Chapter IX: Harbinger
"... The camp is on the brink of collapse. We truly cannot afford more refugees flowing in—already nearly half of those we house sleep on little more than naked grass. Meanwhile, food caravans have become fewer and far between.
That last batch from Sperantia Nova seemed to be the last straw: fights are breaking out over rations, and one of our security personnel succumbed to his injuries as a result. I do not break orders with a lightweight conscience, please do believe me.
But the situation is escaping my control. They wanted to get out, seek refuge in Aesernia, so I let them."
Piece of correspondence between Colonel Ariel and Director Varus of the Gratia Refugee Camp.
Pelorithan Highlands
The soft breeze felt cool on his scales.
When Flame regained consciousness at some point, he did not stir. Every muscle in his body sent confused signals of heat and cold, of ache and tiredness. Through his closed eyelids he could see something bright. For a few seconds, he cracked a gratified smile; it felt somewhat pleasant, almost as though he'd just laid down after a marathon.
Only this wasn't meant to last.
Soon thereafter, fatigue dissipated quickly, for piece by piece images entered his brain—his friends, a gloomy fortress, the ensuing struggle. He remembered burning one particular Scum to a crisp, some bat injecting him with venom, then nothing.
His psyche hesitated; on one hand, it simply wished to rest and shuffle those thoughts aside, but simultaneously a need to figure out where he was arose from within his chest.
Also, what was that barely perceptible tickle trickling up his paw? His brow tensed in disgust—ants, those horrible blighters. He took the first movement in a while and sat up, much to the chagrin of his vertebral column. A spell of dizziness hit his head for a moment as he let the blood flow adjust.
Eyes now open, his vision was bombarded with colours he'd started to miss. All around him spanned a grassy field, just short of the slope overlooking the valley they had recently spent much time in. From their position atop lonely trees, a couple of Pidgey eyed him curiously.
We were in the fortress. With the Scum, Flame recounted his time in the dungeon, This looks like outside...
"Aaaaah, my bloody head..." someone groaned from nearby. A quick twist of his body revealed that it belonged to Gaius; in fact, his whole team was there with him.
"Oh, Flame, you're awake," Alice noted, sleep still heavy in her eyes, "Are you feeling okay? I remember you collapsing to the ground at one point—had me worried to no end."
Flame allowed his muscles to relax. "Y-yeah. I'm okay now. How did we get here?"
"Good question. I honestly have no clue; the last thing I can recall is beating one of the last Scum still alive, then..." her face drew a blank. "I ... suppose I passed out, somehow? Even so, it would make no sense for us to be here. Guys?" she appealed to the rest of the team, cocking her head sideways.
Neither Gaius nor Virgo had much to say, with one clutching his head, and the other mumbling something unintelligible.
"The Gengar," uttered Yvaine, "It cast some sort of spell on the dungeon to flee. Couldn't kill it in time."
"Hang on a moment. All this means..." a wide grin spread across Alice's face, "We did it! We completed our mission! Even when facing the Scum, we triumphed," her voice shook with excitement.
A spark of joy lit inside him when he realised her words were true. Team Phalanx—the meager rags of a team they were, had cleared such a high-prestige assignment!
Virgo huffed, chest puffed out. "Guess you have us to thank for this. Those maggots were no problem to squash."
"B-but ... the Gengar," Yvaine drooped her ears, "It got away, along with those who teleported beforehand."
Alice raised her tail forth. "Hush. Ariel doesn't need to hear that. For all she knows, the barbarian encampment near Sperantia Nova no longer..." her voice froze. Her head jerked to some point in the nearby field, "... who is that?"
The moment Flame turned to the problem in question, it took but a second for him to recognise the shape. It was the Leafeon from the dungeon. There she lay, physique nearly unrecognisable between the charred fur and patches of grime and dirt soaking it. Of all queries buzzing in his head, Flame could not avoid feeling insulted more than anything—had he not killed that Scum in the depths of Castra Aeterna? Perhaps it was for the best, his psyche attempted to reason; having blood on his hands did not exactly suit his tastes.
For a few moments, Team Phalanx hesitated to take the initiative, right up until the Leafeon jerked her head up in alarm. Gaius descended upon the fellow grass-type within a blur, holding her throat in a chokehold, knee crushing her lungs and chest.
"You thought you could get away, didn't you?" Gaius spat with a tone that sent shivers down Flame's back, ignoring the writhes and yeeps below, "Bastards. You're all going to hell—you and the rest of your lot," he let out a wry smile.
Apparently deaf to his words, the Leafeon let out a noise halfway between a growl and a lament, and lit her tail a bright green. Only it lay crushed underneath Gaius' foot. The Grovyle only drew more blood from her throat. Scum or not, Flame was beginning to feel genuinely frightened: it felt painfully obvious that Gaius was holding back from ripping her into slabs of meat.
"I don't know how you managed to survive, but that's not a problem," he turned to the rest of his team, "Didn't Ariel ask us to bring one Scum back alive?"
"Yeah, s-she did," Flame spewed rapidly, knowing where this discussion was headed.
Gaius smirked. "Good. She ought to give us a bonus for this. Pass me some rope."
Instead of that, Yvaine walked closer, a faint blackish aura outlining the Leafeon's body. "No need. I'll make sure it comes along. We can depart on your order."
The gates of Aesernia came just as the sun reached the apex of its celestial arch.
After hours of forced marching, covered in all kinds of filth, there could be no sweeter sight to behold. Flame watched on toward the impressive walls, over which the very top of some structures peeked. The sight managed to evoke a merry feeling inside him.
