• Welcome to Thousand Roads! You're welcome to view discussions or read our stories without registering, but you'll need an account to join in our events, interact with other members, or post one of your own fics. Why not become a member of our community? We'd love to have you!

    Join now!

Pokémon PMD: Dual Wills - Paralogues

Arukona

A Scribe Penning His Brainworms
Location
Ardalion
Pronouns
He/him
Partners
  1. aggron
  2. sceptile
  3. lucario
Welcome to PMD: Dual Wills - Paralogues! As stated, this fic is mainly side stories that have little bearing on the story itself. Little ideas come to mind over time regarding the main fic, but I think of some of them, 'They might not be relevant enough to the story to put them in.' That's where this collection of oneshots comes in: to facilitate those ideas that would be stillborn otherwise.

There may be some events that will be spoilers to those who haven't read the main fic, but I'll give due warning in the introduction.





Paralogue 1
On the Beach

Elvira tries to emulate her father. Kallias has some wise words for her.





Elvira stood on the beach outside her house. In the Treecko's hands, she wielded two pieces of driftwood that had washed up on the shoreline.

She could see it now. She was a Sceptile that had been honed in the art of combat, and had faced down many an outlaw. And here she was, facing down another dastardly criminal - a Simipour, in her mind.

"Hi-yah! Ferned Cross Slash!" she cried out, leaping forward and doing an imaginary combination of Leaf Blade and X-Scissor, crossing her 'blades' in the motion of an X. She imagined dealing a hefty amount of damage to the 'outlaw'. The 'outlaw' then leapt forward, but she saw his attack coming from a mile away, and leapt backward. Then she moved in again.

"Blackthorn Cross Slash!" This was a combination of Leaf Blade and Night Slash, and she slashed at her 'opponent'. That was the decider; the enemy fell down in defeat.

Victory had been hers. All thanks to her exceptional skill as a mercenary. All thanks to her wit at outfoxing that dastardly outlaw. All thanks to -

"Playing mercenary again, eh, Elvira?"

"Ah!" And just like that, the fantasy faded, and Elvira found herself back on the beach with the two pieces of driftwood in her hands. She turned around to see a Sceptile with a bemused look on his face.

His name was Kallias, and he had two sides to him. One - what he was more well-known as - one of the famous mercenaries in Ardalion. He belonged to the Irian Guild, and with his Swampert partner, Melchior, in their team, Team Marshwood, they had worked tirelessly to make their name among one of the most prestigious on the continent of Ardalion.

His other, less well-known side, though, was as a caring, doting father. This side, Elvira was more familiar with. But she was all too aware of how great a mercenary he was, and tried to emulate his every move. Her goal was to eventually join the Irian Guild and become a mercenary just like her father, once she was old enough to do so.

"H-Hi Dad," she greeted.

"Hello to you too, Elvira," Kallias returned. "I see you're trying to emulate my style of the two Leaf Blades." It was his signature fighting style that marked him apart from other Sceptile, and he had become famous for it. And of course, in her idolisation of him, Elvira tried to mirror that same technique.

"Yeah," Elvira replied. "...Did I do good?"

"...Well enough, at least," surmised her father. "It's not perfect, though."

"I know." The Treecko looked down in disappointment. "I can't make the Leaf Blades yet."

"That's not unusual. When you're a Grovyle, you'll be able to do it," Kallias informed. "But even then, most Grovyle don't learn it until they're nearer to their evolution into a Sceptile."

"Oh, so...I won't get it for a while, then." Elvira's disappointment became even more apparent.

"Don't be sad about it," Kallias said, trying to cheer up his daughter. "Keep doing what you're doing with the wood. That's what I did when I was your age; I used a wooden sword to try and copy my own dad's movements. But then I saw a Gallade fighting one day and thought to myself, 'Why not have two blades?' And so I began using two wooden swords from then on. And that's how your dad developed his fighting style."

"Wow...I never knew that," Elvira said, a bit more happy about things now after hearing her father's encouragement. "...I want to fight just like you, Dad!"

"Just like me, eh?" Kallias repeated. "...Hmm..."

"...What?" Elvira caught the slight doubt in her father's voice. "Should I...not do that?"

"No no, I'm not saying that, Elvira. What I'm trying to say is...don't just take my technique and copy it. Learn skills from others and incorporate them into your own fighting style. When you become a mercenary, you'll meet a wide variety of people. Don't be afraid to ask for tips on combat from others, especially when your fighting style is more malleable in your younger years. ...Though it's not necessarily a young thing. You still learn new things when you're at my level."

"Really, Dad? I didn't know that..."

"Well, I'll show you. There's a new move I've made for myself in recent times. I'll show you it here." Kallias straightened his stance, and conjured his blades. Elvira watched with rapt interest.

"Belladonna Cross Slash!"

Suddenly, the blades turned a purplish colour with venom dripping off them. Kallias then leapt forward and delivered a X-shaped slash, followed by the familiar movement that Elvira knew to be his Leaf Blade attack.

"Wow, Dad!" The Treecko applauded, her eyes wide with wonder. "What was that?"

"That was a combination of Leaf Blade and Cross Poison," explained her father.

"Cross Poison? I didn't know you could learn that..."

"I didn't either. But a Drapion client I helped in Alba insisted Sceptile could learn it and offered to teach it to me. And here I am, with another technique at my disposal," Kallias said. "Hopefully, you'll pick up techniques of your own to use in battle when you become a mercenary."

"It's great hearing all these stories and advice from you, Dad." Elvira put down her pieces of driftwood on the sand, and looked out at the horizon, where the sun was beginning to set. "...A shame you're leaving tomorrow."

"...I know. The duty of a mercenary calls, Elvira. But I'll be back again soon, hopefully, with more tales to tell of what I've gotten up to."

"Nothing too scary, please," pleaded the Treecko. "Mom nearly had a heart attack when you talked about the Monster House when you went to that Mystery Dungeon in Miletos."

"That was a close shave, alright. ...But I'll take your advice and stay safe," promised Kallias. "And in return, you stay safe down here in Ozerograd. Don't let bullies get the better of you, you hear?"

"They don't bully me any more, Dad." Elvira couldn't help but roll her eyes at his words. "...But I'll stay safe, don't worry."

"Good." Kallias then looked back towards the house. "...Dinner's nearly ready. I came down to tell you that, but I got sidetracked in all of this. ...You must be hungry. I should imagine playacting builds up an appetite."

"Heh...yeah, I think it does," Elvira laughed, realising she was feeling peckish.

"Let's go back. It smells delicious." Kallias started back towards the house, with his daughter following quickly after him. Given how delicious her cooking was, neither were willing to miss it.

And besides...it was his last night during this particular stay. If previous experience was anything to go by, it would be a heavenly meal worthy for even the Creator's lips.





Notes

This fic was inspired by a writing prompt on r/MysteryDungeon. The week's writing prompt was 'Childhood'. And so I made a short piece about Elvira and Kallias.
 
Paralogue 2 - Sickness

Arukona

A Scribe Penning His Brainworms
Location
Ardalion
Pronouns
He/him
Partners
  1. aggron
  2. sceptile
  3. lucario
Paralogue 2
Sickness

Arian falls ill one day and is confined to the Guild's infirmary.





"Urrrrrrgh…" groaned Arian. He felt worse than he ever had felt since he woke up in this world on the shoreline just outside Elvira's house. Everything hurt - his head throbbed, his nose was like a waterfall, he was sweating buckets on his nose and paw pads, and his stomach felt terribly nauseous, having just been forcibly emptied of its contents five minutes beforehand.

"...I don't suppose I need to ask how you are, Arian," Raya the nurse said, as she returned to the infirmary. "Same as before?"

"Same as before," came the weak reply.

"...You're still burning," the Audino noted, after feeling his forehead. "I'll get a thermometer for you." She went to a nearby cabinet and took one out. She brought it over to Arian, and placed it in his mouth.

She went away to carry out other duties, and returned some ten minutes later. She investigated the thermometer's reading.

"...No." She shook her head. "Still sky high. Looks like you'll be staying in bed for the next while."

"...Urgh…Really?" Arian moaned, both in dismay and because of his sickness.

"...I'll get some more water and an ice pack for you." The Audino placed a canteen of water by his bedside. "Try and get some rest. I'll leave a basin here for you to vomit into if you need to."

"Right…Thanks, Raya…" Arian mumbled. Rest seemed like a good idea. Already, he found his eyelids beginning to droop.

"Anytime, Arian. Call me if you need me." That was the last thing the human heard before falling into the unconsciousness of sleep.





The next time he woke, he heard voices talking.

"What? Arian's sick? Since when?" That loud, boisterous voice…Lex? It was hard to tell through his current ill state.

"Yes, he's sick. He has been since yesterday." That voice, he knew well. It was Elvira. "I'm going in to check on him now."

"...Can we come too? Please, Elvira? Raya?"

"I'd like to come, too." That voice was also familiar; it was Isaac, Lex's partner and the co-founder of Team Mindfist.

"...Alright," Raya permitted. "But as long as you're not too loud."

"Great!" Lex said, as if he hadn't heard the Audino's request. He came into the room, and saw the Riolu turn over in his bed to look at the new arrivals. "Hey, Arian!"

"Hey, Lex…" Arian weakly replied.

"Sorry to hear you're sick," the Cranidos continued. "How'd you get sick? What happened?"

"Vomiting bug," Elvira answered. "It's been doing the rounds locally, and Arian was unlucky enough to catch it. A bad dose of it too, by the looks of it."

"Didn't you say you and Arian had been babysitting some children a few days ago?" Isaac questioned.

"Yes. That was a mission on one of the boards," Elvira recalled. "We'd done a mission halfway across the country the day before, and Arian didn't feel like going far. It seemed an easy enough job…but…" She looked worriedly at her ailing partner.

"...I don't think we need to deduce any more from that," the Espeon said, before turning to his Cranidos partner. "Lex, a reminder to keep away from those missions in future. We don't want to end up like Arian."

"But I like those missions…" the dinosaur whined.

"It's too risky. We'll only be more of a hindrance to the Guild if we get sick." Isaac was quite firm. But turning to Arian, his tone was somewhat more sympathetic. "...I hope you're well soon. That would be for the benefit of all of us." With that, he turned and walked away.

"Yeah…Get well soon, Arian," Lex wished, before following his partner.

"...He's pulling no punches as usual," Arian noted, with a slight huff. "Typical Isaac…" Being grumpy because of his ailment, he was in no mood for the Espeon's calculated callousness.

"...Just ignore him, Arian," Elvira said. "...How are you?"

"...Horrible," came the reply. "Aches and pains everywhere, and I've no energy to do anything…I want to get out there and do more missions. But I can't…"

"Don't you worry about missions. Just focus on getting rest," the Treecko assured. "I'll be an auxiliary for the other teams. And it's not like we're short on money."

"...Thanks…Good to know you have my back…" Arian said on a happier note. He was about to say more, but at that point, he was overcome by the itch to sneeze.

"Aaaaaachoooo!" It was quite a loud sneeze, one that expelled a great amount of mucus and immediately winded Arian. "Urgh…" The Riolu reached for a tissue to blow his nose with.

Elvira couldn't help but wince at the savage noise of his sneeze. "...I think I'll leave you now, Arian. Try and sleep, will you?"

"I will," promised Arian weakly. "At least I can do that much…"





"I am sorry to hear you are ill, Arian. I pray you will feel better soon."

These were the words of Serafina, who had chosen to visit Arian in the mid-afternoon with Natalie. The Meowstic and Ledian looked sympathetically at the human's plight.

"...I remember bein' sick like that when I was a young'un," Natalie recalled. "I hated it. Couldn't do nothin'..."

"We've all been sick like this at some point in our lives," Serafina said. "I was bedridden with the flu when I was nine years old. My family all fretted relentlessly, especially my brother. But I got better eventually. And I have no doubt you will recover soon, Arian."

"...Thanks," Arian said gratefully. He reached for the glass of water at the side of his bed, and downed it fully.

"Let us refill that for you," Serafina volunteered. "Is that alright, Raya?"

"Yes, that's okay," the Audino, who happened to be in the room at the time, permitted.

"But…don't you have things to do…?" Arian asked. "I don't wanna be a burden…"

"Do not worry about us. No task is more worthy than helping a friend," Serafina assured. "I would feel personally better helping you myself. Anything to alleviate more duties from Raya."

"Thanks, Serafina…"





"Bit crook today, are ya, Arry?"

Next to visit were Team Sandstream. Ishmael, Axel and Lillian looked at the ailing Riolu with the sympathetic looks that accompanied everyone else who visited him that day.

"Yeah…" Arian replied weakly through bleary eyes. He'd had another nap. "I caught that vomiting bug that's been going around…"

"A vomiting bug? So that's what it is," Lillian murmured. "...Poor Arian. You look like you caught it bad…"

"Could be worse," Axel said. "Remember when we were kids and caught desert fever?"

"Oh, don't remind me," the Sandslash replied. "I still have shivers remembering that…Our parents genuinely thought we were all going to die."

"...Well, ya can die from it," Ishmael pointed out. "But Arry'll be fine. Just an ol' bug, is all. Ain't nothin' like what us lot got."

"I suppose I can count myself lucky there…" Arian said.

However, he wasn't feeling so lucky next minute, when he felt his belly gurgle and lurch. Instinctively, his paw went to his mouth.

"Urp!" He knew what this meant. "Gonna puke!" He leaned over to where his basin was, gave a heavy cough, before he threw up for what felt like the umpteenth time that day. He'd lost count of how many times Raya had to clean out that basin.

"...There, mate." Ishmael lightly smacked his back as he coughed up the last of the vomit. "Crikey, ya got the bad end of it, didn't ya?"

"...Guess I did…" Arian muttered, as he hacked up some more coughs. He was feeling tired again, and lay back against the covers.

"...We'll let you sleep," Lillian said to him. "Get well soon, Arian."

"Yeah…Ya'll be back in action in no time!" Ishmael encouraged.

"Don't worry. You'll be fine, Arian," Axel said, attempting to match the Krokorok's enthusiasm.

"Thanks, guys…" the Riolu murmured, as he felt himself slip into the land of dreams again.





"...Ugh…That's yucky," complained Arian. He had been given medicine made by Raya to help him with his symptoms.

"It'll help," was Raya's response. "Besides, Elvira went to collect the materials of this medicine to help you through this. The least you could do is take it."

"...You collected them?" Arian turned his head to his partner, who was in the room. "Thanks a bunch, Elvira…"

"It's no problem," the Treecko replied. "The Mystery Dungeon I was in with Lex and Isaac today had plenty of heal seeds and specialised herbs. So I picked some to give back to Raya."

"That's clever thinking of you, Elvira. Anything to help Arian back onto his feet." Arian knew that voice. It was Guildmaster Melchior standing in the doorway. "Pardon me, Raya. May I come in?"

"You may," permitted the Audino nurse.

"...How do you feel, Arian?" he asked. "Are you any better than this morning?"

"...Honestly? Not much better," rasped Arian. "But…at least you've all visited me today. Thanks for all of that…"

"Not at all. …And even those that haven't visited you today still have you in their thoughts," Melchior informed. "For instance…Aldebrand sends you this."

He produced a bowl of soup and a spoon, and placed on Arian's bedside table.

"Soup?" The Riolu leaned over and sniffed it. "It smells delicious…"

"It's great to have when you have an illness like this," the Swampert told him.

"...Mmmm mmm mmm." Arian took the spoon and sipped some of it. It felt like heaven, given his current state. "This is delicious! …Tell Aldebrand I said thanks."

"I will. …Get better soon, Arian," Melchior wished. "Know that the rest of the Guild wishes you well, too."

"...Thanks to everyone, then," Arian revised. "And once I'm all better…then I can repay them."





Notes

This came from a writing prompt on r/MysteryDungeon entitled 'Sickness'.
 
Paralogue 3 - Fascinating Fiction and Alluring Art

Arukona

A Scribe Penning His Brainworms
Location
Ardalion
Pronouns
He/him
Partners
  1. aggron
  2. sceptile
  3. lucario
Paralogue 3
Fascinating Fiction and Alluring Art

Team Marshwood takes on a mission that involves the procurement of a client's sketchpad.

As for what's in it…it turns out the art hits closer to home than either Kallias or Melchior would have anticipated.



"So you're Eponina, correct?" Kallias double-checked with a Grafaiai. "And you want us to get your sketchpad for you?"

It was the beginning of summer, and just like any other day, Kallias and Melchior of Team Marshwood had another mission on their plate. This one wasn't too far from Iria, thankfully; in the midland town of Miroslavsk, which involved a boat ride down the Miroslav Canal. Both were named for Tsar Miroslav, a tsar who lived some eighty years ago and wished to provide a link between Iria and the River Evor, the longest river in Selenia. Thus, a big infrastructure project began which saw the canal's construction as well as a new town in the Lada oblast, which became the centre of administration in that area. It was named Tsaritsin at first, but was later changed to Miroslavsk in the tsar's honour after he eventually passed on.

That was where Team Marshwood were today, to talk to a client that had requested help from the Irian Guild. Her name was Eponina, a Grafaiai, and she was a young adult, looking not too much older than an average teenager.

"Yeah, that's right," the lemur replied. The duo couldn't help but notice her nervousness as she spoke. "I was in the Emerald Grasslands just outside of town, writing and drawing my story…but then a feral came after me! I had to run, but I dropped my sketchpad while I got out of there."

"...Why were you in that Mystery Dungeon in the first place?" Melchior asked.

"It gives me good inspiration," Eponina answered. "A whole lot better than being stuck in my stuffy old house."

"Still…Mystery Dungeons can be dangerous, even those that seem harmless," the Swampert warned. "Take care in future."

"I know, I know," the Grafaiai replied, as if she'd heard this before. "Anyway…could you, um, go get my sketchpad? Please?"

"Of course. We're never one to keep a client waiting," Kallias stated. "We'll have your sketchpad back before long. Come on, Melchior. Let's go."

"...Alright then." And so the two headed off.

What they didn't see, though, was the Grafaiai looking at the two as they left. Once they were out of earshot…she let out a little squee.

"Eeee! I actually met them!" she cried out in excitement. "I actually met Team Marshwood! The Team Marshwood! I can't believe it! Fernblade Kallias and Mud Bomber Melchior…Oh, they're even better in the flesh than I imagined! If only I could sketch them and remember this moment forever…

"I guess I was fairly accurate," she observed. "Oh, what a dream, seeing them in person…I could see it now, the two of them together, taking out feral after feral like they're nothing. Then afterwards…" she fantasised romantically. "I need to get my sketchpad. Where - ?"

Then she remembered.

"...Oh, right. They're getting it back from the Dungeon. …Just wait, Eponina. Once you get it back, you'll have that storyline finished in no time…"

She looked down the road where the two went. The joy partially disappeared, and was replaced by the nervousness that was there before.

"...I hope they don't read it…"





Emerald Grasslands
4F

"Ah, there it is," Kallias said, pointing to a rectangular object on the floor. "That looks like a sketchpad to me."

Team Marshwood had an easy time travelling through the Mystery Dungeon. It was a fairly lenient Dungeon that even an amateur combatant could go through with ease. It was little wonder that Eponina came here often, if the ferals were weak enough for the average Pokémon to deal with.

They found the Grafaiai's item on the fourth floor, a few rooms from where they started. It was covered in paint patches, typical of a Grafaiai's possession, where the species' tendency had a common habit to lick their fingers and leave traces of their paint-like saliva on the surfaces they touched. Thankfully, apart from some dirt on the cover, it was perfectly intact with no damage.

"Well, nothing more to do," Melchior said. "Let's get out of here."

"Sure thing." Kallias held up his badge, and the two of them teleported out of the Dungeon.

They appeared at the entrance to the Emerald Grasslands Mystery Dungeon. It was a little ways out of town, and the duo would be back in the town in no more than ten minutes.

"Let's return this to Eponina," Kallias was saying. "That wasn't too hard at all. Maybe we could look around and see if there are any other - "

The Sceptile was holding the sketchpad in front of him, and this obscured his vision of the ground. Therefore, he didn't see a sudden drop in the terrain, and stumbled.

"Ah!" he cried out, righting himself before he could fall. Unfortunately, the sketchpad slipped out of his hand and fell to the ground.

"Are you okay, Kallias?" Melchior asked.

"I'm fine. Just stumbled a bit," came Kallias's reply. He went to go pick up the sketchpad, fearing that it had gotten slightly more dirty with it coming into contact with the ground. Thankfully, the weather had been dry for the last while, and so the sketchpad wasn't on the receiving end of mud, instead only being marred with more dirt.

Kallias picked it up and wiped it down to rub off the excess dirt. However, as he was doing so, he accidentally opened the sketchpad…revealing what was on its pages.

And what was there caused the Sceptile to do a double take, as he realised in shock what was upon its pages.

It appeared to be a comic of some sort, with visible speech bubbles and illustrations depicted on each page. But this wasn't what shocked Kallias. Rather…it was who was illustrated in the comic.

One page depicted a scene of a Sceptile meeting a Swampert, who was sitting up in a bed with bandages on his body. Notably, both were drawn in quite a muscular fashion, as if they were bodybuilders. While the Sceptile had a leaner muscle complexion, the Swampert was incredibly buff, almost like a Machamp.

A Sceptile and a Swampert? Wait a minute…Are they…?

"You okay, Melchior?" the Sceptile asked. That was all the confirmation Kallias needed.

"...I'm fine now," the Swampert replied. "Nothing a bit of rest and relaxation can't solve."

"Good to hear. But then we're heroes! Even a Monster House can't keep us down!" A confident smile was depicted on the Sceptile. …Or rather…Kallias.

"Wh-What is this…?" the Sceptile in the flesh muttered in bewilderment.

"Kallias? Why are you looking through her sketchpad?" Melchior asked. "We shouldn't do that. It's an invasion of privacy."

"I know. But Melchior, look." Kallias pointed to the sketches, and the Swampert looked at them.

"...Wait, what?" Once he saw the sketches, Melchior had connected the dots, and was as flummoxed as his partner. The both of them subconsciously decided to keep reading, in spite of what the Swampert had said.

"Yeah. …I'm glad you were there to help me out of that jam," 'Melchior' replied. "I'm really lucky to have you around, Kallias."

"And so am I!" The illustrator sure loved depicting a shining smile on the Sceptile. "To think, when we started out on this journey, that we'd end up becoming as famous as we are, eh?"

"Yes…I sure couldn't have imagined it…" A slight blush was depicted on 'Melchior's cheeks. …Something that only confused the duo all the more.

"Nor could I. But here we are. And I'm glad I do have the strength to help others like you, Mel," 'Kallias' replied. "After all…you mean so much to me."

"...R-Really?" 'Melchior' seemed surprised. "Do you mean it?"

"Of course I do." 'Kallias's depicted smile in this one seemed more serene and warm. "You're my world. We wouldn't be where we are today if not for you. And…I'll be honest." The next image depicted the Sceptile with a similar blush to 'Melchior's. "I…really like you, Mel."

"..." The starstruck look on the Swampert's face had evidently rendered him speechless. The image of him was of him shocked, and the speech bubbles in that picture only read "..."

"W-Well…" The Swampert struggled to find his words. "I, um…I, er…" The next scene then depicted him with a more determined look on his face, as he found the words to reply to 'Kallias's confession.

"I really like you too, Kallias!" he boldly declared.

"...Thank you, Mel. I'm…glad to hear it." The Sceptile's expression looked as though he was touched. "I was a bit nervous you wouldn't return my feelings, but…I guess I don't have to worry any more."

"Don't worry. I do. I would follow you anywhere."

"Hm…" Then, 'Kallias' was depicted with a look as though he was challenging 'Melchior.' "...I wonder…would you follow me in doing this?"

What happened next was something that shocked both readers who were deeply engrossed in the story by this point.

'Kallias's lips puckered, as if to go in for a kiss.

