<h2 style="text-align: center">A Game of Chess


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    I take my next move on the chessboard. “What is the estimated casualty rate?” The woman sitting opposite me shrugs, “I estimate ninety to ninety-five percent. Ill have my assistant send you the initial report.” I nod, giving her thanks.


    She is a beautiful woman, well over six feet, buxom, and seemingly cloaked in starlight. An immortal like me; a god. Unlike her, I have not put on such airs. I am a man of middling hight, well groomed, and wearing a tux. I prefer simple class; a comfortable tux, a mechanical timepiece, a bow-tie... A gentleman through and through. It is only right for the god of death and accounts to be presented as such, afterall.


    The woman grimaces, “This is going to be a lot of work. We shouldn’t have let it get to this point.” The woman is a goddess of nature, magic, and balance. Her job will be to help recover the world, or at least this section of it, quicker. A type 4 cataclysm is called for, which means complete destruction and renewal of the realm we are in charge of.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    “Perhaps we can still profit from it. Cataclysms are particularly trying times... so why not make it a story. Even in the realms a Cataclysm is rather rare. Why not capitalize on it; make a story out of it.” I propose idly. She nods, drumming her fingers on her desk, as the chess game continues. “Could work. The Cataclysm will take longer, and I would have to dust off an old prophecy or two. Would certainly mean that would loose out less. Still, the higher-ups seemed anxious to get it over with. What if they object?”


    I shrug, “Its our realm, we have a right to profit from it. If they object, they are free to take it up with us. But I strongly doubt that it will be an issue.” I rub my eyes as the woman across from me beats me at the game. “Have I ever told you that I don’t like chess?” I mention to her. She smiles, “Many times. So same time next week?” I nod, waving her off. She leaves at that, leaving me to ponder how to go about this mess.


    A short time later, I begin writing up my proposal, with a grin on my face. I wasn’t a god of commerce for nothing, after all.