Special Episode 7 – The Last Southern King
It was a typical day in the outskirts of Pyrock Village, where the trees were full and green and the forest air was thick with moisture. The wet season brought daily rains, either in the morning, noon, or night, though usually two of the three. The blanketing heat made basking in the sun or in the shade, depending on one’s species, the best way to spend the afternoon.
Everyone had their favorite rock, their favorite tree, though they would share if asked nicely. The occasional sparring match for those a little more wild-blooded would also suffice.
This afternoon, under the mist of a drizzle whose water just barely missed the ground before evaporating, the floaty raindrops glistened in the rays of sunlight. Gusts of wind made for entrancing, natural, frantic patterns from the treetops toward the ground.
An Aerodactyl, still only half-grown, fell out from the treetops with a scream. On the branches, a mother Noctowl angrily beat her wings and looked as large as possible, but that wasn’t enough for such an insolent trespasser.
She screeched and swooped down, pecking the young Aerodactyl’s snout and bludgeoning him with her wings. He landed with a loud grunt and decided that getting up wasn’t worth it, particularly since the Noctowl had flown back to tend to her hatchling.
“I said sorry,” he muttered. “Dumb feral.” He spat a halfhearted Rock Blast only a few feet in the air; it landed on his snout, earning an exasperated groan as he rolled over.
Enough was enough. “Spice!” he called. “I give up! You win!”
“Darn right I win!”
A Salandit poked her head out from beneath the Hoothoot’s feathers.
“Thanks for the hiding spot,” Spice whispered to Noctowl, handing off a small Pecha to the Hoothoot for the trouble. The Noctowl scowled and returned to the nest.
With a graceful fall, Spice landed on the Aerodactyl’s back and whipped her tail against his left wing. “So, how’d I do this time, Jerry? You came close!”
“Hmph.” That was all the reply she’d get.
“Fair’s fair. I didn’t go more than ten trees away!”
“Yeah, but you used a wild Pokémon to hide.”
“But was that against the rules?” Spice crawled up to his neck, her eyes forever impish and giddy.
“Get off me!” Jerry harrumphed and bucked Spice off; she giggled and landed on her feet. “Just you wait, I’m gonna find you one of these days.”
“You’re ten years too early to say stuff like that,” Spice taunted. Then, she looked at the sky, a brief flash of concern on her face, but then relief. “And look, you gave up a lot faster, so I’m not late to help Mom at work!”
“I didn’t
give up faster, I got beat up!” Jerry brought a wing to his nose and pulled back; only a little blood. “That’s not fair! That’s, uh, that’s an assist!”
Spice giggled and scampered away.
“Hey, I’m not through with you!” Jerry marched after her, but eventually rolled his eyes and let her go. She
did have to help out at work soon. Her mother worked at the potion shop, though their effectiveness ranged from tried-and-true to… dubiously experimental. Jerry remembered one of them had to be scrapped entirely because it was too similar to a weird medicine. Something about using Salazzle toxins a certain way…
Before he turned to head home as well, the odd shuffling of a trio caught his attention. The foot patterns reminded him of kingdom guards, but the speed suggested it was something urgent. They were heading right for Dad’s work… Did something happen?
He glanced back for Spice, but she was already far down the path. Calling would alert the guards to his presence, and they
always told him not to follow. Too bad.
With all of his stealth, he trailed behind the guards and into Pyrock Village proper.
“You.”
Jerry froze. Caught already!
Above, he spotted a surprisingly lithe Obstagoon. She narrowed her eyes and, with one swing, threw herself beside Jerry and picked him up with a sweeping motion from her other arm.
“Hey, hey, I wasn’t doing anything!” Jerry shouted.
“It’s not safe. Come with us to your father’s work.”
“I wasn’t following this time, I—wait, you’re
taking me there?”
<><><>
Northern invaders had breached the border. That was the extent of what Jerry knew from Obstagoon, whose eyes were trained ahead with her two companions, a Grimmsnarl and a Volcarona on the back of his head.
“And you couldn’t stop them?”
“They have some strange Northern magic,” Obstagoon explained. “But your father might know what to do about them. They asked to see our leader.”
“But the northern border is a whole day away on foot,” Jerry said.
“And we got an alert dated a day ago.”
“W-well, maybe they were stopped.”
“Doubt it. This is the North’s leader, and his power was…” Obstagoon ruffled through a satchel under her neck, pulling out a note. “Well, I can’t repeat some of the words to you until you’re older, but, let’s say it was ‘very terrifying’ and leave it at that.”
“Dad’ll beat him away,” Jerry said. “Like, the Northern leader and what army, y’know?”
“That’s true,” Obstagoon said. “They came alone. Just the two of them.”
“Two? And you
still think they got through? What do we pay you for?!”
Obstagoon shuffled nervously. “Well, maybe your father will understand a little better.”
They passed by two guards, a Rhyperior and a Druddigon, between two peculiar trees. Just past the guards and then to the right, a tunnel leading underground greeted them. The tunnel started narrow, only large enough to let through the bulkiest species, before widening out into an entire complex of dark orange rock. It was much warmer underground, but Jerry was used to this kind of heat; it welcomed him.
They descended for quite a while, and the ceiling seemed to become higher and higher as they did. They passed the underground lake, which sparkled orange from a hole in the caverns above, and took the short way around.
After the underground lake, Jerry passed by another set of guards that seemed confused by his arrival.
“Look, you aren’t trying to get past here again, are you?” asked an Infernape. “Your father is very busy, kid.”
“Let him through,” Obstagoon said, flashing a metal emblem on her bag. “We’re escorting him to his father’s right now, and maybe he can be put somewhere safe.”
They didn’t question it further and Jerry passed through. It was surreal to be allowed in; he usually had to use a secret, small passage or two. Unfortunately, he was also getting too big for those passageways nowadays…
Pyrock Village’s interior was etched into the stony underground. While the surface had soft dirt and lush trees, solid rock wasn’t too far underneath, and hidden there was a labyrinthine complex of tunnels and gigantic chambers large enough to allow an entire fleet of winged Pokémon to practice aerial combat.
While dim inside, Jerry’s eyes were well adjusted to this kind of darkness, though the ceiling was lit by strange, glass tubes that punctured the rocks and led all the way to the surface. There, light fed into the crystals and transferred themselves all the way into the caverns; they seemed brighter than the sunlight that normally came in, and sometimes retained their brightness well into the night.
He never really knew why that was. The myth was that their ancestors lived in those crystals and were watching over them, making sure the good kids went to sleep, and the bad kids would be punished. That could be true, Jerry thought, so he often avoided passageways that had those crystals so his ancestors wouldn’t be disappointed.
After a narrow road, Obstagoon escorted Jerry down a wider path, overlooking the top of the central Pyrock Village chamber. Ahead and below Jerry was the city, at least a hundred feet down and five hundred ahead. Light crystals speckled the ceiling and the walls, and several fires in the center of town lit the bottom floor of the village.
Fire Pokémon were playing in the flames—most of the town by a vast majority were Fire types—and that kept them well-lit. There were two central bonfires that were too hot for Jerry to ever hope to approach, and it seemed that the kids were setting up some kind of game of flaming dodgeball, using each flaming spire as a home base.
“Go fly to your father’s palace,” Obstagoon said firmly. “No detours. Give him this message.” She handed him the same note she’d read from before, and Jerry nodded. For once, he felt this was important enough to follow without any sass.
Obstagoon walked down the path to a contraption near the top of the hill meant to slide down to the bottom floor quickly. After hopping onto the platform and giving it a firm kick, the contraption jiggled, groaned, and finally slid down the rocky slopes. Jerry, hanging onto the message, flew with practiced ease, curving his path only to avoid the ongoing fireball battle.
The King’s Palace was at the western end of Pyrock Village. From the southern entrance that they’d taken, Jerry was able to only slightly detour his path around the bonfires to avoid it. After flying over other political buildings—most of them he didn’t know the purposes of—he landed by the front where several guards stepped forward.
“Jerry,” said an exasperated Emboar. “Are we just skipping the sneaking in part, now?”
“Got a message from one of the guards,” Jerry said, showing the paper. “It’s really important this time.”
Apparently, they believed him enough to look it over. Emboar’s eyes focused on the signature first, a flash of recognition crossing his expression. To the others, he said, “Let him through.”
The palace’s entrance was large enough to accommodate three Emboar stacked on top of one another by the shoulders. Jerry flew through, took a few flights of stairs—by wing—and hastily apologized to a Simisear who had been carrying several stacks of papers, which were now scattered on the stairs.
The red-colored, rocky walls led him to a narrow hall with a stone door. “Dad!” Jerry shouted, pushing the door open—always heavy, like it was some test of strength—and then slipped inside.
