Disclaimer- If you take a look at the Pokemon fandom, you'll see that it's very popular. That alone should tell you what I own. Nothing, since I wouldn't be able to make something that popular!

"You did what?!"

Kelana Drae was simply outraged.

The three nobles in the Council room looked up at her, slightly gaping. Kelana knew her light brown hair was frizzy and tousled about thanks to her storming all across the palace as soon as she had overheard some of the tournament stages.

"Is it true," she demanded menacingly, "that you agreed that the first round preliminaries should only be required of females?"

If it hadn't been so unseemly, Kelana would have cracked her knuckles. The expression on her face could only be described as the work of the devil. Her brown eyes glinted with angry malice, and shadows outlined her face as she glared at the men.

"Now, now, Kelana," Felix tried to appease her, "Let's not go into hasty decisions. We decided that for the safety of the lovely young ladies. After all, it wouldn't do to have an overeager boy hurt one."

Ethan nodded, agreeing with every word the Captain uttered. He had long learned that an angry noblewoman was something to avoid no matter what.

Unfortunately, it only fueled the woman's anger.

"Why, yes, but it also wouldn't do to have those very young ladies whip your soldier behinds!" Kelana hissed, face red with fury.

"A proper lady should never lose her temper like that," Mattias said.

"A proper man should never cause a woman to lose her temper like that," Kelana retorted, "I refuse to allow you to insult the female heritage like this!"

"Kelana," Ethan pleaded, "Jota will be thrown into chaos if a woman rules them."

"Then let it! I'd like to see the looks on your faces if a woman does win!"

The Captain stood up and stared down at her small figure from his height. "Please, Kelana," he said; the authority dripping from his somewhat cold tone canceled out the effect of his well-meant courtesy, "You must think of more than your female pride, and see what is best for Jota."

"Get over your male pride before you start reprimanding me!" Kelana snapped as a knock sounded on the door.

An elderly man hobbled in. His hair was graying and lacking in certain parts of his head, and his face was covered in many wrinkles. He wore a light green tunic and beige breeches. A small gnarled cane with a blue orb embedded into the top was gripped tightly in one hand and held out to support him.

"Missus Kelana," he rasped, choking a little over his breath, "I-I would like a word with you."

"Sir Delray," Kelana sighed, "You shouldn't be out of bed at your age."

She ran a hand through her hair, and shot one last glower in the male nobles' direction. Then, she took the old man's hand and marched out of the room, practically dragging her companion along.

"That was scary," Ethan commented, only speaking when he was certain Kelana wouldn't be back to spit acid at them any time soon. Felix gritted his lips, nodded, and advised them to simply forget it.

After all, soon, they'd have to announce their decision. And face the wrath of not one angry lady, but a whole horde of them.

XXX

"You are a truly beautiful woman," Rhodrick Flanagan told a passing by lady. She giggled, flipping her blonde hair over a shoulder and flashed him a slight smile, though her green eyes showed her nervousness.

Rhodrick laughed heartily, patting his large belly in a good manner, "Don't worry, little lady, I wouldn't dare try to hurt you. I only wanted to tell you a very, very important beauty secret."

That did it. Her interest had been piqued, and she leaned in to listen.

"Do you promise to never tell anyone what I'm telling you now? Promise!"

"I promise," the woman whispered back, bouncing on her toes with excitement, "What is it?"

"Now," said Rhodrick, "You may not believe me, but I know the secret to perfect hair. Smooth, silky, a sexy wave; I know the secret to all of it."

She nodded eagerly.

"Now, have you ever seen Queen Jade? Have you seen how incredibly beautiful she is? The way her hair is both glossy and stunningly amazing, smooth yet wavy, with the exact amount of coloring to make it really glow?"

"Yes!" the girl squealed, "Her Majesty is very beautiful!"

