Shadow of Antioch
Viaggiatore
Chapter XXI: Princeps
Neuhoffnung – Northern Edessa Province
Of all the places to be, sitting around a campfire crowded with Scum was not exactly where Flame had imagined he'd end up.
Yet there he was, sitting cross-legged near the front of the pack with a beer jug in his claws and absolutely no clue what any of the banter meant. He stopped staring at his drink to watch his newfound comrades: there were dozens of them, Krookodile, Jolteon, Marowak, Braixen, Sableye—all sat there in a circle, drinking and laughing and hurling what sounded like jokes across the pyre.
"K-kameraden!" a Raichu with a sleepy grin rose his jug to the air. "Ich weiss, d-der sieg ist nahe!"
The whole group let out a common cheer and raised their own glasses or jugs, before bursting out in spontaneous laughter.
Flame glanced around in confusion, smiled, then started laughing too—he couldn't understand what they were saying, but the cheeriness, the sheer energy radiating from everyone, it was … contagious.
Still distracted, he brought the jug to his lips and took a short sip. The strong bitter taste gave him pause. He swallowed reluctantly. One more certainty about his past life: he wasn't an avid drinker.
Suddenly a Zangoose to his right seized his shoulder, pulled his body closer.
"Ein trink für unseren neuen bruder!" he raised his own chalice, bounced it against Flame's and proceeded to chug his drink merrily to a huge cheer.
Flame felt strangely at ease even though everyone was looking straight at him. He rose to sit straighter, returning everyone's stare with another wide smile. He wondered briefly why he felt so calm. It almost felt … wrong. Sitting with his tail tucked into his lap for the sake of others, his tail flame sparked as happily as its larger brethren.
"Th-thank you," Flame said tentatively, raising his jug in the air to another round of gratuitous cheering.
He took another generous sip, and swallowed with some effort. This was nothing like he'd expected. With all the pats in the back, and hugs, and jokes he couldn't understand, he was truly being made to feel like a long-lost brother to these pokémon. Not just that, either—the look they were giving him … it was one of reverence. Or something close to it, at least. He'd seen their eyes light up in the same way whenever Daedalus was around.
Watching the fire crackle, and wiggling his toes idly, he thought back to Alice. The thought always put a tiny smile on his face. The memories rushed back to him of the afternoons they'd spent together at the city library—what she'd told him about the Scum. How they razed entire villages, raped their women, slaughtered surrendering legionaries without mercy. Yet when he spun his head to take a good look around him, he found none of that. These pokémon looked battle-hardened, for sure. And maybe a bit backwards. But they hardly gave him the impression of blood-lusting ferals.
Then again, he couldn't blame Alice for being wrong. She was only reading from the encyclopaedias—some pro-imperial bias was inevitable. It wasn't her fault. She had to have never met one of them outside of battle.
And yet…
Flame stopped himself from taking another sip of his drink. The doubt stung in the back of his mind. He looked around himself again: the Raichu from before was slumped over, seemingly dozing off from the alcohol.
While these pokémon looked perfectly normal, he struggled to believe that all those stories were fabrications. At least some of them, in some part, had to be true. That was the nature of war, was it not?
Yet in the same heartbeat, he still couldn't get over how astonishing it felt to sit peacefully among them—for them to eye him as if he'd always been one of their own!
Or maybe they just think I'm their god-king's son. He pursed his lips slightly, and looked up.
Flame shook off the cynicism as quickly as it came. Ever since waking up here, these pokémon had treated him with nothing but camaraderie. All that in spite of him being with the enemy until a few days ago.
In spite of the fact he'd murdered some of them.
A pit of nausea opened in Flame's stomach. His smile disappeared in seconds, and he placed his jug of beer back down on the grass; the thought of finishing it suddenly became intolerable.
Breathing heavily, and clutching his tail with both paws, Flame scrambled to get rid of the thoughts invading his head. He glazed over the crowd around him. But his eyes settled on a Vaporeon sitting opposite him: and again he was flooded with images of the Flareon charging uphill at his trench, the explosion of the blast seed he'd thrown, the same mangled Flareon careening through the air and landing somewhere behind the smoke. He remembered all the fires, the battle cries echoing throughout the valley, the fear—
Flame closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. The flood stymied. Temporarily, at least.
