Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Pokemon in any form. All rights are copyright their respective holders.
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As was to be expected, the courtyard of the Morrison Manor was bustling with activity even at such an early hour. Servants of the family of all sizes, ages and specie scurried about under the weight of trays laden with exotic imported berries from Hoenn, Blissey eggs cooked in every conceivable manner, Tauros steaks, pastry confections in curled, flowery forms, Farfetch'ed dumplings and much more. There was more than enough to whet any manner and size of appetite save that of a Snorlax, but even in quantity, the Morrisons unanimously insisted upon quality.
Even as Edward's personal servant, tutor, and companion in so much more, a beautiful Espeon by the name of Helena, laid his breakfast of Qualot berries and Feebas roe in front of him with a great mug of coffee on the side, he began to take note of such details as this as he had never before done. Perhaps it was merely the fact that he would not see the familiar familial gathering place for a great while, but Edward did not accredit himself with such sentimentality, assigning it instead to a way to exercise his mind.
The courtyard itself was no small area, if an image of a lesser walled garden might be conjured by the word. No, at over an acre in size the word "courtyard" hardly did it justice, but even in the five hundred years since the Manor was erected no replacement term could be found, so a "courtyard" it remained. It was hedged entirely on the sides by weathered bluestone walls at five feet in height and overhead was covered by the dense Ilex canopy. The trees turned this area into a cool, shady respite on sunny days and into a shadowy cavern on overcast ones. However, this communal area did not fall under the restrictions of light under which much of the Manor was placed, as even Lowminds performed daily chores and activities here. Thus, for their benefit, small trees bearing the sour Lumes berries, each of which gave off an intense glow in the few short hours that they ripened before rotting, had been placed every twenty five feet or so around the perimeter. Many servants carried about a berry on their tray simply in order to see.
Because the courtyard was used on a daily basis, the weather was simply a nonissue. In cases of foul weather, four Xatu would stand- as they were, in fact, doing today, noted Edward- at each of the four corners of the rectangular area and maintain a barrier to keep off the rain, snow or other threat of nature. Lovely. It was perfect weather for one of the Godminds, at least.
This thought prompted Edward to look about at the table at which he and the other four Godminds sat. Made of the rich imported mahogany wood that the family so favored, it was tiny in comparison to the great oak banqueting tables that sat literally hundreds of Lowminds and Highminds residing at the Manor, though the two were strictly divided at mealtimes on either side of the courtyard. Though separated in terms of ability, there was no bad blood between the members of both divisions, unlike the schism that tore his own level asunder. He wondered again if his grandfather's decision to maintain this segregation was truly right.
He glanced to the center of the table, beyond his short brother who sat to his right, seeing the impassive look on the face of the Wobbuffet that stood perfectly erect, observing all before him, having finished his own meal far before the arrival of even the earliest of risers. It was a curious thing, mused Edward, that the Patriarch of the great Morrison Clan should live so long preserved through the minds of other hosts. As far as the records of the family knew, no other psychic had been able to accomplish such a feat. The power necessary to overtake and rewire the mind of another, whether willing or not, and the records said that both had occurred many times, was unmatched by any other Morrison in the five hundred years that he had lived. Even in the unseeming body of the Wynaut, now a Wobbuffet, that he had last overtaken, he radiated an air of power and authority that kept the rest of the family in check, should their opinions ever move against him. He looked also at his other, silent dining companions to the right of his grandfather. There was Alexander seated at the far end, tucking in energetically without a trace of reservation into a blood pudding, dressed equally as indiscriminately in attire like a peacock. In between he and his grandfather sat the far more sensibly dressed Felix, clad in a forest green cardigan sweater and sweatpants. Felix never assumed. This was perhaps why he was loved by most of the family, his striking simplicity and sincerity a stark contrast to the maneuvering, dangerous game of familial politics that constantly was being waged within and without the Manor. Even his breakfast choice of a bagel with lox was sensible, bordering on plain. Directly next to him was the youngest of the Godminds and his brother-by-mind Oberon seated upon the specially made booster seat crafted to compensate for his lack in height compared to the other Godminds (not at all unusual by the familial standards, as he could clearly see mingled representatives of all sorts of specie seated upon similar contraptions at both High and Lowmind tables), repasting upon a meager selection of Oran berries and mint leaves… perhaps his stomach was unsettled? That was understandable, mused Edward, considering just what exactly he would have to set out to do today. It was enough to make anyone of any mental training nervous.