W-Wait a minute…They're not going to…

But they were. And the next two pages depicted a scene between the two that could only be described as passionate. What was illustrated made Kallias and Melchior slightly look upon the drawings in slight disgust, for it involved two notable things: tongues, and the feeling up of one another's bodies.

The next illustration depicted them pulling away. That scene was enough for Kallias, who closed the sketchpad.

"No," he said. "I am not reading any more of that."

It took Melchior a minute to find the right words. And when he did…he evidently was not in a calm frame of mind at all.

"Wh-What was that?!" he cried, flustered as anything. "I-In that, th-the t-two of us were…!"

"...Kissing and making out with each other," Kallias replied, more matter-of-fact but still as flustered as his partner.

"B-But…I don't see you in that way!" Melchior cried out. "I-I mean, no offence, Kallias, but…I-I would never…" He couldn't bring himself to say any more, his cheeks coloured a bright scarlet.

"...It's okay, Melchior. I feel the same way, if it helps," Kallias offered. His own face was crimson with embarrassment. "You…are a good friend of mine. And…a great partner, too."

"No! Don't say that!" Melchior's face was as hot as any Magcargo. "'Partner'...p-people will think we're…!"

"Damn…" Kallias realised the mistake. "Oh gods…I don't think I'm ever going to see that word in the same light again regarding us…"

"Wh-What'll we do? If people see that sketchpad, then...!"

"...Whatever the case, we still have a mission to do," he reminded Melchior.

"...That girl…Eponina, was it?" The Swampert was still visibly flustered. "...Wh-What do we do, Kallias? We can't just report this to someone! Word'll get out then!"

"I wouldn't go that far," Kallias said. "I do think we should let her know. But…let's go about it carefully."

"How so?"

"Well…I have an idea…"





"...Did you guys get it back?"

Eponina was waiting in the town square for Team Marshwood. As the duo approached, they noticed that she seemed a little bit jumpy and nervous.

"Indeed, we did. A little bit of dirt on it, but it's still in one piece." Kallias held the sketchpad out in front of him. The Grafaiai eagerly took it back.

"Thank you thank you thank you thank you!" she gushed gratefully, holding the sketchpad close to her. …A bit too close.

"No problem," the Sceptile returned. "Oh, but, um…the payment?"

"...O-Oh, right! Of course." Eponina dug about in her bag for some change before she gave the amount to Team Marshwood. "There you go."

"Thank you." Kallias filed it away in his own bag. "Now we must take our leave. It was a pleasure doing business with you, Miss Eponina."

"And it was great seeing you, Team Marshwood!" Eponina replied. "Thanks a bunch for helping me!"

"Anytime." With that parting word, the duo left to catch the boat back to Iria.

Once they were gone, the Grafaiai breathed a sigh of relief.

"Phew…they never brought up my sketches. Guess they didn't look at them…That would've been embarrassing…"

She went to open the sketchpad. However, as she did, a letter fell out from the side of it.

A letter? But I didn't have anything in this pad…

She picked it up off the ground. And the words on it made her freeze.

To Eponina

From Team Marshwood


It didn't take her long to connect the dots.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no…they did read it! Noooooooo!"





"Okay, something's up here. What the hell is the matter with you two?"

It was evening, and Team Marshwood had returned to the Irian Guild. Normally, they would be quite looking forward to returning back to the Guild and divulging news about what missions they'd done that day over a piping hot dinner made by Aldebrand. And given the Turtonator's skill at cooking, it would never not be delicious.

However…what they'd seen in Eponina's sketchbook still ran through their minds. And it had done, all the way through that day's missions and the trip from Miroslavsk back to Iria. It still went through their minds now, and they were not intent on bringing it up to their peers.

Unfortunately, Rufina, as was her wont to voice oddities, noticed their strange behaviour, and called it out in front of Mitrofan, as well as Dalibor and Spiridon, with whom they were sharing a table. The Guild was rather quiet tonight - quiet enough that it was only the six of them in the canteen. A rare coincidence, undoubtedly.

"Quite right. There's barely been a peep out of the two of you," Mitrofan said. "Is something the matter?"

"Is something the matter?" Kallias said "...I suppose you could say that." He paused to eat a mouthful of one of the pirozhki on his plate. Notably, he'd picked at his dinner, as had Melchior, whereas their dining companions had all gotten through at least one pirozhok. It was yet another delicious meal by Aldebrand, undoubtedly; but the Sceptile's mind was elsewhere.

"What, did you fail your mission today or something?" Spiridon wondered.

"No, we didn't fail it," Melchior replied, fearing the creep ever closer to revealing the answer.

"Then what's causing this behaviour?" Mitrofan demanded. "As your Guildmaster, I have a right to know what perturbs the mercenaries in my command. If there's something wrong, then spill it."

"Well…" Kallias considered his answer. "...It sounds crazy, and you probably wouldn't believe it."

"Try me. I've heard all kinds of ridiculous stories throughout the years." The Aggron was unfazed. "Besides, neither of you are not the type to lie."

"...If we do tell this story…" Melchior thought to make a request. "Please don't judge us."

"Judge you?" Dalibor was confused. "Why would we judge you?"

"Okay, you have to tell us now," Rufina urged. "Why are you acting all cagey?"

Team Marshwood looked at each other. Kallias thought it best for him to begin.

"Today, we went to Miroslavsk. There was a young Grafaiai there looking for her sketchpad, which she'd lost in a nearby Mystery Dungeon. Obviously, she contacted the Guild, we took the mission, and went into the Dungeon to get it. It was an easy mission - in and out just like that.

"However, on the way back, I accidentally dropped the sketchpad, and it opened on one of the pages. On it…" Kallias paused, knowing that this was where things got weird.

"On it…?" Rufina said. "Go on. What was on the page?"

"It was a story. And it depicted…us."

"You?" Dalibor was puzzled. "...Is that a surprise? You two are possibly the most popular mercenaries in Ardalion."

"That's nice, isn't it?" Spiridon was just as confused. "Artwork of you two. …What's the problem?"

"There's nothing wrong with normal artwork," Kallias replied. "But…the sketchpad's art depicted the two of us…"

"...Kissing amorously like we were lovers!" Melchior blurted.

Everyone stood bolt upright at this.

"...I beg your pardon?" Mitrofan said, not sure if he'd heard correctly.

"What?" Spiridon was taken aback.

"Sorry, sorry, run that by me again," a flabbergasted Rufina requested. "There was artwork of the two of you snogging?"

"Yes!" Kallias could feel his cheeks begin to burn.

"That's…That's gotta be weird," Dalibor commented. "Seeing yourself making out with your partner like that…"

"It was weird!" Melchior said. "K-Kallias and I…we're not like that!"

"You know, there's nothing wrong with admitting it," Rufina lightly cajoled. "A fair share of men do that kind of thing. Oh, and women too!"

"Th-This has nothing to do with that!" Kallias's cheeks were unbelievably red now, as if he'd eaten an unripe tamato berry. "I have nothing against people of that kind of sexual persuasion. I'm all for their freedom and against attempts by Church types to clamp down on them."

"But Kallias and I don't see each other that way!" Melchior's blush was just as deep a red as his partner. "More to the point, we're married, and to women, at that! Kallias even has a daughter!"

"Exactly! It would be cheating if the two of us had those kind of relations!" Kallias denounced. "And I would never betray Zenobia like that!"

"...Some people go both ways." Rufina wasn't letting up, though. "I didn't exactly mind women back in the day, you know. …But then I saw Mitt evolved, and suddenly, they were all nothing compared to him.'" She caressed her husband's metallic cheek. "Love you, my big hunk of metal…"

"I've told you before, Rufina. Stop calling me that in public," Mitrofan requested, before turning to Team Marshwood. "You two…let me clarify something. You looked at a client's work that you were requested to retrieve?"

"...Yes?" Kallias replied, realising where this was going. Oh dear…

"That's an invasion of privacy, you two," the Aggron sternly reprimanded. "It goes against guild regulations."

"I know, and I'm sorry. Curiosity got the better of me," the Sceptile apologised. "We won't do it again."

"Good." Mitrofan leaned back in his chair. "At least you two are experienced enough to know better. So I'll let you off this time."

"Thanks, Mitt."

"...You know, that's not the first time I've heard that kind of talk," Dalibor mentioned. "I've heard rumours about the two of you being…y'know. Lovers."

"...What?" Melchior asked, hoping he'd heard incorrectly.

"I'd believe them," Spiridon piped up. "Have you heard yourselves talk after a mission? 'Oh, Kallias, you were so good in that Dungeon.' 'No, Melchior, it was you who saved me from that feral.' Stuff like that."

"Yeah, I mean, c'mon!" Rufina said. "No wonder people talk about the two of you in that way! Can you blame them? …I've heard my own share of rumours. Like how your scarves are there to hide the hickeys."

"What?!" Melchior reacted, nearly falling off his chair.

"Ha! No, I made that up. …The look on your face, though!" the Haxorus laughed. "Oh, that's one for the books!"

"Don't make fun of them, Rufina," Mitrofan admonished. "Accusations like that can be dangerous. In the past, spreading rumours about upstanding people like Kallias and Melchior like that could lead to their reputations being ruined. And though we live in a society that is more tolerant of such a lifestyle…it's still reviled in some circles. There's still the potential of tarnishing their name. You might not mean it, but you could all do great damage by entertaining such rumours." He addressed Team Hair Trigger as well. "We accept all here at the Guild. We do not make sexuality a laughing matter, especially if it's at the expense of someone else. There will be no more talk like this again. Have I made myself clear?"

Any lightheartedness from Rufina and Team Hair Trigger disappeared when faced with the Guildmaster's sternness. They all nodded wordlessly.

"Good. You're dismissed for the evening."

The three took the opportunity to leave. But Team Marshwood stayed behind, for they still had more to say.

"If I'm honest, Mitrofan…I don't think the client meant anything bad by it," Kallias said. "She was just a Grafaiai with a passion for art. She wasn't a criminal or anything."

"...Even if she meant no harm by her art, that doesn't mean there was no danger," Mitrofan replied. "Word better not get out about this. That would be the spark that would set off a blaze…"

"We requested she keep it secret," Melchior mentioned.

"Did you now? …Can she be trusted?" The Aggron remained in doubt.

"Hopefully. I can't imagine she would want to alienate her heroes," Kallias pointed out. "Though I admit…I don't want to look at her in a bad way either. If nothing else…her art was pretty good."

"Was it?" Melchior pulled a face. "Her drawing of me wasn't accurate. My muscles aren't that big! You'd think I was Mega Evolved!"

"True, true. But I don't want to suppress artistic talent," the Sceptile replied. "Part of me wants to keep in touch with her, to see where she goes with her skills."

"Far away from art like that, I hope," the Swampert grumbled.

"Yes…I hope so too," admitted Kallias. "But I like young ones with aspiring talent. I hope she goes somewhere. …After all, why do you think I keep encouraging Elvira to follow her dreams?"

"...Whatever you say, Kallias." Melchior didn't sound fully on board.

"...I'd be careful," warned Mitrofan. "You have a crystal-clean image to keep up. You risk muddying it by associating with that artist."

"We'll be careful, Mitt, don't worry," assured Kallias. "We get a fair amount of flak too. Don't tell me you aren't aware of that?"

"...I am," the Aggron responded. "...Now I have work to do. I must go."

"Of course," Kallias accepted. "Come on, Melchior. Let's go."

And so the three left the canteen.





Five days later…

Another day, another round of missions. After a week of doing fairly easier missions, though, Team Marshwood were ready to go at a harder one tomorrow. Right now, they were looking forward to another tasty meal by Aldebrand.

They went down the ladder. To their surprise, when they reached the bottom…Mitrofan was waiting for them.

"Ah. You two. Good to see you," he began. "Come to my office. There's someone who wants to see you."

He walked towards his office. Kallias and Melchior looked at each other.

Who could it be?

They followed the Aggron to his office. When they walked inside…a surprise awaited them.

Sitting on one of the chairs was a familiar face.

"Eponina?" Kallias blinked at the sight of the Grafaiai. "What are you doing here?"

"I…I wanted to say sorry," she said. "For…you know…"

"Let them sit down and we can discuss it," Mitrofan said, behind his desk.

Kallias and Melchior sat down, opposite Eponina. Mitrofan then spoke.

"Eponina. Tell them why you came all the way here."

"…I came here to…say sorry," the Grafaiai answered. "For…doing that story about you. I read your letter and…I'm sorry. I didn't think…I didn't think you would actually read it…I mean, what are the chances?"

"Very slim," Kallias replied. Looking at her, she did seem genuinely sorry. "...Why did you make it in the first place?"

"Because I love heroes like you," Eponina replied. "The idea of dashing vigilantes, beating the snot out of evildoers and saving people in need…I love those kinds of stories. And they came in spades from you. So…obviously I idolise you."

"But why did you make it a love story?" Melchior questioned.

"Because…um…I-I l-like stories of love between men," the lemur replied, with embarrassment. "And…some people do think the two of you are a couple. An idea for a love story came into my head, and I…couldn't get those thoughts out of my head. So I had to put them down on paper in some way." She looked down in shame. "But I didn't mean anything bad by it. I didn't mean to insult you...I'm sorry…"

She was sounding more emotional, as if she would burst into tears at any moment. Kallias decided to intervene before this could happen.

"...At least it was innocent intentions," he said. "Perhaps you could consider this a lesson in consent. Don't paint others without asking them first. Especially if it's art like…what you painted. That stuff should be kept private."

"...A-Alright…"

"If the characters are fictional, that probably wouldn't be a problem," Melchior pointed out. "But if they're real and living…that's a different story."

"...O-Okay…I'll do that from now on. I'll ask people first for their permission."

"And as much I hate to break it to you, Eponina," Kallias brought up. "Melchior and I aren't lovers like you depicted. Yes, we're longtime mercenary partners and good friends with one another."

"But lovers?" Melchior shook his head. "No. We're both married…but to wives."

"...Really?" Eponina's eyes widened.

"Yes. It's the truth."

"...Guess I shouldn't have listened to those rumours, then…" the Grafaiai murmured sadly.

"It's alright. It's easy to get swept up in those kinds of things," Kallias assured. "...How about we just agree to put this all behind us, hm?"

"Yeah," Eponina agreed. "I…don't want my heroes to hate me…"

"We would never hate you," Melchior replied. "Not unless you were actually looking to drag our names through the mud."

"But you seem like an honest young lady," Kallias replied. "With a good talent for art."

"Really? You think so?"

"I do. …Maybe we could've done with a little less muscle, but if nothing else about that story, the art was good."

"Oh, thank you, Fernblade Kallias! Art's my passion. I love drawing and painting." Eponina seemed to be in more of an upbeat mood now. "And coming up with stories. My three favourite things to do."

"I wouldn't want to suppress talent like yours. Perhaps you could put it to better use?" suggested the Sceptile. "Like…hmm…"

At that point, an idea came to him.

"Do you do commissions, Eponina?"

"Uhh…Sure. I…kinda want to make money off my paintings," the Grafaiai admitted.

"Well…I have something in mind. …Can you come with me to Ozerograd tomorrow evening?"

"Ozerograd? …I might be able to make it," Eponina considered. "But why do you want to go there?"

"...You'll see."





Two days later…

"...This is brilliant." Kallias couldn't take his eyes off the painting. "It's…It's even better than I thought it would be."

It had been a day since the Sceptile had brought Eponina to Ozerograd for her to paint what he had wanted her to paint. And that was…

Him and his family, depicted in the sunset.

It came out even better than he had anticipated. And Zenobia and Elvira loved it, too. He therefore gave the Grafaiai her dues, before inviting her back to his house to spend the night.

She had gone home that morning. But Kallias hadn't forgotten her painting, this one done on a canvas. After she went, he immediately went to hang it up in the living room so that everyone could see it.

Zenobia was looking up at the painting too. Elvira wasn't there, alas; she was at school.

"...How talented," the Heliolisk remarked. "And she was young, too…I hope she goes far."

"I hope so too."

"...By the way, how did you meet that girl?"

"Oh, Eponina?" Kallias considered his answer, before uttering it.

"She's just a client Melchior and I had for a mission. You don't need to worry about her, Zen."





Notes

This paralogue was inspired by dialogue I wrote in Special Episode 1: Part 2. It inspired this little origin story of sorts to that.

Tsaritsin is a corruption of Tsaritsyn, an old name for the city of Volgograd. Intriguingly, its etymology has nothing to do with the tsar, but rather its location next to the River Tsaritsa. In the context of this fic, though, it is named for the tsar.

Eponina is a nod to Nina from Fire Emblem Fates, whose Japanese name is Éponine. And the whole 'fantasising over men' part of her personality? Yeah, that carries over too. Granted, this girl is a bit more meek and less conniving.
 
Last edited:
Paralogue 4 - Stepping Up to the Plate

Arukona

A Scribe Penning His Brainworms
Location
Ardalion
Pronouns
He/him
Partners
  1. aggron
  2. sceptile
  3. lucario
Paralogue 4
Stepping Up to the Plate

The death of Guildmaster Yaromir leads to much grief and sadness within the Guild. But amid the mourning, there is one question: who will succeed him?





The church bells of Iria Cathedral rang out through the Selenian capital. It was a sombre knell, letting all who heard it know that someone had left this world.

It was an autumnal day, and it had been raining heavily the night before. Wet leaves peppered the cobblestones of the city streets, and many puddles formed. Luckily, the rain held off for the funeral.

It was a major funeral, generating quite a turnout. There was barely enough room in the pews to fit everyone.

There was a good reason for this.

The bells tolled for Yaromir, Guildmaster of the Irian Guild.

It was an unexpected tragedy. He was getting on a bit, having celebrated his fifty-eighth hatchday not long ago, but no one expected him to pass away in his sleep one night.

Emotions were on display at the wake and at the funeral. Many tears were shed, and many handkerchiefs were handed out.

His family was there. Though the late Guildmaster had no children, he had some brothers, sisters, and a few nieces and nephews.

Many Guild members also showed up. The staff who he worked with turned up, as did his most renowned mercenaries. Among them were Kallias and Melchior of Team Marshwood, and Mitrofan and Rufina of Team Silver Axe.

The priest giving the funeral mass was Archbishop Innokent; a Togekiss and one of Selenia's leading clergymen. He spoke of Yaromir's life as a mercenary, and how he worked his way up the ranks in the Guild system, before his eventual nomination to be the next Guildmaster by his retiring predecessor. He spoke of how he helped foster a new generation of mercenaries that would continue to aid those in need, and how his death was a great loss for the Guild.

That, all Guild members, had to admit, was true. They had no guildmaster now. Who would be the one to succeed him?

Six pallbearers carried Yaromir's coffin to the carriage. Three of his nephews, along with three mercenaries - Mitrofan, Kallias and Melchior - brought it there. It was then transported off to a cemetery in the south of Iria, where it was buried.

Afterwards, the funeral reception was held at the Guild. Food was prepared, and a lot of chat ensued. Some of it was reunions among family members who hadn't seen each other for a long time, and some of it was general chatter about how others were doing. But mostly everyone spoke of Yaromir, the great man and Guildmaster whose loss left a hole in their hearts.

Among those who felt his loss greater than most were Teams Marshwood and Silver Axe.

"...I still can't believe it." Melchior was sullen. "He's really gone…"

"...He lived to fifty-eight," remarked Kallias. "He had a good life and accomplished a lot in that time. Many people live longer and achieve less than he did in his lifetime."

"...He could've lived for longer, though," murmured Mitrofan. "I noticed he had a cough in the days before he died. I asked about it, but he said it was nothing to worry about. …Should I have pushed him to see Oliga about it…?"

"I did see him, in fact," a nearby Indeedee wearing a nurse's cap intervened, having heard her name being mentioned. "He clearly wasn't well. I told him he needed to stop working and take time off to recover. But he refused. He said it was just a cough." She sighed in dismay. "That was our Guildmaster, though…Always keeping up the cheery attitude, even if he wasn't well."

"You shouldn't do it when you're literally dying, though," Rufina pointed out. "If I was on my way out, I'd make damn well sure to tell someone."

"Don't say things like that, Rufina," Mitrofan admonished. "Yaromir was a good man. Don't disparage him here. At least wait until his family have left the building."

"...Sorry." The Haxorus considered snarking back in her typical way, but realised it wasn't appropriate in this setting. "I'm just a little on edge today…"

"Oh…" Melchior realised what it might be. "Is it the Egg?"

"Yeah," Rufina answered. "It's so close to hatching, and I…want to be around when it happens."

"Understandable," Kallias replied. "The same for me, and I know Zen thinks that way too. …A pity she was ill today and couldn't make it to the funeral."

"How is Zenobia?" Oliga queried.

"Getting by. But she's getting close to the Egg's due time and she's getting quite worked up over it."

"If she ever needs advice, she can always ask me," the Indeedee said.

"Or me," Rufina volunteered. "I've been through it. And it is a whole new level of pain. Do you have any idea how hard it is to - "

"We're not discussing this here," Mitrofan demanded. "In private, please, Rufina!"

"Right, right," the Haxorus replied. "Sorry, Mitt…"

"...Moving on from that," Kallias said, in an effort to change the subject. "I was wondering about something." There was one thing that was on his, and everyone else's mind, and he voiced it.

"Now that Guildmaster Yaromir's gone…who'll take over from him?"

"...Good question," Melchior replied. "...From what I know, the Guildmaster would usually nominate a successor. That's what happened last time, apparently."

"But he didn't nominate one, did he?" Kallias pondered.

"I don't believe so," Mitrofan replied.

"...Well, this is helpful," Rufina commented. "What the hell are we meant to do? Put names in a hat?"

"Let's not do that," her husband rejected. "He might've secretly selected a nominee somewhere. Hmm…" He considered this. "...Does he have a will?"

"...Possibly," Kallias said. "But where would he have kept it?"

"Perhaps one of his relatives knows?" Melchior suggested, pointing to a group of five consisting of two Stantler, a Wyrdeer and two Sawsbuck on the other side of the room.

"I'll go and ask," Mitrofan volunteered. He walked across to them.

"Ah, hello," one of the Sawsbuck greeted. "You're Silver Armour Mitrofan, aren't you?"

"Yes, that's me," Mitrofan confirmed.

"Thanks so much for helping out at the funeral today," the Wyrdeer thanked. "Yaromir liked you a lot. He said you were among the best mercenaries he had."

"...I'm glad to hear it. …But I came to ask a question."

"And that is?" the other Sawsbuck wondered.

"...Did Yaromir have a will? You see…we're trying to figure out who'll replace him as Guildmaster," explained the Aggron. "But he never told us in person who it would be. We were thinking if he had a will, the answer might be in there."

"...A will…" The five deer considered this.

"Well, if he did, it wouldn't be with us," the Wyrdeer answered. "Yaromir was very attached to the Irian Guild. He didn't actually visit us a huge amount. He was always too busy with Guild work to come to family reunions. If he does have a will…then it's somewhere here, in the Guild."

"You think? …That might be it," Mitrofan murmured. "Thanks for the tip."

"No problem, Mitrofan. Happy to help."

With that, the Aggron went to rejoin his comrades, and divulged to them what he'd been told.

"So we've got to search this Guild for his will?" Rufina said.

"Yes. That's what I'm thinking."

"Well, hold on now," Melchior intervened. "You're not planning on tearing the place up for it, are you?"

"He doesn't mean that, Melchior," Kallias said. "If we're looking for a will, then all we need to do is ask a certain someone." He looked around the room. "...Hm. I don't see her anywhere."

"Well, let's go find her," Rufina said. "No use wondering. Let's seize the moment!"

"But where would she be? Where would Anna be right now?" Melchior wondered.

"Let's check the office," suggested Kallias. "Where else would a Guildmaster's assistant be but the Guildmaster's office?"

"Good idea," his partner replied. "Let's go."

The office was unlocked. Still, Kallias knocked on the door politely, just in case someone was in there. A few seconds passed before the door was opened by a middle-aged Jynx.