“Junior, I’m busy. Go away.”
“It’s important!”
“More important than—”
“Probably!”
Finally, he had the door open. Inside were Pokémon he didn’t recognize nor cared about, and at the back of the office, lined with off-white scrolls and maps, was an Archeops. His eyes narrowed, and Jerry felt, briefly, like coming was a mistake—but he still had to deliver the message.
“It’s from a scout,” Jerry said, walking past six Pokémon, all of them Fire. “The Northern ruler is coming.”
“Excuse me?” His father snatched the paper and looked it over, eyes narrowed. His feathery body puffed up on reflex.
“N-Northern ruler? Here? Now? When?” A flighty-looking Talonflame shifted to his left side. “I thought we had a treaty.”
“Hmph, might makes right as far as they’re concerned,” Jerry’s father said. “Junior. If he’s on the way, he might only be a few kilos from here. Go home for now.”
“Home?”
“Yes. Check on your mother, or something.” Archeops stood up.
“Jeremy,” a Flareon said next. “What do we do if he tries to enter town? And attacks?”
“We attack back. I don’t care if he’s Arceus himself; you don’t trespass on
my kingdom like you own it.”
“Er, wouldn’t Arceus technically—”
“You know what I mean,” Jeremy hissed. “This meeting’s over. Frankly I don’t care what sort of farmland you want, hash out the deal with yourselves. Putting political weight on this isn’t worth my time.” He shooed Flareon away despite stomping out of his office first. “I’m going to see the scouts for the whole story.”
Jerry, still standing there, shrank at the many sets of eyes that were now locked on him. He stumbled out himself.
Outside, the bonfires were blazing as usual, and Jeremy was flying, unguarded, over them and toward the southern entrance. Jerry saw something purple going down the slopes, too, which was an odd color around here. And green, which was even stranger, since it reminded him of leaves. Generally, something that didn’t last long in Pyrock.
The purple thing glistened under the crystal lights, and Jerry realized—
“Oh, Mew. That’s—DAD!” Jerry shouted.
But accompanying the purple and green Pokémon were Obstagoon and her partners. Did they somehow intercept him? Capture him? There was no way!
He flew closer to find out, heart racing all the while. The seconds it took to get closer felt like an eternity, especially since Jeremy was a much faster flier.
It was a Goodra and Decidueye. The Decidueye looked like the leader, the way he carried himself with a serious countenance, practically a glare, but he was bound by the wings. They were tightly strapped against his sides; he had no hope of flying, and his wobble was slow and awkward. Therefore, Obstagoon was helping him along. Despite her imposing stature, she looked like she was taking great care that Decidueye wouldn’t trip and fall.
The Goodra was similarly bound. His horns were tied up in a strong cloth and wound together so it was impossible to move them for attacks. His arms, while small, were similarly bound in front of him; his tail was pinned to his back; and lastly, his mouth was muzzled to prevent any Dragon blasts.
Obstagoon was speaking. “. . . let him here if we bound them completely. We also confiscated this from them.” She raised a bag. “Just has their rations and some supplies for exploration, but they also had a really thick looking legal document. No idea what it says. Should we burn it?”
“I’ll make those calls,” Jeremy said, but then looked Goodra and Decidueye over. When he smiled, Jerry shared it; it was a grin that was filled with triumph, like their greatest enemy’s head had just been delivered right to their doorstep. And, frankly, it may as well have been.
“Take them between the bonfires,” Jeremy said. “Spread the news to everyone. Jerry.”
Jerry had forgotten he wasn’t supposed to be here. “I was just—”
“Get your mother. I’m sure she would want to see this, too. Today is the day we solidify our independence from the tyrant’s kingdom forever!”
<><><>
It wasn’t often that Jerry brought his mother out in public. For one, it was tiring for her—she had hatched in an odd way, or something had gone wrong somewhere, and it made moving difficult. Her muscles didn’t grow properly, and she was never worthy of flight. But Void Basin’s blessings had given Jerry vitality that his mother would never have—at least, that was how his father attributed such a successful egg to come from his mate.
Jeremy was a little rude about that at times. He had once said that he would never have had Jerry with his mother if she hadn’t had Mew’s Blessing. Still, she rolled her eyes at the comment and told Jerry, privately, that he should be nicer to whatever Pokémon he decided to pair with. Jerry was puzzled by that, because he thought that was just how couples interacted. Still, he took her advice to heart, just in case some girls were more sensitive than she was.
She also had a strong spirit. And as Jerry left their expansive home of deep orange stone, with his mother carefully shambling out of the doorway, several Pokémon were already swarming over her to help her along.
“Brigid,” said Obstagoon, the lead guard sent with Jerry, “please, allow me to carry you.”
“Not for long, I hope,” Brigid replied.
For a full-grown Aerodactyl, she was much smaller than average, only a head or two taller than Jerry. Her head occasionally wobbled to the left with the rest of her body, and her wings were constantly shaking, though she wasn’t cold. Being cold was impossible in Pyrock.
Despite her shaky stature, her eyes were firm, and she gave a very political, balanced compromise to Obstagoon. She would be too slow to walk the whole way to the bonfire, but she refused to be carried any longer than would be practical. The rest of the way, she’d go on her own, and that was why Brigid was the strongest Pokémon in Pyrock. Nothing could convince Jerry otherwise.
Jeremy had Goodra and Decidueye on a large platform with the fires roaring on either side of him. They were huge and hot, but they were far enough away that the heat was bearable and soft that they could still hear his shouts.
A crowd gathered around the platform, going as close as they could to hear what everyone was saying. Those at the front eagerly passed along the developments to Pokémon in the back who couldn’t hear as easily. In no time, practically a quarter of the town had gathered, resulting in a sea of mostly Fire and Rock Pokémon. The sea of Pokémon parted ways for Jerry and Brigid, some of them offering to help Brigid along, but she once again rolled her eyes and claimed she could handle herself.
“Not much more, now,” Brigid said to Jerry as the last of the crowd parted for them, giving respectful nods to the feeble Aerodactyl. “Hmph, and that’s the North’s ruler? Captured so easily… How did he take over the world?”
“Must’ve gotten careless,” Jerry theorized.
“Mm.” Brigid seemed less sure, narrowing her eyes. “Let’s not get too close, Jerry.”
“I can hear them at least,” Jerry said, leaning as much as he could. The crowd around him was silent, listening to his father.
He was in the middle of a speech, but Jerry knew the general beats to tell that he wasn’t missing anything important yet. Greatness of Pyrock, prosperity for all, yadda yadda…
“ . . . and finally, before you today, the leaders of Kilo have been captured by our hard-working Pyrock forces!” Jeremy said, motioning first to Obstagoon, and then at Goodra and Decidueye.
Jerry had never seen two Pokémon more thoroughly tied up. Anything that they could have used to attack was either bound or wrapped shut. The ropes were enchanted to seal off elemental techniques, which Jerry could tell from the dark glow they gave off. The most they would do was probably slime or feather someone, and that wouldn’t last very long…
Jeremy continued on his speech, occasionally addressing the crowd and pausing strategically to allow them to cheer or growl.
The realization dawned on them all. Kilo, the rest of the world, their ruler was right in front of them, bound and at their mercy. It was unreal! They had been encroaching upon their territory with shaky peace for so long, and now their leaders got so reckless that they’d enter their territory unguarded? Idiots!
Brigid’s wobbling suddenly stopped and she held her breath. She wasn’t the only one; several members of the crowd had stopped watching Jeremy, and the buzzing itself had gone quiet.
Jerry tore his gaze away from his father to look at Goodra and Decidueye. The latter was standing still like before, head bowed as if listening intently. But the Goodra looked bored, wiping his eye with a free hand and trying to cover his mouth with the other to hide a yawn.
Something about that didn’t seem right.
Jerry’s jaw dropped and he pointed a wing at Goodra. “He broke out!” he shouted.
Goodra jolted. “Huh?!” He looked at his hand, then at the rope that was supposed to have bound them together. It was embedded into his torso. “Oh! I’m sorry!” He reached down and slipped his hands back into the binds, and Jerry was
positive he’d seen them melt through the rope.
Goodra were solid dragons. They were slimy like a Gastrodon, but they still had flesh and bones and blood.
Now that he had a closer look, he noticed that the fires of Pyrock were not just reflecting off of his body. Some of it shined through like he was made of cloudy water.
He was a monster… A monster feigning the shape of a Goodra.
“I’m sorry, I’ll pay attention,” Goodra pleaded. “Um, the greatness of Pyrock!” He raised a fist, which once again broke through the rope. And this time Jerry was certain of it: Goodra’s wrist had gone
through the rope.
Decidueye’s head lowered a little more. “Anam,” he grunted, “I think we can drop the helpless act now. They aren’t going to be convinced.”
