playing chess?”

“It’s complicated. Each time I play I remember my dead best friend, and the guy who killed him. But in the end, Reiner atoned for what he did. Still haven’t forgiven him, though…but both of them made me what I am today. So it’s kind of a tribute to them, each time I play.” There was a note of melancholy in his voice. But then he grinned at the little boy. “We used to wonder, how good could we get if we learnt at a much earlier age? Marco would’ve liked meeting you. He’d have enjoyed seeing your rate of progress.”

“What’s progress mean?”

“It means to improve or advance.”

“Am I progressing, sir?”

“Oh, absolutely, at an astonishing speed. Corey doesn’t enjoy playing chess. He only does it to humour me. But you, you’ve got a real talent for it. Keep it up and you’ll be taking games away from me.”

This time it was the boy’s turn to grin delightedly. He had never been praised before. How happy he looked as he smiled at Jean. “Could we do the next one, sir? I read it at supper. It’d help if you give me a background.”

Jean couldn’t help but smile in return. He was so pleased. “Well, the game we read the other day was played by two chess grandmasters. Black was the famous Garry Vorapsak. He was only fourteen when he played that famous game. Many consider him to be the greatest chess player who ever lived. This new one here in the newspaper was done one year after that. It features a beautiful attacking gem against another well-known player, Semon Kintalap.”

They move the pieces according to the notations, and Jean did commentary. “Vorapsak got the advantage out of the opening with a firm grip on the dark squares. The key lesson from this game is the art of finishing off your opponent with incisive tactical sacrifices…”

“What’s incisive mean?” the child interrupted.

“Ah, sorry, it means clear or sharp,” Jean explained. “So, now that White has his pieces nicely placed for an attack, how did he continue? He played the strong bishop takes g5, h pawn to g5, and queen to h5. Why do you think he did that?”

“Because he realised that his queen, knight, rook and bishop on c2 are going to be enough for a decisive attack?” guessed Philip. Like his boss, Feldman liked to use that word.

“That’s exactly right!” Jean praised the boy’s analysis. “However, it wasn’t so easy to break through as there were still some roadblocks to overcome. You don’t have to ask Vorapsak twice to sacrifice in such a position. Bishop takes f5 was a powerful blow. The idea was to clear the d5 square for the knight. The final phase of the game is brilliant and worthy of closer inspection!”

They went on like this, every night for the entire three weeks it took for the new ship’s trial sail to end. Jean had grown fond of the little boy, who followed him around during the day like a puppy.

When the port came within sight, Jean felt a twinge of sadness. He wished his wife Mikasa had the chance to meet this unusual, natural-born chess player stowaway. But as it were, he’d have to say goodbye to Philip, who said he’ll return to Shiganshina to be with his aunt. 

“Umm, sir, can I ask you a strange question?” were the boy’s last words to him.

“Sure. Ask me anything.”

“What’s ‘knock up’ mean?”

“It’s when a man impregnates—gets a woman pregnant—by accident.” Jean noticed Philip’s horrified expression. It was as if a terrible realisation had suddenly crashed on his head. “Why’d you ask?”

The child hesitated. “I…I overheard one of the crew saying it. Have to go, sir! Thank you for teaching me how to play chess! Please thank Mr Feldman for me!” 

The little boy shook his hand, and with that he ran down the gangplank and disappeared into the crowd.

---

“Little brat came here to confess. Says he killed his own father,” the policeman explained to Jean. 

The admiral stood, arms crossed, before the trembling little boy. The stricken look on the child’s face made his heart heavy. Uncrossing his arms and taking the chair in front of him, he said, “Philip, tell me everything. I want to help you, okay? I can’t help you if you keep secrets from me.”

In a halting manner, the boy told him and the policeman everything. 

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider sharing a thought or two in the comment section below. Your comments give me life and are a real source of encouragement. xoxo, hana

Reference

The chess game conversation is a blow-by-blow of the 1977 game by Elmar Magerramov-Garry Kasparov, and the 1978 game by Kasparov-Semon Palatnik, as annotated and analysed at chessbase.in

Next – Chapter 15: Liars and Outliers

Back – Chapter 13: When Sleep is Terrifying