"Hello, Anna," greeted the Sceptile.

"...Hello, Kallias." The guildmaster's assistant sounded deflated. Understandable, given the day. She had shed more than a few tears when the news broke of Yaromir's death.

"Do you need help here?" he asked. "We'd be all too happy to help."

"...No, I'm fine," Anna replied. "Thanks for asking, though. I'm just going through the Guildmaster's files."

"...About that." Mitrofan saw fit to interject. "We were wondering, Anna…did the Guildmaster have a will?"

"A will?" The Jynx considered the Aggron's question. "...He never mentioned one. If he had a will, I would have known of it."

"...I see." Mitrofan couldn't hide his disappointment.

"I'm sorry I can't help," apologised the Ice/Psychic-type. She was about to say more, but then a thought came to her. "...Actually, hold on a minute. Don't leave yet. I've just thought of something."

"Oh?" Kallias' interest was piqued. "What is it?"

"Come in, and we'll discuss it in the office," Anna recommended. All four mercenaries filed their way into the office. The place had a number of files laid out on the floor, and a number of papers were strewn about on the desk.

"Sorry about this. I was just doing some organising." The Jynx looked wistfully over at the empty chair. "...It's still hard to believe. That he's…He's gone…"

"He always lit up this room," murmured Melchior. "He was a kind man. It felt like whenever he called you to his office, you never felt scared you'd done something wrong. He was a reassuring leader."

"Indeed…" Mitrofan recalled when his first team had broken up. Yaromir had kept him on without issue, and even suggested trying out a team with Rufina. And that's certainly shaped a lot of my life right now, he thought to himself, looking over at his wife. "It feels strange, seeing this room without him in it."

"Yeah…Even I miss him," Rufina added. "And you know me. I'm not one for giving condolences or sappy speeches or whatever. But this guild sure as hell won't be the same without him in it…"

"...In fact, that's why we're looking for his will," Mitrofan brought up again. "We were thinking. His family claimed he spent most of his time at the Guild, to the point that he barely visited them. The Guild meant a lot to him. If he was to pass anything down…it would be the Guild itself, no?"

"...You have a point. That does sound like the Guildmaster, alright," Anna said. "...What I was thinking was…something that the Guildmaster told me about a while back."

"And that was…?" Kallias pressed.

"...He said once to me that if anything ever happened to him…then he had a secret letter that would have to be opened only in that circumstance," the assistant recalled. "It only just occurred to me now. How did I forget about it…?"

"When was this?" Mitrofan wondered.

"A few months ago. He'd been on a mission against some outlaws where he told me he was in genuine danger," Anna informed. "He made it out alive, but it must have rattled him. So he put in place that contingency plan if anything happened to him."

"Well, something has happened to him," Rufina pointed out. "Come on. Where's this letter?"

"I'm trying to remember. It's been a while…and of course, so much has to be filed away that it would inevitably get lost," Anna considered. "...It has to be somewhere. It can't grow legs and walk away."

"Let's all look for it, then," Kallias proposed. "It's for the future of the Guild that we find this letter. We must find it."

And so Teams Marshwood and Silver Axe, along with Anna, searched the desk and the filing cabinets in the Guildmaster's office. Files were taken out, organised, searched through, while desk drawers were pulled out and also examined. Mutters of "It's not here," sounded out every once in a while. At one point, they'd pulled out an old mission Team Marshwood had done a few months ago, and the duo then reminisced about what happened on that particular mission. Rufina saw them, and smirked at her husband.

"The way they're talking, you'd think they were a couple," she remarked. "Hey, Mitt, you think when no one's looking, the two of them…?"

"No, I don't." The Aggron shook his head. "Besides, even if they were…it's nothing compared to our love."

"I love it when you say things like that," the Haxorus said. "All serious one minute, and suddenly you come out with stuff like that…" She leaned in to kiss him. "I love you so much…"

"And I you, Rufina." Mitrofan returned the gesture.

After that, they got back to searching. Eventually, though, they struck gold.

"Oh? What's this?"

Mitrofan happened to find a red envelope at the bottom of one of the filing cabinets. It turned out it wasn't in any of the files, but at the bottom of the cabinet itself. It was crumpled, but it still bore some writing on the back of it.

FOR EMERGENCY OPENING ONLY

WHEN THE GUILDMASTER HAS PASSED


"That's it!" Anna exclaimed. "That's the letter! …How did it get down there?"

"Never mind that!" Rufina said. "Come on, Mitt! Open it!"

"Very well." The Aggron used one of his sharp claws to cleanly unseal the envelope. He then took out the letter and began reading it.

If you're reading this, chances are that I've passed on. Well, hopefully. I hope this isn't some nefarious thief reading this. If so, know that the Guild will hunt you down and make you put it back.

The group had a small chuckle at that remark. Even when he had passed on, the old Guildmaster's humour still tickled them.

The main point of this letter is about electing a successor. Some like a vote, but that can be messy sometimes. So I will do what my predecessor Guildmaster Sevolod did and nominate one myself.

What I want in a Guildmaster is a diligent worker. Someone who's experienced enough to know the ins and outs of mercenary work. Someone who is a good leader, and who'll look out for the mercenaries in their charge. As well as that, someone who understands the spirit of the mercenary. It's down to the mercenary's creed: helping those in need, whoever they are, wherever they are, with whatever they need.

But most of all, I want someone who's young. Older ones may be wise, but sometimes they have a tendency to hog positions for themselves (no intended offence to our veterans, of course!), leaving the young ones as permanent subordinates. Of course, the young one must be experienced enough as a mercenary - a Platinum Rank mercenary at least. But also one who is organised, keeps a cool head, and ensures their team runs like clockwork.

And after looking over the mercenaries in my charge, I have come to a decision.


Mitrofan looked down at the next line, and nearly dropped the paper in shock.

I would like to entrust the Irian Guild to Mitrofan of Team Silver Axe.

- Yaromir

Guildmaster of the Irian Guild


Everyone reacted at once.

"What?!" cried Melchior.

"Mitrofan?!" Kallias exclaimed.

"Mitt!?" Rufina yelled.

"Me?!" Mitrofan shouted. He looked down at the sheet. Surely this must be a mistake…

But no matter how hard he looked or squinted, the text still read his name.

"...Mitrofan?" Anna wasn't quite as shocked as the other teams. "Hmm…that does make sense, now that I think about it…"

"Anna?" Kallias heard that. "What do you mean?"

"...The Guildmaster definitely took a shine to Mitrofan," the Jynx explained. "There was an air of something about him that the Guildmaster had a good feeling about. He kept saying he would be a great asset to the Guild one day, back when Mitrofan was starting out." She looked over at the Aggron. "...I can't say he was wrong."

"But…becoming Guildmaster?" Mitrofan was very flustered. "I…I have no knowledge of how to run a guild! And becoming Guildmaster of the Irian Guild of all places? This place with its storied history?"

"...I think it's a fine choice," Anna opined. "The Guildmaster doesn't make decisions lightly. He must've thought you capable if he was going to hand the Guild over to you. Besides…you are Platinum Rank. You are definitely a capable mercenary."

"Th-Thank you, Anna. But…surely I'm not worthy of inheriting this place…" Mitrofan downplayed.

"Yes, you are, Mitt!" Rufina argued, in an encouraging manner. "You're always the one leading and organising everything in our team. You're great at organising stuff and making sure everything's just right before missions. Hell, you even organise our items by seed, by berries, by orbs…You'd make a great Guildmaster, Mitt! Someone who's good at organising is bound to be a good leader."

"You…You think?"

"Sure I do! I mean…I couldn't be the Guildmaster," the Haxorus said, in a joking manner. "I'd suck ass at it. I can't organise for shit."

"...That is true." A wry smile found its way onto Mitrofan's face.

"Hey! You were meant to say no to that!"

"But I'm not. You yourself said you can't organise at all. So checkmate."

"...I hate when you're right," mourned Rufina. "But I love when you get all sassy like that. Give me some more of that, please!" She went over to the Aggron and playfully nudged him.

"You want more? Oh, I'll give you more, Rufina!"

"A-As nice as this is, you two," Melchior cut in. "We have business to get back to."

"...Right…" And like that, the feeling of uncertainty returned to Mitrofan.

"My take on this?" Kallias decided to begin. "I think you'd make a good Guildmaster, Mitt. Yaromir's certainly right about the young thing. I wouldn't want an ageing fossil as the Guildmaster who might well be out of touch with the younger folks of the Guild. After all, most new recruits are young. They'd be reassured if their leader wasn't much older than them."

"Yes." Melchior nodded. "Look at Tsar Kliment. He's fairly young to be tsar, but that isn't stopping him from ruling the nation. Age is never a part of it."

"There is one thing, though," Kallias brought up. "If you become Guildmaster…it will mean you will have to say goodbye to doing regular missions. All the administration guildmasters have to do does eat up a lot of time." He looked over at Anna. "Am I right?"

"That is true, yes," Anna acknowledged. "But I imagine Mitrofan can handle it."

"Giving up…the team?" Mitrofan looked over at Rufina. She won't take that well at all, will she?

But to his surprise…the Haxorus didn't look dismayed at all. She looked back at her husband supportively.

"In fairness, Mitt…I'm gonna have a screaming baby to look after," she said to him. "I'll hardly have time for missions myself. And I can't imagine you'd be super happy as an auxiliary, wishing I was there with you. You might as well take it. Either way, our team's not gonna be trailblazing through the ranks anytime soon."

"...But…you were the one who always wanted to reach Grandmaster Rank. I don't want to crush your dreams, Rufina," Mitrofan expressed.

"...Hey. Dreams are dreams, Mitt," Rufina replied. "We can't win 'em all. …Oh, but you know who can?" Her expression was renewed with encouragement.

"Who?"

"Them." The dragon pointed to Team Marshwood. "If anyone can reach Grandmaster Rank, it's them. They're Platinum Rank, and they're trailblazing through the ranks like we were. But they're not slowed down by shit like being a mom and becoming Guildmaster. They can reach Grandmaster Rank, with you leading them.

"Hear that, boys?" she called to Kallias and Melchior. "Since we have to wind things down, you two better get Grandmaster Rank for us! If you don't do that before you retire, Mitt'll put you back to Normal, and that'd be a crap way to end, wouldn't it?!"

"Ha! Quite a challenge," commented Kallias, laughing from Rufina's comment. "But I'm not one to back down from a challenge! We'll do it, won't we, Melchior?"

"That's…quite a mountain to climb," Melchior replied. "...But we'll give it a good try. For you two. For friends."

"...You heard them, Mitt. You can't say no now," Rufina said. "...Come on, Mitt. People look up to us already! They'd love you as Guildmaster!"

"If it's any reassurance, I'll help you. And so will Oliga and all the other Guild staff," Anna promised. "This is our guild as well. We want to see it flourish too."

Mitrofan looked around the room. Everyone looked at him expectantly.

They all have so much faith in me…he thought. …I can't let them down now.

"Very well. I accept. I will become Guildmaster."

"There you go! That was all you needed!" Rufina was delighted

"I look forward to carrying out missions in your name, Guildmaster Mitrofan," Melchior said.

"So do I," Kallias seconded. "And we'll get that Grandmaster Rank, don't you worry!"

"...I suppose I have nothing to worry about, when I'll have reliable mercenaries like you under my command." Mitrofan smiled at his comrades' support for him. "So when do I start?" he asked, turning to Anna.

"Not right away," the Jynx answered. "We still have the reception to deal with. We'll announce the news in the coming days, when this is all over."

"We'll keep the news under wraps until then," Kallias promised.

"Yes. Better to wait until this all blows over," Melchior agreed.

"...We should get back," Mitrofan said, looking at the door. "People might be wondering where we are."

"Let's go back, then." Rufina got up to leave the room. Everyone else began to file out.

Before leaving the room, however, Mitrofan looked back at the Guildmaster's desk. Though Yaromir himself wasn't there, he pictured the Wyrdeer looking back at him, as if giving his blessing to the Aggron.

I won't let you down, Guildmaster. I'll see to it your faith in me won't be in vain.





Notes

This paralogue takes place between the flashbacks in Chapter 18, specifically the one between Mitrofan's proposal to Rufina and the appearance of baby Stiliyan.

Since this takes place 18 years before the main story, there's no Helena or Nikita in the Guild yet, so I invented Anna, the Guildmaster's assistant, and Oliga, the Guild nurse. They're implied to both have retired between this paralogue and Special Episode 1.
 
Paralogue 5 - Shy

Arukona

A Scribe Penning His Brainworms
Location
Ardalion
Pronouns
He/him
Partners
  1. aggron
  2. sceptile
  3. lucario
Paralogue 5
Shy

Axel and Natalie have been tasked to go to Kamengrad's carpenter and request a new ladder for the Irian Guild.

That part is easy. The harder part is what comes after.






"Hmm…" An aging Pangoro looked at the sheet of paper before him which had a series of measurements written on it. "So you're lookin' for a ladder o' this size, eh?"

"Yeah," Axel confirmed. "The old one's rotted, and most of the Guild are still down there, unable to get out."

"That don't sound good," murmured the panda. "I'll get t' it. Gimme a few hours, and I'll 'ave what I need for ya."

"Thanks very much." Axel dug into his coin purse and doled out the correct amount to the carpenter.

"No prob, merc. Keep doin' what you're doin'. Oh, and ya too, lassie." The Pangoro directed his attention to the Ledian behind Axel. She jumped when she heard his words.

"Oh! Er…yeah. Yeah." Natalie nodded hurriedly. "Thanks fer that…" With that, she began to make her way to the door. "C-C'mon, Axel. Let's go…"

"...Sure." Axel couldn't help but be surprised at her behaviour, though. Is something up with her? "We'll go, sir. A few hours, you said?"

"Yup. I'm a quick worker. Be done before ya know it!"

"Right. Thanks again." Axel grabbed the door handle with one of his pincers and closed the door behind him.

The two were on the streets of Kamengrad once again. Like most days, the town was quiet with not much activity. Apart from a few passersby and a Tropius Carrier above circling to make their landing, there wasn't any notable activity going on in the town itself. The weather, too, was unremarkable, with bright sunshine and a number of wispy clouds dotting the sky. Another usual day, with nothing out of the ordinary.

"...So, uh…" Axel turned to his partner for the day. "What do you want to do, Natalie?"

"...Mmm…" The Ledian was silent for a while. "Nothin' much."

"So you wanna just…hang around town, maybe?"

"...I guess." Natalie shrugged.

She doesn't say much, does she? She really is a wallflower, Axel thought to himself. First time we've been alone, too…Now that I think about it, she's nearly always with Serafina, isn't she?

Thinking back, the Gligar found this to be true; the Ledian rarely strayed from her more talkative partner's side.

"How about we find a bench and just chill for a while?" he suggested. "We have a load of time to kill."

"...Sure," the Ledian murmured. "If it's what ya want…"





Axel knew a place to go. An area in the eastern part of town, on the road that led to Scree Canyon and his parents' shop. There was a bench there they could sit down at, and look at the view of the karst landscape and the dominating Empyrean Mountains above. It was a beautiful lookout, something even Natalie couldn't deny.

"Wow," she remarked. "That's a mighty fine view."

"Really nice," Axel agreed. He flapped his wings and landed on the bench, sitting down on it. Natalie followed suit and sat down next to him.

They sat for a while. But one problem quickly became apparent.

An awkward silence developed between them. Both the Gligar and Ledian were unsure of where to bring the conversation. Already, it had stalled, and both wanted the other to start it up again.

"Er…nice weather today, right?" It was Axel who broke the silence.

"...Mmm. Sure is." Natalie looked up at the bright blue sky. "Not much rain, though…We kinda need some."

"...Yeah." The Gligar never liked the rain, especially the frequency with which it usually fell in Selenia's more temperate climate. But he realised what the Ledian was getting at; the drought earlier in the summer was still lingering in parts of the country.

The awkward silence returned again. Axel found himself fidgeting. Come on, Ax. You can do better than this, he self-admonished. It's just talking to Natalie. It's not like you're facing off against a nasty feral. She's nice! She's just shy! That's all.

"Umm…" The Gligar racked his brains. "So, uh…how's things with you and Serafina?"

"...Fine," Natalie said. "Just peachy. We weren't fine after that whole mess in Iria, though…"

"Oh yeah..." That had been the topic of dinner a few days ago, once Teams Elpis and Anima arrived back from their escapade in Iria. The terrifying encounter with Mitrofan and his marshals, coupled with the prospect of a potential breakthrough in their struggle against the Aggron's regime, had the Guild talking about nothing else in the days after.

Axel was about to go further with that, but Melchior's warning rang in his head: Do not talk about this outside of the Guild. Therefore, with reluctance, he kept his mouth shut.

"Okay, um…" The Gligar tried to think of something else to talk about. Something…hmm…

"You, uh…" Where they come from…? Actually, hang on, that might be something. "You and Serafina, you're from…Karelia, right?" he asked.

"Y-Yeah, we are," Natalie answered.

"What's it like?"

"...Don't ya go there for missions?"

"Oh, uh, no. Not really," Axel confessed. "Ish and Lill and I…we don't really go down to that part of Selenia that often. Kinda prefer to stick around the north and east."

"...'Kay. Well, it's…very quiet. Nothin' much goes on down there. I work on a farm, with Ma n' Pa n' the rest of mah family…Just a normal life. Ain't nothin' special."

"Is it hard work?"

"Yeah. Sure ain't easy. Ya gotta work to get a good harvest. Harder th'n most jobs, I'd think. Gotta be a load easier sellin' the stuff we grow."

"Well, being a merchant isn't easy either. Lill's parents are merchants, and when me, Ish, and Lill lived with them for a while, we could see that it's actually pretty hard. You have to really try with hawking your stuff. That's why most merchants have slogans and yell across the street at you to buy what they're selling. Because if they don't, then they won't get as many customers, and they'll go hungry some nights."

That had been a tougher time in Team Sandstream's life, long before they'd gone down the path they were on. Since leaving Oiriall behind, adapting to the mercantile life in Selenia hadn't been lenient in the least. Axel had already been able to tell that he hadn't the makings of a merchant in him. Therefore, when Diarmuid and Gráinne proposed setting up an apothecary's shop, he immediately went with them, leaving Ishmael and Lillian to continue with Caitríona and Conall at being merchants.

He had felt a bit guilty about leaving them behind then, but if their approach of him six years ago to join the Irian Guild and form a mercenary team was any indication, they bore him no grudge. That, the Gligar was grateful for.

"...That don't sound nice," Natalie murmured. "That sure ain't the life for me…"

"Yeah…me neither." Axel could hardly imagine the Ledian hawking wares in the rowdy manner merchants did that.

And with that, the awkward silence returned once again.

This isn't hard, Ax, he inwardly berated. Come on. Think of something to ask.

"Uh…" He thought of what to say to the Ledian. "...Um…H-How's your family now? Are they…" He realised that this topic might be delicate, given the general repression that had gone on in Selenia under Mitrofan. Was her family the same?

"They're fine." Axel blinked slightly at the ladybug's answer. "Mah folks are good. 'Least we're still able to farm. If we couldn't do that…We'd be in a right ol' mess."

"When was the last time you saw them?"

"Er…a few weeks? Yeah. Saw 'em when we were doin' a mission down those parts. They're alright. All healthy, all happy. Ya'd almost think nothin' was wrong with this country…"

"You could say the same about here," Axel observed. "Rural, peaceful…Is Kamengrad like Karelia?"

"Naw. Too stony. Plus, ya can't grow a darned thing here," Natalie replied. "Our land ain't good back home, but even berries'll grow easy there."

"They sure can grow in a lot of places, huh?" Even back home in the dry lands of Oiriall, they grew.

"They sure can."

And just like that, the return of the accursed silence. Once again, Axel found himself wishing he had something to say, to further the conversation. Parts of his past, he wanted to talk with her about, but he didn't want to unload that stuff on her.

Would she even be interested? he wondered. A farmgirl from rural Selenia, hearing stories about how we were brought up in Alba? Our countries are so different. I don't know if she could relate to that…

Plus…I'd rather not get too personal with her.


The image of a Cacturne sneering at him while planting his prickly foot onto his face came to him. He tried as quickly as he could to shake it off.

He didn't make eye contact with Natalie. He didn't want her to see his face, in case it gave something away.

But that's not fair, is it? Here she is, telling me about her family and where she's from, and I haven't told her a single thing about Ardmacha. Come on, Axel. Be brave for once!

However, he couldn't find the words to say, nor could he think of a good opening to bring it up.

To his surprise, though…

"Axel?" Natalie spoke next.

"H-Hm?" The Gligar was slightly startled. He didn't expect the Ledian to speak up next. "What is it, Natalie?"

"...S-Sorry if I'm makin' this weird…" she apologised. "I ain't good at talkin'..."

"No no, it's fine!" insisted Axel. "That's alright. I'm not the best at conversations either. Ish and Lill are usually way better than me at it."

"But yer way better 'n me at it." Natalie looked down glumly. "I wanna be good at talkin', but…"

"But…?"

"...Folks don't get me, 'cause of mah darned accent…" She sounded almost frustrated to say this.

"Your accent?" Is that what this is about? But that's… "Your accent's fine, Natalie! I like it!"

"Y-Ya do?" Natalie was surprised at this. "Please don't jus' be sayin' that…"

"I do! I like your accent! Really!"

"...Really?"

"Yeah! I mean, I don't find it hard to understand. At least compared with Ishmael, anyway."

"Oh yeah…he's got a funny one alright, don't he?"

"You bet your ass he does. That's not even going into all the weird slang he uses. Boy, can he be out there sometimes…"

"Like what?" Natalie sounded curious. Axel brightened up slightly.

"Well. Wanna guess what a 'china' is?" he said

"A china?" The Ledian titled her head. "He done called Sera n' me that 'fore…He sayin' we're friends?"

"Sort of. It's really 'china plate', which rhymes with 'mate'. It's rhyming slang," Axel explained. "So yeah, he is calling you a friend when he says that."

"...What?" Natalie looked baffled. "But why's he do that? That don't make sense. Yer just sayin' more words, ain't ya?"

"That's just how Ish works. Lill and I have kinda worked him out by this stage," the Gligar said. "Though every now and again, he throws us a curveball. He is one wacky crocodile, let me tell you…"

"But yer good friends with him, ain'tcha? It's kinda…part of the fun, ain't it?" Natalie said.

"You got that right." Axel smiled. "Ishmael can be gruff and pull pranks and can have a sewer of a mouth at times. But he's my best bud. I'd go with him on whatever crazy thing he wants to do. If he said tomorrow we were going to kick Mitrofan out of Selenia, I'd follow him. And I bet Lill would to."

"Wow…Ya sure are tight-knit."

"I know. And I wouldn't want it any other way."

Axel was about to continue, but at that moment, his stomach interrupted him with a growl.

"...Ya hungry?"

"Y-Yeah…" The Gligar felt embarrassed. "Didn't have anything to eat this morning, now that I think about it…But I'll go get something!" he immediately declared, getting up from the bench. "Do you want something too, Natalie?"

"Yeah, I guess…" the Ledian said. "Get whatever. I ain't fussy."

"Right." The Gligar then made his way to the square where the merchants were. He returned a short while later with six berries of different varieties.

"Three each," he offered, as he sat back on the bench.

"Thank ya." Natalie took a pecha berry and bit into it. "Mmm…Nice."

"Just in today, the Kecleon were saying," Axel said, before biting into his own berry - an aspear. "Wow, this is tasty. I love aspears, but these are really nice!" He took another bite out of the berry, and soon scarfed it down.

Natalie watched him as he reached for another and began eating that too. It was fairly mundane what they were doing. And it wasn't the first time she'd seen him eat - she and Serafina had had many breakfasts with Team Sandstream.

But this was the first time the two of them were alone eating together. And there was something about it that the Ledian couldn't quite place. But it was nicer, somehow? Sharing a snack with someone she knew that wasn't Serafina. And someone she felt wasn't too pushy or open with feelings.

