At dusk, the brass tiles made no sound.
Captain Mara watched the opposing line advance one square at a time. No insignia faced her. Only the same narrow eyes, stamped into every back, watched from across the field.
Her strongest general waited at the center. Her flag waited nowhere the enemy expected. Between them stood a private who had been ordered to look afraid.
The enemy tile entered the silent square.
Mara did not challenge. She moved the private beside it.
For the first time, the opposing line paused. A general would have advanced. A spy would understand the danger. The pause was not proof, but on a hidden field, hesitation was a kind of outline.
She turned her attention to the far edge, where an unremarkable tile had begun its long crossing.