"I'm … I'm going back," he mumbled to the Zangoose as he got up, despite the language barrier between them.
His cheeriness ruined for good, he squeezed and hopped between the still-laughing Teutonii sitting further away from the campfire. Once he was free of the crowd, he mindlessly turned into the main street of the village. His eyes were completely inattentive to the darkening sky above him.
They were coming for me, he thought, clenching his fists tightly. I had to fight back. I had to…
While his argument felt perfectly logical, it didn't help much with the guilt.
Flame slumped his shoulders slightly as he trudged on. He now wished he'd never come to see the Teutonii in this light. He wished they'd just remained Scum in his head—mindless ferals to feel nothing toward except hate.
And the battle!
He shook his head to himself. They were never meant to fight in it in the first place. That was what all the planning with Alice and Gaius had been for: to get away from almost certain death on the battlefield, from a stupid war that was not their own. It had been his idea at the beginning. They'd make a run for it and start a new life somewhere in the far east—and Alice's eyes had lit up at that, and for a single night, they'd all shared a moment of hope. A moment of inner peace.
Flame smiled softly at the memory.
In his distraction, he nearly missed the small thatched hut they now called his home. Flame stared at its door for several seconds, blinked a few times, then chose to walk around the back. Right now, he wanted to think.
Once he was past the houses, Flame was presented with the large, shimmering plain of water that the whole village gave onto. He stopped for a moment to appreciate the sight, his tail swaying slowly behind him. The water was almost completely still. In the distance, a weak orange hue faded quickly before sinking into a deep, inky blue that nearly brushed the houses.
The earth beneath Flame's feet compacted into pebbles as he neared the shore. He sat down with his legs crossed, and raised his gaze to look at the horizon again.
A day. It had been an entire day since he'd first woken up in this place.
Flame grabbed a pebble from the ground and rolled it mindlessly in his palm. He wondered where Alice and Gaius were right now. The last he'd seen of them, they were being hurried onto different transport carts in the rush before the battle. What had become of them?
He rolled the pebble from one hand to the next. Perhaps they had really made it, he thought—left without him once they deemed him lost. Maybe they would have waited until the last second—but with the general frenzy, and so little time to enact their plan, he wouldn't have blamed them. Perhaps … perhaps they were journeying east right now, just as he sat here. He pictured them in the eye of his mind: marching through the forest underbrush and thinking of him, mourning his absence. A smirk flashed across his face. Even in his own fantasies, he couldn't hold back from being narcissistic.
Wherever you two are, Flame looked at the horizon and smiled, as if sending a telepathic message, I hope you're alright.
His only response was the wind whistling in his ear.
"You appear to be adapting quickly."
The voice startled Flame out of his thoughts. He turned to look behind him. Sure enough, there was Daedalus, floating motionless with its arms clasped behind its back. Its red eye was bright enough to pierce the settling darkness.
"Huh? Oh. I … guess so," Flame shrugged, and turned back towards the lake.
He could have sworn there was now a faint red reflection in the water, right beside the wobbly orange patch from his tail fire.
"I was happy to see you at the gathering, my child," Daedalus said. "The exiles have already accepted you. Perhaps, you are starting to do the same."
Flame did not look back, instead continuing to stare at the horizon. He clutched the pebble in his fist tightly. There were many, many things he wanted to ask the Dusknoir. For one, he wanted to know more about his past. About the Presence. Why the Teutonii were so eager to accept him, the enemy…
He didn't even know where to start.
"I'm glad you haven't tried to escape." A pause, as if anticipating his reaction. "That you are giving this new life a chance."
Yeah, as if I knew where I'd be going otherwise.
"No one's tried to kill me," he muttered. "Not yet. First time in a while."
Daedalus studied him for a few moments. "I see you are still troubled, my child."
As if to validate its observation, Flame slung the pebble as far as he could. He watched it bounce a few times, before it sputtered and sank into the depths of the lake. 'Troubled', huh?
"This wasn't exactly my choice," Flame turned to face the Dusknoir's glaring red eye. "It was yours. Remember? The least I can be about this is 'troubled'."
Daedalus hung its head. "You have every right to feel that way. However, as you regain your past memories, I'm confident you will see that this was the right choice to make."
Flame huffed at that. Perhaps the Dusknoir was right—still that strange voice inside him pushed him to trust it—but it still felt no less of an affront.