I like him a bit more than Ishmael. That ol' croc's a bit loud fer me. Somethin' 'bout Axel's…just right, really.

Natalie allowed herself a small smile as she took a bite out of an oran berry. She noticed the Gligar had already finished his second, and was moving onto his last.

"What's your favourite berry, Natalie?" he wondered.

"Well…" The Ledian considered her answer. "S'pose it might be weird, but…pomeg berries."

"Pomeg berries?" Axel was surprised to hear that. "You don't come across those every day, do you?"

"Naw. Usually just for the noble folk. I had some when Sera invited me to dinner with her folks. It was this big dish that had pomeg berries in it, and they were really nice." She smiled at the memory.

"That sounds cool. We didn't have anything like that back home," Axel replied.

"Back home? Ya ain't Selenian, are ya?" Natalie queried.

"No." Axel shook his head. "Alban. So are Ish and Lill."

"Alba…Ain't been up there. It's a big desert, ain't it?"

"Pretty much. Though it's not so bad you can't live there. And stuff grows there, too, depending on where you live. Berries are pretty hardy things."

"They sure are."

The conversation stopped for a while. But the silence didn't quite feel as awkward this time. It was at least better than the silences that had come before.

"S-Sorry if I ain't much of a talker," apologised Natalie, trying to break the silence.

"Natalie, it's fine!" Axel said. "I'm not really good at talking either. I'm usually better in group conversations. Usually when Ish or Lill are around. But on my own?" He shrugged sheepishly. "I'm hopeless."

"Better 'n me…"

"Don't feel bad about it! H-Hey, how about this?" the Gligar suggested. "Let's not worry about talking. Let's just sit here, be quiet and enjoy the day. Because the weather really is nice today."

"Mmm…it is." Natalie had to agree. Even if the weather had been rather dry, it wasn't unbearably hot. It was pleasant, in fact.

And so the two remained sitting on that bench for some more time, basking in the sun in silence as suggested by Axel. This was better for them; there was no need to worry about trying to find a conversation starter or to keep that conversation going. Sometimes, the quietness between the two spoke more words than they ever could.

It was pleasant enough, and warm enough, that soon the Gligar found his eyes begin to droop. He laid his head back against the bench, and closed his eyes…





"...xel? Axel?"

A voice began to drag him out of consciousness. Also, he could feel himself being shaken lightly, as if he was being told to wake up. Five more minutes, Mom… he found himself lazily thinking.

But the shaking persisted, and with reluctance, the bat began to open his bleary eyes. He blinked as he began to open his eyes, and quickly became adjusted to the bright sunlight.

"A-Axel…"

That voice…Natalie? Axel turned to face her…only to realise something.

He was a lot closer to her than he had been. In fact, he'd been leaning on her shoulder while he slept.

"N-Natalie!" he cried out, moving off her as quickly as he could. "I-I swear, I didn't mean to!" His face was rapidly reddening. "D-Did I fall asleep on you?"

"Y-Ya kinda did, yeah…"

"I'm sorry!" he apologised. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I won't do it again!" He was frantic, fearing he'd upset his partner for the morning.

"H-Hey, Axel!" The Ledian actually raised her voice for once. "It's fine! Yer alright!"

"...S-Sorry. I didn't mean to do that..." Apology was written all over Axel's face.

"Y-Ya ain't done nothin' wrong." Natalie tried to sound calm, but the embarrassment in her voice and her blush gave her true feelings away. "I dozed too."

"You did?"

"Mmhm. Didn't mean ta, but I did. Didn't even notice ya were sleepin' too 'til I got up. It was a bit 'fore ya did."

"So we both fell asleep, then…" Axel rubbed some sleep from his eye. "Guess it's just that sort of day, huh?"

"Mus' be," murmured Natalie.

"...What time is it, anyway? How long were we out for?" The Gligar looked up at the sky. It looked to be afternoon, based on the sun's position.

"Dunno. 'Bout an hour, I reckon." The Ledian followed his gaze.

"That carpenter might be done with the ladder," Axel said. "Should we go check?"

"...Might as well." Natalie began to get up. Axel did the same.

"Oh, um…Natalie," he said. "Let's, um…Can we pretend that didn't happen?" Lill and Ish would never let me hear the end of it…

"Y-Yeah." The bug was quick to agree. "It don't mean nothin'. Better pretendin' it didn't happen."

"Good. Thanks, Natalie," Axel said gratefully.

"Yer welcome, I guess…"





Thankfully, the carpenter was as good as his word on his speed, presenting the duo with a brand new ladder. It was sturdier than the old one, and Axel and Natalie carried it back to the Guild. From there, they helped to get it in the right place, with the help of Ishmael and Lex below. It was soon in place, and missions could now be done again.

They soon went down into the Guild, and the two of them reunited with their respective teams.

"I was thinking of doing more missions, Natalie," Serafina said to her. "After this morning's delay, we should make haste towards helping others in need."

"Gotcha, Sera," Natalie replied.

"And Axel." The mention of his name drew the Gligar's attention. "I thank you for accompanying Natalie today. I presume it went well?"

"Oh, er…Y-Yeah! Yeah, it did," Axel quickly replied. "N-Nothing to report." He immediately regretted his stumbling of words.

"Yeah, e-everythin' went smoothly," Natalie said. "A-Ain't nothin' gone wrong. Y-Ya were very nice, Axel."

"Oh?" She's complimenting me? "Th-Thank you," the bat blurted, not sure what to say next.

"Anyway. Let's get goin'. Sun ain't gonna be up forever." Natalie turned heel and went over towards the mission desk with Serafina.

Axel watched her go. The compliment the Ledian had given him had given him a strange feeling inside his heart. Not a bad feeling by any means; quite the opposite. A smile came over him as he looked over at Natalie sifting through the missions.

She's really nice. I wouldn't mind another day like that. Just her and me together…

"Oi, Ax." Ishmael's voice drew him away from gazing at the Ledian. When he turned around, though, he caught the teasing grins on both his and Lillian's faces, and his smile turned upside down. Oh no…what are they gonna say?

"So how was the day with your new girlfriend?" Lillian went right for the jugular.

"L-Lill!" Axel protested, his face hot. "Sh-She's not - "

"'Swot they all say, mate," Ishmael interrupted. "Go on, jus' say it!"

"She's not my girlfriend!"

But they wouldn't hear it. And so the banter would continue on into the night, and the next day too.

However, though he protested otherwise, Axel couldn't deny feeling a soft spot for that shy farmgirl from Karelia. That morning with her, though shaky and awkward, was the first time they'd interacted on their lonesome, with no one else to interfere and ruin everything between them.

Maybe that was all that was needed for seeds of something greater to be sown.





Notes

This takes place during the present day part of Special Episode 1. Decided to give a fluffy episode to the awkward-on-his-own bat and the shy ladybug.
 
Paralogue 6 - Made with Love

Arukona

A Scribe Penning His Brainworms
Location
Ardalion
Pronouns
He/him
Partners
  1. aggron
  2. sceptile
  3. lucario
Paralogue 6
Made with Love

Rufina drags Mitrofan out of his stuffy office for some fresh air. But as the Aggron finds out, it's hardly a selfish move on her part.

(Spoilers for Chapter 18)






Mitrofan sat at his desk, doing paperwork. It was one of his basic duties as Guildmaster, to make sure everything in his Guild ran like clockwork. And as the most storied and famous guild in Selenia, founded by the legendary Team Hope themselves, he had to make sure that legacy was to be upheld.

After all, the Guild was a bestowment to him by his predecessor. The Aggron had every intention of seeing that Yaromir didn't make a poor choice by electing him as Guildmaster. There were critics that doubted his ability to lead the Guild since his nomination, and he was determined to prove them wrong.

Thankfully, those voices had become quieter over time, at least within the Guild. Nearly everyone had been convinced he was great Guildmaster material. With such confidence in him, Mitrofan became even more determined to keep up the good work and not let them down.

He finished another paper, and went to dip his pen back in the inkwell. He had spent the morning filling out page after page of paperwork and he had managed to whittle down the pile of paper down to about half the size it had been.

Still more to go, then. Mitrofan let out a sigh as he pulled his pen out of the well, and resumed his work.

However, he didn't get long into it before he heard three knocks on his office door. They were a very familiar set of knocks - which the Aggron knew all too well.

The door was opened, and in strode a Haxorus - one very close to Mitrofan's heart. Under her arm, she carried a wicker basket.

"Rufina…" Mitrofan had mixed feelings about seeing his wife right now. On one hand, he was happy to see his beloved. But on the other… "I'm busy right now."

"I know. And I don't care." Rufina gestured to the pile of paper on his desk. "Doesn't this bore you, doing all this paperwork? It'd drive me up the wall if I had to do this day in, day out."

"It has to be done. Whether I like it or not doesn't matter." Mitrofan put the pen back in the inkwell. "This paperwork needs to be done if the Guild is to regularly function."

"I know, I know. But you know…you need to get out of this cycle of endlessly doing paperwork. It's not good for your posture." The Haxorus put down the basket, walked over and placed her claws on Mitrofan's back. "Imagine being hunched over all the damn time. That'll ruin your back and your neck." Her voice sounded more teasing rather than concerned, though.

"This coming from a dragon with a hunched back? How rich," Mitrofan quipped.

"Oh, Mitt, you sly hunk of metal, you!" Rufina went in and began to tickle him.

"Ah! Get away!" The Aggron swatted away his wife's tickles, finding himself laughing at his wife's playful decision.

"I'll stop tickling you once you agree to get out and get some fresh air!" The Haxorus never let up. "Come on! Up out of your chair!"

"Alright, alright! I'll get up!" Mitrofan got up out of his chair. "Just stop tickling me!"

"Good! You're learning!" Rufina did as he asked. "Guess my charms still work on you."

"They always do. Now what are we going to do?"

"Go outside, of course. Where else? The Guild's stuffy enough at the best of times. And it's especially stuffy today."

"But there's barely anyone in the Guild today..." It was quiet, hence why he chose to do paperwork to avail of that blissful silence. Not even Aldebrand was in today; he'd been told to come in later in the afternoon to prepare dinner.

"I know what I said, Mitt. Now come on."

The couple made their way out of the Guild and to the grassy fields that lay beside the path to Iria itself. These were fields that some mercenary teams practised in with the guidance of Galen, the dojo master. Being Guild members for nearly a decade now, both Mitrofan and Rufina had done the same on a number of occasions.

But it was also used for grazing and relaxation whenever Guild members wished to catch a moment of repose. Based on the prior conversation, Mitrofan could tell Rufina intended for this.

It was mid-afternoon, and the day was fairly nice. It had been raining earlier in the week, but the sun had come out in the past few days, with accompaniment of some overcast clouds. Rainfall looked unlikely, though.

"What's in the basket?" Mitrofan immediately asked, once he and Rufina sat down on the grass.

"It's a little present from me." Rufina pulled off the chequered cloth to reveal what lay inside. It was something that her husband wasn't expecting.

"A cake?"

Indeed it was - a chocolate cake. But on the cake was an intriguing design. Looking at it, Mitrofan couldn't help but think it resembled an Aggron's helm, flanked at its side by a Haxorus's tusks. Around the outer edge of the cake's top, a message had been written in icing.

"'Happy Silver Axe Anniversary!'?" he read.

"Yep. Don't you remember?" Rufina said. "We met each other on this day ten years ago and formed Team Silver Axe."

"It is?" Mitrofan was aghast? "...Creator's mane, has it really been ten years already?" He looked away in embarrassment.

"I had a feeling you'd forget. Always forgetting things like this in favour of work," Rufina admonished. "Good thing I didn't. And I gotta thank Stiliyan for this too."

"Stiliyan helped you?"

"In a way. He came home from school with a drawing he did in art class. He wanted to draw the two of us, but apparently it was 'too hard'." She snickered at that. "He just decided to draw two main features of each of us. Not the best drawing, but hey - he's still a kid. I copied it for the cake design."

"Indeed. He might well become a budding artist in time. That is, if he doesn't want to become Guildmaster like me."

"Tell me about it. We sure have one ambitious kid, didn't we?"

"We do indeed. …But enough talk. May I have some cake?"

"Go ahead. Brought a knife and everything."

Mitrofan took the knife and cut a slice of the cake. He took it in his hand and bit into it.

"...Mmm." He smacked his lips. "That is nice." He went for another bite, with an eagerness that was a familiar sight to his wife.

"Funny. You're all about politeness at the dinner table, but when you have something you really like, you'd gladly throw manners out the window to gobble up food," Rufina observed, a wry smile on her face. As she spoke, she cut a slice for herself.

"I-I have no idea what you're talking about," Mitrofan said, as he finished the slice.

"Don't hide it, Mitt. It's cute when you eat something you really like." Rufina dug into the slice she'd cut for herself. "...Heh. It'sh great," she said, her mouth full.

"I want another." Mitrofan took the knife again, and cut another slice. "Mmm…this is really nice. If I didn't know any better, I would think Zenobia made this."

"Oh, come on, Mitt, I'm not that good!" protested Rufina, having eaten her slice. "She'd knock it out of the park if she made this. My cooking's crap compared to hers."

"But you made this," Mitrofan pointed out. "That makes this better than any cake by a professional. The fact you took the time and effort to bake this makes me very happy."

"Glad you like it." The Haxorus leaned on her husband's side. "Hey, as long as my cooking's not being compared to Kallias's, I'll take it."

"You're certainly not that bad," Mitrofan said, with a shudder.

"You know, I've never actually tasted Kallias's cooking," Rufina noted. "...How bad is it?"

"How bad?" Memories of a blackened, goopy mess of a meal came back to the Guildmaster, back when he and Team Marshwood were on a joint mission together and Kallias had been on cooking duty. "...'Revolting' wouldn't do it justice. It can't be put in words just how vile it was."

"Renegade's tendrils," Rufina muttered mirthfully. "Sounds terrible."

"You have no idea…"

"Aww, it's okay, Mitt. I'll protect you from whatever monstrosity Kallias cooks up." The Haxorus traced her claw along Mitrofan's side.

"Does that mean whenever Kallias makes food, you'll eat it for me?"

"I never said that!" Rufina recoiled "I wouldn't in a million years eat something that disgusting! I'd bat it away! Or throw it into a river or something!"

"I'd fear for the ferals of that habitat." The Aggron had a silly grin on his face. "I wouldn't even throw it in the sea. It would need to be vaporised out of existence."

"Ha!" Rufina was laughing. "You're a riot, Mitt!"

"And you're a good cook, Rufina. Now then." Mitrofan reached for the basket. "I think I might go for another."

"Another? I'd be careful if I were you," warned Rufina. "Don't have too much now. Being Guildmaster doesn't mean much exercise with all that paperwork. And you've already got a bit of pudge on you." She poked the Aggron's belly.

"Th-That's not true!" he objected, getting defensive. "That's muscle, not fat! And I do plenty of training to keep myself in shape! It's natural for most Aggron to have that bulk!"

"Hardy har, Mitt. Just riling you up." Rufina cuddled up to her husband. "At least I know not much'll get through that thick hide of yours." She playfully smacked his side, which gave off a metallic ping as claws met iron.

"You see? Natural bulk," Mitrofan said.

"Whatever you say, Mitt." His wife looked back at the basket, now half eaten. "I would've gotten you iron ore, which I know you love, but I kinda wanted something that we could share together."

"For the better you did. Because this really is nice." Mitrofan had finished his third slice, and was reaching for the knife again. "Goodness, this cake is more-ish. You did a great job with it, Rufina."

"You must be hungry, if you're having this much cake."

"You know as well as I do that I don't do little portions, Rufina. You know my appetite."

"Of course you do, you big hunk. You need all that food to fuel your strength. How else did you become so strong?" Rufina went to hug Mitrofan, but given his huge size and her short arms, she didn't get far on that front. The Aggron saw this, and hugged her in return.

"I love you so much, Mitt. I'm so glad I met you, all those years back."

"I'm as glad as you. Thank you for being the best wife and partner in the whole world."

"D'aww, Mitt!" Rufina looked up into her husband's eyes lovingly. He returned the gesture with a loving smile.

"I don't think I could be happier than when I'm with you," Mitrofan said.

"Same, Mitt. I love you."

"And I you, Rufina. May our bond remain strong, no matter what happens to us."





Notes

Happy Valentine's Day! Hope you enjoyed this lovey-dovey paralogue.
 

Spiteful Murkrow

Busy Writing Stories I Want to Read
Pronouns
He/Him/His
Partners
  1. nidoran-f
  2. druddigon
  3. swellow
  4. lugia
  5. quilava-fobbie
  6. sneasel-kate
  7. heliolisk-fobbie
Heya, took a while, but I’m dropping in for a quick and dirty review of your first Paralogue to round out this year’s Review Event offsite since I did want to get around to trying it out, especially after the positive impression that the main story these shorter ones are attached to left on me.

So let’s just hop right to that with…

Paralogue 1

Elvira stood on the beach outside her house. In the Treecko's hands, she wielded two pieces of driftwood that had washed up on the shoreline.

Oh, so swords as proper weapons exist in this setting? Or is this her daydreaming she’s a Grovyle.

She could see it now. She was a Sceptile that had been honed in the art of combat, and had faced down many an outlaw. And here she was, facing down another dastardly criminal - a Simipour, in her mind.

Oh-ho, so those do exist in Ardalion beyond the Thousand Roses, which were a bit different from what we saw of them in Dual Wills archetypical PMD Outlaws given that they’re closer to a politically-connected mafia. I’ll have to keep an eye out for them in the main story / the later paralogues in this series, since it does make me wonder what they’re like given your Dual Wills’ more “fantasy novel-esque” atmosphere.

"Hi-yah! Ferned Cross Slash!" she cried out, leaping forward and doing an imaginary combination of Leaf Blade and X-Scissor, crossing her 'blades' in the motion of an X. She imagined dealing a hefty amount of damage to the 'outlaw'. The 'outlaw' then leapt forward, but she saw his attack coming from a mile away, and leapt backward. Then she moved in again.

"Blackthorn Cross Slash!" This was a combination of Leaf Blade and Night Slash, and she slashed at her 'opponent'. That was the decider; the enemy fell down in defeat.

I see Elvira’s been reading Monado: Beginning of the World from the family book collection lately with how much she’s getting into calling those made-up attacks of hers.
:loltias:


I actually wonder if she’s outgrown this by the time of Dual Wills proper or if we’ll get to actually see her do this in the main story at some point.

Victory had been hers. All thanks to her exceptional skill as a mercenary. All thanks to her wit at outfoxing that dastardly outlaw. All thanks to -

"Playing mercenary again, eh, Elvira?"

Cue Elvira whirling around all-but-dying of embarrassment in 3… 2…

"Ah!" And just like that, the fantasy faded, and Elvira found herself back on the beach with the two pieces of driftwood in her hands. She turned around to see a Sceptile with a bemused look on his face.

Whelp, time to find out just how visibly a Treecko in this setting can blush. >:V

His name was Kallias, and he had two sides to him. One - what he was more well-known as - one of the famous mercenaries in Ardalion. He belonged to the Irian Guild, and with his Swampert partner, Melchior, in their team, Team Marshwood, they had worked tirelessly to make their name among one of the most prestigious on the continent of Ardalion.

On one level, while this technically works, I wonder if there was a way of phrasing this smoother along with potentially dropping in a few flavor details. e.x. As a throwaway example assuming this moment occurred sometime before Team Marshwood made Grandmaster Rank:

That was Fernblade Kallias, a Pokémon with two sides to him:

The first side, and what most others knew him for, was for his work as a mercenary for the Irian Guild. Half of the famed Team Marshwood alongside his Swampert partner, Melchior, who had become paragons of heroism and bravery for their trade renowned across Ardalion. Day in and day out, they worked tirelessly, to the point that some whispered that he and Melchior would be the first mercenary in years to attain the prestigious Grandmaster Rank and join the ranks of heroes and legends immortalized by history.

Might be on the more verbose side, but you get the idea. If you wax poetic a bit about Kallias there and drop in a couple worldbuilding deets, it helps sell a sense of “this guy is this kid’s idol” (and from Dual Wills proper, he very much was) in a way that the present prose doesn’t quite have thanks to it being more “neutral” in vibe.

Something to consider, at least.

His other, less well-known side, though, was as a caring, doting father. This side, Elvira was more familiar with. But she was all too aware of how great a mercenary he was, and tried to emulate his every move. Her goal was to eventually join the Irian Guild and become a mercenary just like her father, once she was old enough to do so.

[ ]

"H-Hi Dad," she greeted.

IMO, it probably makes sense to drop in a small bit where you show Elvira getting flustered and maybe address the ‘why’ a bit. Like does she think that she looks silly right now or something?

That said, something about the “other side” paragraph also feels like it could be smoothed out and give a bit more examples of how Kallias is a ‘caring, doting father’. Consider something along the lines of the following:

His other, less well-known side, was as her caring, doting father—one that Elvira was more familiar with. One who sent back money and even the occasional treasure from his adventures to ensure that she and her mother never wanted for anything. And one who guarded the precious snatches of time that he had to visit her between his work with Melchior on Team Marshwood as jealously as he would one of the Pokémon he rescued from a Mystery Dungeon. Which was why he was home visiting in the first place.

Perhaps it was childish pride, but the two sides of her father were inseparable to her. Especially his exploits as a mercenary. Time and again, she’d try to emulate his every move, her head full of dreams of joining the Irian Guild as soon as she was old enough to and become a mercenary herself. One just like her father.

Once again, the specifics don’t have to be that, and it might be getting into the long-winded side of things, but showing off the “what does that look like” factor of things a bit more thoroughly would go a long way towards selling a sense of connection and idolization between Elvira and Kallias a bit more vividly.

"Hello to you too, Elvira," Kallias returned. "I see you're trying to emulate my style of the two your hand at my twin Leaf Blade techniques."

It was his signature fighting style that marked set him apart from other Sceptile, and he had become famous for it. And of course, in her idolisation of him, Elvira tried to mirror that same technique.

Some minor rephrasing suggestions there and would suggest splitting this paragraph. Though something about that last paragraph feels a bit “samey” somehow since you’ve already mentioned that Elvira idolizes Kallias so I wonder if there’s a way to get to this destination under a bit of a different wording. e.x.:

It was his signature fighting style that set him apart from other Sceptile, which he’d become famous for. And of course, as a would-be mercenary set on being the spitting image of her father, Elvira had spent many an afternoon trying to mirror his techniques.

Though for the record, I’m totally looking forward to Elvira getting a chance to do this properly herself one day. Assuming she doesn’t wind up cooking up her own fighting style along her journey, anyways.

"Yeah," Elvira replied. "...Did I do good?"

[ ]
"...Well enough, at least," surmised her father. "It's not perfect, though."

"I know." The Treecko looked down in disappointment. "I can't make the Leaf Blades yet."

Might make sense to show off Kallias’ reaction to Elvira’s fooling around a bit more explicitly here. Like I assume the idea is that he’s having a bit of a giggle and being a good sport about things, but that’s never actually explicitly depicted right now.

[ ]

"That's not unusual. When you're a Grovyle, you'll be able to do it," Kallias informed. "But even then, most Grovyle don't learn it until they're nearer to their evolution into a Sceptile."

Also another moment where considering dropping in some body language or whatnot might make sense for Kallias. Basically, we’ve been informed that he’s a caring and doting father, so showing it through little things like the equivalent of headpets or stooping down to his daughter’s level would likely sell that sense more. (Oh, and be adorable in the process.)

"Oh, so...I won't get it for a while, then." Elvira's murmured, her gaze falling towards the sand in deeper disappointment became even more apparent.

[ ]

"Don't be sad about it," Kallias said, trying to cheer up his daughter. "Keep doing what you're doing with the wood. That's what I did when I was your age.”