"Well," Rhodrick whipped out a case from behind his merchant's stall, "This is the secret to it! I've travelled far and wide, to lands you can't even imagine, until I had finally discovered the secret to making such a hair conditioning that unlocks such glory! Even the Queen herself could not resist in buying it, and I am about to give you the chance to become as gorgeous as Lady Jade was!"

"I'll take it!" Her response was so sudden that even Rhodrick was surprised for a second.

"Excellent! I knew I had found a woman who truly understands what beauty means as soon as I laid eyes on you!" Rhodrick beamed, "Unfortunately, it is a bit pricey. Judging by your clothing, that will not be a problem?"

"No problem at all!"

"And," Rhodrick looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping and leaned closer to her, "I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about this...exchange. Other people might get a bit...jealous. They don't have to certain zeal that you carry."

She nodded.

"Excellent! Brilliant!" he exclaimed, "Simply marvelous! It was a pleasure doing business with you, young miss."

She giggled again before handing Rhodrick a very heavy, bulging sack of gold, and dashed off to try her newly acquired hair products.

Sighing, Rhodrick turned back to his stall, satisfied. To his dismay, he found a young girl sampling one of the leftover hair products.

The thief blinked, surprised at being caught so suddenly. She had short black hair, and bright blue eyes.

"This doesn't even work," she stated in her shock, "I think it's made of lotion and perfume."

Then Rhodrick yelled loudly, jumping backwards and pointing at her, "Hey, you! Thief!"

Startled into action, the girl jumped over his stall counter and raced down the street, knocking down several people in her desperate attempt to get away.

"Oh, no you don't! Vadigan, you get her back here!" Rhodrick cried.

A Swablu burst out of the extended Pokeball—Rhodrick didn't dare throw it, for fear of it being lost amongst the midday crowds—and chased after the black haired girl. Despite the girl's frantic efforts, Vadigan caught up with her easily and snatched her up. The thief was thrown back roughly as the Swablu head butted her in the stomach, and she fell backwards on the street.

By then, Rhodrick had caught up to them in spite of his lack of rush. He made his way in a nice stroll towards the scene that had attracted quite a crowd.

"Get up," he commanded the girl once he could loom over her menacingly, if only because she was sitting down.

The girl got up. She stared at him defiantly.

Rhodrick stared back, his arms struggling to remain crossed over his blubbery chest, though he did not show it. "March."

She marched. He directed her with carefully aimed jabs at her back with his chubby finger.

Once the girl sat in front of Rhodrick's stall, legs crossed and back slumped against the hard, wooden front, Rhodrick commanded, "Name."

The thief remained reluctantly silent, but the fat merchant prodded her with a toe, and she spat out a bitter, "Raven."

"Raven...?"

"Dashkov. Raven Dashkov." Her tone could've frozen a Ho-oh's flame.

"Well, my name's Rhodrick Flanagan," he said cheerfully, his face void of all contempt. Raven's expression changed from defiance to confusion, to even a bit of a scared frown.

She looked around for any help, but eventually had to turn her head to look at the fat merchant again, "And...you're telling me this because?"

"You don't know? Why, my dear," Rhodrick chirped, "You're going to be in my employment for quite some time!"

Raven spluttered an incoherent response, and then something along the lines of, "Wha--?! B-b-but, I--! I can't...No, but I--! Argh, listen you old geezer—I don't have the--!"

He cut her off, "Hush. You'll need to save your energy. Now, I'll need you to bring those baskets to my caravan over here..."

He waddle-walked down the streets. Raven, with nothing else to do, scooped up the baskets full of the fake hair products and raced after him.

"Hey! Hey, wait up, uh...Rhodrick! Sir Rhodrick!"

He paused only to call over his shoulder, "Just Rhodrick will do! Actually, call me Rhodri! All my friends do!"