Riding a wave of sudden courage, Flame stood up fully and turned to face Daedalus. "I want to know," he said simply. "I want to know everything. About who I was, who the Scum are. If you want me to stay, you will tell me."
A light breeze whistled in his ears. Claws balled into fists, Flame's gaze drifted away as he scrambled for something else to say.
"Th-the only people I trust right now are my teammates." He glanced down briefly. "And you took me away from them."
There was a gap of several seconds filled only by the evening breeze.
Then, slowly, as if still considering his next action, Daedalus gave a single nod. "Come inside."
Flame took care to slide his tail properly into the gap of the chair before taking a seat, and facing the motionless Dusknoir at the other end of the table. The house—his house, he supposed, as he saw only a single bed—was lit by a combination of his tail fire and a series of candles littered throughout the room.
Flame shifted into the chair. His blank stare masked a whirlwind of questions clashing for priority in his head. Where would he even start? 'Who am I?' came to mind, but…
It was then that his eyes fell on an unfurled map on the table. His pupils dilated slightly at the sight. After a few seconds of deciphering the green landmass' shape, he recognised it immediately: it was a map of the Empire, complete with Urbe in the centre, the southern shoreline, the mountains in the north and east.
The sight of it helped focus his fractured mind on what his first question would be.
"What did you do to Aesernia?" Flame said, trying not to feel intimidated as he glared Daedalus directly in the eye.
"Why do you ask, my child?"
"You launched an assault on the city," Flame insisted. "Your forces did. You're their leader, aren't you? What happened to Aesernia?"
"The primary aim of our assault was to locate and retrieve you from enemy hands," Daedalus said. "Since that happened so quickly, I ordered my forces to withdraw—to act as a rearguard against any possible rescue operation."
Flame leaned closer in anticipation, cupping his paws together as if uttering a wordless prayer for Aesernia.
"Your city is safe, my child," Daedalus nodded with an amused smile. "I respect your emotional attachment to it."
At that, Flame felt a massive weight lifted from his conscience. He leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes. Aesernia was okay. The Via Palatina, the library, Camp Tempest—they were still standing. Even if he were to never see those places again, knowing that helped him feel more at peace.
However, Daedalus' thought process still left him troubled. The Empire might have wanted to rescue him?
"Yeah, 'rescue operation'," Flame narrowed his eyes, scowling. "You clearly weren't there. If they cared that much about me, I wouldn't have nearly died in those trenches."
"And I take full responsibility for endangering your life," Daedalus closed its eye and hung its head. "I assure you, my child, that finding you in the field of battle was not something I had planned for—that is the reason my troops attacked indiscriminately. The only plausible explanation is that the local authorities had not yet realised your true identity. If so, we are lucky to have found you in time."
Flame hummed and let his eyes wander down toward the map, lips pursed together in thought.
Something in that explanation didn't sit well with him. Tapping his index claw on the table, he rummaged through his memories of the exchange they'd had earlier that morning. Amidst his hazy, emotionally-charged recollection of it, one detail in particular came to mind.
"I thought you said the Empire was involved in wiping my memories." Flame narrowed his eyes ever so slightly.
For the first time, Flame saw the Dusknoir exhibit something approximating discomfort in the way it shifted from its immobile, impeccable posture.
"Those … those are both hypotheses, my child," Daedalus uttered in polite shame. "No matter how much I wish to satisfy your hunger for the truth, I cannot be certain what happened to you after we became separated. I may only speculate, based on the information at hand."
That was it, then; it was all pointless. Flame sat back against his chair, shoulders slumped. He could have sworn Alice had said those exact same words what felt like ages ago. It was so naive of him to expect all the answers to rain down from the sky.
Still, though, he reasoned. He knows me. He can remember who I was.
"Tell me who I was, then," Flame said. "You remember that, can't you? Before … before we got separated. How, um, did we get separated?"
"That, my child, is something I am still trying to figure out," Daedalus said, smiling slightly in affection. "The Gateway settings were altered correctly. We took precautions to enter it at the same time. And yet, once I crossed into this world, I found myself alone. Not a single trace of you for so long." A fond smile found its way on the Dusknoir's face. "I felt so worried for you, my child."
A confused gratitude bubbled up in Flame's chest, but it was overshadowed by the magnitude of the words he'd just heard.