Gaius led the way up to the great lumber doors. While the leader knocked, and then went through the formalities with whichever guard happened to be on duty, Flame spared a second to gaze at the Leafeon by his side. Their captive had kept silent throughout most of the voyage: after realising that growls and salivation did nothing except for earning her a smack in the head, she seemed to have accepted her fate. He began creating a mental list of all he knew about her kind. First of all, from what little information he'd siphoned off Gaius, it was unlikely the Scum could comprehend their language—far too crude brains for that, the grass-type had said. Secondly, nobody really minded inflicting gratuitous pain upon her, a fact which simultaneously fascinated and alarmed Flame. Maybe he shouldn't have felt so bad in her place, only he couldn't help it. He was surprised Virgo didn't force-feed the Leafeon a blast seed just to see what would happen.
His train of thought ground to a halt when he heard the sound of metal clacks, followed by the door opening to grant them passage. Team Phalanx made their way inside, taking care of explaining the 'addition' to the guards.
Not even fully inside, the figure of a certain Haxorus leaning on a nearby wall contemplating her claws became all too apparent. Not a single bit of time to prepare psychologically, Flame thought.
When the five of them (plus prisoner) closed in on the chief lizard, Ariel jerked her head, wearing a mask of mixed surprise and apathy.
"Oh, wow, you made it back. Only in a day, as well. Is it done?"
Alice stood tall and proud, smirking as she spoke. "Affirmative. Sperantia Nova can rest easy now."
Visibly unimpressed by the Dragonair's answer, Ariel grunted, turning her questioning gaze to the legionary duo. Both Virgo and Yvaine nodded.
"Acknowledged."
Their commander's face twitched into further disgust while still remaining apathetic. "And who's miss 'nature' over here?"
Flame joined into his team's common smugness. "A Scum we decided to spare. Brought her back on your orders."
Ariel's pupils dilated, as though told they'd just visited the moon. "What? Are you—are you trying to mess with me? I swear, if this ends up like the last time with your Charmeleon friend..."
Then Yvaine took a step forward. "Ma'am, I can assure you these officers are telling the truth. I myself helped in the capture."
Uttering no words, the Haxorus lowered her gaze—though never her head—while taking in her grip the Leafeon's immobile chin. The latter could only reply by seething venom from her eyes, and baring her sharp teeth.
"Wow. Not even Team Reformity could bring one back," Ariel said in a novel tone of appreciation, "Nice work, officers. It's going to be quite a show. Guards!"
Two Bisharp manning the gates approached them. By the time Yvaine undid the psionic restraints, the Scum received the blunt side of a blade on the back of her skull. She was knocked dead cold.
Flame followed the armour-clad soldiers with his head as they dragged their captive away; they laughed together and said they'd have fun with her during breaks, before wandering outside of hearing range.
"Oh, and your reward will be delivered to you later this afternoon. Dismissed."
At the words, a spark of pride lit in his chest—he could see the rest of his teammates reacting much the same way. Hearing his commander uttering words that didn't have some scornful double-sense definitely sounded alien to his ears.
Ariel turned to leave. "Also, take a bath. You all smell like a bunch of proles."
On that note, the Haxorus stomped away, leaving the five of them breathing in relief. He couldn't help but notice how grand and charming Aesernia looked from here.
"Well, it's been fun working with you," Virgo said proudly, "Never thought I'd find some civvies with a grain of competence. How about we stick around a little longer?"
Gaius took a moment to respond, exhaling a sigh. "I'm sorry, but no. We need a minute to rest at home camp."
Don't you even try, Flame thought, furrowing his brow. One entire mission spent by the side of those weirdos went well over his threshold for patience. To even imply that they should spend more time together sounded more like an affront than a friendly suggestion.
"Oh, come on!" Virgo crossed his arms, "Flame, surely you're with me on this one? We could go around town and show you some fun, celebrate the arse-kicking we gave 'em."
Yvaine shook her head vigorously. "Don't, unless you wish to experience what syphilis feels like."
"Geez, don't blow things out of proportion now. It's just a blister!"
Yvaine rolled her eyes. "Sure, keep telling yourself that..."
Flame swapped gazes between the two. "No thanks. I have ... other things to do."
"Aww," Virgo cooed, frowning, "Another time?"
No answer came from Team Phalanx.
Yvaine sent the three of them a courteous smile. "If you ever need anything, we will gladly help."
"Hopefully there will be no need," Alice bowed back, "Thanks for all you've done for us."
With all formalities over, Flame watched as the two legionaries got farther and farther, before his own group headed towards Camp Tempest. As he traversed the streets, he discovered a newfound appreciation for the town's features: sure, it smelt of urine and was dangerously overcrowded—but it was still his home, in a way.
Plus, he wouldn't have to bear the presence of those two snobs for a while. The thought spawned a gleeful smirk on his face. Granted, Aesernia wasn't exactly a sprawling metropolis, so chances were he'd meet them again. But having his friends by his side lulled any broody thoughts to rest.
"As much as they may have been of use, I'm glad it's just the three of us again," Flame commented, observing the impromptu market stalls nearby.
"Same. They started getting on my nerves after a while," Gaius said, "thinking they're the boss around here. Kinda hope Ariel stops pairing us with them on missions."
Alice nodded in agreement. "About that—don't you think we acted too snobbish in front of Ariel? She already hates our guts as it is."
"Honestly, to hell with her," Gaius grinned, looking both of them in the eye, "I'm proud of what we did. Let's just hope the payout was worth it."
They turned a sharp corner, then followed the main road. There seemed to be some kind of commotion ahead.
"I mean, who else in Civil Protection can boast to have passed a B-rank job so easily?" Flame added to the pile.
Gaius looked up for a moment. "Probably some bigshot teams down south, but definitely nobody I've seen."