The revelation was hardly sudden. He had, perhaps, known all along but not acknowledged the fact. Nonetheless, it was disconcerting to hear it formed, clearly and fully in his mind, as an audible thought. These Godminds are today my enemies. Panicking for a moment, he glanced to his right to see if any of his counterparts had been attentive enough to pick up on the thought; he did not intend the thought to be used for telepathy, but a psychic as powerful as they could hear a thought on a whim if he so wished. They did not betray any sign that they had heard- apparently, none were concentrating on subterfuge at the moment. However, he was still heard by the one person who was paying attention to him. Helena set the tray she was levitating on the ground and padded over to the Godminds' table.
Do you really feel that way, Edward? she asked through their own special telepathic link. Edward could feel the undertone of this thought: no one can hear you through this- you can talk freely.
How could I reasonably not, Helena? All of us have been preened especially for this day since birth. All of our training- even your instruction, though I cherish it greatly- has been to create a set of living weapons that can gain back the power that we Morrisons once held. All of the Godminds strive for the same goal.
If you believe that, Edward, then you are a fool. Do you honestly think that we think of you as being so expendable as that? Despite the icy snap in the meanings of her words, her tone was warm and loving as it always was with him. And I should think that having the selfsame goal would allow you to call yourselves allies.
Not when the goal is so mutually exclusive. I know that the family does not consider me as merely a weapon, but I nonetheless resent the fact that we four are essentially thrown into a race with power as a goal. Only one of us can gain the reward from this, and each knows it.
Is life only this family, then? Is life only power, acquisitions, influence, mind? Her deep, obsidian eyes met Edward's fiercely red ones, each of them gazing deep into the other's consciousness, trying to make the other understand. You of all the Godminds should know that. To speak of reward… that makes you sound like Alexander. Edward shuddered at the thought.
And to speak of discontent makes me sound like Felix…raw ambition and raw malcontent. I am a mix of the two, a product of perfection. He chuckled at his thought, but Helena's eyes flared, and he immediately regretted his words.
Sarcasm does not become you, Edward, she said, her tone cool but level. I want you to keep things in perspective. Or have you forgotten my most fundamental lessons? One such as you is a gift to the world- not merely because of your power, but also your heart and disposition. There is no one comparable to you in this family or otherwise; of this I have been convinced since I began to know you. Therefore, do not be so fearful that you will lose the opportunity of garnering a reward for yourself and your brother. You have position already, and your life will ever be an easy one if I can at all help it.
Edward smiled as he mulled these words over. Helena was right, of course; to borrow a phrase from Felix's constant sermonizing, he had bought in too deeply into the "dogma" of the family maneuvering and intrigue. Let Alexander's ambition run wild, let Felix work through his journey in his own way. Oberon and he would simply do their best, regardless of what the goal set before them should be. If they could knock Alexander off of his ego while so doing, then all the better. In the meantime, why worry?
Thank you, Helena. You are right, of course.
When have I ever been otherwise, my dear Edward? she asked, her eyes sparkling. And I will send someone for you when the time comes some months from now, for I know you have concerns about me that you do not voice. Do not worry about me while you are journeying. Edward's expression turned to a frown as he mulled over the implications of this.
You still have no idea how long it will take, then? Even with your prescient ability better than my own?
We are psychics, not clairvoyants- that is Felix's power, not yours. I have told you before that the normal time is five months, but considering what we have done it may well be longer. I have assured that no one will know until it becomes physically apparent. Have you told anyone?
Only my brother. I felt that he should have the right to know. Helena closed her eyes, her thoughts taking on a quality of white noise that any telepath came to recognize as the mental equivalent of "hmm…"
That is alright, she replied at length. If you must have a confidant, he is the best choice. I think that I need not tell you to guard your mouth closely on your journey.
That should be intuitive.
"Ah… Edward?" broke a new voice into their mental reverie. Edward looked to his right where he saw Oberon standing on his booster seat in order to tap him on the shoulder. "Grandfather is going to speak. You need to stand." He glanced back at Helena, who nodded once.
I will speak to you again before you leave. She padded away to the Highmind table and took a spot near the end.
Edward stood as he saw the other Godminds so doing, flanking either side of their Wobbuffet grandfather. He raised both of his arms imperiously, asking for silence with a gesture that all of the family had come to recognize, but that nevertheless in his current form looked somewhat comical. Edward thought he heard a snicker.