"Gateway?" he blinked, mouth hanging open. "Th-this world? You mean … we came here from another dimension? Had we always been there?"
"Again, I can't be sure of our early life," Daedalus bowed his head in apology. "Neither of us remembered it. What I do know, however, is that our captivity took place on a different world. I suspect it is where the Presence originated from."
Flame shifted in his chair. He was not sure how to take that. Another dimension…? What did that even look like? Maybe it was like entering a mystery dungeon. Did those count?
Daedalus turned his head toward the wall. Its eye narrowed in thought. "I remember all the pokémon held there with me. We gathered at dawn every day, all in perfect file. I remember the combat training, the experiments… "
Flame paused his breathing, afraid that he'd miss a word if he made any noise whatsoever. A distant song from outside leaked through the walls.
"They were raising us to become their slaves. Mere foot soldiers, molded to their desires. It took me some time to understand that. I used the power they gave me to escape." Daedalus turned back to him, smiling. "And when I did, I found you. Just as thin as you are now."
Flame reflexively brought a paw to his chest to cover his ribs.
"Neither of us possessed a name," Daedalus looked straight into Flame's eyes again. "A family. For a brief period, we were the only family we had. We fought and survived together. By sharing our experiences, we understood what we had to do to thwart their plans."
Flame stared back into the Dusknoir's eye, trying to absorb everything he was being told. No matter how hard he tried to recall those events, nothing came back. His mind was empty. And the emptiness tormented him.
Nevertheless, he paused to make sense of what he'd just been told. We were slaves of … whatever the Presence is, in another dimension. Then we escaped, pledged to stop them, and crossed into this world?
It sure didn't sound like his life had been a boring one.
"And the Teutonii, they…"
"I came across the exiles shortly after arriving in this world." Daedalus completed his sentence. "When I discovered what the Presence did to them, I rallied them to the cause."
Kicking his feet back and forth, Flame glazed blankly over the table. Silence hung over the room for some time.
I guess I'm not a Scum after all, he chuckled uneasily.
His first thought was that Gaius would have been happy to learn that. In a way, though, it was a step back; at least he could picture what a Scum was in his head.
"Although it pains me that you have forgotten your oath, and everything that happened to you…" Daedalus spoke quietly and with his head bowed. "I can at least find comfort in the fact that you're here, now."
"I'm sorry." Flame bit his lip, and lowered his gaze to the table.
Daedalus shook his head slowly. "It is not your fault, my child." A soft smile was etched on his face. "After all these years of knowing nothing about your fate, of questioning whether you were even alive… You … you have no idea how happy I am."
Flame felt the faintest hint of tears well in his eyes. The sincerity in those words moved him. Although he couldn't remember, somewhere in the recesses of his psyche, something just … felt right about them.
That was, until he noticed Daedalus moving towards him. Through the table. Flame watched dumbstruck.
"Please, my child, allow me…"
Before Flame could react, the Dusknoir leaned down and … embraced him. Flame felt his body lock into place at the cold, soft body wrapped around him. His heart sputtered. After a few seconds to recover from the shock, Flame hugged him back as best as he could. The difference in body size meant that his arms reached only to its sides.
They stayed like that for a few seconds longer. When Daedalus finally let go of him—lower body still phasing through the table—he looked down at him with a smile that Flame could only describe as paternal. And Flame smiled too, feeling a strange warmth bubbling in his chest.
However, there was something that the Dusknoir had said before the embrace that bothered him. He took a moment to recall.
"H-how long ago did you say we got separated?"
"Twenty-one months, and eleven days," Daedalus said. "That is when we crossed the Gateway to this world."
Flame stared blankly. His face gradually morphed into one of horror. "I've … only been alive for a month," he muttered. "That—that's how much I remember, at least."
Daedalus' gaze mellowed into one of compassion.
Flame now felt even more lost about himself, if such a thing was even possible.
"Why can't I remember?" Flame's gaze wandered upwards to the ceiling.
"I promise," Daedalus said, placing both hands on his shoulders, "that we will do our best to discover what it is that happened to you. Though it may be hard to feel optimistic … what matters most is that you're here, now. You're safe."
Flame nodded at that, and gave a small smile, but could not find it in him to place much hope in that promise.