[ ]

I used a wooden sword to try and copy my own dad's movements,” he explained. “But then I saw a Gallade fighting one day and thought to myself, 'Why not have two blades?' And so I began using two wooden swords from then on. And that's how your dad developed his fighting style."

A couple other bits where it’s worth considering to drop in some body language between Elvira and Kallias. I also think that it’s worth splitting Kallias’ dialogue where he goes into his story into two parts since otherwise it’s fairly long to take in in one breath.

"Wow...I never knew that," Elvira said, a bit more happy about things now after hearing her father's encouragement. "...I want to fight just like you, Dad!"

The bit in underlined IMO works a bit better pulled forward and reworked into a standalone description paragraph.

[ ]

"Just like me, eh?" Kallias repeated. "...Hmm..."

[ ]
"...What?" Elvira caught the slight doubt in her father's voice. "Should I...not do that?"

You probably want to more explicitly describe the emotional transition a bit more through described body language or internal thoughts a bit more explicitly. Since just before this section, Elvira and Kallias were both in a chipper and lighthearted mood while now they’re quite a bit less so. Without some mention of their moods shifting, it makes it read as if it comes very suddenly, which I don’t think was the intent.

[ ]

"No no, I'm not saying that, Elvira,” Kallias insisted. “What I'm trying to say is...don't just take my technique and copy it. Learn skills from others and incorporate them into your own fighting style.

[ ]

When you become a mercenary, you'll meet a wide variety of people,” he explained. “Don't be afraid to ask for tips on combat from others, especially when your fighting style is more malleable in your younger years.

[ ]

...Though it's not necessarily a young thing. You still learn new things when you're at my level."

Another spot where it feels like things would benefit from taking things a bit slower and interleaving more description, especially mutual reactions from Elvira and Kallias. You could potentially also get away with Kallias’ dialogue being in two paragraphs, though doing it in three with some moments to stop and smell the proverbial roses felt most natural to me.

"Really, Dad? I didn't know that..."

[ ]
"Well, I'll show you. There's a new move I've made for myself in recent times. I'll show you it here."

Kallias straightened his stance, and conjured his blades. Elvira watched with rapt interest. [ ]
"Belladonna Cross Slash!"

Oh, so it’s not just Elvira who’s been gawking at the family copy of Monado: Beginning of the World, huh?
:lultias:


Though I split off the bit about Kallias straightening his stance into its own paragraph and expand it a bit, and maybe also consider dropping in some reaction from him reassuring Elvira or something as her mood starts to come around.

Suddenly, the blades turned a purplish colour with venom dripping off them. Kallias then leapt forward and delivered a X-shaped slash, followed by the familiar movement that Elvira knew to be his Leaf Blade attack.

"Wow, Dad!" The Treecko applauded, her eyes wide with wonder. "What was that?"

"That was a combination of Leaf Blade and Cross Poison," explained her father.

Wait, Sceptile can learn that-?

- Checks Bulbapedia -

A TM move from SnS, huh? Never realized that, but clever attention to detail there, since it definitely caught me by surprise there. And probably a good deal of Kallias’ foes, too.

"Cross Poison? I didn't know you could learn that..."

"I didn't either. But a Drapion client I helped in Alba insisted Sceptile could learn it and offered to teach it to me. And here I am, with another technique at my disposal," Kallias said. "Hopefully, you'll pick up techniques of your own to use in battle when you become a mercenary."

Oh, so TMs are learned as move tutor moves in this setting, huh? I mean, it makes sense, and it’s a handy side-step to there not being anthropogenic technology lying around. Though does this mean that there’s also Teleporting Arcanine in Ardalion running around?

[ ]

"It's great hearing all these stories and advice from you, Dad." Elvira put down her pieces of driftwood on the sand, and looked out at the horizon, where the sun was beginning to set. "...A shame you're leaving tomorrow."

[ ]
"...I know. The duty of a mercenary calls, Elvira. But I'll be back again soon, hopefully, with more tales to tell of what I've gotten up to."

Ah yes, the downside of your dad being an adventurer by trade. Though it makes me wonder just how frequently Kallias had the chance to come home back at the time of this paralogue or if these were relatively rare treats.

I’ll spare the broken record, but yeah. This moment would likely work a bit better with a bit more attention on the moods and reactions of Elvira and dad there since it’s a bit of a heartfelt moment there.

"Nothing too scary, please," pleaded the Treecko. "Mom nearly had a heart attack when you talked about the Monster House when you went to that Mystery Dungeon in Miletos."

[ ]
"That was a close shave, alright. ...But I'll take your advice and stay safe," promised Kallias. "And in return, you stay safe down here in Ozerograd. Don't let bullies get the better of you, you hear?"

Ditto here, even if it’s something as simple as giving a couple vague details about just what went down in the Miletos Incident™ since it’d help the readers get a firmer idea of what some of the hazards of being a mercenary in this world might entail.

"They don't bully me any more, Dad." Elvira couldn't help but roll her eyes at his words. "...But I'll stay safe, don't worry."

bender-laughing.gif


Doing a great job of that in the present day, Elvira.

"Good." Kallias then looked back towards the house. "...Dinner's nearly ready. I came down to tell you that, but I got sidetracked in all of this. ...You must be hungry. I’d should imagine your playacting built up an appetite."

[ ]
"Heh...yeah, I think it does," Elvira laughed, realising she was feeling peckish.

I kinda wonder if the whole “feeling peckish” thing ought to have been “shown” a bit more. e.x. if on the sillier side of things, Elvira’s stomach growled and she had a flustered moment of “... Yeah, I’m hungry right now” internally or something like that. Since it’s one thing for the story to say in effect “Elvira felt hungry”, but it’s a little different to “see” that in action a bit more.

"Let's go back. It smells delicious." Kallias started back towards the house, with his daughter following quickly after him. Given how delicious her cooking was, neither were willing to miss it.

It might make sense to rephrase this slightly, since it feels a little repetitive to talk about something smelling delicious and then verbatim that said cooking is delicious. Something as simple as turning one or the other into “tasty” or “great” would likely be sufficient to smooth things over on that front.

And besides...it was his last night during this particular stay. If previous experience was anything to go by, it would be a heavenly meal worthy for even the Creator's lips.

Ditto here. It might make sense to inject some nuance that isn’t already brought up, such as Zenobia going above and beyond on these last nights whenever Kallias is about to leave or something, since you’ve already established that the characters expect the meal to be delicious.

Also, this paralogue is adorable, even if there's a bit of a sad undertone knowing that this won't last from the proper story.

Alright, made it to the end. I’m admittedly not sure how much I can say about 1100-ish words of story, but I thought it was a cute moment of Elvira’s backstory, and it was nice to finally get to see a glimpse of what Kallias was like in his own words and actions. I also thought that the paralogue delivered well in terms of being designed to be accessible to people even if they haven't read Dual Wills beforehand. It’s a balancing act that a lot of gaiden material for stories out there doesn’t manage to pull off, but yours does, so kudos on that.

As for criticisms… I won’t hold it against the Paralogue too much since it was essentially written as a response to a timed prompt, but it felt like it’d have benefitted a lot from having more description in general. While this is ironically is one of those scenarios where you can get away with quite a bit of "tell" and less "show" than normal in a story since you have a finite amount of time and space to introduce glimpses of your characters and their world, you ideally want to show the logical outgrowths of the thing you tell your audience. e.x. if you describe Kallias as a caring and doting father, show some body language where he does some caring and doting things for her. After all, at 1100 words, you certainly have the space to expand things before the paralogue started to feel unwieldy in length.

But every rose has its thorn, and in spite of its flaws, the story was genuinely cute and endearing to the point where it didn’t really get in the way of my enjoyment of it. Hope the feedback helped a bit, @Arukona . Not sure if you’re planning on revising any of your earlier content or if you’ll just keep plowing along in the future, but between this and your main story, you’ve definitely got me hungry for more of your world, and I’ll be keeping it on the radar for reading material later on in the year. ^^
 
Paralogue 7 - Under a Starry Sky

Arukona

A Scribe Penning His Brainworms
Location
Ardalion
Pronouns
He/him
Partners
  1. aggron
  2. sceptile
  3. lucario
Paralogue 7
Under a Starry Night

"Man…the sky's pretty bright tonight, isn't it?"

"You can say that again. It's so pretty…"

Team Elpis watched the night sky above them. It was a clear night, with not a cloud in the sky. Upon the nighttime canvas, an array of stars twinkled brightly, along with a gleaming crescent moon.

Right now, they were sprawled out on a beach. But not just any beach. A very familiar place - it was upon that shoreline that these two souls had their fateful encounter. The crashing of the waves brought Elvira back to that day, and she sighed happily, remembering the time she found her partner, washed up on these shores.

"Look there, Elvira." Arian pointed to the sky. "That star there - that's a bit of an odd one, isn't it?"

"That's the Crux of Jirachi," Elvira told him. "It's a lucky star. They say those born under this star will lead lucky lives going forth."

"I bet any money that's just folktale rubbish," Arian said.

"Mmm, probably," the Treecko murmured. "But it's still believed in some circles. There's plenty of other constellations, like Entei's Mane, Cobalion's Horn and the Creator's Cross-Wheel. I don't know them all, but Dad knew some of them. We have a book on them back at the house."

"It's not as though we have to know them all," Arian replied. "It's a bunch of pretty stars. That's all we need. Who cares about the details?"

"...You have a point, Arian," Elvira said, with a mild giggle. "Let's just lie here and enjoy the beauty of the night sky."

And so they did. Accompanying the beautiful view was the sound of crashing waves against the shore, which provided soothing breaks to the silence.

"You know…loving couples tend to confess to one another on nights like these." Elvira broke the silence. "Dad told me once that it was a night like this that he told Mom he wanted to marry her. And I'm sure there's many more couples that can say the same."

The Treecko turned her gaze to Arian. "Maybe a lot of future couples might plan the same thing. Eh, Arian?" She then gave him a playful wink.

"W-Wait! E-Elvira…" Arian caught the look in her eye. "Are you saying-?!"

"Hee hee! No, Arian!" the Treecko giggled. "I'm only joking!"

"Oh, thank God." Arian breathed a sigh of relief. "For a second, I thought you were gonna pull out a ring and ask me to marry you."

"Arian!" Elvira laughed. "No, I wouldn't be able to do that. I'd be quivering like a Snorunt at the thought of it!"

The two had a good laugh, before laying back down and gazing up at the starry night.

"Well…I don't know about marriage," Elvira began again. "But Arian…you do mean a lot to me. Really. With you by my side, I've met so many people and actually worked towards making a difference in people's lives. As a mercenary, that's always what I've wanted to do."

"Well, uh, thanks." Arian scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I'm glad I could help you in that way. And hey - thanks to you. I don't even know where I'd be without you."

"In the Thorned Roses, perhaps."

"Oh dear, I don't want to imagine that." Arian shuddered at the thought.

"No, indeed," Elvira chuckled. "Good thing they're not around anymore."

"You bet."

They stared at the sky in silence once more. The sound of the waves was calm to the ears, and the sand was soft and comfortable, enough for Arian to think it was almost bed-like.

Ehh. Maybe not that comfortable. Besides, I don't want Zenobia to worry if we stay out here too late.

"Right, Elvira. Should we head back?" Arian said, as he began to get up. He looked over at his partner, before blinking in surprise.

His partner's eyes were closed, and she was breathing softly, in and out.

She fell asleep? Dang. Wasn't expecting that. Still, though…best to get her home.

But looking upon her sleeping form, Arian felt a twinge of guilt. She looks so peaceful. I don't wanna disturb her.

He considered his options, before an idea came to him.

He went over to her, put his paws under her, and lifted her up into his arms.

Urk. Heavier than I thought. Still, the Riolu didn't jostle her too much, so as not to wake her.

Slowly but surely, Arian made his way off the beach, carrying the slumbering Elvira in his paws. He looked at the Treecko, and a smile crept across his muzzle.

You mean a lot to me too, Elvira. Thanks for being my partner. I couldn't have asked for anyone better.





Notes

This short fluff piece is largely inspired by similar short fluff pieces written by a few of my writer friends over at the PMD Writers' Union Discord. DoomHuntley was the one that started it all, and a few others such as Gyeig and Turkeyuwu have written their own fluff. I decided to join in on the fun and write this piece, while also showing it off here in my Paralogues.
 
Paralogue 8 - A Festive Air

Arukona

A Scribe Penning His Brainworms
Location
Ardalion
Pronouns
He/him
Partners
  1. aggron
  2. sceptile
  3. lucario
Paralogue 8
A Festive Air

Team Marshwood attend a festival in Ferma, a town in the Karelia oblast.




"My, what do we have here?"

Kallias said this, as Team Marshwood approached the small town of Ferma. In spite of its small size and cosy nature, it was the main administrative centre of the Karelia oblast, located in the southwest corner of Selenia. House Dorofeyev, the rulers of the oblast, ruled over this corner of the tsardom, and were held in good stead by Karelia's smallfolk of mostly farmers.

"It's a festival of some sort," observed Melchior. "I think I've heard in some circles that Karelia holds a festival around harvest time."

"Ah yes. I remember Anna talking about it," Kallias recalled. "She's from here, I believe."

"I hope she has a good retirement once she officially steps down," Melchior said. "Though I'm not fully sure about putting Nikita into her shoes. Is that wise? He's still young and inexperienced…"

"Nikita's opened up a lot more since Mitrofan took him in." The Sceptile reflected on the little Cubone that Mitrofan brought into the Guild one day. Nikita had been stick-thin, and was quite scared of the Guild's comings and goings. Reassurances from Mitrofan, Team Marshwood and the rest of the Guild mercenaries did much to help, although it would be a while before he opened up a bit more. Even now, he was still incredibly shy.

"He's fit for most things these days. He'll learn, and if he's not suitable to replace Anna, Mitrofan can always find someone else and reassign Nikita elsewhere. There's plenty of capable people out there that can fill Anna's role."

"...I suppose. But anyway, we're not here to wonder about those things." Melchior shook his head. "Let's find Lord Karelia. And afterwards…" He looked up at the village gate, strewn with colourful bunting. "We'll maybe see what this festival is all about."

"Agreed. I wouldn't mind checking this out for myself."

An air of festivity could be felt as Kallias and Melchior stepped into the village. There were stalls set up, showing all the fresh produce on display. Village houses had been spruced up by their owners for this special occasion, with the thatch on the roofs being redone and the house walls being given new coats of paint. The smell of whitewash was one of the aromas that made up the festival air, applied to the cottages to give them the trademark look of the country cottage that made up Selenian tradition.

There was something else Team Marshwood noticed about the people of the village. A number of them wore a distinct dress of a dark brown brimmed hat and beige vest. Not everyone did, but enough people wore them that it drew Melchior and Kallias's attention.

"Hm. There seems to be a bit of fancy dress going on here," Melchior observed.

"Fancy dress, eh?" Kallias sounded interested. "I wouldn't mind taking part in that. Do they provide those outfits anywhere?"

Before the Sceptile could get that answer, though, he noticed a number of villagers peering at him and Melchior. They then began to whisper to each other.

"A Swampert and a Sceptile?"

"What in tarnation…Them folks?"

"What are famous 'uns like 'em doin' here?"

This whispering, however, was drowned out by the excited shouts of some.

"Look over yonder! Ain't that Team Marshwood?"

"Oh darn, yer right! That is 'em, ain't it?!"

"Yo, Team Marshwood! Can I've yer autographs?"

"I wan' an autograph too!"

Before they realised it, the pair were swarmed by several people, some of them thrusting forward parchment and pencils for them to sign.

"Another day in the life, eh, Melchior?" Kallias said. "Let's get down to it, I guess." He took a pencil from a Mr. Mime and wrote his name down, before passing it to Melchior. It was a familiar routine for the duo, being as famous as they were, that admirers would ask for an autograph or give them a gift as thanks for their service. The latter tended to be more appreciated, but the former, while sometimes a nuisance, didn't go unappreciated, especially by Kallias. Especially if the crowds were amicable, like this lot were.

"Hold it, hold it!" a voice called through the air. "Excuse me, Team Marshwood!"

The pair looked up to see a dark blue-furred Meowstic make his way to them. His distinctive garb marked him apart from the rest, with a brass necklace around his neck and well-stitched red and black clothing around his torso. It didn't take a genius to figure out who this was.

"Lord Feliks!" Kallias said. "We completed the mission for you."

"Ah, brilliant!" Feliks replied, pleased. "Do you have the item in question?"

"Yes, although perhaps the exchange would be better off done in private." Melchior glanced at the small crowd; there were still a few people demanding autographs. He turned his attention to them "I apologise everyone, but we have Guild business to do." A few murmurs of disappointment were uttered.

"We'll come back later, though!" Kallias promised. "Once we're finished with His Lordship, we'll check out what this festival has to offer. We can get back to you, then!" That worked, and the crowd were placated by this.

"Let's meet there, in the community hall." Feliks gestured to a nearby house, larger than the rest and with a wooden roof instead of thatch. "Anywhere with privacy, really." He trotted off in that direction, and Team Marshwood went to follow him.





"There you go." Kallias handed Feliks a bag that jingled, stashed full with money. "The 5,000P that those thieves stole."

"Thank you very much." Feliks took it, and hoisted it into his hands. "I'm grateful. We in House Dorofeyev are not rich, and if we were deprived of money like this, we would be in serious trouble. Thank the heavens House Ruslan were kind enough to recognise our plight and donate to us in this time of need."

"He's a charitable man, that Kliment," Kallias said. "Glad to have him as a leader. I'm certainly glad he's no tyrant." He cast a glance at Melchior, who caught the meaning in his eye.

"Oh, of course. He's a wonderful leader," the Meowstic praised. "We are immensely looking forward to His Majesty's silver jubilee when it happens next year. Beyond that, may he live and rule us for many years to come!"

"That should be fun," Melchior said.

"But that's in the future. For now, let's focus on the present." Feliks took another bag and handed it to Kallias. "There's your reward. 400P, and a one-room orb. Figured you could use one with all the Dungeon delving you two do."

"Ooh, neat." Kallias took out the orb, and filed it away in the team's bag. "We don't come across those often. Thank you very much, Your Lordship."

"No problem. Now then." Feliks clasped his paws together, indicative he was about to ask them something. "You might have noticed we have a festival going on."

"We noticed. We were going to check it out."

"Well, there is one attraction there I think you two would be interested in." Feliks' eyes lit up. "I'll escort you there myself!"

"Really? Not often a lord does that," Kallias chuckled. "Well, if you insist, Your Lordship. What's this attraction you're excited about?"





Feliks waited outside one of the cottages in anticipation. It was a small cottage, with a sign hung up on the door outside. It read, 'Fitting House'. The house's resident, a kindly Leavanny seamstress, was willing to rent the house out for this purpose of the festival.

His keen ears picked up on voices from within, and soon the door opened, revealing Kallias and Melchior…donning new outfits. Both wore dark brown hats, white scarves, and beige vests.

"Well, Your Lordship?" Kallias posed in his new attire. "What do you think?"

"Ah!" Feliks' eyes shone with delight. "You look dashing, the both of you!"

"I'm glad you like it!" A bold look came into Melchior's eye as he turned to Kallias, holding onto his hat's brim. "Now, as they say in these parts…howdy there, pardner!"

The Swampert's bravado faded instantly when both Feliks and Kallias burst out laughing at his attempt at the Karelian dialect.

"My goodness." Feliks fought to keep a straight face. "Trying to be among the Karelians, are we?"

"Ha ha ha ha!" Kallias didn't bother attempting to do so. "I never thought I'd hear those words come out of your mouth, Melchior!" He laughed so hard that he had to wipe tears from his eyes.

"...W-Why did I say that?" Melchior turned scarlet, pulling his hat down in embarrassment. "Right in front of Lord Feliks, too…"

"Oh, worry not," assured the Meowstic. "It would make a humorous anecdote. But it would be mean-spirited of me to speak of such a lauded hero like that."

"I'll hold you to that," the Swampert said, still abashed. "I would say my partner is a good secret keeper, but erm…that would be a lie."

"What? I only tell our closest friends," Kallias defended. "Oh, and Zenobia and Elvira too."

"That's not keeping a secret, Kallias."

"Oh, they don't tell anyone, trust me. Zenobia's as good as her word, as is Elvira."

"You haven't mentioned the Guild folk. Rufina would never let me hear the end of this…"

"True, true. I guess I'll have to keep that one from her, eh?"

"You better. That dragon knows how to pound a joke into the ground."

"Well, jokes aside. You do look great in that outfit," Kallias complimented.

"Thanks." Melchior was a bit more bashful about his new clothes. "I'm still not sure what to make of this…"

"You look fine, Melchior," Kallias assured. "I'm sure Paulina would swoon if she saw you right now."

"W-Would she?" He considered this. "She probably would, actually."

"Then again, she'd swoon even if she saw you in rags. Zenobia would be the same with me," the Sceptile chuckled. "...Agh, if only I knew this was on. I definitely would've brought her and Elvira."

"You could always just buy them a souvenir like you normally do."

"Oh, that was the plan. Let's go out and get one right now before it slips my mind later." Kallias got ready to leave, before Feliks cleared his throat.

"Excuse me," he said. "But may I ask a small favour of you two?"

"Of course," Melchior said. "What is it? Is it a mission?"

"I would not call it that, no," the Meowstic lord chuckled, a mirthful look on his face. "You see…my daughter is a fan of yours..."





"Eeeeeeeeeeee! An autograph from Team Marshwood! A-And Team Marshwood themselves in the flesh!"

A little Espurr gazed at a piece of parchment, her eyes shining with joy. Between the two names written on it, and the auspicious Sceptile and Swampert pair before her, to say she was awestruck was an understatement.

"Thank you so much for this!" Her excitement could not be contained, as she hopped from paw to paw. "I cannot believe I'm actually seeing you two in the flesh! I have heard all the stories! I'm your biggest fan! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

"Do keep your composure, Serafina," a Dark-type Persian chastised. "You are embarrassing our house!"

"Lay off, Yurian," Feliks requested. "Let Serafina have her moment. It's not every day one can meet the heroes they look up to."

"Perhaps for the better. They do say 'never meet your heroes' for good reason," scoffed Yurian. "Did I hear somewhere they were of Miletan birth?"

"Hmm. Are they? That is news to me." Feliks then shook his head. "It does not matter, Yurian. They helped us retrieve our finances. Let us not be disrespectful to them."

"Exactly, brother!" Serafina said loudly. "You are embarrassing our house!" She pouted in annoyance.

"...Never mind," huffed Yurian, before turning to leave.

"Forgive him," apologised Feliks. "Yurian means well, he does. He just has…snobbish idealism sometimes. Hopefully he casts it aside when he inherits our house."

"Worry not. He's far from the first noble who's looked down on us," assured Kallias. "At least your daughter's an absolute treasure."

"Wow!" Serafina's eyes shone at the compliment. "Thank you, Fernblade Kallias!"

"I must be off, alas," Feliks told them. "Come on, Serafina. We must go."

"But I want to spend more time with Team Marshwood!" protested the Espurr.

"We'll be around, don't worry," Kallias said. "You might catch us again before the day is out."

"I hope so." While Serafina's glumness wasn't completely abated, there was still hope in her eyes as her father led her away.

"So where do we begin first?" Melchior wondered.

"Let's see what catches our eye first." Kallias took a quick glance around the village, before he caught the eye of a Simipour, who had a stall with a variety of pastries for sale. "Oh, that place looks enticing! How about we start there?"





Over the course of the day, the duo enjoyed their time at the festival, indulging in the various delicacies and engaging in conversation with the villagers of Ferma. There was also lots of autograph signing, after which their hands were both tired. Luckily, a humble Ledian farmer kindly allowed them to rest in his house for a short while.

"We've young'uns here, but don't ya worry yer head about 'em," he drawled. "Mah Natalie'll keep 'em busy."

"Mmhm," a Ledyba said. "I'll…er, go, then." She then made her exit to the back of the house.