Something about Decidueye’s body flickered, like he wasn’t really there. A black haze replaced him, and then all of his bindings fell to the ground, like he had gone immaterial. But the elemental bindings should have stopped that!
“Oh.” Anam slipped out of his bindings and nobody dared launch the first strike in retaliation. This was why they had come unguarded—they didn’t
need guards. Was that it? To boast and taunt them? Well, his father was
still stronger. They didn’t understand what Void Basin had granted him. He was invincible. Just like how he would be, one day.
And Jeremy showed no fear. Instead, he scowled at them and said, “So you come without any guards or soldiers to our territory, fake getting captured, and be taken to the center of Pyrock for what reason? To take us all on at once? I assure you, these caverns will be your unmarked graves if that was your intent. Speak now to save your lives.”
And already, the crowd’s fears were quelled. Shock and terror of Anam so effortlessly escaping his binds had been replaced by confidence, and even some laughter.
But Brigid wasn’t laughing. Instead, she wobbled a little and said, “Jerry, you should go home.”
“What? No, I want to see this.”
Brigid was going to object, Jerry could tell, so he put on a steely gaze.
That, it seemed, was enough, but she still said, “Then be careful. If something bad happens… You need to go somewhere safe. I’ll be fine.”
He relented, then looked to Decidueye, who had requested their bags be returned, as that was the reason for their arrival. After some tense back-and-forth of asking what was in it, and Decidueye simply stating they were gifts and documents, Jeremy finally allowed them to be recovered. However, they kept the gifts, and only returned to Decidueye the documents. The ‘gifts,’ after all, could have been weapons that they would use. Kilo’s technology was mysterious and cursed, after all.
“I suppose I can begin with proper introductions,” Decidueye said. “My name is Decidueye James, and Kilo’s Heart of Hearts is beside me, Goodra Anam.”
“Hi!”
James flashed a glare.
“Um—hello,” Anam corrected, and then bowed deeply toward Jeremy. “It’s an honor to meet Pyrock’s leader and the Southern King. Did I get your title correct?”
“You did.” Jeremy’s glare did not soften. “Let’s start with these
gifts you brought us.” He untied the bag and pulled open the cloth, his wing’s claws briefly scratching at the material to test its quality.
It was dyed cotton and silk, woven carefully and colored a royal purple. Jerry imagined wearing it like a hat, or a scarf, or perhaps even a cape if he had enough of it… No, but that would interfere with his flying. A scarf would do. Only if Jeremy approved, though. And given that glare…
“What is this?” Jeremy said. “Food? Cloth?” He pulled out an Oran Berry. What, one of those things? What was the point?
“That is a blessed Oran Berry,” James explained. “Has anybody in town been recently injured?”
“Why? Oran Berries restore vitality. Even a child knows this. A tired Pokémon will have a little more energy if they eat one.” Jeremy held the berry forward. “There is no point in trying to trick us with something as simple as that.”
“I assure you, this one will do much more than that,” James said. “Has anybody been injured? Anyone at all?”
James glanced into the crowd. Some hesitant murmurs rippled over them. Finally, a tiny voice called out, “That stupid Charmeleon threw a rock at me!”
“Nu-uh!” shouted a high, feminine voice. “You jumped in the way of my rock! I was aiming for Slugma!”
“That was for ME?!”
A Fennekin stepped forward with one eye shut, a thin trail of blood, dried by now, going down his cheek. “She threw it really hard…”
“Where are your parents?” Jeremy said, keeping his tone even. “I’m not going to condone you eating something like this from a stranger,
especially if they’re from Kilo.”
“You may kill me if she is harmed from this,” James said evenly. “Go on, Fennekin. And you may watch, King.”
Jeremy growled in response, but reluctantly offered the berry.
The Fennekin sniffed at the berry, curious, and bit down. No reaction to the taste; it seemed like a normal Oran in every way. Yet, only a few bites in, a golden light washed over him, starting from his mouth and ending at his tail. With just that wave, his eye was back to normal, though the blood remained stained on his fur.
Gasps of wonder and surprise started at the front row and eased its way through the rest of the crowd as news spread like wildfire.
“As I said,” James started, “these are blessed berries. A drop of Anam’s power was imbued into its seed, planted in the ground, and now there is an entire species of Oran that is so much more potent than what you have now. And Anam is not the only one capable of such blessings. This art can be taught, though only the talented can replicate it in any capacity.”
“And the cloth? What are these for?”
“Imbued with the same sort of energy. I have given to you a Pecha Scarf—the poison-healing properties of one have been imbued into this scarf, making the wearer immune to most types of poison. While it can’t protect against powerful attacks, it can ward off the lingering effects.”
“And I named it!” Anam added.
“Yes… he named it.”
Jerry wondered how he dealt with this strange Goodra, who was supposedly the Decidueye’s superior.
The crowd was buzzing again, but Jeremy held up a wing and they quieted down. “
The bonfire’s orange light reflected off of and went through Anam’s body and bounced from the eyes of the Archeops and Decidueye.
“Why all this?” Jeremy asked.
“Proof of our proposal,” James replied, bringing forward the stack of papers that was thicker than a Furret’s coat. “We wish to form a partnership with your great kingdom. In exchange for a reasonable payment, as outlined in the document, we will offer to your medical divisions these berries, your rescue divisions these scarves, and to your rulership, Anam’s services to bless the Dungeons within your territory.”
“Payment,” said Jeremy, snarling. “You mean a
tax. Do you intend to annex us like the rest of the world? I will hear none of it.”
Anam shifted his weight nervously. James, however, was undeterred. “An alliance is what we came for, and nothing beyond that. Anam is a compassionate person with great power, and he feels that his first and only objective is to make the world a better place.”
“Oh!” Anam perked up. “That’s right! It’s our motto, in fact!”
James’ puffed out, as if holding in a sigh.
“A thousand hands
A single heart
Working and beating as one.
Unite the lands
From worlds apart
Until our battles are done.
We serve kilo and all its parts
Under one name: The Thousand Hearts!”
Anam bowed at a light angle and opened his eyes. “It means that even if we live in different parts of the world, our hearts and our spirits all beat the same. I want to bring everyone together, even if it feels like we’re a world away!”
Jerry had no idea how this Goodra became the imperial leader. This was the dauntless force that swept across the land after the war tore it apart?
That was
this Goodra?!
“We left more of our supplies near the border for your guards to confiscate. Those, too, should be considered part of our gifts, as we could not carry it all inside.” James looked to Anam, who calmed down enough to nod.
“Is this how you took over the rest of the world?” Jeremy asked. “With temptations to lure us all into submission? Is that your method,
demon?”
Anam flinched, biting his cheek. “Um, that’s not how I wanted to come off…”
“It is as I said,” James replied, and then looked to the rest of the crowd. “We only come to form an alliance that will better both of our nations. Trade. Commerce. There is no need to isolate ourselves from one another.”
“You saved our land for last,” Jeremy said, “solely because we are the ones who would resist wholeheartedly.”
Anam brightened. “Well, I want to accept you whole
heartedly, too!”
“Anam.” James brought his wings together with patience. “I do not think they are as receptive.”
“W-well, maybe,” Anam said, “but the crowd is very quiet. Do you think they’re listening? You don’t have to do anything for too long. You can refuse anything we’re offering! Um, but maybe just give it a try? Heal your most hurt Pokémon, and equip your guards with this, and see how they feel!”
“I will
not,” Jeremy said, “let you manipulate my people any longer. You will leave, and you will take your
offers with you.
This is what I think about your offerings.”
And then, with a deep breath, hot embers danced in the back of his throat. A cloud of fire warped the air and enveloped the documents on the ground, and Jeremy kept the flame going, enough that James gracefully stepped aside to avoid the ongoing inferno.
Finally, he stopped, but the documents remained. Jeremy blinked, looking bewildered, and James cleared his throat.
“We knew we would be entering Pyrock and did not want to accidentally burn the supplies,” he said. “The paper was made from blessed Rawst leaves and Occa powder.”
Now, the crowd was murmuring, and even Jerry had to admit that particular property interested him. Paper that didn’t burn? What other kinds of technologies did they have over there? But his father… He was still stern, but Jerry could see it in the way he carried himself that he was
seething.
Brigid wobbled again, but then sighed. “Jeremy isn’t going to let this one go,” she said to Jerry. “There’s not a doubt in my mind that he will humiliate Anam before he can go. Such a shame… An alliance would have been nice, but they have disgraced my mate.” With a gaze like steel, Brigid stared at Jeremy.
And Jeremy stared back, scowling, and addressed the trespassers. Yet, before he could say a single word, Anam stepped forward with a pleading look in his eyes.