"Everything you just told me," Flame began, clenching his jaw. "About how we came here. I was hoping it'd help me remember, but…" He shook his head. "Nothing. It might as well have been a story you made up."
Daedalus merely bowed its head, retreating back to the other side of the table.
Flame's gaze continued to wander around the room, his tail swaying to and fro. He didn't know whether to feel hopeless or resentful right now. Judging from how much brighter the room felt, orange patches of light dancing across every inch, his tail fire seemed to be favouring resentment.
When I woke up in that cave… I felt like I was on the verge of dying. But I wasn't injured, per se. It felt like … I'd just gone through something unimaginable.
Flame watched his first encounter with Alice and Gaius play back in his mind. He remembered the cold, the mountains outside, the vastness of the sky, the walls of Aesernia in the distance. At the time, it all felt so … new. It still did, in a way.
Flame stared Daedalus in the eye suddenly.
"Could you help me remember?" Flame asked, struggling to keep desperation out of his voice.
Daedalus stared at him for several seconds, eye still in thought. "My child… You must understand, your mind is in a very precarious state right now. Though it will heal, it may take months. Perhaps years. By attempting to force the healing process, I fear that … we may damage your psyche beyond all repair."
Flame flinched.
"Way to put it lightly," he muttered, gaze wandering off to the side.
In a brief stretch of silence, he could hear a group of voices and laughter passing by his house. Flame tapped his claws idly on the table.
"Maybe you could…" Flame said, eyes brightening. "Project one of your memories to me. I, I don't know—there has to be something!"
"I … don't know, Flame," Daedalus shook his head slowly. "While certainly less invasive, it could trigger a cascade of your own memories. A lifetime's worth of memories. You may still be young, but your mind cannot possibly handle that in your current state."
Flame was about to protest, but he knew it was no use. Daedalus was right. When he'd allowed Yvaine to probe his memories, his head felt like it was about to split open. He brought a paw to his head almost on reflex.
"I'm sorry. I cannot afford to take undue risks. Not after losing you for so long."
Flame gave a small nod. His eyes arched downwards, then narrowed slightly as he sighed. He was beginning to grow accustomed to the thought that maybe he'd never discover what had happened to him. And just two days ago, when he and the rest of Team Phalanx were planning their new lives in the east, he was almost all right with that. Now that he'd finally gotten a glimpse into his past, though, the disappointment stung back all the harder.
Flame sighed softly. He wished Alice were here.
"However…"
Flame's head shot back up. He stared at the Dusknoir expectantly.
"One of the exiles stationed here possesses advanced psionic abilities," Daedalus said, arms behind its back. "I will assign them to aid you in your recovery. If they deem it safe enough, I will happily share my own memories with you."
Flame grew a tiny smile. Though it was not nearly enough, he decided to take what he could get.
"Thank you."
"You deserve to live a normal life, my child," Daedalus said softly, nodding. "It is getting late. Tomorrow will be a long day."
"Hold on," Flame leaned forward on the table. "One last question. Please."
It had been gnawing at the back of his mind ever since first waking up here. He had to get an answer to it to even consider living here another day.
Daedalus merely nodded again.
Flame stared the Dusknoir straight in the eye. "Are all those stories about the Teutonii true? All the massacres, the rapes, the killing of prisoners?"
"I had no doubt the Empire would jump at the occasion to demonise the exiles." Daedalus stared back. "When the Presence began slaughtering them in the thousands, they found no choice but to cross the Tartarus Mountains to safer lands. It is a migratory crisis of the Empire's own making. What would you have them do? Lay down and die?"
"Answer the question," Flame narrowed his eyes. "I've been to a village they burnt down—Sperantia Nova. There wasn't even a garrison. Why?"
Daedalus rose its head in thought. If it had a mouth, Flame imagined it would have sighed. "At the same time, I cannot deny that violence and warfare are inextricably linked," it continued. "Though I try my best, I can only be in so many places at a time to command my troops. Some merely fight to live here in peace; others, they seek vengeance for the way they were wronged. Occasionally, some take it too far."
Flame looked down to the table for a few seconds, eyes still narrowed. His claws clenched briefly.
"That's not an excuse…"
"Indeed," Daedalus said. "But our mission is simply too important, my child. Should we fail, none of their sacrifices will have meant anything. Pokémonkind will be but a slave to the Presence. Many more innocents will pay the price."