"Many thanks." Melchior was grateful.

With the quiet space provided for them, Team Marshwood reflected upon the day's events.

"Well, this turned to be a fortunate turn of events," Kallias said.

"Yeah. What a great day this was," Melchior agreed.

"The food's been sublime. Who would've thought there was such culinary diversity in this little place?"

"We've seen this kind of thing in other places, Kallias. Harvest festivals aren't uncommon in rural villages like this one."

"I know. Doesn't make it any less enjoyable." The mention of food reminded Kallias of something, and he reached into his bag to take out a slice of razz tart he had bought earlier. He took a bite from it. "Mmm mmm. Delicious."

"You can say that again." Melchior tucked into his own purchase: belue and chesto bread. "It's been a while since we've been to one of these."

"They certainly have a lively festival here. If they have one next year, I'm definitely bringing Zenobia and Elvira along," Kallias said.

"Maybe Elvira could make new friends in this place. There's certainly plenty of kids around," Melchior observed.

"She has plenty of friends back home," Kallias remarked. "But hey - you can never have too many friends. She could even do a penpal arrangement like she has with Stiliyan."

"We'll have to wait until she sees the people here, though," Melchior chuckled.

"Of course, of course." The Sceptile then peered out the window, where the afternoon was beginning to wane and first rays of the evening sun were beginning to shine. "Hmm. Getting a bit late out there."

"Was there an inn in this place?" Melchior wondered.

"I believe there was. A small one, though." A worried look crossed Kallias's face. "Here's hoping they're not out of rooms."

He rose from his seat. "Let's get going, Melchior."

"Alright." Melchior followed suit. "Thanks for letting us stay," he said to the Ledian farmer.

"No problem! Anythin' fer two heroes like yerselves." The Ledian waved goodbye to them. "See ya now!"

Team Marshwood left the house. A cool breeze was coming in with the evening, and Melchior buttoned his vest for greater warmth, his partner doing the same.

Kallias looked along the houses, looking for any indication of an inn. "Which one is it…?" he muttered to himself.

"There they are!"

A loud bellow resounded, and before he realised it, Kallias and Melchior were being approached by a Midnight Lycanroc dressed in a similar hat, scarf and vest to their own attire.

"Oh, hello there." Kallias kept a cordial air. "May we help you?"

"I heard that Team Marshwood happened to be in town. I see they weren't lying." The canine leered at the two. "I was kinda curious what makes the two of you all that. The stories say you're strong, but how true are they?"

"Oh." Kallias blinked. "I didn't expect to see an Alban in this part of the country."

"I do a bit of going to and fro," replied the Lycanroc. "...You're sharp. How'd you guess?"

"From the accent and talk about strength." Kallias didn't need much to figure that out. "Melchior and I have been up that way a good few times."

"I guess that's to be expected. But c'mon!" The hungry look in the Lycanroc's eyes remained. "You gonna show off your power or what?"

"What, as in 'See how many barrels I can lift in a minute?'" Melchior wondered. "I did that earlier, in fact. I even got a prize from it."

"No, Melchior, he means the 'fighting' way. He wants a good old tussle, like most Albans do," Kallias told him, before turning back to the Lycanroc. "Well, good sir, if it's a challenge you're looking for, it's a challenge you'll get!" He punched his fists together. "We in Team Marshwood don't back down from a challenge."

"Great! Then let's find somewhere and duke it out!" The canine's eyes shone with excitement. "There's an open field over that-a-way we can do it in." He pointed to a path leading out to the village's east exit. "Come on, let's go!"

Before either Kallias or Melchior could reply, he was off, bounding for the field in question.

"Well, looks like the inn can wait. Been a while since we've been challenged outside of Alba," Kallias remarked with a hint of mirth.

"Should we really be doing this?" Melchior wondered. "What if the inn's full by the time we get back?"

"We'll be fine, Melchior. We'll work something out. Besides, there's no harm in humouring our challenger." Kallias looked at the red shape in the distance, disappearing among some villagers. "Let's go after him."





The field in question was a ground in which a number of villagers had used for the purpose of picking berries. It had been picked clean, though, meaning it was free to use until they began planting there again.

The Lycanroc awaited eagerly in the field as Kallias and Melchior arrived. To the duo's interest, a small crowd had gathered, with a few villagers having come along upon hearing that Team Marshwood would be duking it out with the Lycanroc.

"Good, you came!" The Lycanroc sounded pleased. "Guess you're not cowards after all, eh?"

"As I said to you earlier, Team Marshwood does not back down from a challenge. Either of us should be more than a match for you." Kallias cracked his knuckles. "Now then. Which of us do you wanna face?"

"Hmmm…" The Lycanroc considered, before pointing to the Swampert. "You. Mud Bomber Melchior."

"Me?" Melchior was surprised at that. "Most challengers tend to go for Kallias."

"And? You're not afraid, are ya, Mud Bomber?"

"...Most definitely not." Melchior took a breath. "I am not the weak link of our team, if that's what you're thinking."

"Then show it. Show us what you're made of!" The Lycanroc made a beckoning motion.

"Of course. But before we begin. It's normally polite to declare your name before a battle, no? At least that's how they do it in Alba."

"Ah, right. S'pose I can tell you." The Lycanroc gripped the brim of his hat as his red eyes looked straight into Melchior's. "I'm Conall Mactíre Ó Ruairc. Just your average travelling merchant. Nothin' special about little old me."

"Good to meet you, Conall. Now then." Melchior got into a battle stance. "Let's begin."

The Swampert held his breath, and as he hoped, Conall ran straight for him, hungry for the first strike. His fangs gleamed as he leapt at Melchior.

But just as his maw opened, intent on clamping down, Melchior coated his hand in mud and shot some into Conall's mouth.

"Blargh!" Conall was caught off guard, and Melchior took the opportunity to slug him in the stomach, knocking the canine backwards.

"So you're not above playing dirty, eh?" Conall remarked, after spitting out the mud. "Good to know."

"You got this, Conall!" a Sandslash called from the sidelines. Melchior looked over to the sidelines to see a small group consisting of a Sandslash, a Sandshrew, a Sandile and a Gligar. The latter three were rather young; early adolescents at oldest.

"Yeah! Go, Dad!" the Sandshrew yelled.

"C'mon, Unky! Ya can do it!" the Sandile bellowed.

"You can do it, Uncle Conall! He's tough, but you'll find a way!" the Gligar cried. His voice cracked during his speech, prompting laughter from the Sandshrew and Sandile.

Melchior tore his attention away from them, however, as Conall ran towards him again. This time, his arm coated itself in dark energy, and he swung at Melchior.

Unfortunately for him, the Swampert blocked his Throat Chop with his right arm, and swung with his left, throwing Conall back once again. This time, Melchior decided to go on the offensive, dashing for Conall and coating his arm in muddy water. He struck a blow across Conall's chest.

"Yargh!" the Lycanroc cried, staggering back and clutching where his opponent had struck. He braced himself for another blow from the Swampert. "N-Nice try, but I ain't giving up!"

An aura coated his body right before Melchior struck. It was too late for the Swampert to retract, and he punched the Lycanroc. It seemed to land…only for Conall to then immediately slash at Melchior with his claws.

Before Melchior had time to react, Conall's fangs gleamed a bright white before he bit down on the Swampert's flesh.

"Agh!" Melchior cried, seething with pain. Conall certainly had dealt a clever blow to him. A crafty move. I should've expected that of an Alban Lycanroc…

"Come on, Melchior!"

"Ya got this!"

"You can bounce back!"

Melchior heard the cries of support. He looked to the sidelines to see a few villagers cheering him on. Among them, he happened to see Feliks and Serafina. The latter looked at him worriedly, while the former called out to him.

"Do not falter, Mud Bomber Melchior!"

Then Melchior caught eyes with Kallias. The knowing smile and nod from the Sceptile was all the assurance he needed from his partner.

Just minor blows. Nothing I can't overcome. But although this isn't life or death, I won't lose this match.

He snapped back to attention, seeing Conall come for him once again. The Lycanroc's arm was coated in dark energy and he lunged for Melchior. The Swampert parried the blow, but Conall kept going, trying to get as many hits in on him as he could.

It was all for naught, however. Melchior proved to be perceptive, expertly blocking nearly every hit the Lycanroc dealt to him with his arm. Then he blocked another incoming Throat Chop, and as Conall tried to attack with his other arm, he intercepted that too.

He then grabbed the Lycanroc, whisked him off his feet and threw him as far as he could to the other end of the field.

Gasps came from various members of the crowd, and many watched in wonder as Conall soared through the air before crashing down into the fence, the force behind Melchior's throw breaking it.

"Dad!" cried the Sandshrew from the sidelines.

"Oh dear," Melchior murmured. I might've overdone it…

"A powerful throw!" commended Feliks. "Though that's perhaps a sign we should wrap this little spar up. It's fun and games until someone gets hurt. Someone fetch Galya, please!"

"On it, Yer Lordship!" an Ivysaur obliged, before trotting off to fetch the nurse in the question.

Team Marshwood went over to where Conall had landed. The Lycanroc's supporters were by his side, worried over his condition.

"I'm sorry!" Melchior blurted. "I didn't mean to-"

"Don't you worry yourself, Melchior." To his surprise, Conall didn't look in the least bit angry with him. The opposite in fact: a silly grin adorned his face. "Just a scratch, really. I can walk it off."

"I hope so," the Sandslash next to him said. "The last thing we want is for the journey back to Iria to be tricky because your leg's broken."

"They're not broken, Caitríona. See?" Conall wiggled his hind legs. "Nothing wrong with me."

"You're certainly an Alban with that attitude," Kallias remarked. "What I'd like to know is…what are you doing so far from your home country?"

"Ah." Conall's face fell slightly, and Melchior noticed a shift in demeanour among Caitríona and the three kids. "...Reasons. I'd rather not get into it."

"Fair enough." Kallias nodded in understanding.

"But anyway. That was a good tussle, Mud Bomber Melchior!" Conall flashed a grin again as he got up. "Been a while since I had one. Definitely need to brush up on my skills, though."

"Ya barely touched 'im…" the Sandile of the group noted sadly.

"He's Mud Bomber Melchior, Ishmael," Conall replied. "No wonder I was no match for him. But I'm honoured to even be able to meet and duel with him in the first place." He turned to Melchior. "Though, I suppose I should be telling that to you. I enjoyed that, Melchior. I really did. Even if I got trounced. Eh heh."

He held out his paw, and Melchior shook with him.

"I'm glad I could fight you too, Conall," he said. "...Did you say you lived in Iria?"

"I do. With my wife, Caitríona, and these kids." He gestured to the Sandshrew, Sandile and Gligar. "My kid Lillian, and my nephews Ishmael and Axel. We run a merchant's stall in Iria, selling odds and ends we scavenge. It's small and we don't earn much money. But I gotta keep it going. For these kids more than anything."

"That's a very noble goal," commended Kallias. "Children do often mean the world to us parents. They're more valuable than any treasure."

"You have a stall?" Melchior murmured. "Perhaps Kallias and I should pop by someday."

"That would be appreciated." Caitríona smiled warmly.

"Hmm…" Melchior was thinking. "Tell me. Do you know of the Irian Guild?"

"Who doesn't know about the Irian Guild?" Lillian interjected. "We want to get in there one day! All three of us!"

"Yeah!" Ishmael added. "We ain't stayin' poor forever! One day, Unky, we'll be the ones givin' ya moolah 'n a roof!"

"Heh. I'm sure you'll be great mercs some day, you three." Conall smiled proudly. "Even you, Axel. I know your parents want you to be an apothecary just like them, but you'll fit better as a merc, I think."

"Th-Thanks, Uncle Conall." Axel shyly remarked.

"You seem to be budding youngsters. Nearly of age too, if I had to guess," Kallias observed. "We'll see about recommending you to the Guildmaster when we return to Iria."

"Y-Ya mean it?" Ishmael's eyes were shining.

"N-No way!" Axel could hardly believe it.

"This isn't a trick, right?" Lillian wondered.

"Hardly!" Kallias laughed. "I'm all for those enthusiastic about mercenary work to join our Guild. Whether you have what it takes is for the entrance exam to determine, but I imagine you might well pass that with flying colours when the time comes."

"Well…don't exactly wanna be a downer here, kids, but you're still a bit young," Conall brought up. "The age for entrants is something around fifteen, right?"

"That's correct," Melchior answered.

"Lillian's the oldest of them, and she's only thirteen," Caitríona said, and once she said it, the kids' excitement deflated.

"Ah, don't worry, kiddos," Conall assured, patting Lillian's head. "Just be patient; you'll get your chance eventually."

"I guess…" Lillian murmured. Before she could say more, though, Axel's stomach growled.

"Urk!" The Gligar hid behind his claws in embarrassment.

"Heh. Perhaps a sign we oughta get a bite to eat, eh?" Conall said.

"That would be a good idea," Caitríona agreed.

"Ahem. Forgive my interruption, but I couldn't help overhearing your conversation." Team Marshwood and the Albans turned to see Feliks standing nearby, Serafina peeking from behind him. "I was going to invite Team Marshwood to my villa to have dinner. But I am willing to extend that invitation to you all." He gestured to the Albans. "Do you accept my offer?"

"Having dinner in a lord's gaff? Well, ain't this day full of surprises," Conall chuckled. "Sure, why the hell not? I'll do it, Your Lordship."

"Excellent!" Feliks clasped his paws together. "I always enjoy eating dinner with visitors. It helps me to learn more about cultures beyond here in Karelia."

"You sure are a humble sort," Caitríona observed. "If only every lord was like you."

"I do not see this as sullying my pride as a noble," Feliks said. "On the contrary; I see this as an opportunity to connect with my people, and do more for them in return for all they provide for Karelia!

"Now follow me!" He began to walk away, beckoning them with his hand as he retreated. "It's not too long a walk, I assure you!"

"What a gracious 'mon. Karelia's in good hands with him in charge," Kallias said, as he, Melchior and the Albans followed after the Meowstic.

"It does seem like it. Today was a pretty fun day," Melchior agreed.

"And I think we all benefited from today." Kallias looked back, seeing the Albans in good spirits. "I wonder what potential those kids will have when they come knocking on the Guild's doors?"

"Not sure. But they look like they have potential," Melchior said. "I suppose we'll see what they're made of when the time comes."

"I eagerly await their arrival," Kallias said. "For now, though…let's relish in the simple pleasure of a good meal." He licked his lips, eagerly anticipating the meal awaiting them.
 

Spiteful Murkrow

Busy Writing Stories I Want to Read
Pronouns
He/Him/His
Partners
  1. nidoran-f
  2. druddigon
  3. swellow
  4. lugia
  5. quilava-fobbie
  6. sneasel-kate
  7. heliolisk-fobbie
Heya, was a bit tight on time and energy tonight, so I decided to read and review something a bit more bite-sized for the ongoing Review Event offsite. This paralogue's apparently set sometime after Arian arrives at the Irian Guild, huh? I mean, I just got there in the main narrative, so let's see where this goes...

Paralogue 2

"Urrrrrrgh…" groaned Arian. He felt worse than he ever had felt since he woke up in this world on the shoreline just outside Elvira's house. Everything hurt - his head throbbed, his nose was like a waterfall, he was sweating buckets on his nose and paw pads, and his stomach felt terribly nauseous, having just been from forcibly emptied of its contents just five minutes beforehand.

I know that it’s probably not the intended timing, but it’s morbidly hilarious to imagine this being the day after for Arian’s arrival into the Irian Guild in Chapter 11 from the temp filling in for Aldebrand having an epic fail at cooking. :copyka:

"...I don't suppose I need to ask how you are, Arian," Raya the nurse said, as she returned to the infirmary. "Same as before?"

"Same as before," came the weak reply.

"...You're still burning," the Audino noted, after feeling his forehead. "I'll get a thermometer for you."

She went to a nearby cabinet and took one out. She brought it over to Arian, and placed it in his mouth.

She went away to carry out other duties, and returned some ten minutes later. She investigated the thermometer's reading.

Huh. I’m surprised that they have thermometers lying around in-setting. Though I suppose that’s a sign that technology in Ardalion goes up to at least a 17th-century level barring schizo tech weirdness.

Though ironically enough considering what I usually have for critiques for paragraph formatting, but I wonder if in this case, your last paragraph would work better conjoined with the post-dialogue portion of Raya’s dialogue. e.x. As something like:

"...You're still burning," the Audino noted, after feeling his forehead. "I'll get a thermometer for you."

She went to a nearby cabinet and took one out. She brought it over to Arian, and placed it in his mouth. She drifted off to carry out other duties for about ten minutes, before making her way back to investigate the thermometer's reading.

Or something like that.

"...No." She shook her head. "Still sky high. Looks like you'll be staying in bed for the next while."

[ ]

"...Urgh…Really?" Arian moaned, both in dismay and because of his sickness.

The bit in underlined feels like it would work better being pulled forward into being an expanded description paragraph. Like if Arian is looking at Raya from his side and then rolls onto his back and has a frustrated expression or something like that, since it feels like he’d do something before moaning.

"...I'll get some more water and an ice pack for you." The Audino placed a canteen of water by his bedside. "Try and get some rest. I'll leave a basin here for you to vomit into if you need to."

The basin’s just some random bucket they have lying around, huh?
827659294400970753.webp


"Right…Thanks, Raya…" Arian mumbled. Rest seemed like a good idea. Already, he found his eyelids beginning to droop.

"Anytime, Arian. Call me if you need me." That was the last thing the human heard before falling into the unconsciousness of asleep.

Time to find out whether or not Arian’s the type to have fever dreams. ^^;

The next time he When Arian woke up again, he heard voices talking.

"What? Arian's sick? Since when?" That loud, boisterous voice…Lex? It was hard to tell through his current ill state.

Whelp, I guess that’s a confirmation that this paralogue is set a bit after Chapter 11, since that name’s definitely new.

"Yes, he's sick. He has been since yesterday." That voice, he knew well. It was Elvira. "I'm going in to check on him now."

"...Can we come too?” Lex’s voice asked. “Please, Elvira? Raya?"

"I'd like to come, too." That voice was also familiar; it was Isaac, Lex's partner and the co-founder of Team Mindfist.

I wonder if that’s the duo that has the Chapter 12 art, since their species do line up with ‘Mindfist’ if you think about it. I assume the middle voice is supposed to be Lex’s, but it might make sense to explicitly point that out since for a moment I thought that that was from an unrelated third party.

"...Alright," Raya permitted. "But as long as you're not too loud."

"Great!" Lex said, as if he hadn't heard the Audino's request. He came into the room, and saw the Riolu turn over in his bed to look at the new arrivals. "Hey, Arian!"

Waaaaaaait, is this moment meant to be written in omniscient or limited perspective? At first, I thought that it was a limited perspective given that we showed things from Arian’s perspective and things were kinda muddy like how one would expect from someone who’s sick as a dog (har har), but cutting to “Lex enters the room” definitely feels more “omniscient”.

If you’re doing omniscient perspective, it might make sense to add more of a transition of the proverbial camera from Arian to Lex before depicting Team Mindfist coming in.

"Hey, Lex…" Arian weakly replied.

"Sorry to hear you're sick," the Cranidos continued. "How'd you get sick? What happened?"

Oh, so that’s who that art of the Cranidos and Espeon from your forum was of. Though I kinda wonder if it’d have made sense to indicate somewhere, whether in author’s notes or in some sort of parenthetical annotation for your threadmarks as to when your paralogues are intended to be read if trying to avoid spoilers, since my initial assumption just from the prompt was “sometime after Chapter 11” and not something more specific given that Team Mindfist had yet to be introduced in the part of the main story I’d read up to thus far.

"Vomiting bug," Elvira answered. "It's been doing the rounds locally, and Arian was unlucky enough to catch it. A bad dose case of it too, by the looks of it."

… Wait, implying that there’s other Pokémon in the Guild Infirmary that are also puking their guts out in the background right now?
827659294400970753.webp


"Didn't you say you and Arian had been babysitting some children a few days ago?" Isaac questioned.

"Yes. That was a mission on one of the boards," Elvira recalled. "We'd done a mission halfway across the country the day before, and Arian didn't feel like going far. It seemed an easy enough job…but…" She looked worriedly at her ailing partner.

Huh, I see that a lot of “errata around Kamengrad” missions wind up reaching the boards of the Irian Guild nowadays. Just as well since they kinda have problems with the relative danger outside of Kamengrad and its immediate surroundings rapidly ratcheting up the further the local teams head out.

[ ]

"...I don't think we need to deduce any more from that," the Espeon said, before turning to his Cranidos partner. "Lex, a reminder to keep away from those missions in future. We don't want to end up like Arian."

"But I like those missions…" the dinosaur whined.

This sequence might be a bit lulzier with a bit more of a description of Isaac and/or Lex’s expressions and reactions to Elvira’s response.

"It's too risky. We'll only be more of a hindrance to the Guild if we get sick." Isaac was quite firm. But turning to Arian, his tone was somewhat more sympathetic. "...I hope you're well soon. That would be for the benefit of all of us." With that, he turned and walked away.

"Yeah…Get well soon, Arian," Lex wished, before following his partner.

[ ]

"...He's pulling no punches as usual," Arian noted, with a slight huff. "Typical Isaac…" Being grumpy because of his ailment, he was in no mood for the Espeon's calculated callousness.

The bit in underlined feels like another part that would make sense to pull forward and turn into a description paragraph before Arian speaks up.

"...Just ignore him, Arian," Elvira said. "...How are you?"

"...Horrible," came the reply. "Aches and pains everywhere, and I've no energy to do anything…I want to get out there and do more missions. But I can't…"

I kinda wonder if this would’ve hit harder if it was reflected in the narration a bit more. Like I get that Arian is literally bedridden, but this entire time, we haven’t heard that he’s apparently had body aches until just now because he said so. Just feels like something that would be a lingering presence for whenever the narration leans harder on Arian’s perspective.

"Don't you worry about missions. Just focus on getting rest," the Treecko assured. "I'll be work as an auxiliary for the other teams. And it's not like we're short on money."

Oh, so ‘auxiliaries’ are the equivalent of those temp party members that you can have in PMD games, huh? Though I suppose that it makes sense for Teams that need one or two extra bodies helping who’d be willing to share a cut of their earnings.

"...Thanks…Good to know you have my back…" Arian said on a happier note. He was about to say more, but at that point, he was overcome by the itch to sneeze.

"Aaaaaachoooo!" It was quite a loud sneeze, one that expelled a great amount of mucus and immediately winded Arian left Arian winded. "Urgh…" The Riolu reached for a tissue to blow his nose with.

Elvira: “I’m… just going to back off a few steps over in this direction.”
424925435651031049.webp


Elvira couldn't help but wince at the savage noise of his sneeze. "...I think I'll leave you now, Arian. Try and sleep, will you?"

"I will," promised Arian weakly. "At least I can do that much…"

Okay, yeah, he’s going to have an epic fail at falling asleep for one or another reason like literal fever dreams, isn’t he?

"I am sorry to hear you are ill, Arian. I pray you will feel better soon."

These were the words of Serafina, who had chosen to visit Arian in the mid-afternoon with Natalie. The Meowstic and Ledian looked sympathetically at the human's plight.

Oh, so that’s who Serafina and Natalie are. I suppose that solves the mystery of who that art from the very beginning of Chapter 12 is of. Though I do wonder if there’s something more relevant that could be brought up for the underlined such as something to the effect of “Arian was/wasn’t expecting Serafina to stop by his room” or something like that to focus less on what Serafina is saying and more on just the fact that she’s there at all.

"...I remember bein' sick like that when I was a young'un," Natalie recalled. "I hated it. Couldn't do nothin'..."

[ ]


"I’m pretty sure we've all been sick like this at some point in our lives," Serafina said. "I was bedridden with the flu when I was nine years old. My family all fretted relentlessly, especially my brother.

[ ]

But I got better eventually. And I have no doubt you will recover soon, Arian."