He spoke. This was always a very uncomfortable thing for all those that heard him to endure, for even in his current form- not given to any sort of mental exertion in and of itself- he was still powerful enough to project his words through telepathy to the hundreds of Morrisons before him. A mind that could do that exerted a potent and somewhat painful force on any that heard it, and so he usually kept his words few.
My brethren, I do not intend to keep you for long, he said, prefacing his remarks with the reassurance that most desperately wanted when he began to speak. But there is a need to call your attention to this day- a day in which we will regain our pride as a family, a day in which we will have no need to hide our doings from the outside world any longer. A murmur went through the throng of family listening. Edward thought that most orators would need an exclamation point here to emphasize their point, but Grandfather was different. Whenever he wanted to drive a hard point, he simply increased the pressure on the mind of the listener so that one took more notice. Edward's temple throbbed with renewed vigor each time he punctuated his speech with the word "day."
Now, I do not wish to demean the work that all Highminds and Lowminds do here and elsewhere on a daily basis by this proclamation, but for centuries now our efforts to gain a foothold in the world have been stunted by the fact that we have been shunned- misunderstood by foreign Lowminds who are repulsed by our way of life and by arrogant outsider Highminds who do not realize that it is the duty of the strong to safely lead the weak. Grandfather threw his arms over above his head once more. Everyone braced for impact of impending exclamation points.
We are the strong! It is we who should rule! Only we who have removed ourselves from the world can truly understand it to bring peace. For this I have kept myself alive all these years, that my dream might bear fruit in due time. That time has been a long time forthcoming, brethren, for we have until now lacked the strength to overcome these misguided outsiders that would far rather govern themselves with their purely human statutes and feeble laws. He swept his arms wildly out to the sides, nearly knocking over Oberon and Felix, though the latter had deftly leaned back out of the Wobbuffet's range a few seconds before the frenzied gesture.
Long have we waited for those that could have the strength to overcome this stagnant and corrupt system on its own rules without satisfaction. Yet in this past generation we have birthed not one but four- here Edward shut his eyes at a sharp pain at the front of his forehead. If Grandfather did not finish this soon, his headache would turn into a migraine. He continued- four Godminds, each to their own specialty and power. If this is not a sign from those gods that rule even us, may they strike me down here. We have devoted ourselves to their preparation for this day- the day in which they will challenge the system of the outsiders on its own terms. One of them is destined to succeed in this attempt, but which? A bead of cold sweat began to roll down Edward's cheek, the pain making him grit his teeth. "Do not intend to keep you for long, indeed." Surely he must realize what his mental probing did to those that listened; it was short only of the invasion that he enacted on a new body every few decades.
Edward felt a cooling relief spread over his body, his muscles unclenching- odd, he hadn't noticed he had been so tense- as the pain pounding away on the inside of his skull subsided into a realm in which he could bear it. Helena was facing him once more, her eyelids closed tightly and twitching as she took on the pain raging within him into herself. Edward felt a lump form in his throat as he realized this sacrifice, but there was no time for reflection. Grandfather continued relentlessly on.
Shall it be Alexander, whose ambition to rule is greater even than the need that we perceive? Shall we hand him the power over this world and family, and allow him to depose me? Shall I allow it? The look of shock on Alexander's face was priceless, Edward noted. It was exceedingly droll that everyone knew of his egotism but him.
Shall it be our Felix, who as we all know can tell any of us what will befall us by a mere glance? This was exaggeration, Edward knew. Felix possessed incredible prescient ability, but certainly couldn't tell you just upon your asking what, say, you would have for breakfast the next day, or what your cause of death would be. Or, perhaps, he thought, he had never been asked. Shall it be he who we have given the Blood of Origin, who can look into the past to see the Aruseus looming over the cosmos and into the future to see the death of this universe?
Grandfather shouldn't get poetic, broke Felix's refreshing and distinct mental presence into the grandiloquent rant. I can't do a single one of those things that he said. A smile formed on more faces than just Edward's, all of whom were glad for the brief reprieve.
Shall it be our Oberon, our own proof that the result is greater than the sum of its parts? Shall the world outside be ruled over, ultimately, by one who can understand both the world of nature and the world of man that subdues it? Oberon shuffled his feet timidly under his flaps of skin.
So it was his turn, then. Edward felt an undercurrent of his Grandfather's mental process trill up his spine. It was entirely wordless, as his words were fully occupied at the moment, but the meaning was clear nonetheless: don't you dare mess up your image.