Flame wanted to accept that explanation—he really did, but the smouldering shell of Sperantia Nova just kept flashing in his mind. He wasn't sure how to reconcile that with the campfire and the camaraderie.
Before he could raise another objection, however, Daedalus moved toward the door. It turned just before the threshold to look straight at him again.
"You should sleep, my child." Daedalus smiled softly. A few seconds passed in silence. "Though this war may be far from over, you can finally rest easy. You're safe here. You can start living a normal life, like you've always deserved."
With that, Daedalus's gaze lingered on him for one final, paternal smile. Then it turned back, and phased right through the door.
And thus, Flame was alone, alone with his thoughts.
After staying still for a few seconds, almost as if to ensure it was gone, Flame released a shaky sigh. Slumping over the table, he put a hand to his forehead and groaned. He barely even had the energy to think right now.
Perhaps he'd genuinely hoped for the answer to his last question to be 'no'—despite having seen Sperantia Nova with his own two eyes. Seeing them today had scraped off the layer of propaganda off those stories, but … he had little doubt that many of those were true.
Then again, the Empire was probably doing many of the same things.
I just want to be done with this stupid war…
His eyes wandered to the map on the table again. A simple question popped up in his mind: where was he? He dragged the map closer to himself, and propped his elbows on either side to concentrate.
He recognised this as the map he'd packed in his bag, the one they'd meant to use in their escape plan. All the cities were marked—thank the gods. Unable to find Aesernia at a first glance, he went back down to Urbe and traced the course of the Tiberius river with a claw, then that of its subsidiary, the Sontium, snaking up to the northern plains.
There.
Flame tapped his claw on the black circle marked 'Aesernia'. He gave himself a small smile for the progress. Alice's geography lessons were serving him well. From here, he knew he had to look further north. That was where the Scum had migrated from—where the front lines of the war had been dug. For there to be a full-on village here, he had to be in enemy territory.
Lake, lake, lake… he mouthed, his eyes pouring over the northern reaches of the Aesernian plain. He kept a claw on the city itself to keep track of it.
His eyes lit up when he spotted the small blue blob in the north-western corner of Portus province; before he could get too excited, though, he noticed another lake a bit to the east, nestled in some hilly terrain. When he looked further to the north-east, he realised how far away he was from finding the answer: scattered along the foot of the Tartarus Mountains must have been a half dozen more.
A sense of hopelessness began taking hold of Flame. Frowning, he tried his best to recall the landscape around the village—it was too dark to check outside for himself.
There's … a tall hill that overlooks the village. He laced his claws together and wriggled them. The terrain on the other side of the lake is hilly, too. Or are those mountains…?
He looked back down at the map, yet that description could have applied to most of the lakes here: surrounded by either local hills or the Spearhead or Tartarus mountain ranges.
It's no use.
With a small yawn, Flame pushed the map away and hopped off his chair. Perhaps he'd try again in the morning, when he could get a better look at the shape of the lake and the surrounding terrain. It was the best he could do. He suspected he wouldn't get an answer out of Daedalus, were he to ask.
He made his way to his bed and threw himself onto the soft hay. The tension in his muscles mellowed as the sheer exhaustion of the last few days set in.
Flame shut his eyes. Not a second after trying to settle into sleep, though, did he start feeling it: the feeling of emptiness next to his bed. The utter silence. He sighed softly. This was the first time he'd slept without them.
Turning onto his back, he wondered if he would ever see them again. Daedalus spoke so often of all this as his 'new life', something he'd have to settle into and accept. While his heart was still conflicted over whether he wanted this or not, it almost certainly entailed abandoning his team forever.
Flame's scurrying heartbeat began to drown out his thoughts, and he tucked his legs closer to his chest for comfort. He didn't want that. He couldn't cope with the thought of thought of all those moments lived together amounting to nothing, in the end—of never hearing Alice's voice again.
The only conceivable solution to that dilemma was escaping. Yet that once again presented the problem that he had no idea where his teammates were. Whether in Aesernia, already marching eastward across Basileia, or perhaps in a mass grave, having been caught and hanged for their crimes.
He swallowed and shook his head to stave off the image.
Aside from that, he was in no shape to play daredevil: the battle yesterday had left him completely drained, both physically and mentally. How could he possibly hope to cross hundreds of kilometres of wild terrain, let alone hunt for food, in this condition?