"...Thanks," Arian said gratefully. He reached for the glass of water at the side of his bed, and downed it fully.

I kinda wonder if it might have made sense to drop in some described reactions / body language or something like that. Especially since it feels like Serafina’s line was intended to come after some sort of skeptical reaction from Arian or something like that but nothing was written.

"Let us refill that for you," Serafina volunteered. "Is that alright, Raya?"

"Yes, that's okay," the Audino, who happened to be in the room at the time, permitted.

"But…don't you have things to do…?" Arian asked. "I don't wanna be a burden…"

Wait, so are Serafina and Natalie taking his cup to refill right now, or…? Since it’s actually not described at the moment if they’re doing that or not.

"Do not worry about us. No task is more worthy than helping a friend," Serafina assured. "I would feel personally better helping you myself. Anything to alleviate more duties from Raya."

[ ]


"Thanks, Serafina…"

Another moment where it might make sense to bring up some sort of reaction or thought process from Arian, especially if there’s something about his dynamic with Serafina and Natalie that is normally very different from this moment.

"Bit crook today, are ya, Arry?"

Oh, hello, Ishmael. Though I suppose it would make sense he would show up given that his team was the one that first brought Arian and Elvira to the Irian Guild in the first place.

Next to visit were Team Sandstream. Ishmael, Axel and Lillian looked at the ailing Riolu with the sympathetic looks that accompanied everyone else who visited him that day.

"Yeah…" Arian replied weakly through bleary eyes. He'd had another nap. "I caught that vomiting bug that's been going around…"

I sure hope that that thing isn’t contagious, since otherwise boy does that bode poorly for everyone who’s been coming around to visit him. :copyka:

"A vomiting bug? So that's what it is," Lillian murmured. "...Poor Arian. You look like you caught it bad…"

I wonder if the underlined would work a bit better if it were given some sort of more pointed phrasing. E.x. some sort of “You look sick as a dog… no offense.” sort of bit or something like that.

"Could be worse," Axel said. "Remember when we were kids and caught desert fever?"

[ ]


"Oh, don't remind me," the Sandslash replied. "I still have shivers remembering that…Our parents genuinely thought we were all going to die."

[ ]


"...Well, ya can die from it," Ishmael pointed out. "But Arry'll be fine. Just an ol' bug, is all. Ain't nothin' like what us lot got back then."

[ ]


"I suppose I can count myself lucky there…" Arian said.

This is another part where taking some time to slow down and show the characters’ reactions and what’s going on in their heads might make this part hit harder, especially if Ishmael’s recollection of the time they all got desert fever is making Lillian and Axel wince or something like that.

However, he wasn't feeling so lucky next minute, when he felt his belly gurgle and lurch. Instinctively, his paw went to his mouth.

"Urp!" He knew what this meant. "Gonna puke!"

He leaned over to where his basin was, gave a heavy cough, before he threw up for what felt like the umpteenth time that day. He'd lost count of how many times Raya had to clean out that basin.

Axel: “... That stomach bug’s not contagious is it? Since I’m starting to feel like we should be standing back a bit.”
424925435651031049.webp

Lillian: “Arian, how on earth do you still have anything left in your body to vomit at this rate?”
701085210766344223.webp


"...There, mate." Ishmael lightly smacked his back as he coughed up the last of the vomit. "Crikey, ya got the bad end of it, didn't ya?"

Arian: “Yeah, I think that I figured that one out sometime after my third basin trip.”
1172732463651500124.webp


"...Guess I did…" Arian muttered, as he hacked up some more coughs. He was feeling tired again, and lay back against the covers.

"...We'll let you sleep," Lillian said to him. "Get well soon, Arian."

"Yeah…Ya'll be back in action in no time!" Ishmael encouraged.

I take it that Sleep Seeds are a bit too valuable to bust out as sleeping aids, since if they aren’t, this would feel like a fantastic occasion to just bust one out and minimize the amount of waking time when one could get sick. ^^;

"Don't worry. You'll be fine, Arian," Axel said, attempting to match the Krokorok's enthusiasm.

Axel: “Well, ‘fine’ is probably overselling things, but… you’ll survive at least?” ^v-v^;

"Thanks, guys…" the Riolu murmured, as he felt himself slip into the land of dreams again.

I’m now curious as to whether or not Arian had literal fever dreams during this entire sequence or not, or if those were a respite from his misery while awake.

[ ]

"...Ugh…That's yucky," complained Arian. He had been given medicine made by Raya to help him with his symptoms.

Another situation where you have an “after the fact” description that feels like it’d have more impact if it came prior to the spoken line that it follows.

"It'll help," was Raya's response. "Besides, Elvira went to collect the materials of this medicine to help you through this. The least you could do is take it."

Oh, so Elvira pulled an Alva in this story… just hopefully without also needing to be rescued by a rockheaded dino from that medicine run going tits up.
916590076010586142.webp


"...You collected them?" Arian turned his head to his partner, who was in the room. "Thanks a bunch, Elvira…"

"It's no problem," the Treecko replied. "The Mystery Dungeon I was in with Lex and Isaac today had plenty of heal seeds and specialised herbs. So I picked some to give back to Raya."

Ah yes, have your rock dino come with you from the jump. That definitely would help those Mystery Dungeon medicine runs go by a lot smoother.

"That's clever thinking of you, Elvira. Anything to help Arian back onto his feet." Arian knew that voice. It was Guildmaster Melchior standing in the doorway. "Pardon me, Raya. May I come in?"

"You may," permitted the Audino nurse.

Okay, yeah, this clearly happens a few chapters after the point I was in in Dual Wills, since Melchior hadn’t even made it back to the Irian Guild at the point where I left off.

[ ]

"...How do you feel, Arian?" he asked. "Are you any better than this morning?"

[ ]


"...Honestly? Not much better," rasped Arian. "But…at least you've all visited me today. Thanks for all of that…"

Some more spots where dropping in some description of reactions and inner thoughts might help spice things up.

"Not at all. …And even those that haven't visited you today still have you in their thoughts," Melchior informed. "For instance…Aldebrand sends you this."

He produced a bowl of soup and a spoon, and placed on Arian's bedside table.

"Soup?" The Riolu leaned over and sniffed it. "It smells delicious…"

Oh no… Arian and food, while he has a stomach bug?
648428348694855687.webp


"It's great to have when you have an illness like this," the Swampert told him.

"...Mmmm mmm mmm." Arian took the spoon and sipped some of it. It felt like heaven, given his current state. "This is delicious! …Tell Aldebrand I said thanks."

The underlined feels like it should come before the dialogue entirely, since Arian’s “Mmmm” moment feels like something that he’d say in direct reaction after tasting the soup. Though what on earth is that stuff made out of anyways? Since it’s not really indicated there.

"I will. …Get better soon, Arian," Melchior wished. "Know that the rest of the Guild wishes you well, too."

"...Thanks to everyone, then," Arian revised. "And once I'm all better…then I can repay them."

Careful what you wish for there, Arian. Especially if that stomach bug of yours is contagious after all. :copyka:

Alright, made it to the end of this thing and wound up bumping into a couple spoilers along the way… but eh, I’ve already been spoiled worse through Discord chatter, so I think I can live with two of the Irian Guild’s teams being outed, especially when one of them had already been namedropped by the point I read up to.

So I take it that this was basically a cute little character piece meant to show off Arian as your story’s MC on Reddit and how the people around him react to him when he’s down for the count. It’s a pretty cute story to that end (or at least as much as a short about having a stomach flu can be cute) and I felt that it did a pretty good job at differentiating the characters in their reactions, even if Isaac is kinda an outlier in his comparative lack of outward friendliness. Makes me wonder if he and Arian will develop a rivalry in the main story, since he kinda gave off some ‘rival’ vibes at a couple points..

As for criticisms, I’m admittedly a bit loath to go super hard on this since I gather that this was essentially written as a spontaneous prompt response and posted more or less as-is, but I figured that I’d point these out in case you decided to do a v2 / “final published version” edit at some point in the future. The number one area with room for improvement is just putting in more description, especially for getting into the heads of characters and setting the scene of what’s going on at different points. If you wanted to go a step further and play up the sense of “Arian is having a bad time, but his friends are helping him through it” you could’ve additionally dropped in a fever dream sequence or two since Arian and the Guild have non-trivial problems in the backdrop to this that would probably make for some really nasty fever dreams, but that’s going way out of “simple additions” territory.

The one thing that I would recommend doing even if you leave the entire rest of the paralogue untouched is to give more of an indication of when these different paralogues should be read relative to the main story, whether as an author’s note or some sort of parenthetical annotation in your threadmarks (e.x. “Paralogue 2 - Sickness (Post-Chapter [X])” or something like that). Especially if they chronologically jump around with what chapters they’re spoilers for instead of reliably going later and later chapter-wise.

But I thought that this was a cute little side oneshot to your main story, and definitely an incentive to go back to it, since it’ll be interesting to see how Team Mindfist and Serafina’s team vibe in the main narrative in light of how they were portrayed here.

Hope the feedback was helpful, @Arukona , and best of luck with the ongoing Review Event. ^^
 
Paralogue 9 - Omens of an Archdruid

Arukona

A Scribe Penning His Brainworms
Location
Ardalion
Pronouns
He/him
Partners
  1. aggron
  2. sceptile
  3. lucario
Paralogue 9
Omens of an Archdruid

Archdruid Cathbad gets ready to host vespers at Gleann Órga Temple in Alba. However, in their preparations, they learn there's a nefarious plot in the air...



Evening was settling upon Gleann Órga. A dusty, dry wind blew through the valley, carved out by time's processes and the mighty river that flowed through it. That river, the Istwyth, known for providing water to thousands of people in Alba's parched deserts, carved its path through this valley.

In the valley, a prominent temple stood atop a rocky hill, and a path had been carved up to the top of that hill from the river to allow pilgrims an easy passage to reach it. The temple was among the oldest structures in Alba, built some 450 years ago as a place to worship Lord Arceus the Creator, and still stood to this day.

Today, the temple was hosting a special guest to partake in that day's rites. They were none other than Archdruid Cathbad, the leading clergymon in Alba. An Absol newly elected to the position two months ago, they had travelled to various religious locales around Alba and partook in the rites there. After an invite from the high druid of Gleann Órga, they travelled to the temple, intent on doing the same.

The day had gone smoothly thus far, with the turnout much greater once word had gotten out that the archdruid was partaking in the rites. The awe could be felt at the midday mass, and all throughout the afternoon, Cathbad heard confessions of congregants and other visitors to the temple until evening began to set in, roughly an hour before vespers began.

As they were finishing and getting ready to prepare for the main rite, someone else came into the confession booth.

"Psst! Ca!" a voice whispered. "I've got some news you'll wanna hear!"

The voice caught the Absol's attention. It was light, feminine and playful, and belonged to someone they had come to know very well in the past few years. A certain Archeops that had risen through the Alban hierarchy, and now stood at the second-highest perch in the country, just below Rí Trahaern.

"Tánaiste Scáthach," Cathbad said. She had been invited along as a precaution on the Absol's part, and if she was coming to her like this, then… "Have you found something?"

"You bet I do." Scáthach's voice lowered to a whisper. "You know how you had an ominous gut feeling all this time? Well…there's a good reason for that."

She leaned closer and whispered words to Cathbad. Words that made the archdruid stiffen.

"...strange plants…"

"...wine…"

"...He insisted on handling the duties himself…"

The Absol's eyes narrowed at what they were being told. Their senses had been alert all day, and they had been waiting for what exactly it all meant.

Now, with context, everything made sense.

"Thank you so much for this information," Cathbad said gratefully. "Now all I must do is confirm the truth."

"All the clues seem to be pointing towards that," Scáthach said. "Do you want me to handle it, Ca?"

"Hmm…" The Absol considered their partner's offer. "No."

"No?" Scáthach was surprised to hear that. "But why?"

"I have a much better idea of how to catch this Ninjask in the bottle."

"Y-You do?"

"Yes. And I'm going to need your help for what I have planned." The archdruid leaned their head closer, and whispered the plan to her.



The hallways were bustling, with the temple's druids busying themselves with preparation for vespers that evening. Under normal circumstances, Cathbad would've joined them. But thanks to Scáthach's intel, their priorities had been diverted towards stemming this matter before it sprouted.

They stood outside the high druid's vestry. The door was closed, but a quick inquiry from a passing clergymon told them that the high druid was inside that room.

"Right, so." Scáthach, dressed in her garments that she wore as tánaiste, turned to Cathbad. "You hide, and I'll lure him out. That's the plan."

"That would be the best course of action," Cathbad said. A pillar was down the hall; they hid behind and tried to make themselves look as unnoticeable as possible. Scáthach gave them an encouraging smile, before she knocked on the door of the vestry. A brief silence passed, before a few seconds later, the door opened.

"Ah, Tánaiste Scáthach," an older voice spoke. He was an Armaldo, dressed in fancy green and gold robes reflecting his station as high druid of Gleann Órga Temple. Known as Torna Gormarmúr Mac Cecht, he was one of Alba's most prominent clergymon, and had established links with Rí Trahaern and many Alban chiefs. "What brings you here?"

"Hello, Father Torna!" Scáthach greeted cheerily. "Good to see you! How are you this evening?"

"I'm doing fine," Torna said. From their hiding place, Cathbad couldn't help but hear a mild note of impatience in his voice. "That being said, this will be a busy evening. With Their Grace taking part in vespers, I can't very well spend this time dawdling. Forgive my curtness, Lady Scáthach, but I cannot waste much time this evening."

"Oh, of course. Well, I didn't want to see you about anything in particular. But Father Cichol does!" the Archeops fibbed, referring to Torna's second-in-command at Gleann Órga.

"Father Cichol?" The Armaldo frowned at the mention of his fellow druid. "What on Ardalion does that Sigilyph want with me? We have vespers soon! He should be too busy to ask for my presence!"

"Don't look at me." Scáthach shrugged. "I'm just the messenger."

"The Tánaiste of Alba, being a messenger?" A note of disgust crept into Torna's voice.

"Hey, I volunteered to go. Don't blame him. Now come on." Scáthach started off down the hallway.

"Dochreidte…" Torna shook his head, before stepping out of his office and following the Archeops.

Cathbad held their breath as the Armaldo headed out, praying that he wouldn't look their way. But it was clear he hadn't seen them.

The Absol breathed a sigh of relief once he was out of sight. But they couldn't rest; a fact-finding mission was in place, to determine what was truly to go down here.

They went inside and looked around the room, at the various storage closets. Some were for druids' robes, but it was also the place where various sacred objects were stored. Crosiers, ornaments, copies of the Scriptures…

…And sacramental wine. One such bottle stood on a dresser next to where the wine was stored, with the cork opened on it.

That detail stuck out immediately to Cathbad. Normally, wine bottles remained unopened, and were opened during the rite so as to preserve its richness for libations.

What was more, they got a sensation from that bottle. One all too familiar to Absol like them.

Danger.

They were tempted by their instincts to fling that bottle to the ground, to make sure it could do harm to no one. But Cathbad stopped themself. For what is planned, we need it to remain untouched.

They breathed deeply, resisting that urge. Cathbad peered down at the drawer, and then noticed something odd. The top drawer was partially open, as if it was shut in a hurry. The Absol raised an eyebrow. If he was putting something in a drawer, possibly related to this…could it be…?

They opened the drawer. And immediately, two things stuck out to them.

An empty vial, laid on its side, and a syringe.

Their senses went completely haywire at the sight. Danger, danger, danger! They resisted the urge to cry in pain at the sensations, and it took a considerable amount of will to keep their mouth shut. Cathbad looked away from the table, and took several deep breaths to calm themself down.

So this was what I was forewarned about. And now there are no illusions about his intent in vespers this evening.

Cathbad's teeth gritted as their mind began devising a plan.

I will foil this plot where it stands. My life will not be taken until my duties have been completed on this soil.



The evening had set in a bit more by the time all of the arrangements were in place for vespers. The outside altar had been decked out with all the essentials necessary for the rite, and the temple's druids were hurrying about making last-minute preparations. The evening winds blew, heralding the chill of the desert night. Congregants were trickling in, awaiting the beginning of the rite.

Some time later, the congregation had grown to a sizable amount. Perhaps, once upon a time, Cathbad would've been daunted at seeing that many people, all eyes on them as the centrepiece of attention. That did seem to be the case; the Absol could see pairs of eyes fixated on them, and saw a fair few people speaking in hushed whispers.

Unsurprising. This is my first visit to them as archdruid. …A pity, then, that I won't be giving them the usual ceremony. Some may not like what will happen, but…it has to be done. I can't let this stand, what's to happen here.

They glanced back at the altar. Upon it stood the wine bottle that unnerved them; danger lurking on its marble surface. They took a breath, trying to withhold their tenseness.

Be brave. You cannot falter.

Their gaze fell to the front row, where the colourful plumage of an Archeops could be picked out. Scáthach caught the archdruid's gaze, and gave them a smile and a nod of confidence. It helped to abate the fluttering worries in Cathbad's chest, and they smiled back at the Archeops.

I need not worry. Even if this plan goes wrong…there will be hundreds to witness it all. And Scáthach's influence would never let the truth slip away.

The playing of an organ and the plucking of a harp snapped Cathbad out of their thoughts. Music typically heralded the beginning of a rite, and this one was no different.

The Absol looked down at the congregation where they stood on the altar, and down the central aisle, where at the very back, Father Torna was making his way up to the altar. Another priest accompanied him - a Sigilyph, who was the Father Cichol that Scáthach had mentioned before.

As the priests strolled with honour and grandeur, the choir by the players began to sing.

"Ár dtír naomh, á chosaint ag a Chros-Roth órga
Leanfaidh muid a thoil, a thiomna,
Beidh cuid cuireadh chun báis,
Is i bhfís an Chruthaitheora,
Treoraigh ár mbreithiúnas,
Las an bóthar ceart…"


The hymn's serenity was uplifted by the talented choir, and Cathbad was rather impressed by their choral abilities. Nearly as exemplary as the choir of Breifne Cathedral. Such talent and devotion…those who preach here are well trained in their craft.

The two priests came to a stop on top of the altar's steps, and stood on either side of the archdruid. The congregation had their eyes closed and heads bowed in prayer, and the bipedal Pokémon clasped their hands together as well. Seeing the crowd in such holy reverence struck a chord within Cathbad's heart, and a thought came to them.

It appears we'll have quite the audience for what is about to happen.

Their eyes drifted to Torna. The Armaldo remained stoic, saying nothing. Yet he was a point of Cathbad's focus, with their senses tugging at them in warning. Danger, danger, danger-

They averted her gaze, focusing on the congregation instead. Focus, Cathbad. You must be vigilant for your sake.

Torna stepped up to the podium by the altar and spoke, his voice being carried across the congregation by an amplification crystal resting on the top of the podium.

"In the name of Lord Arceus the Creator, and all that he shaped with His Thousand Hands, may we commence this holy rite in His name."

"Amen," the crowd replied in unison.

"Today is a special occasion for Gleann Órga," the Armaldo went on. "We have been blessed by the presence of Their Grace Cathbad Bhán Ní Riagáin, our archdruid chosen by His Holiness the Pontifex Maximus and Rí Trahaern to lead the Alban Church. They shall partake with us in the rite of vespers this evening, and offer their blessings to our Creator at the conclusion of this ceremony.

"Also in attendance is our Tánaiste, Lady Scáthach, who has accompanied Their Grace to Gleann Órga. We thank her for taking the time out to witness our devotion, and we wish her the utmost of blessings in return." Torna gestured to the Archeops, which led to a few gasps and murmurs among the congregation in realisation that Alba's second strongest fighter was among them.

Torna stepped down from the podium, with Cathbad taking his place. They stared out at the sea of people before them. In the past, speaking before them would've been impossible. They'd had no will for speaking before others; their words had gone unheeded before, and they had been publicly ridiculed.

But now…thanks to the efforts of her and Him, I am not burdened by such doubts any more.

"Let us begin this rite of vespers with our opening prayer." They spoke the words with conviction. "O Blessed Creator, by your benevolence and guidance, we stand here today to give thanks to your everlasting love for us. Trials and tribulations await us in our lives ahead, and we pray to you to aid us on our path to a brighter future. We reciprocate your love through prayer, and seeing to the upkeep of the land you created and bestowed upon us. We shall give thanks forever, until the hour of our death. Amen."

"Amen," the congregation said.

From there, the routine went as it had done for Cathbad when leading the rites in their visits to religious sites around Alba. Scripture excerpts and prayers were read, and Cathbad took part in anointing Gleann Órga's priests with holy oil.

But the Absol eventually became restless, as the rite went on. Minutes began to feel like hours, as though Dialga Himself had slowed down time as a cruel prank. They waited with bated breath, and as that time grew nearer, they tried to keep their nerves at bay.

Remember what Scáthach told you: in, out, in, out. Stay calm; the people need you to remain calm and collected.

The breathing exercises helped, and Cathbad felt a sense of calm just as the moment of truth began to arrive.

The libation, the pouring of wine as an offering to the Creator, was about to begin.

It was a risky gambit, what they were about to do. Certainly, old them, old her, would never have dreamt of doing something like this. They would've accepted the fate there and then of what was about to happen to them.

How thankful I realised how malleable Fate can be. Now then…Cathbad's eyes narrowed. Let me seize this opportunity.

"O Creator," Torna began. "We bring you gifts to give thanks for Your creation of our world, the land blessed with the fruits of Your labour, and our very existence as people to live in the world You created. By that which You created, we have harvested and produced this wine to offer to you."

Three stone slabs lay at the base of the statue, with the one at the back noticeably bigger than the rest. Each one was engraved with an insignia, with the biggest one bearing the recognisable cross-wheel upon it. Torna and Cichol poured the wine onto each of the slabs at the statue's base, as was customary during the libations carried out by the Church. The Armaldo recited prayers for each pour onto the slabs.

"Dialga, Keeper of Time; may time remain steady by your will."

"Palkia, Guardian of Space; may space remain stable by your every breath."

"Lord Arceus, our blessed Creator; may you be remembered by our people for the world you have gifted us."

Then Torna took another bowl of wine from the altar, and bestowed it to Cathbad.

Danger, danger, danger, danger-!

"And an offering for Their Grace Archdruid Cathbad, our Creator's elect to serve in His name. May you take this and drink it, as your predecessors have done, Your Grace."

That was the moment Cathbad had been waiting for. Fate has gifted me this opportunity. I will not waste it.

"This wine is an unworthy offering. I cannot accept it."

Silent shock took hold of the church at Cathbad's sudden brusqueness. Several stupefied congregants' hands went to their mouth, and muted whispering took place among some.

"...Gabh mo leithscéal, Your Grace?" Torna's expression morphed in an instant. Gone was his serene expression, which disgust took the place of.

"Our wine is…unworthy?" Cichol was confused.

"Through no fault of your own, Father Cichol," Cathbad told him. "Father Torna, on the other hand…Why is such wine being offered up for libation?"

"Y-Your Grace, this is the finest wine produced by the viners of Laighean!" Torna was nothing short of appalled. Behind them, Cathbad could hear murmurings of discontent. "They have provided wine for libations at Gleann Órga for centuries now! No predecessor would dare to call this wine unworthy! You insult the hard work of our viners by refusing this!"

"Me? I insult Laighean's viners?" Cathbad shook their head. "In no sense of the word. Instead it is you, Father Torna, who insults them by polluting the wine they produce."

"P-Polluting?!" The Armaldo druid only became more irate at the Absol's words. "Enough of these wild accusations! Do not come here and sully the name of Gleann Órga's druids!" He raised a claw in anger. Cathbad, however, could see that it was shaking in trepidation.

We're closing in on the truth. Time to lure my prey in.

"I assert that the wine used for the libation for vespers this evening…has poison in it." Cathbad heard shocked gasps from the congregation. "In getting me to drink it, Father Torna…you wish to take my life." They gave a cold stare at the aforementioned druid.