“We just want to help!” Anam cried. “Please! I don’t want this part of the world to go isolated from the rest of it! Can’t we be friends?”
“Friends.” Jeremy repeated, half-perplexed, half disgusted. But then there was a glint—a dark glint that filled Jerry with confidence. The tables had suddenly turned. “Anam, if you truly believe that we can be friends… then we should understand each other in the way Pokémon traditionally learn about one another.”
“Oh? How is that?”
He had him. He had him!
“Tomorrow at noon, at the sun’s apex, we will have a friendly battle at Void Basin’s edge.”
<><><>
That night, Jeremy had gone to bed early, intending to get as much sleep as he could. He ordered Brigid and Jerry both to not bother him. Brigid’s tremors kept Jeremy awake, so it wasn’t as if they shared a nest. Still, since it was an important day, Brigid migrated to Jerry’s room for the night so not even her shuffling noises would wake him. Jerry didn’t mind; he liked when Brigid was in his room. He wasn’t sure why, but she seemed more at ease, too, when that happened.
Jerry was less at ease. He could barely get to bed himself, excitedly staring at the ceiling of their cave instead, until Brigid stepped into his room with the last of her nest. She looked tired, and she must have fallen again from the bruise on her side, but she still smiled and said that Jeremy was very excited for tomorrow, too, but that he should get some rest.
Somehow, he’d obeyed, soothed to sleep by the rustling his mother made.
Jerry was up before the sun and told his father that he would be skipping school in favor of watching the fight. Jeremy couldn’t care less, as Jerry had to attend quite a few public events in the past. This would perhaps be the greatest one yet.
Jerry raced the sunrise to Void Basin. There was already a crowd gathering near the edges of the forest where the trees stopped growing and the desolate landscape of the crater began. Southwest of Kilo Mountain, Void Basin mirrored the Chasm to the southeast, but unlike its inky blackness, the Basin’s bottom was clearly visible. Just rock, largely uninteresting, but it was sacred.
Only those chosen by the Basin were allowed to go close. Those who were not worthy went mad if they stayed for too long. But Jerry was among the chosen, because his father was chosen, and therefore his entire bloodline was under the Basin’s protection. Brigid wasn’t part of that bloodline, but she possessed Mew’s blessing… That was Jeremy’s goal for his offspring, after all. Big footprints to fill, but Jerry knew he could do it.
The Basin’s dark rocks took up half of the horizon and Jerry descended closer to the ground. He saw someone sitting near the crater’s edge—a Salandit.
“Spice?” Jerry called.
She jumped, then looked back. “Oh, Jerry.” Spice sighed. “You scared me.”
“You’re up early, too?”
“Mm.”
“Heard the news, huh?”
“Yeah.” Spice flicked her tail. “And I wanted to come here anyway.”
It was always strange that Spice could come here on her own. Neither of her parents were under its protection, and her sister, too, couldn’t come close. Yet to Spice, she behaved like it was her second home.
“I can’t believe your dad’s about to beat up Kilo’s ruler,” Spice said.
“I can’t believe that Goodra agreed to it. The Basin’ll make him go mad before the fight can even begin!”
Spice giggled, though she frowned afterward. “He did seem kinda nice, though.”
“Eh?” Jerry faltered. “Goodra? He’s a warlord, though.”
“Yeah, which is why it’s so surprising that he was so nice.” Spice crawled to the edge, looking into the steep rocks. Her paws wrapped around a sharp boulder. “I do wonder, if they fight and your dad wins, if they might make another offer later. All of those blessed things look really nice. Do you think we could replicate that on our own?”
“Pff. Who cares?” Jerry shrugged. “Life here’s fine without all that junk.”
Spice didn’t seem as enthused. “I guess so.”
They passed some time together, occasionally looking at the Basin’s shadows. When the shadows disappeared, that meant it would be time for the fight to begin, and neither Jeremy nor Anam had arrived yet. At first, Jerry wondered if that meant they had all done it for some political stunt, and the fight wouldn’t truly happen… but then, as the sun was moments away from its highest point, Jeremy came flying over the forest’s trees.
A whole crowd had gathered at the forest’s edge, now, and their voices carried faintly over the wind. Anam wasn’t far behind. This time, the Goodra came alone, which was odd. Where did the Decidueye go?
Whatever. One on one was fair anyway so they didn’t try anything funny. Not that it would matter—if they did, the whole south would be against them at once.
Jeremy was faster, traveling by wing.
And soon, they were facing one another. Neither King nor Heart smiled. Anam had a sad, pensive frown, occasionally glancing at Void Basin. Jeremy wore an intense glare, occasionally gesturing for Jerry to get further away for when the battle began, but he didn’t go too far. He was allowed to be close, and he wanted to see Anam lose.
“Go get ‘im, Dad,” Jerry whispered, though Jeremy probably didn’t hear.
Spice tapped Jerry on the wing and asked to climb up to his head for a better view. After some shifting around, she rested between his horns and wrapped her legs around his neck.
And then everything was still. Eyes locked to shadows. Soon, at the sun’s apex, it was as if Void Basin had nothing but light, and yet somehow it seemed darker all the same, like the sun itself avoided its lifeless crater.
Jeremy made the first move, but Jerry could tell he was holding back to toy and grapple with the Goodra. What bothered both of them was the fact that Anam didn’t move. The Goodra stood there, silent and staring, as the Archeops went for a twisting slash.
Suddenly, Jeremy beat his wings and misdirected his strike, missing Anam by inches. The breeze let loose a few drops of slime, and Anam still didn’t move, still sporting that pensive frown.
“What are you doing?” Jeremy snarled, landing on his feet again.
“Why did you want to fight here?” Anam asked.
“What? This is a traditional battleground if you ever want to fight the King. It is to show that you are worthy of standing up to me. Or has the Void Basin’s presence already eaten away at your mind, deeming you unworthy of even lifting a claw toward me?”
Anam’s frown deepened. “Is this true?” he mumbled, yet for some reason it didn’t seem to be directed toward Jeremy. The Goodra had glanced down toward his own chest.
“Of course it’s true,” Jeremy said. “And if you’re going to disrespect the Basin… then perhaps I should show you the power it’s
truly capable of.”
Jerry perked up. He was going to see his father’s true power in action? He watched intently. Jerry remembered this sort of power before; it wasn’t as if a King was without his threats. He remembered when he was very young, a team of assassins had tried to strike Jeremy down in broad daylight. The boldness of their attacks had impressed Jeremy so much that he had fought back using the Basin’s power.
Jerry didn’t remember what happened to them after that. There was a shadowy blast, and then Jeremy said that they ran away. He had never seen them again. Now that Jerry thought about it… was that a lie?
Dark sparks crackled along Jeremy’s wings, collecting in his shoulders, and finally trailed up to his neck. Anam still watched, looking troubled, as he shifted his weight. Finally, he moved.
“Your spirit has been twisted by the Void,” Anam said gently. “I’m sorry. It might hurt a little, but I need to purify that before it claims you.”
“I would love to see you try,” Jeremy taunted.
“Okay.”
Before Anam could move, Jeremy retaliated with a technique that he had called Shadow Blast. The very air twisted around a dark aura like the fastest fish through water. The spinning beam drilled toward Anam, and Jerry couldn’t help but avert his eyes. He was about to take the hit point-blank, too slow to react or move in any way.
All that’d be left was a broken husk of a Goodra. Shadow Blast didn’t attack the body as much as it did the very energy that sustained them. Yes, the air would whip his body, but the darkness that Jeremy unleashed was corrosive to the aura itself. And then, after the blast was done corroding the aura, the body had no energy to guard against the force that backed up the blast. Nothing would be left.
Jerry couldn’t hope to perform such a technique. He’d need another decade of training, at least. He only had a phantom of it within him, and Jeremy was very strict about never using it.
So, to use it now? Jeremy was serious.
Finally, Jerry looked at the battlefield. Spice, next to him, had been watching the whole time, and her expression was one of complete disbelief.
Anam stood there, looking a little misshapen. The cutting winds had twisted his body so his arm had bent in an odd way, and his other arm was completely missing. Yet Anam wasn’t crying out in pain. Was his body already empty? Did he no longer have the thought to react?
But Jeremy looked lost, too. And Jerry knew that the Goodra hadn’t been defeated.
“I’m sorry,” Anam said. His arm regrew, and his body twisted back into shape like he was made of taffy. And then, a small beam of darkness, faster than Jerry could blink, lodged itself in Jeremy’s chest. He squawked in surprise and pain and fell to the ground; the audience was in a sudden uproar of terror. Jerry couldn’t find his voice, but Spice gasped and yelled something.