A frown overtook his face. That was if he could even outrun the Scum inevitably patrolling the village.
Laying on his side, Flame clutched a clawful of straw. It was no use lying to himself: at the moment, he had no choice but to stay here.
At the same time, he also couldn't deny the fact that he'd never felt this safe before. Certainly not in Aesernia. Not having to worry about where to source each meal was a feeling he could certainly get used to. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad.
He felt so welcome here, too. The pokémon at Camp Tempest never did that…
Somewhere in his train of thought, Flame felt his concentration slipping into a current of sleep. He did not resist, and settled in his bed soon afterwards.
"Princess Alice. I am glad you came here."
Alice breathed sharply at hearing Sycorax's cold, synthesised voice pronounce her name once again.
She froze just as the tent flaps fell behind her. The whole room before her quivered at the light of a lantern hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the stares of both the Genesect and Yvaine and Virgo, whose conversation with the general she'd just interrupted. Virgo waved at her with a goofy smile, whereas Yvaine, barely able to stand, smiled weakly and sent her a nod.
Alice, however, was too busy staring a hole into the ground to fully pay attention. Her brain refused to meet Sycorax's gaze even by accident. Just a flash of his bright, red eyes staring at her sent her heart throbbing.
Breathing heavily, she grit her teeth together. It was so stupid. Just before coming in she'd felt so confident—so prepared to put everything on the line for her team! Now, she'd finally reverted back to a scared little Dratini, one who couldn't let go of her past even when people were counting on her.
She felt Sycorax study her for several more seconds, before addressing the praetorians. "That will be all for now," Sycorax said. "You may finish your report in the morning. Dismissed."
"Ave Imperator!" Virgo replied. She saw him give a sharp salute from the corner of her vision.
Yet still Alice was frozen in place, heart throbbing, lip quivering as a plethora of emotions battled inside her. She didn't want to go back. To see him again. To hear his forgiveness or perhaps worse, his disappointment that she hadn't changed whatsoever. She felt her heart would crumble; that would be it for her.
For a fleeting moment, she felt panic begin to creep into her thoughts, but she dispelled it quickly and brought her breathing back under control.
He is not my father, Alice shut her eyes. And I'm not a helpless Dratini.
He is not my father.
"Alice?"
She opened her eyes to see Virgo right in front of her, carrying Yvaine in his arms as if she were a kit. This close, Alice couldn't look at the Umbreon without wincing mentally. Where once there was black fur, the entire left side of her body bared a fleshy patch of burnt pink—including her left thighs and cheek.
She prayed that Flame hadn't been hurt in the same way.
"I said we can talk tomorrow," Yvaine looked at her with a weak smile.
"O-oh," Alice blinked. "Y-yes. Of course."
Virgo sent her another of his grins, adjusting Yvaine in his hold. "Just don't go moping around all day." He tilted his head as they went past her. "Or we won't find you!"
"Virgo!" hissed Yvaine from behind her. "That's disrespectful!"
"What? Flamey's gonna be fine—someone's gotta tell her she's exaggerating!"
The duo's back-and-forth became fainter and fainter, until the only sound Alice could hear was that of her own throbbing heartbeat.
They were alone, now.
She knew that Sycorax was still looking at her, yet she kept her gaze stuck firmly to the ground, unwilling to meet his. To what end, though? She shook her head. There was nowhere for her to hide. She hadn't come here for that, anyway.
I'm here for them.
That thought cut through her doubts. She wasn't sure about Gaius, but she knew Flame would have done it for her, too. They were counting on her.
Alice looked up.
She met the Genesect's bright, red eyes with only a sharp breath on her part. Its dual pupils seemed to shine with a light of their own, hidden behind a layer of glass. The two continued to glare for several prolonged seconds.
"I understand your discomfort at my presence." Sycorax turned to face its desk. "I shall be brief."
Alice furrowed her brow further as Sycorax spoke. The way its mouth didn't move, and the way its voice was always accompanied by slight crackles never failed to unsettle her. Even knowing the Genesect her whole life, it simply never did.
"What does he want from me?" she said coldly.
Sycorax glanced back at her curiously, almost as if it weren't expecting her to be the one asking questions.