XXX

Mirabelle Baldor swung her feet to one side of the Rapidash she sat on and peered at the messenger. He was around the age of 16, 3 years younger than her, and wore the attire of a squire. His blonde hair was grown out in the way that many knights wore it, and his forehead was beaded with sweat. Gripped tightly in his left hand was a scroll wrapped tightly with a golden ribbon and sealed with the royal Emblem of Jota.

"Mistress Mirabelle Alys Baldor, if I am correct?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and brushing the sweat off his brow, "I have a message for you. You have entered the tournament, yes?"

Mirabelle nodded, grinning cheekily as her green eyes flashed with undeniable pride. "Hm? Is it really starting already? For real? What's the first stage? What do I have to do?"

The squire squirmed away from the ivory haired girl who rocked excitably in her saddle. Her Rapidash shifted uncomfortably also, hanging its head in shame, as if embarrassed by the girl's antics.

He cleared his throat softly and whipped the scroll open. The golden ribbon fell into a graceful arc as the weight of gravity forced it down. Mirabelle listened with interest, though her anger spiked with each word. No one disturbed them.

"Lady Mirabell Alys Baldor of Sinnoa, the nobles of Jota have accepted you application for the tournament. However, you are neither a native of Jota, nor a noble. Furthermore, you are, in fact, female. For these reasons, you shall be forced to undergo the preliminary rounds. We need to know if you are truly capable of ruling our noble country."

"Fear not, however, the preliminary rounds are not at all difficult. It is naught but a series of questions for you to answer, which determine your ability to answer questions under pressure. The first of them can be located alongside this scroll."

"We wish you the best of luck. Signed, Felix Wright, Lord of Dala; Ethan Chambers, Lord of Misina; Kelana Drae, Lady of Sectris; Matthias Lance, Duke of Cretan; Verona Lance, Duchess of Cretan," finished the squire. He looked up to see Mirabelle's face, red from anger.

"I have to take the preliminaries because I am a girl?!" she screeched, glaring at the squire, "And the first round is a bunch of measly riddles? Are they toying with me?"

Her Rapidash snorted with disdain, flicking its wild mane towards the squire, who stepped back.

"I-I'm sorry, miss, but I'm sure it is so you don't hurt yourself against bigger men."

He was only digging himself a bigger hole.

"Are you suggesting," Mirabelle growled, jumping off her horse and glowering down at the boy, "that I would not win against a man because I am female?"

"No!" he rushed hurriedly with wide eyes. The poor squire threw the scroll at Mirabelle, along with the slip of paper containing the first question, and ran off.

"Most likely to find solace in his ma's arms," the girl snarled as she reached down to pick up the question. She also held out the scroll to her Rapidash. "You can eat it, if you want."

As the Rapidash munched on the crisp parchment, Mirabelle read the question.

This monument was built by the second king of Jota.

Mirabelle blinked as her temper cooled. Was this a...history question?

She searched her memory, struggling to recall what her history teacher had taught her when she was eleven. She was fairly certain that the second king was the brother of the first, the founder of Jota. Or was that for Kantus? Oh, well, she thought.

Running up to a passing by village boy, she grabbed the sleeve of his T-shirt.

"Hey, who was the second king of Jota?" she asked.

The boy, more or less, laughed at her.

"Y-you don't know who the second king of Jota is? Ha! You must be very stupid, lady. Everyone knows who the second king was!" He continued laughing as he continued. Mirabelle glared after him. Stupid kid...

Mirabelle continued to walk along, her lip curled upward into a pout as she struggled to remember her history facts. Who would've known that that boring class would be of use? If she had known, she would've tried to listen!

Out of the corner of her eyes, Mirabelle noticed a flash of color. She turned her head in time to see another girl dash around the corner, a scroll in hand with a golden ribbon trailing behind her.

Without a second thought, she followed. With luck, this girl would be on the same question as Mirabelle, and she could just cheat the answer. After all, no one had told her she couldn't.

After a couple of minutes, Mirabelle's legs started to tire, but she didn't dare call out her Rapidash for fear of being spotted by the girl she was tailing. Eventually, though, a tall tower began to peak out from the horizon.

