Prologue, or Trouble Brewing.

"Please tell me you're kidding."

The person standing across him, his faithful Budew deputy, looked down at his neat, green shoes as if they were the most interesting thing he had ever seen in his life. He nursed his lower lip with his teeth as he murmured, "No, Speaker. I am not."

The Pokémon across from him stared at the Budew's bowed head for a long moment, seeing but not registering, his body taut as a bowstring. Then he abruptly stood up from behind his desk with a clatter, pens and papers flying off the smooth surface in every which way, running both hands through his white hair. His fingers, clothed in fingerless white gloves, crackled with sparks, the electricity dancing in the strands. "I – I see. This is troubling." Then, mostly to himself, his fingers pressing against his temples, "This is very troubling."

The Budew lifted his head upward slightly, green eyes focusing intently on the disconcerted Pachirisu in front of him. He had ceased biting his lower lip and had taken to wringing his hands behind his back, and worked up the courage after a few silent seconds to ask tentatively, "Speaker, do you wish that I – "

"No, no, no. Please leave; I need to think." When the Grass-type paused once more, hesitant, words about to form on his tongue, the Speaker turned his head, still standing behind his mahogany desk, his blue eyes hard and glimmering like sapphires. "Dismissed," he said coldly, the words sounding harsh coming out of his mouth, snipping the s's off sharply.

The Budew gave a low bow, eyes focused on the toes of his practical brown shoes, and hurried out of the room, scattering the papers all over the floors and walls as he went and as the door slammed behind him. Niko slumped back into his chair, falling back with a shuddery sigh and leting his head fall into one hand, elbow resting on the desk, eyes narrowed to slits, the world blurring in and out of view.

"The Speaker of Kyurem is dead," he told himself out loud, letting his own low voice wash over him, trying to get his numb brain to function at a fraction of its previous speed at the very least. The words he uttered greased the gears and they began to crank and turn in his mind, and he added to himself, "She's been assassinated."

The hag had it coming, a cool, neutral part of his mind said, and Niko shoved it back angrily. Perhaps she had, but it was still a human life, and while she hadn't been exactly moral she had been a fantastic leader, in the sense that she made her Order wildly successful. But that was only if one could count someone who led the crusade to end the entire 'freedom of religion' law in Sinnoh a good leader. The Order of Kyurem is going to be utter chaos, Niko thought, frowning, sitting up and pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. Those devout to Him are going to be mourning in the streets.

"Not only that," he said out loud, absently pulling at his scarf with a single finger, the electricity being repelled by the yellow fabric. "She's been against us since she became the Speaker of Kyurem." His already pale face got even whiter at the realization, and he bit the words off as if they were venom as he hissed, "They're going to blame us for her death."

And if they blame us, they'll take up arms. Niko pulled his scarf above his nose, breathing in the scent; it used to be his mother's. We'll have to fight them.

He pushed himself from the worn wood of his desk and proceeded to begin pacing around the room, focusing on his white shoes as they stepped in and out of his vision. Why is it the Order of Arceus has so many warriors? Niko asked himself, pulling his scarf down from his face before shoving his hands into the pockets of his white pants. I wanted to be the Speaker of a peaceful Order; instead, I'll have to order my Servants to kill. He shuddered, then stilled and forced his muscles to relax, ceasing his pacing and stopping behind his desk. He practically fell into his chair once more, requiring him to shift in order to come to a more comfortable position in the worn cushions.

"Maybe they'll accept a treaty," Niko muttered, the words sounding hollow as soon as he spoke them. No, they wouldn't sign, let alone look at a treaty; once enraged, the wrath of Kyurem was said to be legendary. Those who swore their lives to Him would fight or die fighting, so the rumors went. Casting his deep blue eyes upward, Niko drummed his fingers on the table. For the first time in his life, he didn't have a plan just seconds away. He didn't have some sort of fabulous, intricate ploy that would get them out of trouble. That was why Arceus had chosen him to Speak for Him, at least according to the Speaker of Uxie – his ability to plan ahead.

Niko hated the feeling of being put on the spot; his schedules, color-coded, precise, and neat demonstrated his need for time to do, well, anything. He was always on time to meetings, always evaded fights with the other conflicting religions in the Sinnoh region (though it was mostly the Order of Kyurem that had caused problems, not that he had any personal dislike of that particular god), always won any battles - always successful, always correct, always right, provided he was given time to strategize.

But now…

The same Budew bustled into the door, breathing hard, as he was slamming his hands on the table, shouting in frustration, "Arceus dammit!"

The person across from his paused, mouth open halfway, green eyes wide, immediately folding in on himself somewhat as his shoulders hunched and he took a faltering step back. Niko sighed, embarrassed and annoyed at being caught at his lack of composure, and struggled to keep his voice level as he said through gritted teeth, "My apologies. What can I do for you?"

"Speaker," the Budew began shakily. He fell silent, cleared his throat, and said again, voice steady, straightening his stance, "Speaker, the Order of Kyurem demands we confess our crime."

"Already?" Shit, why now of all times... "It hasn't even been an hour."

"I – I know, Speaker." The Budew looked down at the paper in his only slightly trembling hands, scanning the words calmly despite him obviously being frazzled. After a few moments he looked up and gave his Speaker the short version by saying curtly, "They say if we don't confess, they will burn us to the ground."

Niko covered his eyes with his arm and exhaled through his teeth, a hissing sound that made the Budew flinch. "Fuck," he swore softly, anxiety making his heart pound at impossible speeds and sparks fly from his hands. "I knew we would go to war someday, but all of this over religion?"

The Budew did not reply, waiting for his Speaker to pull himself together and snap out orders. Everyone devout to Arceus knew of Niko's stoicism when the situation called for it. Even so, it was many minutes before Niko sat up, blue eyes hard as ice. He gazed intently at the Budew, who stared right back, unfazed. "I need you to inform the Priests and Priestesses of Dialga to temporarily slow time; I need it to think. Can you do that?"

"Of course, Speaker." The Budew came forward and placed the paper from the Order of Kyurem on his desk, sliding it toward him before quickly backing off. It was nothing fancy, just a piece of parchment, but the words therein contained the fate of his entire Order. "Is there anything else I should do?"

Niko stared at the Budew, long and hard. The Grass-type, for his part, didn't even flinch, instead waiting patiently for him to speak.

"A poffin," Niko said at last, averting his eyes to the sheet in front of him, drawing it towards him with a single finger. He brushed other papers away from his desk and picked up a pen, scanning and beginning to underline key terms. The Budew bowed and was leaving as Niko murmured to himself, "A poffin would be lovely."

Credits go where credits are due. In order of appearance:

Niko belongs to Raven Kat.

The Budew belongs to Snowsheba.