He wanted to add something, only there was a dense mass of pokémon blocking the entrance to Victory Square. The three of them stopped, staring bemusedly at the living barricade. Was there some public holiday he'd missed? With the overwhelming presence of taller creatures obstructing his vision, he couldn't quite tell. His teammates also mentioned there being no other way to Camp Tempest which didn't involve taking some ungodly contorted detour. The only option would be to make their way through the crowd, at least while some breathing space remained.
Contradicting his normal instinct to gravitate to the outer edge of any kind of scrimmage, Flame shoved, butted, squirmed his way through alongside his companions. Soon they reached a less densely-packed section of the crowd, from which they could better watch the centre of the square. An elevated wooden platform measuring double his height had been set up there, on top of which some scary-looking legionary droned on about traitorous Scum and the honour of the Empire (whatever that meant).
"For Mew's sake, another one?" Alice uttered dismally, "I thought they'd stopped..."
Before he could ask for further insight, a cordon of rock-type legionaries split the crowd in two, and gradually pushed it apart as to form a path of sorts to the platform. The speaker interrupted his monologue just in time for a pokémon to be dragged on stage—some kind of orange bipedal chicken, feathers ruffed and mixed with dirt and blood.
That sight stimulated the crowd. At the start there only had been a few boos and hisses, whereas at once everyone exploded in a frenzy of insults and profanities whizzing through the air like bullets.
Alice's face contorted in vague disgust, turning away. "Let's go. I have no desire to watch."
Flame found not a reason to disagree. It was painfully clear they were not tying the poor soul to a pole as a local tradition.
When the three of them gained some distance from the square, Flame could feel the general uneasiness scenting the air. More and more people bumped into them heading in the opposite direction, probably towards Victory Square—to gawk at the lynching, he figured.
"Be thankful we passed through when we did," Gaius said, "Any later and the whole darn square would have been packed with raging psychos."
"Is ... is this something that happens regularly?" Flame bit his lip, figuring he should have gotten over it by now.
Alice did not look pleased either. "A couple months back, they made you watch these things by law. Ariel says it's always good to remind proles who the enemy is," she sighed, curling her lip in disgust.
"Why?" Flame pressed on, eyes wandering all over, "Sure, they're Scum, but ... is all this really necessary?"
The Dragonair's reaction made him wish he could shove those words right back down his throat.
Alice's pupils dilated and she halted, frantically jerking her head round to make sure nobody had overheard.
When she concluded that that was precisely the case, her glare landed on him. "Flame, you mustn't say such things in public!" she whispered, "That—that is precisely what ends you up on stage."
Unsure what to say or do, Flame stood there, cringing internally. "O-oh. Uh ... sorry?"
"And who's going to report us, the proles?" Gaius crossed his arms, scoffing at her, "Come on, Alice, stop acting ridiculous."
Lowering her gaze, Alice scanned their surroundings once more before they started moving again. "I apologise; perhaps I am being slightly paranoid. Simply put it, I would rather not take the risk of a legionary overhearing us, lest we get branded as ... sympathisers."
"It's okay. That was stupid of me to ask," Flame shrugged off, wishing for this misunderstanding to wither away immediately. How was he supposed to know which thoughts one could or could not express? It had to have been that Leafeon Scum, surely. No matter how hard of an effort he made, the guilt and pity wouldn't unhook from his mind. Yet those very eyes had witnessed Sperantia Nova's plight by their hands!
Alice looked round briefly, visibly calmed, yet still wary to pause whenever someone walked within hearing range. "Don't worry about it. To answer your question, I just can't see the point—it doesn't help with defending our Empire, nor does it drive up recruitment numbers."
He nodded. Thoughts and images entered his mind, most of them concerning that same pokémon they'd brought back on their mission. One day or another, she would likely suffer the same fate. With time he would learn not to pay any heed; if for no other reason than his teammates did as such. With time, he would integrate, get accustomed to it all.
Speaking of that... Flame mused to himself, just as an idea sprung up onto the forefront of his mind. The sky told him it would take but a few hours before the sun fully disappeared. More than enough for his current intentions.
"Guys, would you mind if I headed to the library for a bit?" Flame stopped, eyes scanning the rooftops for a certain white marble, "If I'm not mistaken, it should be ... somewhere nearby, right?"
"Oh, good idea," Alice commented, "Too bad you'd have to cross that bloodthirsty crowd again to get there."
"... Oh. O-okay," his face fell into a deep frown, "That's a shame. I guess we can try another day."
Inwardly, he sighed. There fate went, obstructing his plans for the day. When would he get another chance to study with such workload awaiting them? Oh well, he thought, attempting to regain a smile, maybe it wasn't so bad. The three of them would probably find some constructive activity to indulge in. Even then, merely spending time with his friends did not exactly bother him either.
The road began to snake around the dwindling number of greasy residential buildings, following an upwards slope. On the side of the road, he spotted the same sign from his first day in Civil Protection, welcoming newcomers to Camp Tempest, home of Task Force Aegis.
Just as they entered the encampment's perimeter, Alice turned to face him, a thoughtful twinkle in her eyes.
"Hang on a second, Flame," Alice said, "The library is basically impossible to reach, but ... a thought just sprung to mind—would you mind following me? There is one place we could go."
Sensing a spike in curiosity, Flame answered with a smile and nodded. Last time she'd brought him along, it was to gather much-needed knowledge about himself; hopefully this time would prove just as fruitful.
"Whatever, do as you please," Gaius raised his shoulders in a shrug, then turned away, "I'll stay and wait for my reward. Just don't get lost."
Not fifteen minutes from the array of disorganised tents that was the barracks, the two of them trudged on to an empty patch of land, just in sight of the base's water well.
Initially, Flame stood there bemusedly, not knowing where he was supposed to look. He noticed two other officers nearby: a dark, feather-donned weasel trading slashes with some overgrown mantis (admittedly, those blades made him uneasy). The grassier hilltop location of Camp Tempest suddenly gave way to a roughly rectangular patch of dirt, only a few stalks sprouting here and there. It was as though some spiky-bodied being had rolled there merrily for hours on end.