In response, Alice found the strength to stand taller. Despite all the emotions coursing through her—her shaking, her throbbing heartbeat, the urge to look away … she could only reserve the Genesect a look of pure hatred.
It observed her for a while longer. "I expected you to take that line of questioning." Sycorax stopped sifting through the papers on its desk. "Very well, then."
Sycorax then turned to face her fully. It seemed to be impassible to her spiteful glare. "Recently, His Majesty has begun expressing … concern, for your safety. He instructed me to ensure you would not be seeing live combat yesterday."
Alice swung her tail to and fro as she processed everything. It didn't—it didn't make sense. Concern!? After all that he'd put her through? Maybe that was his plan: to torment her even in her exile. Unless…
Was he… Was he feeling guilty?
He also assigned us those missions, didn't he? Alice began breathing raggedly. To keep Team Phalanx afloat. Because he was … 'concerned'.
Her face drew blank. This was too much. The last four years of her life had been nothing but cold winters, hunger, loneliness, and dejection. And it turned out he was sorry, after all. Somehow, the thought angered her even more. She had to fight back tears of exasperation and force her face into a neutral expression.
"Go back to his palace, and tell him," Alice said slowly and deliberately, "that he's forfeited the right to worry about me."
Again, Sycorax stood unfazed. "I believe His Majesty would disagree."
Alice pressed her lips together and clenched her jaw to hold back the stream of insults that threatened to come out. Like she could care less. Her father couldn't even decide whether or not he hated her, it seemed.
"So what now?" Alice kept her eyes narrowed. "I take it you'll bring me to Urbe. It was the entire reason behind you kidnapping my team, wasn't it?"
"No."
Alice blinked. She hadn't been expecting that answer.
"While your father did give me that order," Sycorax stood taller, the top of its large cannon poking against the tent's ceiling. "You were not the main objective behind our mission."
With her train of thought derailed completely, Alice could only manage to stare dumbly at the general. She imagined that if its mouth could move, it'd be smirking right now.
"Your friend—the Charmeleon," Sycorax buzzed. "Do you care for him?"
"… Yes."
"Good. Because we want to free him, too."
Alice's heart stopped. She felt her cheek cold and pale, her mind rushing at the implications of it all. They knew. They knew. They had to know that he was a part of the Scum! They were going to find him and have him killed, or, or—
Wait…
She blinked, then furrowed her brow as she stared at nothing in particular. Something in that thought process didn't quite sound right. Normally, treason or desertion were grounds for immediate execution—but Flame was not here. He was with the Scum, likely far behind the front lines.
It made no sense to launch a rescue mission—to risk praetorian lives, dedicate praetorian resources—for someone who was going to be hanged either way.
Alice tried to swallow, but she felt a knot blocking her throat. There had to be something else at play here.
Something she wasn't aware of.
"It appears you already know part of the reason," Sycorax said, arms crossed behind its back. Its metal carapace shone against the lantern's light. "You see, your friend is … important to us. But more than that, he's also a soldier." It crossed an arm over its chest. "My responsibility."
Before she could fully process everything that she'd just heard, Sycorax took a step towards her.
"We are close to finding his location. I have one request to make of you, Alice," Sycorax leaned down closer to her level. "Once we rescue your friend, convince him to cooperate. If you do, your Grovyle comrade here will receive a full pardon and compensation for his injuries." She could feel it smirking again. "I may also deny His Majesty's request to bring you to Urbe."
Sycorax leaned in even closer with its head, forcing Alice to look away from its glare. She hated how. He was blackmailing her. Using Gaius' life, no less. In a moment of desperation, she wished this could have all stayed about her father.
"… why are you after him?" she mumbled out.
"The Creators—our Benefactors—have found a higher purpose for him." Sycorax shook its head slowly. "I'm afraid you wouldn't understand. I can assure you, however, that we will bring him back by your side, safe and sound."
The Genesect then pulled away and walked to its desk, turning its back to the trembling Dragonair.
"The choice is yours." It said in a final bout of static. "I am sure you will see reason."
Yet Alice wasn't listening; her mind was busy playing back the scene of the Scum leader laying a hand on Flame's shoulder. She remembered how they met: how fearful he was, wounded and alone, remembering absolutely nothing. Finally, she remembered the moment they'd shared in the infirmary bed, staring into each other's eyes as if their lives depended on it.
Flame … who are you?
End of Chapter XXI