Anam tugged on that black string, and something was emerging from Jeremy’s chest. Thick plumes of black mist billowed out, and more inky darkness dripped onto the floor like blood, and Anam pulled again. Jeremy screamed—he actually
screamed—and suddenly, he was silent.
That black cloud pulled from Jeremy evaporated away, most of it siphoning toward Anam, who looked a lot darker than before. Jeremy was limp, and Jerry was too far away to tell if he was breathing. Or if…
And then something hot stabbed into Jerry’s chest next. He opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out, and then, from his very core, something pulled away. It was like someone had removed his lungs through his ribs—and then, just as quickly, the pain left him. Or was it pain at all? Jerry clutched at where he felt the entry wound, but felt nothing but his chest, unwounded. A black haze remained like he’d been struck by a Flamethrower and the smoke was still there…
He felt lighter, somehow. He didn’t know how to describe it. Like some part of his breathing, which had always been missing, had returned to him… but he also felt weaker and fatigued. Something was missing.
Spice was staring at something above them and Jerry finally had enough sense to look up.
It was Anam. Right there. Two steps away.
Jerry immediately entered a battle stance and blasted a three-rock volley from his mouth, and Anam took each one. The rocks sank into his body and dissolved.
“Are you okay?” Anam asked Jerry. “Your dad is okay. He’s going to need to rest for a few days, though.”
The bewilderment dissolved into seething hatred, directed without any mental words toward Anam. He opened his mouth to blast again, but then he caught a glimpse of Anam’s glowing, green eyes. Those sad eyes, his massive form whose shadows were emphasized under the sun’s apex.
Jerry couldn’t move. His legs were numb. His attempt at a defiant cry came out as a whimpering exhale.
Spice was similarly frozen in place, eyes darting for an easy way to run, but in the open area, it was pointless, wasn’t it? Jerry felt the same way. He knew that was what she was thinking.
“What’s your name?” Anam asked, breaking the silence that Jerry didn’t realize had settled.
But Anam wasn’t looking at Jerry. Instead, Spice suddenly looked more trapped than ever.
“S-Spice,” she finally said, and Jerry wondered if this was the beginning of some kind of curse.
Anam wasn’t even blinking. Those green eyes just kept… staring. Did Goodra eyes naturally glow? And his body still seemed a little darker than usual.
“How are you feeling?” Anam asked.
“Not good after what I just s-saw,” Spice said automatically, and then gasped at her own words. She stared at the ground, screwing her eyes shut.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Anam nodded. “But, how about in general?”
“I—I guess I’m fine.”
“How about your parents?”
“Don’t—don’t hurt them. Please.”
Anam tilted his head. “I’m not hurting anybody.”
There were so many expletives that Jerry wasn’t allowed to say.
“But you want to protect your family?” Anam asked.
“I just want them to be safe.” Spice tried to keep her breathing steady. It seemed to be working.
“That’s good.” Anam nodded. “Thank you, Spice. You seem like a really good person.” He grinned, and what scared Jerry the most was that it looked genuine. “Anyway, that’s all. I’m sorry that I had to take away your power, but it’s tainted. You shouldn’t go near the Basin anymore. Tell your dad about that, okay?”
Jerry said nothing.
Anam turned away. “I’m gonna go home now. Um, I’m going to donate more supplies to your kingdom, if that’s okay. No charge or anything. I saw a lot of injured Pokémon that could use it. Um, can you tell your dad that, too?”
Once again, Jerry answered with cold, confused silence.
And Anam said nothing more. He walked, like he was supposed to be some normal Pokémon, toward the forest, while the rest of the crowd slowly inched their way toward their fallen leader and his son.
The rest of the day, and so many days to moons that followed, passed in a hazy blur.
<><><>
The decline was simultaneously rapid yet imperceptible. It started with the donations, free of charge. Despite mentions of money initially, such requests never came. It wasn’t brought up again until later, during a routine regulatory meeting; a concerned noble mentioned the possibility that their supply would one day be cut if they didn’t start paying.
It was never said, nor implied in any political capacity, that Kilo would do this. Yet it was something they feared, as the Quartz Kingdom still paid no taxes or any sort of trade for those donations.
Attempts to replicate such magic were a struggle and yielded paltry results. Certain talented Pokémon were able to perform such blessings, and only a few at a time. It was nothing compared to the apparent
industry of enchanted items that Kilo was capable of.
It did not help that Jeremy’s position as King had also fallen into question. Ever since that battle against Anam, he stopped fighting and hired guards under the guise of preventing Anam or any possible assassins from getting close to him. The feeble claim was Anam had used an underhanded technique to fight.
But Jerry knew the truth, because he felt it, too. The Basin’s power was completely gone from their spirits. It had been so long that Jerry didn’t remember what it felt like anymore.
And one day, Jeremy returned to the Basin against Anam’s advice, alone. Brigid had warned Jeremy not to go, that it was dangerous if he did not have the Basin’s power any longer. But Jeremy said that it was just a trap: to return to the Basin meant a return of his power. He screamed and shouted at Brigid when she tried to stand in the way and knocked her over, rushing to get out.
For some reason, this had instilled some kind of deep terror in Jerry, and he didn’t know why, and he quietly told himself that Jeremy must have been very determined to get his power back. Brigid just sighed and urged Jerry not to follow his father. There was an odd heaviness to her words that Jerry didn’t understand. Jerry was tempted to go, too, but Brigid’s firm words kept him from leaving. Someone had to guard her anyway.
Jeremy had left for a lot longer than he should have. When he returned, he had a grave expression and said nothing, only that he had nearly been driven mad by the Basin. It had rejected him.
The Basin became a forbidden land overnight. Even Spice was not allowed to go, even though she still called it her second home, treating it the same way one would regard a pristine beach shoreline, was not allowed to go there anymore.
Jeremy wasn’t the same after that day. Quieter, weaker, a shell of his old self who only growled bitter nothings toward Jerry or Brigid, no matter what they tried to do. Occasionally they saw flashes of his old, proud self, but any reminder of his lost strength returned him to that despondent countenance.
Years passed and cries for Quartz to remain powerful and relevant as its own independent kingdom became less and less of a roar of pride and more a whimper of defiance. Without a proper figurehead to lead them, rebellions both peaceful and violent were only quashed because the Pyrock guard was still loyal to Jeremy.
There were others who claimed to still have the Basin’s blessing, but none could prove their powers. Therefore, Jeremy was still their ruler, as there was no other savior. And who else would the Pyrock guards battle for? Certainly not Anam… Right?
Jerry saw that doubt in their eyes, sometimes. And Jeremy saw the same.
It drove the father mad. His pride ate away at his psyche, and Jerry remembered several nights where he woke up to him screaming at the air, at his reflection, at the sky, about how he was the King, how Quartz Kingdom was strong, and how no simple-minded Goodra would ever take that away from him.
Then came the Waypoints. It had started off at the Dungeon entrances, which Anam had used a mysterious power to get rid of the demons within. Now, they were all ‘safe’ Dungeons—blessed, as Anam called them. The Waypoints were part of Kilo’s means of travel, and were, in disguise, the final strike to destroy what was left of the once proud Quartz Kingdom.
When a Waypoint was installed at the front of Pyrock Village, that was the same day Jeremy abruptly had them move out. Move somewhere remote and away from Waypoints, away from Kilo, away from the traitors.
And with a defiant growl, the last kingdom was gone, and Anam took over the world.
<><><>
Jerry landed flat on his back, covered in thin, toxic venom that stung his scales. He snarled and tried to stand up, but the Salazzle was already on top of him, with her foot firmly on his chest.
“Ah, ah,” she said, holding up a finger with a smirk. “I’m gonna relish this win.”
“G-get off me!” Jerry grunted. “What are you, five?!”
“You’re the one who keeps asking to get up close and personal,” Spice said, leaning down until her muzzle was inches from his.
“Enough!” Jerry said, stammering and trying to hide the blush of his scales. Wild Aerodactyl didn’t blush like this, so why did the civilized subspecies have to?!
By some miracle, Spice got off of him. “You better wash that poison off you soon,” she said, spinning around. “I need to head to work, though. Be seeing you.”
“Be careful,” Jerry said routinely. Spice’s family was lucky, able to adjust their jobs ever since the potion shop Spice’s mother used to work at closed down. Still, seeing her leave for work always left him with a bitter aftertaste.
Quickly Jerry returned home and cleaned himself of the Toxic with practiced ease, downing a Pecha Berry to dull the poisoning so his body could fight off the rest. He stored the Toxic fluids for later.
It was much smaller than their home in Pyrock, but it was cozy in a way. That was what Jerry told himself, at least. It was a clever little hut made from clay, stones, vines, and branches carefully and skillfully woven together. It required replacement every year or so, but it wasn’t very hard to do between himself and Jeremy, and Brigid could help with the clay portions. She insisted, really.
