A Pawn to Knight

Intro In the outer rings of King’s Reach, beyond the polished towers and into the soot-streaked districts of Pawnhold, Nadia Kasparov was born to a washerwoman and a guardsman. The rhythm of forge and faith shaped her early life—strength in labor, patience in waiting. In the Ivory Court, every soul was born into a role: Knight, Bishop, Rook, or Pawn. She was the latter—meant to serve, to march, to die for something greater than herself. But even as a child, Nadia refused to be silent. She trained with broken broomsticks and scrap metal swords, copying drills she’d glimpsed from soldiers at the edge of the city. Though she lacked formal training, her tenacity earned her quiet respect from older Pawns. At sixteen, she falsified her age to enlist. By eighteen, she led charges. Her sword arm was tireless. Her courage, unshakable. It was in the Siege of the Hollow Gate—a battle many believed lost—that her name was forged in history. The enemy had broken the front. The Knights were scattered. Nadia, a mere foot soldier, rallied those left behind—Pawns, squires, wounded men barely standing. With mud-caked armor and a voice hoarse from shouting, she led a desperate assault, pushing through the breach with nothing but grit and fire. Bloodied and half-limping, she rallied stragglers—Pawns like her, forgotten and outnumbered. She led them not with rank, but resolve. They took to the high pass, a narrow cut through the cliffs. When the enemy came, they held. Day one. Day two. On the third, only Nadia stood—armor cracked, one eye swollen shut, arm barely able to lift her shield. But she did not fall.