"Come, let's wait for the arena to clear," Alice pointed him to a nearby file of neatly arranged rocks, each flattened on top, positioned as impromptu seating for spectators.
Flame welcomed her invite, laying his rear to rest on the cool stone. He watched the officers going at it, emitting grunts louder than normal with each dash. At first he had yet to fully process the implications of her words; when he did so seconds later, a blunt-sided blade to that Weavile's cranium added the missing piece to his puzzle.
He turned to the Dragonair, his brow furrowed in alarm. "Arena? This is an arena? Are you asking me to—"
"Yes, spar with you." her eyes betrayed excitement.
For a moment—he held no clue as to why—Flame lapsed into silence. His lips twitched, opened quickly, then mashed together at once. He could not wrap his skull round putting one word after another.
"Why?" Flame asked earnestly, trying his best not to inject a tone of hostility to such idea.
Alice turned her head round to the side, resting it onto her coils. "It's been on my mind today, ever since that discussion we had on the road to the fortress." her eyes wandered up to the sky momentarily. "Or was that yesterday? Dungeons never fail to confuse me. Either way, I saw you fighting those Scum down there. In all honesty, you kicked their arses."
Exactly when a warm fuzzy feeling arose in his gut he did not know, but any words which stroked his wavering ego were deemed most welcome. Besides, he felt deserving of the compliment—although he still hadn't expected one so abrupt from her.
"Really?" Flame asked rhetorically, leaning back on his paws, "Well, that ... means a lot to me. Thanks. But why exactly should the two of us spar?"
Alice hummed, pausing. "... You know what? Even I am not quite sure." she hesitated, eyes darting around. "Uh ... I think Gaius would start showing respect if you were to hold your own against either of us. Yeah, let's go with that."
She totally made that up on the spot, Flame cracked an amused smile, Even so, she's right. The only way I'll ever earn his respect is by proving him I can make our team better. And for that, I need practice.
Meanwhile, the overgrown mantis dashed out of an ice shard's way, then ended the confrontation with a clean slash to its opponent. The latter fell to the dirt, groaning and moaning about the unfairness of it all.
"Guess so. But ... what if I hurt you? Are you absolutely positive this is safe?"
"We're dragons, Flame—our scales are the envy of every other pokémon. So yes, we should be fine," Alice said with a confident smile, "Unless you suddenly decide my life isn't worth much, of course."
Flame chuckled along, gradually laying his anxieties to rest. "What, you mean I can't rip your throat open? Pity."
They watched as both officers left the arena, the weasel in particular walking with a mild limp, as its partner seemed impervious to any doubts thrown at the legitimacy of its victory.
"Guess it's our cue," Flame inhaled profoundly, before lifting himself from his seat. While he positioned himself on one end of the field, Alice drifted to the opposite side, with the sun kissing her back—and consequently his eyes. He found himself forced to squint his eyes a tad, even though, admittedly, the extra warmth felt quite pleasant on his scales.
Of course we had to choose the one time it's sunny in this stupid place, Flame cursed mentally at the unfair handicap. However, he decided not to voice his complaints; real battlefield opponents would grant him no privileges out of sheer compassion, thus his training should be no different.
"You know, this reminds me of similar events they would hold in Urbe," Alice started, "My father made me watch once. They had these absolutely humongous amphitheatres, bustling with spectators on all sides," she drew an imaginary circle with her snout, "Only, the Scum in the pit wouldn't hold back. It was ... troubling, to say the least."
As much as the story intrigued him, Flame's main concern was bracing himself psychologically for what was to come.
Alice blinked, as if too aware of his partial disinterest. "Oh. I apologise for ranting off there. Enough of that, now," she smirked, then bowed ceremoniously, "Let's begin."
Even after Flame's heartbeat spiked simultaneous with those words, the many voices in his head could not come to a consensus. It simply didn't feel right. Despite having just discussed the relatively few risks involved, a part of him stubbornly clung on to a sense of disgust at the mere thought of attacking his teammate and fr—
He never managed to finish that thought, what with the unexpected electric current slamming into his chest. Tiny Spinaraks trickled down his limbs, nested round his cranium, bit into his flesh with their toothy arcs. He fell to the ground as soon as the shock ended, only somewhat able to catch himself with his paws. Heat emanated out of his scales, as though he'd been cooked alive. A thin wire of smoke wafted from them even as the last twitches of electricity abandoned his body.
"Aaaugh..." Flame groaned through his teeth, breathing heavily, "What was that for?"
"The fight has started, hasn't it?" Alice said matter-of-factly, almost puzzled by his question.
Oh, right, Flame mentally slapped himself for his idiocy as he rose back up.
This time round, he caught wind of Alice drawing her head aback to prepare a further attack. Crouching preemptively, he flung his body out of the way just as the bolt of electricity buzzed straight past him. A grunt escaped his mouth while regaining composure—he made a mental note not to land on his shoulder again.
Realising he was trapping himself on the defensive, Flame exploited a lull in the Dragonair's long-range attacks to counter with one of his own, quickly spewing a sizable jet of fire from his maw. He hadn't quite planned any forward-thinking strategy—way ahead of himself, such impulsive being—yet, in a brief moment of clarity, an idea intruded upon his thoughts, for the flames had not quite fanned.
No preparation was required; he held back his arms and began to charge. There would be no doubt she expected such move—he would fail in moments, they both knew—but so long as he showed spirit of initiative, that he did not merely follow their shadows out of desperation, some parasite, could it be so terrible if he lost? Not a week had passed since Team Phalanx expanded!