Or shall it be Edward, the sole Godmind ever born of the process of Mind Birthing, whose power will one day exceed all of the others combined? Shall we allow him to rule on promise, or on ability? Can a creation of even our artifice surpass those that are natural? This may have bothered one of lesser training, but Edward knew the question to be literal, not rhetorical. And he knew the answer to be yes, with a touch of pride that was dimmed by Helena's constant admonitions, ever at the forefront of his mind, of humility.
Brethren, you must today say your farewells to these bastions of our family's power if you have not done so, for they today begin their journey into the outside world. Wish them well and make every provision for their success. Grandfather lowered his arms and went back to the stoic position he had earlier affected, staring out at nothing and everything. Well, it was a bit abrupt, but that seemed to be the end of it. The other four Godminds sat once more.
Edward heard Alexander's mental voice, its tone and flavor of steel and ice distinctly his, break into his consciousness as he hefted the spoon for his long-forgotten breakfast. And what was there important in all of that monologue that we needed to hear? Why waste our time with that and give us headaches, to boot?
Apparently the message had been Alexander's own special brand of attention-grabber and not simply directed at Edward, as Oberon rose to the bait. It wasn't meant for us, though, was it? If Grandfather wished to give us a message before we go off today, he would have done so individually, and he might still.
It was meant for the Lowminds, Alexander. Most of them are not allowed in the chambers of the Highminds except for reasons of servitude, so how would they know that we would be setting out today? Most of them never get a chance to even speak to us, we're so busy all the time, interjected Edward. This would probably be a mistake and would just erupt in anger eventually, but he could not stop the thought.
You say most, dear cousin. Why any at all? Why should we concern ourselves with the affairs of the Lowminds of this family?
Alexander, stop it. You're being decidedly nasty, broke in Felix. Edward's consciousness was feeling decidedly crowded at this point.
Oh, shut up, Felix. Consider, all of you, what I am saying for once, will you? And don't harangue me about this, either you or Oberon, Edward. Your mental presences feel like salt, and I don't need that after one of Grandfather's speeches.
That's an encouragement, you know, chuckled Oberon.
Oh, why do I bother? Anyway, listen carefully. I realize that my philosophy on rulers and leaders is very different from yours, which is why I believe I am superior in this respect, but that's beside the point. The question I am trying to ask here is whether or not Lowminds are deserving of our attention, either human or Pokemon. Are they?
Edward's temper flared. Are you saying that you want to rule without responsibility, Alexander? Do you think all Lowminds are unintelligent?
In a manner of speaking… yes. You seem to forget why we journey today- we will eventually usurp the Lowminds' League, or whatever they so term it, and when one, and only one, of us is seated as Champion, we overthrow the system to allow the family to take its place. There is no room in this plan for self-governance of the Lowminds and Highminds of the outside world; they are the very reason that they are destroying themselves. My responsibility for the Lowminds is for their well-being, not their comfort. The attention that I will lavish upon them will be an iron fist.
Then kindly explain how you will do this to Dark-types, dear Alexander, or am I simply missing a part of your plan here? asked Felix. You seem so assured that you will be the victor in this contest by merit of your power alone, but I do not See you or any of us ruling in that manner you describe.
Are you saying that none of us will succeed, Felix? asked Oberon.
I am saying that Alexander is mistaken in his approach. Although, all have known this from the start.
Your prescience has too many variables to be wholly accurate, Felix. Who, then, do you see upon the seat of Champion, say, a year from now? inquired a sneering Alexander.
The image flickers every moment- you should know that, replied Felix in his longsuffering tone.
Then do not propose to preach at us, Felix! All of you think that you are so great, so noble merely because of your mongrel pedigrees. I, a mere human, cannot hope to contend with such greatness, now, can I?
That is enough, Alexander! This thought came from not one but five sources at once, causing Alexander to cringe back under the weight of their venom. The three Godminds had all "shouted," of course, but who else was there? Ah, yes… that would be Crassus, Alexander's Alakazam tutor. The last was Helena, her beautiful brow furrowed in anger and her obsidian eyes glaring daggers. Edward hated to see her like that- curse that egotistic fool!
Under the pressure of so much opinion against him, Alexander backed down. Very well… I concede. If you will not listen to my ideas, as no one ever does, I shall have to prove them myself. Good day, cousins. Though he kept the feeling and force of this last statement pleasant enough, he nonetheless stared down at the remains of his sangeous breakfast in surly silence.
Edward raised the spoon to his mouth, seething at Alexander's audacity. His Feebas roe had gotten warm. He spat it out in disgust.