"F-Father Torna?" Cichol, silent until this point, stared in disbelief at his superior. "I-Is this true?"

"Of course it isn't!" blasted Torna. "Our archdruid is telling lies! And in the midst of a holy rite, no less!" He looked at Cathbad. "Your blasphemy revulses all druids, those who you preach to, and the gods you preach for!"

"...Very well then." Cathbad did their best to keep a calm countenance amidst her adversary's rantings. "Prove it. Prove there is no poison in this wine."

"...Wh-What?"

"It should be a simple task, no? All you need to do is drink this wine, as proof it has not been laced with poison. If you do so, you will be proven right and I wrong. I will even make a solemn declaration right here and now. If this wine is indeed unsullied by poison…then I will step down from my post as archdruid altogether.

"Drink the wine, Father Torna. Ar aghaidh leat." Cathbad nudged the bowl in his direction. "If what you say is true, then you have nothing to lose."

Torna's expression had suddenly shifted. What was once a face of righteous anger had partially given away to a dash of fear. The shaking of trepidation had not ceased; rather, he was a quivering mess, struggling to keep the bowl he had picked up from Cathbad. Droplets of wine dripped onto the stone altar, staining the brickwork a dark red.

"Y-Your Grace…" he uttered with contempt. "Do not do this! The wine is meant for you to drink, not I!"

"And I decline because it is poisoned. Prove to me it isn't, Father Torna. After all, the wine is your responsibility. You insisted on it for today's vespers, as I was told by intel." She cast a sideways glance to Scáthach, who had her eyes glued to the display. "If there is no poison in this serving of wine, then you should know. Or…is your reluctance proof that I am correct?"

"I-I'll admit to no such thing!"

"Then eat your words. Or rather…drink them." Cathbad's gaze became a piercing glare under which Torna began to quiver.

Torna continued to hesitate. He brought the wine closer to his mouth, though he never plucked up the courage to drink the substance. He continued to shake with fear all over, as a bewitched audience of druids and congregants watched him.

Then the emotional pendulum swung back to anger, and the Armaldo threw the bowl to the ground. It shattered, with the poisoned wine staining the bricks and seeping through the brickwork. Some congregants near the front gasped in shock.

"Who do you think you are?" Torna growled.

"Hm?" Cathbad cocked their head curiously. "Do explain, Father Torna."

"I've been loyal to Arceus the Creator since I was a youth," the high druid began. "He captivated me every single sermon I attended. I pledged myself to His ways, and became a druid in adolescence. I defeated every druid of Gleann Órga to become the high druid of this sacred temple. I have been high druid of Gleann Órga Temple for more than thirty years. Thirty years! I am among Lord Arceus's most loyal preachers! I know the Holy Scriptures front to back! You could not find a more devout servant of our Creator in our country! Or even on Ardalion's blessed earth!

"But what do I get in return? Three ríthe I've lived through as high druid. And not one of them has recognised me as a worthy candidate or archdruid. Not even so much as a consideration! Two months ago was the fourth time a new archdruid has been elected in my thirty years as high druid. And who do they consider? Not I, a preacher wholly committed to His word…but a mangy stripling with naught to their name but some 'foresight'! What do you have that I don't, Your Grace?! Why does His Holiness and Rí Trahaern consider me unworthy?! Why?!"

Shocked silence filled those attending, as Torna's outburst took time to sink in. Across the pews, amidst the hundreds of Pokémon in attendance for this rite of vespers, gazes were fixated on the Absol and Armaldo on the altar. They had not expected it would come to this. A public confrontation between the archdruid and Gleann Órga's high druid? If one had told them that was to happen here and now, they would have been laughed out of Alba.

"...I see. So that is your motivation." Cathbad's murmur broke the silence. "You claim you know the Scriptures front to back. As it so happens, I do too, and allow me to recite some passages from those sacred pages.

"From the Book of Arian: 'No murder shall go unpunished, whether by the Deathbringer's wings or the murderer's mortal adversaries.'

"From the Book of Táiltiú: 'Brian said, 'But, O Creator, I hath carried out justice in thy name!' And the Creator said, 'Thou hast not committed justice. By sullying thy hands with blood, thou art no greater than those who murdered thy kin.'

"From the Book of Savern: 'Revenge is a deadly lure, for it promises satisfaction only to deal thyself with emptiness in its place.'

"From the Book of Rhadamanthos: 'Envy of his neighbours drove the innocent Masistes to murder and pillage, thereby consigning his fate to the depths of hell.'

"Murder is a vile action condemned by our Creator. You, Father Torna, are sixty-four years old and zealous in your teachings. You, more than anyone else, should know this. But you, as, and I quote, 'a preacher wholly committed to His word', went down the path to murder, because of jealousy.

"Since you haven't drank the wine and proven your words, I'll take that to mean I am correct. You did intend to murder me. Even in Alba, the land of warriors, that is an action worthy of the highest punishment." They looked over their shoulder, at Scáthach. "Is that not correct, Tánaiste?"

"You bet it is!" Scáthach leapt up from her seat. "Seize him, mercs!"

Suddenly, on cue, a crew of four Pokémon in the front pews, each wearing orange scarves with a triskelion - the telltale emblem of the Rí's Guild - rose, and marched up to the altar. Cichol let out a cry of fright, and Torna reacted angrily.

"No, no! I won't let you seize me! I'll be judged by the Creator Himself! Not this sham of a blasphemer and their supporters!"

To the shock of observers, Torna ran to the edge of the altar. Everyone in the congregation watched with horror, realising what he was about to do.

"Hey! No!" Scáthach cried.

"Stop him!" Cathbad called.

"Father Torna, don't!" Cichol yelled.

But it was too late. Torna ran to the edge of the altar, and as the mercs closed in on him…

…He jumped off.

It was too far to hear the crunch of his body as it hit the ground. But two of Scáthach's mercenaries saw him hit the ground at the cliff's base.

"H-He…" One of them, a Gurdurr, looked down in shock. "...I think he's dead."

"Ascertain that fact." Scáthach had flown over to them. The Archeops had gone into action mode. "Niamh, confirm whether Father Torna is alive or dead!"

"Roger!" The other merc, a Skarmory, flapped her wings, and flew down to where he had landed.

As they did this, Cathbad turned to the crowd.

"...This rite has ended. Go in peace." Their voice drew the attention of every congregant, some of whom were beginning to panic and flee at what they had just seen. "And when you return to your kin at home, tell them what you saw this evening with your own two eyes. Let them know what happened, and be in no doubt about the facts of the case; that Father Torna Gormarmúr Mac Cecht, high druid of Gleann Órga, resorted to attempted murder and killed himself to avoid justice. Thank you, and may the Creator guide your judgement."

Cathbad's calming words placated the crowd and stemmed any further panic from breaking out. Though after all that had happened, they weren't staying silent anymore. A clamour broke out over the crowd as they departed, as voices of disbelief rang out.

"F-Father Torna died?"

"Renegade's tendrils…I can't believe it…"

"You saw him yourself, didn't ya? He said all that."

"How's the town gonna react to this?"

A few tried to go up to the altar to see for themselves, but Cathbad and Scáthach's other mercs blocked their path.

"Do not bother," the Absol said to them. "Father Torna is dead. That is all you need to know. Return to your homes and let the word be known."

A collective discomfort could be felt as the congregation departed the temple, ushered out by other druids at the aisle's end. Cathbad watched them go, hoping that their pleas would be spread.

"Y-Your Grace." Cichol's shaky voice drew their attention. "...F-Father Torna…I-I apologise. If only I'd known what he was planning, I-"

"It is no fault of yours, Father Cichol," Cathbad said.

"B-But I…Even so…" The Sigilyph's gaze drifted to the spilt wine on the brickwork. "Was that truly laced with poison? Did Father Torna and I truly pour poison on the statue of our Creator?"

"Specialists will confirm that by tomorrow. But please, Father Cichol…" The Absol looked the Sigilyph in his eye. "I am certain our Creator would forgive such an offence. Especially when you did so without knowledge of Father Torna's true nature.

"In the meantime, please leave this scene to me. Tell the other druids of Father Torna's fate, and what you saw during this rite with your own eyes. I cannot have doubters and conspiracy theorists sowing seeds of distrust that obfuscate the truth. Is that clear?"

"Y-Yes, Your Grace. Th-Though I may need some time to process all of this…" The Sigilyph began to float away, although his slumped look betrayed the fact that he was shaken deeply by what had transpired. A twinge of sympathy sprang within Cathbad as they watched Cichol go.

Their gaze looked upwards towards the sky, where the last rays of the sun had nearly dipped below the horizon. The sunset was nothing short of beautiful, casting the land in an orange glow. Twilight was about to begin, and with it, the harsh cold of Alba's desert.

Cathbad closed their eyes and murmured a prayer to the heavens above.

O Creator, who art in the Heavens…I beseech that You deliver a worthy judgement to Father Torna. The crime of attempted murder by a high druid should not go unpunished.

"Welp, he's definitely dead, by the looks of it." Scáthach's voice drew Cathbad's attention right as they finished their prayer, with the Archeops fluttering right up to them.

"I see." The Absol continued to look out at the darkening sky. "Two ends, this sunset brings. The end of a day…and the end of a life."

"Yeah…" Scáthach looked out with them. "But y'know…with a new dawn comes a new beginning. And a new beginning will be happening here, with the nomination of a high druid."

"I cannot imagine it will be easy to get over the death of Torna, or what he tried to do," Cathbad said. "But I won't sweep this under the rug. The truth must be known."

"Yeah. Better than letting corruption fester," agreed Scáthach. "As Tánaiste, I can't let that stand. We'll create a brighter future for Alba together. You with me, Cathbad?"

The Absol smiled at the Archeops.

"Indeed, Scáthach. We will."



The sun had fully set by the time an investigation team was sent by the chief from Areadbhar, Laighean's administrative town. Cathbad and Scáthach stayed and gave their witness statements, with the latter advising that the testimony of congregants should be taken into account as well.

"Hundreds of people saw it!" the Archeops said. "It'll be an airtight case for sure!"

"Aye, Tánaiste," the head investigator, a Lunatone named Gealach, obliged. "We'll get those statements before the night's out!"

"Good on you!" Scáthach praised. "But y'know, get some rest and all that. Can't do your job effectively without proper sleep, after all."

"Ha! Ná déan dearmad, Tánaiste, that the night's when I'm most alive," the Lunatone laughed. "Hence why your father sent me out here. Nighttime interrogations are my specialty! Leave the daytime interrogations to my Solrock partner!"

"Hee hee! I couldn't forget the unstoppable duo of Grian and Gealach," Scáthach tittered. "But maybe let's talk on the way. Those statements won't write themselves!"

"Aye, Tánaiste, they won't! Now I think we ought to start at the far end of town…"

Gealach's voice faded out, and Scáthach's wing flaps faded into the background as he and Scáthach left the temple grounds. Cathbad watched them go, their gaze not leaving them until they were out of sight.

…No ill intent from him. The truth was there for all to see; I shan't imagine he will have any difficulty coming to a conclusion.

The Absol then let out a sigh, which then became a yawn. It had been an eventful evening, and they were beginning to feel tired. It was about time to head to bed before travelling to Areadbhar next morning. The death of Father Torna had left a gaping absence in the leadership of Gleann Órga, and a replacement would need to be arranged with Darach Goirmeite Mac Cecht, chief of Laighean.

But Cathbad shook their head. There was one more matter to settle before they turned in for the night.

They walked through the temple's hallways, still in the night. The temple's druids were beginning to retire for the night, before the rite of matins began early next morning. Even in the face of death, worship to the Creator could not stand by, and the druids vowed to continue their worship in spite of the loss they had suffered. The show had to go on, and Cathbad offered their personal commendations to the druids for putting their faith first.

The Absol neared the dormitory, but paused when their ears picked up on something. They listened closely.

It sounds like…the recital of a prayer? Curious, they followed where it was coming from.

Next to the dormitory, a pathway led to an alcove cut into the mountainside on which Gleann Órga Temple stood. In that nook, there was a balcony overlooking a meander on the Istwyth. On that balcony's edge, a Sigilyph was perched, murmuring an anguished prayer.

"....To not have seen such evil before me…How? I have failed…Beannaigh dom, a Chruthaitheoir, mar pheacaigh mé. I am unworthy. I am not fit to be a druid under Your name, O Creator."

His wings were drooped in resigned sorrow, and Cathbad's sharp hearing picked up on notes of anguish. By the sounds of it, the Sigilyph had been crying, and a whimper crept from him as he finished his prayer. A twinge of sorrow struck within Cathbad as they looked upon the scene before them.

How pitiful, they thought. …He seeks guidance? Then he shall be given it.

The Absol stepped forward.

"Do not seek forgiveness for wrongs you have not committed, Father Cichol."

"Ah!" The Sigilyph nearly fell off where he was perched on the balcony. Quickly, he righted himself. "O-Oh, Your Grace…F-Forgive me. I did not see you there."

"The fault is mine. I am too quiet in my approaches," Cathbad apologised. "I will redouble my efforts in future. But no matter. …I see you are not well."

"No, Your Grace," Cichol said. "I cannot sleep. Not after…all that happened today."

He lowered his head in sorrow, Cathbad observing his every move.

How pitiful a soul is, when their master and tutor has done wrong, the Absol thought. They gave a flick of their mane before speaking again.

"I take it Father Torna's death has not yet sunk in?"

Silence from the priest at first, before he spoke.

"...It has not, Your Grace."

"I see." Cathbad closed their eyes. "I apologise. My very presence led to his demise, thus creating the current dilemma for you."

"Oh no, no, Your Grace, don't blame yourself, please!" Cichol begged, his eye wide. "I-I am partly at fault myself!"

"Are you now?" The Absol tilted their head, curious. "Do elaborate."

"I told Investigator Gealach this earlier," the Sigilyph began. "I suspected something was afoot with Father Torna when you were to visit, Your Grace. I was aware he was not the most receptive of you. But I…said nothing. I figured his feelings would pass once you gave your sermon. Actions speak louder than words - our warriors preach this saying regularly. And I thought Father Torna would suppress those feelings once he saw your faith in person.

"But never…" A note of anguish came into Cichol's voice. "Never in my wildest dreams would I imagine he would stoop to murder!"

If the Sigilyph had a lip, it would be trembling. His wide eyes told all; betrayal, surprise and fear embodied them, and they pleaded with the Absol opposite him to recognise the truth of his words. His lone eye was beginning to fill with tears again.

Cathbad said nothing. Instead, they got closer and suddenly wrapped their forepaw around the grieving Sigilyph, bringing him into a hug.

"Y-Your Grace!" Cichol was taken aback. "Wh-What is-"

"Let out your anguish," the Absol told him. "Let it cleanse you in the wake of this betrayal."

"Y-Your Grace…!" The Sigilyph sounded like he would say more, but grief overtook him and in that moment, he accepted Cathbad's embrace and cried into their shoulder. His one eye leaked tears which fell onto the Absol's fur, dampening it. The archdruid kept her forepaw steady, keeping their fellow druid in place until the waterworks died down.

Eventually, the tears came to pass, and just as soon as they did, Cichol tried to break from the embrace. Cathbad put their paw down.

"I-I shouldn't…" His voice was strained. "Surely it's improper for the Ard-draoi to embrace me like this?"

"I care not how improper it is," Cathbad said. "The wellbeing of my druids comes first over any supposed etiquette."

"How selfless of you, Your Grace," Cichol murmured sadly. "...I'm sorry, I…I'm still in shock over it all…I only wish I could take it better."

"Take your time." Cathbad gave him a look of sympathy. "Death is not easily overcome. Not least the death of a mentor."

"But he tried to kill you, Your Grace! How could you-"

"I am not forgiving him." Cathbad shook their head. "I am merely acknowledging the truth that he was essential to your life."

"That is true…and it's why this is all so hard to process." Cichol's wings drooped again. "I always saw myself as a follower, not a leader. I followed and respected Father Torna…and I could never see myself stepping into his position. So…if that's what you came to tell me tonight, I'm afraid I must decline."

Cathbad blinked. It's like he read my mind, they thought. But psychics shouldn't be able to do that to me. Not unless…he suspected it all along?

"We have not yet made that decision," the Absol informed, trying to hide their surprise and slight reluctance at Cichol's request. "I will travel to Areadbhar tomorrow and discuss Father Torna's replacement with Chief Darach."

"I see." Cichol's posture relaxed, his wings drooping less.

"There are other clergymon in this monastery," Cathbad went on. "It's nothing a reshuffle cannot accomplish in finding a replacement."

"You are…surprisingly accommodating, Your Grace."

"In my position, one must be pragmatic and make decisions according to new developments." The Absol flicked their mane in a dignified manner. "You do not want to replace Father Torna? Very well, then. You shall not be considered.

"That said…you strike me as capable, Father Cichol. As such, I would like to extend an offer to you."

"To me?" Cichol's attention was piqued. "Whatever for, Your Grace?"

"Today has taught me that travelling alone may not be the wisest strategy," Cathbad elaborated, a serious look coming into their eyes. "There may well be others like Father Torna who seek to take my life. Thus, having someone by my side would be to my benefit. They need not be outright security, but one to watch my back should the need arise. Not just as a fellow druid…but as a companion.

"Father Cichol…would you be interested?"

Cichol's wings fluttered in shock, and he let out a close approximation to a squawk.

"M-Me!?" he cried in disbelief.

"Indeed." Cathbad nodded.

"...But why me, Your Grace?" Cichol's wings drooped once more. "Surely, there are more capable druids than I…"

"I have considered your words," Cathbad began. "You claim you are a follower, not a leader. The absence of someone like Father Torna in your life would leave a gaping hole. But what if that were filled by another authority figure to look up to, beyond merely our Creator?"

"I…you have a point…"

"I should also think I would resonate more closely with a fellow clergymon than Guild warriors seeking coin," the Absol continued. "Not to denigrate them, but I imagine most of them would have no interest in what I have to say. Someone like you, however, would."

"You think so?"

"And I need someone who will listen." A mixed expression of seriousness and pleading came over Cathbad's face."Ardalion will face tribulations in the near future, and Alba will perhaps endure the toughest trials of all. Serious enough that many lives will be lost. And of those lives…I would rather yours not be one of them."

"T-Trials? Your Grace, what are you talking about?" Cichol's eye widened with fear, and his wings began to lightly shake.

"...I know not yet what. Just know that of all I have seen in my lifetime, this may well prove to be the most tumultuous period in Ardalion's history since the felling of the Tyrant King. And I do not exaggerate when I say those words." Cathbad's serious look hardened further.

"...Y-Your Grace…" Cichol seemed to be at a loss for words, before he spoke again. "...I don't fully know what you speak of. But…when those times come, will you try and alleviate the suffering of the afflicted?"

"Yes. In every sense of the word. I will not slack as others have."

Cathbad held back a huff, the pontifex's tales of oathbreaking archbishops of the East still fresh in their mind. They kept their composure as they awaited the Sigilyph's response.

"Then…I would like to help you." A new look of resolve came into Cichol's eye. "While there is service in giving rites to our Creator, I should think He would want us to help others through such times. While ritegiving is essential, words do not feed the mouths of the hungry. We have enough of a problem in Alba with this, and you say it will only get worse, Your Grace?"

"Indeed, it will."

"Then allow me to aid you." Cichol's plea almost sounded begging. "If I can save the life of even one person through my actions, then I will be content."

The hope in the Sigilyph's eye was tangible enough to be felt in the air, and it demonstrated a conviction that took aback even Cathbad and as they considered the Sigilyph's words, that look proved to be more than convincing in making their decision.

I certainly cannot turn away such enthusiasm.

"Then I shall make the arrangements," they decided. "Your aid will be most welcome."

"Y-You mean it, Your Grace?"

"Of course." A small smile crossed Cathbad's muzzle. "Welcome to my side, Father Cichol."

"Thank you, Your Grace…" Cichol sighed in relief.

"That said, I leave here tomorrow morning," Cathbad said. "If you wish to join me, be there with me before I go."

"I understand, Your Grace. I'll be there then." The Sigilyph then let out a yawn, and their wings then began to droop in what looked like exhaustion. "Goodness, I feel tired…"

"It's been a long, eventful day. Get some rest," Cathbad insisted. "You cannot commit to your future position without any sleep."

"Very well, Your Grace. I'll see you tomorrow." Cichol then lifted himself from his perch and began to flap his wings back to his dormitory.

"See you then, Father Cichol." Cathbad watched him go until he disappeared from their view. Once he was gone, they allowed themselves to brood on their own thoughts.

I think he will make a fine addition, they thought. The times ahead will be tough, and I will need an able soul by my side. He should be able to perform well, and listen to me without question. I need someone to believe me…because too many have doubted me until now.

They let out a sad sigh. Such is the way of the Absol. And yet…were it not for my instincts, I would no longer be alive. I can rely on Scáthach, but she has her own duties as tánaiste. Cichol would be able to fill that role effectively, as an ally and shoulder to lean on.

Their gaze flicked upwards to the moon, its full splendour on display in the cloudless Alban sky.

I only hope that more will hear my words when these dark times arrive. In time, a saviour will arrive, but until then, this incoming storm must be weathered by us. Though these words may be fickle, may some god out there hear them.

Cathbad then leaned their head down solemnly, and began reciting a prayer.

"Ár gCruthaitheoir, sa Halla Bunúis,
Go n-aofar d'ainm,
Go dtaga do ríocht,
Go ndéantar do thoil ar an talamh,
Mar a dhéantar ar neamh…."




Notes
This was once my entry for the 2023 PMD Writers' Union Oneshot Compilation. I had been meaning to expand it to a longer piece without a word limit in place and alter a few things, and now that Cathbad has appeared in the main fic (took me long enough, I know), I felt it appropriate to do just that.

If you are curious about the original piece, it can be found here. It's mostly the same, but there's no touch ups and there's no ending scene with Cathbad and Cichol. (Though while you're in there, do check out the other oneshots in that collection - they're great pieces written by some of the best authors around.)

This oneshot takes place about a year before the events of Dual Wills begin. The rite depicted here was modelled on a Catholic mass. Regarding placenames, Gleann Órga translates to 'golden valley' in Irish, and Laighean is derived from the Irish name for the Irish province of Leinster.

The hymn depicted as Torna and Cichol walk up the aisle is partially based on 'We Are The Chosen Ones' from Xenoblade 2, a song sung by choral group Anúna, although I translated it to Irish and changed the words entirely so it would flow closer to the original melody. The prayer Cathbad recites at the end is based on the Irish translation of the Our Father prayer from Catholicism.

Glossary
Dochreidte - "unbelievable" in Irish.
Gabh mo leithscéal - "Excuse me," in Irish.
Ar aghaidh leat - "Go ahead," in Irish.
Ná déan dearmad - "Do not forget," in Irish.
Beannaigh dom, a Chruthaitheoir, mar pheacaigh mé - "Bless me, Creator, for I have sinned," in Irish.
Ard-draoi - "archdruid" in Irish.

Hymns and Prayers
"Ár dtír naomh, á chosaint ag a Chros-Roth órga
Leanfaidh muid a thoil, a thiomna,
Beidh cuid cuireadh chun báis,
Is i bhfís an Chruthaitheora,
Treoraigh ár mbreithiúnas,
Las an bóthar ceart…"


"Our blessed land, defended by his golden Cross-Wheel,
We will follow His will, His testament,
Some will face death,
It's in the Creator's vision,
Guide our judgement,
Light the just road..."



"Ár gCruthaitheoir, sa Halla Bunúis,
Go n-aofar d'ainm,
Go dtaga do ríocht,
Go ndéantar do thoil ar an talamh,
Mar a dhéantar ar neamh…."


"Our Creator, in the Hall of Origin,
Hallowed be Thy name
Thy kingdom come,
Thy will be done,
On land as it is in the heavens…"
 
Top Bottom