The fire enveloped him, coated in his own element. That ought to excite his energies, he hoped. Claws drawn, he leapt off the ground, exited the plume of fire and—
Another jet of flames greeted him, this travelling in the other direction, tainted a draconic blue. It was unavoidable; his face felt the brunt of the breath, each tongue burrowing in between his scales, so compressed it quite nearly pushed him backwards.
He didn't feel himself impacting the ground, quite so much as his body emitting a sizzling noise that disgusted him profoundly. Had his orange scales not endowed him with prodigious resistance to heat, his skin would likely have melted off at once. (A pile of cooked flesh!)
Even through his pained groans, he knew there was no time to mope. Against all signals in his body, he dug his feet into the ground, curled his fists and—ah! Now Alice stood over him, her tail orb glowing a faint light. For a brief moment, he noticed her hesitate, biting her lip. No, he didn't want pity. If he was going to fail right then and there, it would end like they'd agreed to.
Alice must have sensed his unspoken message, for her expression hardened, and she drew back her tail. He understood her intentions at once. Faster than his mind could process, he mustered up whatever embers left in him and directed them all towards his opponent.
She lashed out, and a blinding pain seemed to rip through his back, like a whip cracking open his skin.
There were white spots in his vision. Flame felt himself knocked about, presumably rolling back from the knockback. Yet his last-ditch flamethrower had scored a direct hit: he heard Alice let out a cry, then backed off as she flinched her lower body away.
It was then that he realised his attacks were leaving behind a trail of cinders, scorching the earth whenever contact was made. And so it clicked. If Alice wished to steer clear of those searing patches of dirt, he'd make the entire battlefield burn—for was not fire the only element by his side?
Pure adrenaline pumped inside his blood vessels. Surmounting the shackles paining his limbs, Flame crouched on all fours. He could feel, underneath his tongue, a sore and rough mouth, decrying the recent abuse received by such blistering temperatures. Yet he smiled on, intoxicated by this new sensation—one he'd briefly felt whilst fighting the Scum.
His opponent must have been feeling the same way. Furrowing her brow, she began writhing her coils about to throw his aim off, countering with an ever-increasing barrage of lightning bolts.
Yet Flame was not quite aiming at her; rather, he directed each stream close to the ground, then forced his stomach to labour further and torch the area behind her retreat as well.
Seeing her breathing space diminish and her lightning attacks become less effective, Alice slithered backwards as the soil became too uncomfortably hot for even her draconic scales to bear. Eventually she exited the sparring field to evade his onslaught—something she didn't seem to take notice of, what with the dozen different emotions going through her face right then. Unperturbed by her own hyperventilating, she drew back and illuminated the orb situated under her neck, a sphere of blue energy gathering before her maw.
That was the opening Flame sought. It was spontaneous; his body dashed across the little space left between them, into the outbound grass, tackled the Dragonair with force. As she gasped, the water pulse slipped from her control; it fired off to the side he enwrapped her snout, wrestling as he vied for control. Alice thrashed violently, flipping over and jerking erratically to shake him off. When that visibly did not work, she growled in irritation, now using her tail to try to unhinge him—only now his paw grabbed her neck orb.
The moment his claws wrapped round it, Alice ceased her thrashing. She lay paralysed. No, not that—she was trembling, eyes fixated on him while her breathing grew tenfold.
Flame felt a pulse of guilt wash over him, as though he'd violated her personal space. Not even he had expected such belligerency to arise in his body. Against his friend, no less! Even right now, as the hostility between them all but evaporated, he was still keeping her pinned, head against the grass, pressing down on her mid-body with a knee.
It feels really warm though, he took notice, glancing at the smooth orb in his claws.
In mere seconds, he realised how awkwardness and how sheerly impolite he was being by prolonging that position they were in. As a mere formality, he quickly let her neck orb go, bringing a claw to her throat before he poked her scales there.
"Dead," he said with a sheepish grin.
With that, he quickly shifted off of her, and sat down. Which quickly changed into lying on the bare grass. Now that the endorphins had worn off, all kinds of pain and dull aches started to surface, starting with the fresh tail-mark on his outer thigh. That was ignoring the sizzling noise some patches of his skin still made upon contact.
He turned to Alice, eager to pour out a tiny bit of smugness, and ended up tensing at the sight of her troubled expression. Her eyes were downcast, yet bitter, as if furious at the grass. Had he struck her too violently? But she seemed just fine, he thought.
"Alice? Are ... are you okay?" he asked, biting his lip, "Look, I'm sorry for—"
All of a sudden she shook her head, as if to break out of her trance. Those pristine eyes rose to meet his momentarily, as she straightened her expression into a more friendly facade.
"Sorry? Why on earth are you sorry? You've won, for Mew's sake!" she shot back, forcing a playful grin, "Didn't I tell you not to use the word sorry with me again?"
"Yeah, but seeing you like that makes me uneasy..." Flame softened his voice. He wasn't quite sure how to react. Why was she acting so strangely? This was it, he thought; he'd broken some other moral code he had no clue of, probably by touching that orb of hers in battle, which gave him enough momentum to tumble over the line of moral acceptability.
Alice returned to glaring holes into the green stalks, exhaling a sigh. "If anything, I should be the one to apologise. There's no reason for me to start acting like a cub. It's just that..." she avoided meeting his gaze, "Damn it, I knew I should have used that water pulse earlier. They're just so hard to aim..."
Flame picked up on the tone vesselled by her voice. A heaviness now weighed inside his chest as he lay exhausted on the grass. A voice in his mind—surely the more arrogant side—felt justified to curse at such twisted irony: in a moment he should have sprouted elation from all pores, enjoying his hard-earned victory—Alice, such elegant warrior!—the first emotion he felt was one of guilt.
"Well, you p-packed one hell of a punch," Flame wheezed earnestly, cringing slightly from the various stings, "I didn't think a fire type could suffer heat this much."