Now that he thought about it, that time was coming soon, wasn’t it? He hoped so. Jeremy was being a lot more irritable than usual, but he was always like his old self when he had an important task to take care of. Rebuilding the house always, and without fail, put Jeremy in a good mood, and sometimes Jerry saw that old Archeops resurface.
The opening was disguised as a large bush of Orans, but pushing through was easy. On the other side was a small, cramped hallway that arched over him in a large cylinder. Vines wove themselves together like a net, but there were holes along the ceiling to let in the light, with larger leaves off to the side that could be used to cover them if it rained.
No special crystals, no Kiloan magic, nothing that they could associate with their usurpers. It made for a difficult lifestyle at times, but they’d handled worse. Supposedly.
Further down the hall, Jerry passed by Jeremy’s office, which was no different than any of the other alcoves and rooms of their permanently makeshift home: A few stumps of wood; large, carved, flat stones; a basket for fruits and other snacks; and a jug of water. Jeremy didn’t have paperwork anymore, so he made some with paper that he’d also made himself. The quality wasn’t very good, but he’d pressed the wood into something that was at least cloth-like.
Jerry was a little curious what Jeremy was writing about now. Maybe their inventory again, or a declaration of ownership of a nearby tree. Jeremy worked tirelessly for his new kingdom, after all. And Jerry was going to inherit it one day.
Jeremy always said that, and as silly as it was, he did appreciate the gesture. It was one of the few moments of generosity Jeremy had left in him, even if it stemmed from pride and spite. Though, that same pride and spite led Jeremy to believing Jerry wouldn’t
want that throne. He was right, but the way Jeremy reacted to it baffled Jerry. Still, his father was always like that, so it wasn’t a big deal. It
was a big deal when he decided to get a new heir, though…
He supposed his to-be sibling, then, would inherit the throne.
Jerry passed by the egg room. It was kept at just the right temperature and layered with soft nesting, and in the middle of the thick layers of brown grass was a small, Aerodactyl-gray egg. It had been there for a while, tended to by the whole family, though it hadn’t shown any signs of movement. Slow grower, Jerry figured.
He was about to head into the bedroom when Brigid came hobbling out.
“Oh, Mom,” Jerry greeted. He resisted the urge to help her walk.
She was a lot older, now. She’d aged faster than she should have, and her shaking had gotten to the point where she could hardly eat on her own. Despite this, she still maintained almost complete independence. Jeremy wouldn’t have been fond of helping when he had a kingdom to run, and Brigid said she didn’t mind—that in fact, she preferred it that way.
She gestured for Jerry to enter her room and then wobbled back inside. She wore a serious, yet mischievous smirk, and Jerry couldn’t help but mirror it—even though he had no idea what it was for.
“Mom?” Jerry asked, this time in a lower voice. He quickly checked his bag again, hoping he could keep the vials of toxins safe for later. Brigid wouldn’t be happy if she found out about that.
Brigid had a bag of her own, which she pulled out from under her nest. Simple, brown, a little tattered, and it jingled lightly with Kiloan coins.
“For tomorrow,” Brigid said.
Jerry stifled a gasp and glanced behind him. Jeremy was still writing. “What do you mean?”
“I want you to buy something nice for your exam,” she went on, pushing the bag forward. Her shaking wings made the bag jingle loudly, and Jerry hastily took the coins and shoved them in his bag where he could move more quietly.
“We get standard supplies for the practical,” Jerry said.
“But you need a
good meal today and tomorrow morning,” Brigid urged. “None of these fruits and Jeremy’s cooking. You know he isn’t any good at it.”
True. “But I just got back from working,” Jerry said.
Brigid thought Jerry worked in construction in town, but kept it a secret from Jeremy so he didn’t get upset about working for the rival kingdom. His cover story for Jeremy was that he gathered berries to trade. For some reason that was convincing enough.
The truth was, Jerry did neither.
“Go out again. Get something
good,” Brigid urged like the old lady she’d become. It warmed his heart, and he couldn’t refuse.
<><><>
The plan was to get something light for breakfast, which meant dinnertime now would be something heavy. He knew just where to go. It was a small building, but Spice had shown him the way some time ago as one of her favorite dining spots.
It was run by a Roselia and several other cooks. Apparently, she managed the quality control rather than the cooking, but based on the results, she was good at it.
There was only enough room for a few Pokémon of his size to slip in, and Roselia herself stood on a stool at least three times her height to get to speaking levels with most customers. Jerry was used to the arrangements by now. The cramped quarters made the ceiling only a hop away from his head, and he couldn’t even spread his wings without hitting the wall or another diner. There were no seats; he was meant to take the food and find someplace else to eat, which was fine by him.
“Jerry?”
“Eh?”
Behind him was Spice, looking pleasantly surprised. “Thought you were heading home,” she said.
Jerry grinned and held up his bag. “Mom was saving up in secret,” he said. “Wanted to give me a boost.”
Spice shared his expression, and after he placed and received his order—a thick chop with a savory, whitish and herb-filled sauce with generously buttered potatoes and grilled vegetables—they made some idle small talk at a small sitting area down the road.
“So, you’re finally applying, huh?” Spice said. “You’re gonna pass the basic exams no problem.” She sank her teeth into her own slab of meat, which dripped with a thin, brown sauce that smelled of garlic and sugar. “Surprised your Dad finally let go of it all, though.”
“He doesn’t know,” Jerry said, and that stopped the Salazzle from eating.
“What?”
“I’m gonna say that I’m still foraging around and doing clever trades or whatever, like before,” he explained. “Unpredictable time slots, sometimes you get hurt, it’s not so different, you know? Besides.” Jerry gestured to Spice. “Those blessed whatever items don’t even work on you, and you’re still standing.”
Spice scoffed. “That’s because I’m careful and I made my own potions thanks to Mom helping out with the apothecary work.” Still, she leaned forward with a more serious frown. “But can you seriously keep up that secret for the rest of your career?”
“Won’t have to.” Jerry looked down. “If I become a Heart, I’m going to save every Poké I get for a few years and then turn it into a little nest-egg. My folks don’t need to spend much since we just forage, but being able to buy a few things here and there helps.”
“Where
do you get money from?” Spice asked.
“We sell stuff we find in the Wooden Wilds,” Jerry half-lied. “Dropped by idiot explorers, or we just gather the berries that grow there and sell it back. But I’ll make a lot more as a Heart, and then… we’ll be set.”
Spice didn’t look satisfied, but whatever she wanted to say, she never did. Jerry was fine with that; he’d done the math himself, and he wasn’t in the mood to justify being in it for the money when he barely cared about this place to begin with. But it was all he could do to make a better life for his family and not have his father lose sleep over his son working for the enemy. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, after all.
“Well,” Spice said, breaking the silence, “as long as the time you spend is to help others out. Maybe you can take on missions that’re in the south.”
“Rescue missions sound fine by me,” Jerry agreed. “At least if I’m there, I’ll be able to know for sure if the Hearts treat people down there well.”
“I’ve already made sure of that,” Spice assured. “Leo and I, we teamed up with another pair to go on missions together. Aim for southern missions but sometimes we get others, y’know. Mostly into hotter climates, or to stop fires. Maybe you can go on a scouting team, with the wings and all.”
“Eh, maybe.” Jerry didn’t really care a s long as it wasn’t too intensive and paid well. Even if Anam stole his Basin blessings, he still had a lot of strength from training with that power all his childhood. And while Jeremy had gotten on in the years, he was no slouch, either.
“Well, good luck,” Spice said. “I’m gonna be cheering you on from the side. I gotta go for a mission, though.” She stood up, her plate of food empty, and carried it to a nearby disposal basket.
“See you,” Jerry said casually, then went back to finishing his meal. He wanted to savor it and unlike Spice, he intended to clean the bowl of any remnants that would have otherwise been left behind. Every drop of flavor was energy and he wasn’t going to waste it.
Around when he only had a quarter of his plate left, mostly the veggies that he was reluctant to eat, a Clefable strode by his table and sat across from him, giving a sweet smile. That much was normal enough. In communal areas like this, picking the same table by coincidence wasn’t that strange.
What was strange was all the free seats around him at this quiet time of day.
Clefable had a modest tart for a meal, half eaten with all of the strawberries missing and a few too many blueberries. No Orans or other medicinal berries here. In fact, they seemed to almost be deliberately missing.
Jerry’s eyes flicked to Clefable, and their eyes met.
“How’s the tart?” Jerry asked, his tone businesslike.
“Missing some of my favorites,” Clefable replied.
“Eh.” Jerry dug through his bag. “Here, hun”—he didn’t know this Clefable for more than these meetings—“Pechas, like you like ‘em to cut the sour. Helps against poison. Heard that even Salazzle poison can’t stand up to it.”