Soon enough, Mirabelle soon stood in front of the Brass Tower, though the girl she was following was nowhere in sight.

"Brass...Tower?" Mirabelle murmured questioningly. Oh, yeah! The second king built both the Brass Tower and the Tin Tower in honor of a silver and rainbow bird! How had she forgotten that?

A monk, with clean purple robes and a shiny shaven head, walked out and greeted her. "Hello, young one. Have you come to find your way? Or perhaps you wish to merely pay your respects to the divine silver bird, Lugia."

Lugia. The name rolled off of Mirabelle's tongue, more so than any other noble's names had ever done.

"N-no, thank you. I came to look for something," Mirabelle stammered. Though she was very confident in herself, she was afraid to offend the monk in the presence of the Tower. She had heard that the tower had had this effect on many other people too, so she wasn't too ashamed.

The monk smiled faintly, and bowed a bit, "I see. Not many people as young as you come to seek here. However, if you ask the Great Bird for help, I am sure that you will find your way."

"N-no. You don't understand. What I'm looking for, it's not--!"

The monk cut her off, "Please. You might find something that you need."

He stepped aside and led Mirabelle into the tower. Inside was just as beautiful as outside the Brass Tower, if not more. The monk led the girl to the back of the tower, and gestured towards the shrine built for Lugia.

"You merely need to ask. The Great Bird shall help you."

Mirabelle, with great effort, kept her mouth shut and crouched down in front of the shrine. Placing her hands together, she murmured, "Great Bird Lugia, I humbly ask for your aid in helping me with my task."

She bowed her head, and looked up again. Mirabelle was startled to be greeted by a barrage of sparkles. In fact, the whole shrine seemed to be glowing and shining in a way that Mirabelle had never imagined before.

However, the shining stopped just as the sun stopped streaming through the sky lights, but not before a deep, serene voice whispered in Mirabelle's ear, "Of course."

Startled again, the girl clenched her fists, only to hear the crackle of paper. She looked down to see a slip of parchment containing the second question in her hand.

Mirabelle whirled around to look at the monk, to see if he had known, but the monk had left long ago, and he had left no indication that he had ever really existed.

XXX

A girl peeked out of her window towards the alley below. Fighting noises—the sound of flesh on flesh—had been echoing out of the small alley for hours. Just now, however, she had heard a loud yell and the sound of a sword being drawn.

Down below, there was indeed a fight. Two teenagers advanced on a younger boy, about five years younger than them. The two teens wore ragged beige clothing; on had blonde hair cropped short and tan skin. His eyes were bright blue. His face would've been quite handsome, had his jaw not been set in a menacing grimace.

The other had brown hair, grown out past his shoulders and tied together with a thin red cloth. Dust and grime coated his broad hands and specked his face. His dark brown eyes held a more intelligent gleam than his companion's.

In a quick flash, the blonde lashed out at the younger boy with his fist, sending the boy sprawling across the ground.

The boy winced as his face made contact with the rocky floor, but he gritted him teeth and pushed himself up with much effort. Spitting out blood, the boy charged at the blonde, catching him by surprise. The boy drove the blonde backwards towards the other wall, before the brown-haired boy whacked him from behind.

"You little shrimp," the blonde snarled, "You dirty, scheming nobles!"

The boy smirked, though his face was in the dirt.

"You are upset for noble's blood," he whispered, getting a mouthful of dust in the process, "'Tis a sad day indeed, when the peasants envy their higher ups."

"Silence, you!" the brunette snapped, stomping on the boy's arm. He was rewarded by a satisfying cracking sound. "We'll say when you can speak."

"I shall not take orders from a servant's lowly son," the boy groaned, shifting a bit to find a more comfortable angle for his broken arm.