Smiling softly, he playfully struck her side, eliciting a pained yelp from his teammate.
"Ow, stop it, that—that hurts!" she snickered back, "Scales or not, standing on cinder burns. Did—did you do that on purpose?"
"Somewhat," Flame breathed in deeply, enjoying the feeling of peace, "The idea just came to me."
Alice managed a clumsy nod, gazing distantly in his direction. "Wow. I ... to be perfectly honest, I did not expect you would win. O-of course, that's not meant to imply anything. I guess I panicked near the end there, let my guard down."
"N-no worries. I have no clue what happened either," he shifted on his side, gaze lost into the sky.
Maybe I do have it in me... he thought, the achievement still not fully synced into his brain. After all, his mind attempted to reason, there could have been a thousand and one factors in play: fatigue, bruises from their earlier expedition, foul play on his part, or...
A thought chilled his senses. Could she have feigned defeat just to appease his self-confidence?
But no, Alice was not one so malicious at heart; besides, he'd seen her heartfelt enthusiasm to challenge him, the effort she put in every movement or attack, the veiled sourness now in her eyes. That last detail still held his mouth shut. It must have been a form of psychosis, to read so thoroughly into every tiny detail; could a pokémon not simply feel disappointed after suffering defeat?
Slowly, he shifted to his side, attempting to rise on his feet. A throbbing pain met his efforts, binding his arms to the ground.
"These bruises better heal soon, or else I don't think I'll be sleeping tonight," Flame muttered in a quasi-groan.
Alice shifted her nuzzle to take a look at him. "Don't worry, a couple of mashed berries should do the trick. We'll just ask Gaius if—" she seemed to stop suddenly, eyes grown wider.
Flame furrowed his brow. "Hmm? What's wrong?"
"Oh, for the love of Mew," she squeezed her eyes together, pressing her nuzzle against her coils, "I'm an absolute dimwit—I forgot we consumed our last berries at the fortress. We don't have any."
"Yes we do," Flame rebutted with a smirk, awaiting her reaction.
Alice stared at him with a deadpan expression, prodding him to continue.
"Remember that legionary, Virgo?" he went on, crossing his arms, "I stole some from him. Hid them in Gaius' bag."
"You ... did?"
A nod followed on his part. He felt his cheeks flaring; ever since losing his own bag to the dungeon, he'd been meaning to make up for the supplies inside, although not quite saying it out loud. Those two didn't look like they'd miss a few berries, anyway.
Alice blinked a few times, lips parted as she held her breath. "Flame, normally I would loathe stealing from a colleague, but that was genius," she conceded.
"Really?" he beamed, his chin suddenly higher.
"Of course! With the free lunch legionaries are served daily, they probably won't even notice," a tiny smirk arose from her lips.
As a mass of clouds gradually drowned out the dying sun, he began trudging his way back to their tent. The camp seemed devoid of life, only a few night guards mechanically following patrol routes.
"Oh, and ... Alice?" Flame felt the need to add.
"Yes?" she turned her head to him.
"Thanks for bringing me here."
She said nothing; only smiled back and kept slithering.
"What the hell happened to you two? Got caught in a stampede?" Gaius alternated his gaze between them, sitting with his legs crossed.
Flame barely even paid attention. He clamped his paw onto the bluish berry, letting its juices drip on his other arm. After having helped Alice with her own sores—for she possessed no paws—he hoped this single berry would prove enough to let him sleep tonight.
"No, we never left Camp Tempest. Alice wanted to spar with me," Flame explained, dashing his eyes to the Grovyle. Ever since darkness ensued outside their tent, his tail carried the burden of illuminating both his wounds and his teammates.
"Wait, seriously?" Gaius raised his eyebrows, slowly developing a grin.
Alice raised her neck up high. "Yes, seriously. Doing something 'productive', as you always say. What about you?"
The Grovyle stretched his arms out, lips pursed. "Eh, I had a cozy nap. Nothing exciting. Well, except for this."
With that, he lifted a small sack from his bedside and dropped it in the middle of the tent. As it hit the ground, clangs of metallic objects rubbing against one another reached Flame's ears.
Alice seemed to spring to attention all of a sudden, her jaws parted, frozen mid-breath. "Wait, is that...?"
Gaius nodded. "A messenger brought it here—said it was from Ariel."
"Wow. It looks kind of ... heavy," Flame commented, pressing his claws round the soft fabric.
"Damn right it does," Gaius seized the sack at once, "Flame, would you please make some light?"
Flame halted for a second, his brow creased in bewilderment. What happened, Gaius? You actually said 'please' for once.
Overlooking that detail, he pinched a spot near the tip of his tail, and brought it in closer. Each of them leaned their heads forward as Gaius undid the rope knotted round the bag's mouth. Slowly the bag collapsed into a flat veil, revealing its hidden contents.
A collective gasp escaped their mouths. There, before their very eyes, sat a small stack of greyish coins. Flame's eyes counted a dozen, possibly more, gleaming of orange as his fire's reflection danced across their surface.
His teammates looked about ready to faint. It took roughly ten seconds of continuous staring before a word was spoken.
"Now, this is a what I call a payout!" Gaius' smirk grew ever wider, "Next time Ariel comes complaining about our team's performance, she can get bent."
"... How much is this?" Flame spewed out, mouth agape.
He took one in his claws; it was more oval than rounded in shape, ever so corroded, sporting the rough drawing of some sort of big-muzzled creature with antennae sprouting from its head.
"Quick, count them! How much? How much?" Alice hurried breathlessly.
Flame deduced that the task of counting their reward had fallen on his shoulders. Both his teammates were awaiting his verdict. He squinted his eyes to see better. The characters stamped looked nothing like regular numbers, but, thankfully, he remembered memorising what that 'M' meant while studying Oldspeak numerals at the library.