Jerry brought out a bag that contained a handful of small seeds. The satchel rumbled heavily. There were no berries in the bag. Jerry kept it on his side of the table.
“Oh, you’re making me blush,” she said, holding her cheeks. “I actually was going to give you a gift, too, dear. But maybe later. I’m too shy.”
Jerry narrowed his eyes, but then glanced to his left. He didn’t see anybody. Still, he nodded. “Fine, fine, after I’m done. I’ll walk you home.”
They ate quickly. Clefable finished her tart in just a few bites, and Jerry dumped the vegetables down his throat and licked his plate clean. They didn’t settle well, but it was still food.
Then, they walked out of Kilo Village, through the eastern exit. It was rare to take the physical path out and not use a Waypoint, but it was just common enough to not be treated as abnormal, especially for short trips or exercising routes. There were a lot of makeshift training areas and other game fields speckled around Kilo Mountain, after all.
Once they were far enough down, Clefable dug through a bag wrapped around her shoulder and checked something inside. While Jerry couldn’t see it, he knew it was a locator, maybe one of those odd orbs. Radar Orb, perhaps?
And then Clefable stopped walking and pulled out a jingling bag of coins.
“Someone’s cautious,” Jerry commented.
“The Hearts are getting more careful about it,” Clefable replied, tossing the bag to Jerry, who caught it with ease.
“You’re saying we were being watched?” Jerry asked.
“You were just with one of them.”
“She’s nobody to worry about,” Jerry dismissed with a casual wave. He looked through the bag of coins, narrowed his eyes, and then pulled out a bag of seeds. This one was smaller than the last one, and Clefable noticed.
“Hey, what’re you doing?” she said.
“You paid me half, I’m giving you half.”
“’Scuse me?” Clefable snarled.
Jerry smoothly pulled out two of the coins, running his claw around the rhombus symbol on one of them, and then on the other. They were slightly different in color, but only sharp eyes would have spotted it. Even then, Jerry turned one coin over. “Too light,” he said. “I bet if I put this through their energy scanners, it’d come up fake, too. Nice of you to still give me
some real coin, though.”
Clefable said nothing, but her stare was fierce.
“You don’t need to bother with your backup, by the way,” Jerry added. “Two behind me, three up ahead.”
“And despite that,” Clefable said lowly, “you’re still gonna act like you have control?”
Jerry tossed the half-filled bag to Clefable and wordlessly smirked.
Clefable matched his silence, raised an arm, and snapped her fingers. The five hidden Pokémon sprang into view.
<><><>
Jerry walked back home in his usual way, humming quietly to himself. The sun was approaching evening, though the sky was still a bright blue. He’d washed up by the river, but there wasn’t much he had to clean. The Clefable herself had grazed him with a steely Meteor Mash, and that was going to leave a bruise, but he could chalk it up to construction for his mother, and an annoying feral with his father.
The little bits of blood were an inconvenience, though. Stained his bag. He’d have to hide that from Brigid until he could give it a thorough washing.
He pressed through the opening and immediately locked eyes with his father. The green top of the Archeops’ head blended with the leafy ceiling, but the red of his lower jaw seemed so much darker than the evening light that hesitantly peeked into their home.
“Why did you go out again?” His voice was low as always and had a hint of a cold whisper with every word. Jerry couldn’t look him in the eyes. They didn’t reflect light the same way that they should have. Dull, like a statue’s. It unnerved him too much.
“Forgot to get some extra stuff,” Jerry said. “But I ran into trouble, couldn’t get it anyway. Territorial ferals. Didn’t want to bother.” Routine explanation, always worked.
For some reason, Jeremy narrowed his dark eyes this time. “You’re lying.”
Jerry kept it cool. “Where else would I’ve gone?” He had a few curses he could’ve said, too, but he was already a little roughed up.
“Did you go to Kilo?”
“No,” Jerry replied, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t leave the forest.” Lying came easily, automatically. Perhaps even a Psychic wouldn’t suspect to read his mind. Besides, he knew how to falsify thoughts for those meddlesome Pokémon. It was an easy trick thanks to his experience when they were
actually ruling a kingdom.
But that also meant Jeremy was just as sharp at reading them. Yet, not as sharp as he used to be. He huffed and said, “I don’t trust them, those Kiloans. Steal my kingdom and then claim they want to help us. It doesn’t matter what they say, Jerry.”
“I know, I know.” And, in a way, he believed him, truly. But mooching off of Kilo and taking advantage of their apparent generosity was better than spitefully ignoring them.
Finally, Jeremy let Jerry back into his home.
Jerry had his own bedroom, but he always checked on the egg with Brigid every night while Jeremy settled in his nest, which was separate from Brigid’s, mostly because her tremors made it hard to sleep. Jerry checked the egg, which once again had no movement, and it, too, seemed very dark. Brigid, next to him, shifted uncomfortably and directed Jerry to adjust the nesting and check that it wasn’t cold. Jerry couldn’t really tell, but his egg had been treated the same way and he clearly turned out fit and fine.
“Must be a late hatcher,” Jerry said, grinning at Brigid.
She smiled, too, but it didn’t reach her eyes. To avoid noticing it, Jerry looked down and spotted a darkened portion of Brigid’s side.
“Oh, I fell again,” Brigid said, sighing.
“We really need to get you a softer chair,” Jerry said with concern, noticing that this bruise was a lot bigger than usual, practically a welt under her scales than anything. Even a few cuts, probably from the sharper parts of the stone. “I’m going to clean your side a little bit,” he elected.
“Oh, you don’t have to,” Brigid said. “I already did. And you need to sleep early.” She kept her voice low.
Jerry relented again, nodding. “Well… alright. But—” He glanced out. Nothing. “But Dad is suspicious. If I stay out for too long…”
Brigid smiled, sly. “I’ll distract him,” she said. “I know just the thing.”
There was a mischievous glint in her eyes that amused Jerry, though it wasn’t until he’d gone to bed that he realized that some of it was shame.
<><><>
Jerry spent the last of Brigid’s money on breakfast, as she wished. Light, sugary, and a pick-me-up drink. First came the academic portion of the tests, which Jerry had studied for in secret for many nights. Those were easy. Then came the physical tests, the battle against James—which he didn’t let intimidate him, as not only did he know they were mere Substitutes, but he also would never let a lowlife like him get the upper hand again.
So, it came as no surprise that Jerry got top marks in both. He didn’t even need to wait for the results to be announced; instead, he waited at the very front of the stairs to the Heart HQ, glancing back with an air of smugness as the rest of the applicants shuffled in. He’d heard about this ceremony and had observed a few of them quietly from the sidelines—especially when Spice had been accepted after her third try applying, failing on the physical tests for the first two—but to be in the very front was something else.
It was his first try, but only because he’d been holding off for so long. Surely, he would pass for the practical Dungeon exploration to prove himself completely. He just had to act agreeable, right? Then he’d be in, he’d be a Heart, and he’d earn more than enough money to get his parents a wonderful place. Jeremy could complain all he wanted, but he was certain that it would be enough if he worked the wordplay enough.
Several James substitutes walked among the crowd, passing out pieces of paper. The ones who qualified, no doubt. Jerry shifted from left to right again, practically a dance, and then something purple caught his attention at the top of the stairs.
There he was. Goodra Anam. The demon. The one who ruined his father, took away his kingdom, and then ruled the whole world with a slimy fist. The hatred only flashed in his eyes for a second before it was pushed down in favor of a smile, which he displayed in full force toward Anam.
He was spotted. The Goodra waved back, but there was a hint of awkwardness with the way he did. That was the first omen.
The second was when James gave a paper to Jerry next, formal and short, and said nothing. Normally James would simply say, better luck next time, or congratulations, depending on how hopeful they looked, if only to cut the tension. But James said nothing to Jerry.
That could have meant a lot of things. Grudging respect that he’d qualified for his amazing performance. Or…
His name wasn’t on the qualifying list. No Aerodactyl Jerry, let alone Aerodactyl, and Jerry wondered if that was on purpose, too. Sure, there were many species in the world, and only a few who had a chance of qualifying, so not every species would be represented, and yet Jerry wondered anyway.
He also wondered if it was a mistake. He, for sure, passed. The questions were easy and he was the only one to actually destroy a Substitute by James out of all the qualifying fighters—he’d checked! And the exams, maybe he got a question or two wrong, but who hadn’t?
“This can’t be right,” Jerry muttered, but before he could think further, someone tapped him on the shoulder.
“Hey,” Spice said, and she was the last one he wanted to see.
Jerry couldn’t find his words.
“What’s wrong?” But she already knew. He saw it in her eyes.