"You are in no position to—!" the blonde was interrupted by a sudden movement made by the noble boy. The boy flipped backwards in a miracle jump, and landed crouched. His newly broken arm was cradled in his good one, and his green eyes flashed dangerously like a Glameow's.

"You have never been in a position to do this, and neither shall you ever!"

"We shall see," the blonde boy laughed, stepping behind the brown haired boy.

"I apologize for this, milord," the brown haired boy said softly. From behind his back, he revealed something that made the young boy gasp.

Though it was blunt and rusty, a sword was a sword, and it was definitely a sword in the brunette's hand.

The boy raised the blade into the air until he only needed a single vertical strike to kill the young noble. The sword lingered there for another two seconds, before it was brought downward with incredible murderous intent.

Luckily, that two second hesitation saved the small boy's life.

A girl with blonde hair braided into two pigtails swooped in and parried the blow with a sword of her own. She feinted an attack, and the brown haired boy flailed to block it.

He obviously had no skill with a sword.

They exchanged a few blows again, forcing the girl's opponent backwards. The attacks were rapid and random, never expected until it was too late.

Then, the boy tripped over his companion as he tried to take another step back to dodge an oncoming blow. Though the swing slashed at the space where his head had just been, both boys fell quickly with bewildered expressions plastered on their faces.

Just as the girl touched the point of the blade to one of the boy's forehead, a horn blew. The hurried sound of hoof beats rounded the corner, and a man appeared on a Rapidash decorated with fancy royal armor.

"State your name and rank," he demanded coolly, his white mount shuffling for a good grip on the cobblestone.

"Amelia Spelman, sir," the girl answered automatically, dropping her sword hand and raising the other in a respectful salute, "My parents run the restaurant 'round here."

The two boys' eyes widened at the appearance of the man—whose shield indicated that he was a knight—and looked away, refusing to utter another sound. The young noble stood up, though, and brushed himself off the best he could.

"A tad late as always, Sir Felix," he said stiffly, before walking away. Felix stared after him, before turning his attention to the more pressing matters at hand.

Shooting a glance at the two boys that clearly read to stay put, he dismounted and walked up to Amelia.

"For a restaurant owner's daughter, you seem awfully familiar with the sword."

Amelia nodded, "Yessir. That's because I aim to be a Knight. I train every day, and I want to use this tournament to show that I have the skills to become one!"

Felix studied her gaze for a moment, before speaking. "You are aware that the skill isn't the only thing that makes a Knight. You must have motivation, talent, not to mention courage."

"I am determined to become a Knight."

"The path to Knighthood is not at all easy. You do not become a one overnight. You first have to become a page for about 4 years, and then a squire for 3. Only the best end up as Knights."

Amelia nodded again, "I intend to be the best."

"Very well then, Amelia Spelman. I, as Captain of the Guard, permit you to try your hand as a page. Should you not meet my expectations though, I will send you home as quickly as you came."

"I won't disappoint you, sir!" Amelia cried, trying to curtsy before remembering that pages bowed to their superiors. In the end, she ended up doing half of both and fell over.

As she left though, Felix turned back to the two boys with a hardened face.

"Now, I don't think I'm nearly half done with you boys yet..."

And done! :D

I'm trying not to cram OCs in there, but if you think I'm leaving you behind, tell me so.

Same with if I get your OC portrayed wrong. Tell me what I need to do better.

And I've divided Jota into a bunch of different territories, and the nobles rule these territories:

Misina- Present day Cherrygrove and New Bark Town

Cretan- Present day Goldenrod and Violet City

Dala- Present day Olivine and her bays

Sectris- Present day Azalea and Ilex Forest

Mahogany- Present day Blackthorn and Mahogany Town

It isn't necessary to remember all of this, but if you want to, you can.

Credits

Rhodrick Flanagan- ShadowDragoon32

Raven Dashkov- PrettyRaveGirl3

Mirabelle Baldor- xEmilia

Amelia Spelman- DevoTheMadCashCow