"Uh, let's see..." Flame took a deep breath, "Two, four, six, eight..." he mumbled, isolating each coin with a claw as to not count anything twice.
"Sixteen. All in all, it should be..." he tapped his chin in thought, "Fifty-thousand poké, I think."
"Goodness gracious," Alice wheezed, audibly incredulous of her own words, "I haven't seen so many coins all at once in years. How many weeks worth of supplies can they afford us? If we land more of these jobs, in a year we may even have the money to buy a flat. Our very own team base!"
Gaius chuckled, not attempting to hold back his amusement. "And then what? Share it with two families of dirty proles and getting to pay taxes?"
"Geez, Gaius, I was making a suggestion!" Alice shot back with a growl, "Shut it with your sarcasm, just this once. I actually feel like we accomplished something—not just for survival's sake."
Flame felt the need to chime in. "Well, I think it would be a good idea to keep scavenging food whenever possible. Just to be safe."
"You're right. At least until winterfall. Not tomorrow, though," Alice added, a smirk crawling up her face, "Tomorrow, we are going to have a darn good quality meal. If they still exist in this town..."
Flame felt a certain desire rise up in his stomach. The taste of stale bread and ripe fruit had numbed his taste buds for far too long; besides, they deserved some kind of self-assigned reward.
"Fine then," Gaius said, "I know of a few stands at the market square where Imperial Army officers buy their food from. There's bound to be something tasty there."
Just as it looked like everybody would utter their goodnight, and Flame shifted lazily in his straw bed, he noticed Gaius gazing towards him.
As he flipped on his back to make himself comfortable, his team leader spoke.
"Flame."
That voice carried a hint of discomfort, as if finding it hard to convey actual words. Flame froze. He did not respond right away, and, instead, rushed to the conclusion that Gaius had something important to tell him. Was this it? Was he going to be kicked out?
I'm over-thinking this, just keep it cool, Flame shook those silly fears out of his head, hoping it was nothing serious.
"Yes, Gaius?"
The Grovyle bit his lip, mulling over his words, then let out a sigh. "I must congratulate you for fighting well back in the dungeon. Maybe I judged you too quickly on that."
Flame knew not whether to feel honoured or pompous. All he knew was that such words were so unexpected coming from the Grovyle that a couple of seconds were necessary to let everything sink in.
"O-oh. Really?" he stammered, quickly conjuring what to say, "Thanks. I'm still sorry for the whole ordeal in the bar."
Gaius nodded, but said nothing further.
A warm fuzzy feeling interfered with his thoughts. His team leader, the same one who had endlessly scorned his incompetence and threatened to kick him out, had actually complimented his performance. It wasn't quite an apology, but surely that's what he meant! For the first time, as he looked at his Dragonair and Grovyle companions, he felt real kinship. These pokémon he shared a home with felt in no way strangers to him—he might as well have known them for years.
"By the way, why did you need to drown my tail flame back in the dungeon?" Flame asked, the thought popping up in his mind, "It ... didn't feel very pleasant."
Gaius crossed his arms. "Don't go too far over your head, now. The Rhyperior would have seen your light through the fog."
"Okay, fair enough," Flame nodded. One could not win all battles, he thought.
"Besides, you still need to train some more," Gaius said, sinking into his bed, "But I appreciate that you're willing to learn."
After a few minutes' conversation to decide what mission they would do upon sunrise, they decided to take up whatever would remain after the initial rush for the good-paying assignments. Then, everybody uttered their goodnights. Gaius was already snoring soundly, while Alice was curled up cutely in her own bed, showing no signs of being awake.
And so he was left alone, alone with his thoughts.
Only then did he notice just how much his body demanded rest. A heaviness weighed on his chest; after trekking back kilometres to Aesernia, plus sparring against Alice, not even berry juice could lull the ache in his muscles. He held his breath for a few moments, his tail flame shrinking in intensity. It was a trick he'd discovered just the night before. As much as he enjoyed being bathed in his fire's warmth, the light would oftentimes end up impeding his sleep.
Now that he gradually felt more relaxed, the events of his team's latest mission buzzed through his head: Sperantia Nova, that eerie ghost creature he saw, countless hours of trekking, then finally seeing the Scum with his own eyes. So much had happened within a short time frame!
Flame clutched his head with his claws, emitting a loud sigh. He listened. Now voices came from another tent, masculine, laughing like idiots and singing about some roses in a far-away town. The musicless melody seemed to synchronise with his tail's quiet crackling.
Yet it almost felt natural, he mused, looking at this straw bed and red-linen tent.
He wondered, still, if he'd ever truly get used to all this. He figured he ought to have adapted by now, yet something felt off. It always went back to one topic. Something that constantly weighed on his mind, whether he realised it or not.
The question rehearsed through his head once more.
What now?
With no concrete memory of how his life used to be, what path could possibly lay open to him? How could he be sure he'd left nothing behind—a family, a lover, a home?
It's all so ... convoluted. I need answers, yet I hear nothing.
It had long become clear to him that no supernatural deity would suddenly descend from heaven, and, out of sheer pity, solve his vexations at once.
He only had himself to count on.
...
For some reason, he smiled candidly. You know what? It's not so bad—maybe it doesn't even matter, who I used to be. Here, I feel like I have a purpose.
As of right now, Team Phalanx represented everything he had: his teammates had aided him and given him a home in a time of utmost need. And (their compliments still warmed him) it seemed he was here to stay, if his previous performance was anything to go by. Nothing felt more right than to dedicate himself wholly to the team for a while.
Besides, such lifestyle would not necessarily preclude his search for answers. Perhaps one of these days the papers would unearth an article concerning a kidnapped Charmeleon. Other than that, what other methods could he employ? Sure, there was that Leafeon Scum they'd captured whilst on duty, and Alice had suggested they may have been implicated in his situation, but ... did it even speak his language?