“I—the exam, I—James, Substitute…”
Without thinking, Jerry had followed Spice’s gestures to sit to the side while so many other Pokémon celebrated or lamented. The crowd was a multicolored buzz and he ignored all of it in favor of whatever Spice had to say. She’d rationalize it. Clerical error. Suspicion of cheating. He’d understand that one. They could test him again under careful supervision, proof of his perfect record.
“Did you forget about the third test?” Spice asked.
“Third—what? They never told me about a third test.”
Spice looked more troubled than usual, but all Jerry cared about was this third test so he could start complaining about never being given one.
“Anam can override any passing tests if the person taking them is… well, for any reason,” Spice said. “It’s a strange rule and he rarely enforces it, but every time he has, it’s because they’re… well, I don’t really know. It’s always found out later that something they did was… morally questionable.”
“Morally—what right does he have?!” Every right if he was absolute ruler, but Jerry didn’t think that was valid enough. Just because Jeremy sometimes pardoned criminals that were innocent didn’t mean Anam could deem someone guilty with no evidence.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Spice said gently. “I’m a Heart. I’m going to have a talk with Anam after the ceremonies and see what can be done, alright? Just because you used to be, you know, with your dad and all, that shouldn’t matter now. I know you want to do good for the world, alright?”
Most of what Spice said was lost to Jerry. Mixtures of numb fury and hopeless despair fought for dominance in his mind, and the crowd’s excited buzzing, now quieting down, pounded against his head.
“I’m going home,” Jerry said, tearing himself away from Spice.
“Wait, Jerry—”
“
Don’t follow me,” Jerry spat.
<><><>
The Wooden Wilds’ trees jeered at him in the wind. The afternoon sun annoyed him further, like the sun was mocking him, but that didn’t really matter. He deserved it, in a way. He’d failed, somehow. No, didn’t fail the tests or his own strength, but failed in putting his trust in that Goodra to let him in to begin with. What was he thinking? The son of the very Pokémon who tried to kill him, who then fled the kingdom he’d once ruled just to live a sad life in the woods.
Ten years. Ten years of this and all that resentment was bubbling all over again.
He had to clear his head. It was all over now, so maybe he could start somewhere else, or live as he had been before, making some money on the side with those modified seeds. The extra money would save up into a little nest-egg and then he could convince his father
that way to live a better life. It’d take longer, sure, but it was better than hoping to apply to be a Heart again. Not after that. No amount of skill would get past that stubborn slimeball’s prejudice.
Jerry pressed through the entrance to his home and pushed the leaves aside. He swished his tail with practiced ease and sealed it behind him, but mid-swing, he was assaulted with a horrible, rotten smell.
Seconds passed slowly. Disgust hit first, then confusion. Something was shuffling around in the egg room, crunching leaves. His father grunted annoyedly, muttering a curse.
Jerry didn’t realize he had walked to the door until he was rounding the corner. The smell was getting stronger. He saw feathers of his father scattered on the ground near the entryway, and then, up ahead…
Brigid was on the ground, eyes closed in a pained grimace. Jerry didn’t know if she was breathing, but she was trembling and shaking weakly. Turned on its side was the egg with a crack along its shell, but the crack wasn’t sharp, it was more like a tear, and what seeped out was something that never had a chance of hatching.
Then there was Jeremy, standing over Brigid and facing the entrance. His eyes had an annoyed, yet distant look to them, like he hadn’t expected Jerry to come home so early, and that it was an inconvenience that he did. His right claw had flecks of crimson on them. That bruise on Brigid’s side had gashes.
“…She fell,” Jeremy said.
Jerry didn’t remember what happened next.
<><><>
Early evening.
Orange sky. Light winds. It was cool on Jerry’s chest. How did he get there?
Something stung somewhere on his left wing. He couldn’t move it properly.
Someone was holding him by the shoulders. A familiar voice was repeating his name. There was a Salazzle in front of him, and just behind was a Delphox, wearing a horrified expression.
Salazzle pulled away and her hands were covered in blood. She looked at them in surprise, then said something to Jerry again, but Jerry didn’t realize she was talking to him. He somehow didn’t even know he was there.
Then Spice looked back at Delphox and said something, and he nodded and ran ahead. Then Spice guided him forward, somewhere, and he followed blindly.
His breathing was steady and while he didn’t remember when it happened, he had been walking for what felt like no time at all. His legs ached horribly, though, but not in the same way that his wings did. It was dark outside, but somehow the room he was in—a sterile white, painted stone—was lit up like daytime. The nest he sat on was a bag filled with soft cotton, and his body stained the outer, slick covers red.
A warm feeling started in his chest and spread throughout his body, concentrated mostly on his left wing like scalding water. He winced and stared at it, then watched as the wounds closed up beneath the caked blood. A Blissey, nearby, sighed with relief and asked him something.
While Jerry didn’t know what she said, he nodded back and said, “Thanks.” It was strained, but it finally cleared out his throat a little.
And then she was gone, passing through one of the halls. An Incineroar who had been in the room without Jerry realizing left shortly after, only for Spice to enter next. Incineroar said something cross to her, but Spice replied calmly, and then they parted ways.
“Jerry,” Spice said, holding his shoulder again. “Can you hear me?”
Jerry remembered he was himself. “I can,” he replied, like waking from a dream.
“Are you okay?” Spice said, and for some reason that felt like a dumb question, so Jerry didn’t answer.
He only stared, his expression giving nothing for Spice to work with. His gaze was still distant.
“What happened?” Spice pressed.
Jerry realized that the Hearts’ celebrations were ongoing. Loud hollers and whoops and cheers and roars shook the walls of Kilo Village.
“Jerry, you…” Spice looked like she had so many questions to ask, but Jerry was sorry to say that he didn’t think he could answer them right now.
“Spice,” someone called. That Delphox again. “Spice, we need to talk.”
“Can it wait?” Spice looked back; Delphox let himself in anyway. “What is it?”
“They found some seeds in there,” Delphox said, keeping his voice low.
Jerry tensed. Automatically, his eyes darted around for a window or some sort of escape route, and found none but the passageway Delphox had entered from.
“And?” Spice said.
“Modified seeds,” he went on. “They had Toxic in them.”
Spice looked taken aback, and now she joined in keeping her voice down. “What?”
“Not just any Toxic. Salazzle toxins. Corrosive.”
Jerry’s heart dropped and suddenly the well-lit room seemed a whole lot darker. Spice dared to glance at him only once, and even if it was for a split-second, Jerry felt like he’d been staring her down for the whole day. He would never forget that look.
“Spice… they were hidden in—”
“His father,” Spice said shortly, but her voice was even. She seemed like a completely different person. A pain twisted in Jerry’s stomach and his heart felt like someone was dragging it into Void Basin itself. “His father would hang around our battlefield after our sparring matches. I thought it was weird, but I guess now I know why.”
It was a complete lie. His father never watched. He barely left his home at all. And now he never would.
Spice was leaving. “I’m going to submit that as testimony.” She didn’t look back.
“Spice?” Delphox ran after her.
Jerry watched. He mentally called, begged, for her to look back, to see anything more than the back of her head or her straightened muzzle when she turned. But even when he could see her by the side, her eyes were locked forward.
And then he was alone. Somehow, Jerry knew that Spice wouldn’t come back.
He continued to sit, neither standing nor lying on his bed. Where was he going to go now? What was he supposed to do—were they going to question him? He couldn’t even remember how he got there in the first place. And his wounds were already gone, so he couldn’t use those to remember what had happened. Scars were more common before annexation, and healers had also been rare. Scars told stories, and now would he have one for this? Perhaps he’d forget it all happened. Maybe he never had a father.
The crowd cheered again outside. Kids ran across the streets, laughing and claiming that they would become the next Hearts. Several others countered and wagered they’d win. Then, the adults came and told them to find a proper place to fight, instead of acting like wilds who could fight like it was some savage pastime.
He wasn’t supposed to be here.
But then, one last person stepped into Jerry’s room, but for some reason he couldn’t believe it. She was the same shape as him, but she wobbled with each step. She moved slowly but with practiced ease, and her eyes were determined and fiery.
He didn’t know what to think about her anymore. Something about the image he once held in her mind was… cracked. A mask was falling away. The reality of her life that she lived in secret from her own son, what she had endured for him…
Jerry didn’t move, but she continued. Then, her wings wrapped around him. Warmth. Jerry hadn’t realized how cold he was until just then, and he leaned forward. Whether it was her or him, someone was shaking.
Her heart sounded so much softer.
But there she stood, embracing him, taking him under her wings. No matter what cracks had formed in that image in his mind of her… She was all he had left. After everything, Brigid remained. She was the strongest Pokémon he’d ever known.