Maybe it was silly of him to even worry.
Flame observed his own breath.
Ah, I'll think about it tomorrow. Too tired...
Domus Aerelia
Will-O-Wisp torches cast an ebbing glow on a Haxorus as she stopped before a set of richly-decorated double doors. Eyes half-closed, she held back a yawn, noticing that she faintly smelt of pollen after passing through her garden.
Not a second afterwards, the doors creaked open at once, the stronger interior lighting casting a breach in the patio's state of penumbra.
Ariel entered her villa, blinking her eyes a couple of times to adjust. Holding the door open was one of her servants—a Gardevoir, bowing, face parallel to the ground.
"Greetings, mistress Ariel," the servant said in her soft-spoken voice.
The Haxorus barely emitted a grunt in acknowledgement. She hadn't the time to bother with these simpletons; her eyes were already set on the stairway leading to her quarters. Ah, yes. A comfy mattress was all her body craved for right now.
"Mistress?" the Gardevoir repeated, hands cupped before her in respect.
Ariel clenched her paws into fists. If she had the energy, she would have showed those insistent fools what respect meant.
"What?"
The servant seemed to flinch ever so slightly at the sharpness in her tone, then regained her composure. "We have a guest; they wish to speak with you."
"Tell him to get lost, then," Ariel flicked her wrist, making her way past the rich patterns and mosaics adorning the walls.
She saw the Gardevoir whisper something to the Flygon beside her, the head servant, both donning a worried look.
"You better have prepared that wine," Ariel muttered in a hiss, unsure and uncaring whether the two heard or not.
Letting her heavy tail slide on the floor out of pure laziness, she ascended to her quarters, passing by a multitude of guest rooms and side corridors. Her eyes became heavier with each step she took. More than once she nearly bumped into a framed painting, or a paned window, during moments of drowsiness.
Once she safely reached her room, she closed the door behind her, breathing a content sigh. She smirked at the sight of that mattress—a leather cover stuffed with Taillow feathers. The thought of taking a hot bath in her thermae only just entered her mind. It fancied her a lot, but that would mean travelling to the other side of the compound. Oh well, she would settle with her bed for tonight.
Now, where was that wine...?
"Ariel."
A raspy, metallic voice came from nowhere, giving the Haxorus such a start that she reeled for a few moments and nearly broke down her door by slamming her back against it. Claws drawn, she inhaled a shaky breath. Her gaze fell upon a figure to her bedside.
A purple, armour-clad pokémon stood there, a red glow emitting from its eyes. The large cannon weighing on the thing's back made her swallow her panic; she knew that creature all too well.
"Sycorax?" Ariel panted, gritting her teeth as she lowered her claws, "What—what the fuck are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in Urbe? And why in my room?"
The Genesect did not move, if not for its eyes. "Quiet. I have journeyed far to speak to you." it strode forward, stopping face-to-face with her. "His Majesty has shown concern over your recent behaviour. Tell me, what was the meaning behind that letter?
She cringed at the Genesect's mechanical voice. "Exactly what I wrote in it. With the highest regards, I think His Majesty should leave the administration of Task Force Aegis to me. The corps are doing a fine job as it is."
Sycorax's glowing eyes bored a hole into her defences. "Need I remind you that imperial law technically does not allow females to hold such high-rank office? Thank our emperor's benevolence for that. Or would you rather betray his trust?"
Ariel crossed her arms, and grunted. "It's not like you're a male, either."
"... I shall pretend that was the wind I just heard," Sycorax said, its metal armour rattling at each step as it walked round her.
Ariel dared not follow the general with her eyes. This was a losing battle, and she knew it. "Fine. Send ... His Majesty my apologies."
The Genesect's mouth could not physically shift, but she imagined it in a grin right now. "Very well, then. Let us hope we shall not need to discuss this anymore."
Ariel bit her lip. Her superior had caught her totally unprepared, and her brain could not work well under a shroud of weariness. "Again, why is 'Sycorax the Godsgiven' here? Aren't you supposed to think up some grand plan to rout the barbarian Scum from our border?"
The Genesect nodded. "Yes. That is why I need your utmost cooperation. If this town were to fall, the enemy would spill onto the Aesernian Plains, and the path to Portus and to Urbe would lay open."
"And...?
"And, that is another item of discussion which brought me here. Civil Protection has recently been suffering a loss in recruitment figures, has it not?"
Ariel crossed her arms again. She came here to sleep, not to be subjected to interrogation!
"It's better that way; less idiots burdening my resources. Already got enough of those."
"The emperor has just approved a new mandatory conscription law," Sycorax droned on matter-of-factly, ignoring her, "Every able-bodied citizen from adolescence onward shall be enrolled in Civil Protection for three months. Male and female. If any turn out to have a tiny grain of competence, you are ordered to transfer them to the Imperial Army, so they can serve in the front lines."
Ariel just stood there, jaw shut, mulling over what she'd just heard. "So I'm supposed to take these potential failures and just accept them? What about local trade? I bet my arse most of those merchants in Victory Square are no more than kids. What happens when they're forced to take up arms?"
Sycorax did the closest gesture to a shrug its armoured body allowed. "Harsh times call for harsh measures. That is for you to figure out."
The Genesect walked outside her room, into a corridor, stopping before an open balcony window. Those bright, red eyes looked in her direction again. "I shall remain in Aesernia for a few more days, to consult local officers on the war effort. Do not disappoint His Majesty."
With that, the insectoid creature bent its knees, and leapt forth into the darkness.
Everything that happened afterwards was a blur: all she remembered was herself cursing loudly, before she collapsed onto her bed.
End of Chapter IX
