Chapter 26: The Prince's Pride: Part 2

Yet again Riley was alone in the realm of the writhing blackness that eerily but graciously trickled his memories back to him. His body was gone. The outside world was irrelevant. The duel from moments ago didn't matter anymore. Riley was just there for the show. His own show. He watched with fascination, for today the blackness provided him with the face and identity of Riley's phantom brother, amongst a whole flood of information.

The two of them were in front of a thick, ancient computer monitor mounted on a desk stained with circles of coffee glued around the keyboard. Though his eyes were fixed on the monitor, other things flagged in his head about this room. It was downstairs in the back of the basement, and was what his phantom father had called an 'office.' It was generous to even call it that. No windows, bleak counters with cardboard boxes of ten year old school supplies, a whiteboard with Riley's childish scribbling stained in sharpie… Besides the computer, it was mostly used for storage. Shelves up near the ceiling, far out of Riley's reach, held dozens of shoe boxes filled with memorabilia that he had only heard of in passing. His phantom father's party days, his phantom brother's trip to camp, his phantom mother's days in the Peace Corps…

All these things assaulted him so suddenly that Riley was almost too busy remembering to grasp the memory being showed to him. Out of the corner of his vision he could see his brother fully, and remember his identity fully. His name was Luke, and he was six years older than Riley. At the time of this memory he appeared to be somewhere around fifteen, maybe sixteen, with short black hair and brown eyes. Presumably Riley looked similar, but he could not see his own reflection in the monitor. Oddly, Luke's own skin was tanner than Riley's bland peach skin. The swarming blackness was not kind enough to provide any further information as to why.

The memory itself was incredibly simple: they were huddled around the monitor watching a show. He even knew what show they were watching. It was an episode of One Piece, at the end of the Alabasta arc, as the protagonist and current-antagonist confronted each other in a tomb underneath the capitol. A rubber boy in a red vest and blue shorts named Luffy fought against an eccentric-looking mafioso, complete with slicked-back hair and a fur coat draped over his shoulders, dubbed Crocodile. It was the climax, given from the higher quality of animation and the swelling of orchestral music, as a storm of fists launched Crocodile high into the air until he hit the ceiling. Luffy did not stop there, however, as the punches kept stretching up to meet him and snapping back only to make the journey again. The ceiling began to break. Crocodile, long-since unconscious, was plowed through the bedrock and rocketed through the city streets above. At long last, after nearly sixty episodes, they had won.

The younger Riley struggled to repress his giddy laughter. His fists curled over his lips to mask his beaming smile. "Holy crap," he squealed. "That was freaking awesome!"

"Yeah," Luke replied, dutifully nodding with a smirk. The screen transitioned to show the rest of the main cast, just finished in conquering their own adversities, beaming in excitement and relief upon seeing the main villain high in the air for all to see. With a short triumphant riff of violins, it cut to the usual stylized "To Be Continued" end-card. "God, it's been so long since I've rewatched this…"

Younger Riley turned to look at his brother, revealing that Luke had a small X-shaped scar across his nose from a dog bite years back. Older Riley noticed the walls behind them were painted in the churning backness with their soft toneless gurgling underlining their conversation. Younger Riley didn't take notice.

"Luffy is damn cool," the boy admired. Luke nodded as he took hold of the mouse and clicked for the next episode to start loading. "I wish I could be like him."

"Well…" Luke hesitated. "He's a hero, no doubt. Not noble, but admirable. There's certainly worse people to look up to. Though personally, I prefer Usopp. That guy's a frickin' G."

"Usopp?" Younger Riley scoffed. "He's alright, but why him? He's the weakest. Even Nami could beat him, probably."

"You're kidding," Luke patronizingly chuckled.

"I'm not." Riley stamped his foot on the carpeted floor. "He's the lamest Straw Hat."

Luke shook his head. The opening began to play, and the older brother focused his attention on this. "You'll change your mind later on," the older brother predicted. The younger wasn't happy, but he too was hypnotized by the opening.

The warbling blackness creeped in as the episode played, and by the time the opening finished he was devoured by it, cutting the memory off.

...

When Riley awoke again he was on his back, relaxing to the sound of drizzling rain against glass, hypnotizing him into a meditative state. His first thought, even before recalling the events of the memory, was how alone he felt in his own mind. It was noticeable immediately, for he felt colder and calmer than usual, physically and mentally. It was off-putting, but withstandable, especially considering that the lone part of his mind moved on shortly after.

It moved on to something incredibly simple, but it was long overdue: I have a family. What he knew was scarce, merely the identity of his brother and an increased size in the phantom family, but that didn't change the basic fact: I have a family. A family he hadn't seen in… weeks, at least, that he could barely remember more than tidbits about. Everything they had done to him had been lost. Everything about him was lost. His entire life was lost. It was only now that Riley had realized what his amnesia meant, and to his surprise, he was okay with that. Though Riley wanted to know who he was, he was in no rush. The knowledge alone that he had a family was comforting enough. There was a place for him, even if he didn't know where it was in relation to this surprisingly-similar alien world.

And his third thought, banishing the melancholy of the first two, was the realization that he had awoken under the begrudgingly familiar white sheets of the infirmary. Oh, right. All that happened, didn't it? He blinked the weariness out of his eyes and quickly took in the room. Audino was there behind her desk as usual, reading through her book and humming to herself a tune Riley didn't recognize. The cover wasn't legible from this distance, but from its silver and black and red color scheme, it seemed to be some kind of dramatic mystery, or perhaps a romance. Across from Riley's temporary bed there was another companion: a Pikachu who tiredly swayed her foot from side to side as she looked out the window. Whether she knew it or not, she was synced up to the song Audino was humming. Her right arm was bound in bandages, and her ear on the same side had a clean gash splitting it down the middle.

Riley took in a harsh breath, sat up in bed in a relaxed manner, and said what was on his mind: "I thought I told myself I'd stop waking up in here."

"Everyone does," Audino replied, temporarily pausing her soft melody. "But no one can resist going too long without paying me a visit. You specifically-" she licked her finger, folded the corner of one page, and closed her book, "-seem unable to keep yourself away."

"Well it's not like I wanted to," Riley groggily responded, unable to defend himself.

Audino thought for a moment before reluctantly sighing. "No one ever does; no one ever should," she admitted. "But things like this happen, and kids get brought to me on the verge of death."

"You should see the other guy," Riley joked, pulling that line out of nowhere. Neither of them laughed, prompting Riley to come to a realization: he didn't know where Kirlia was. "Where is he, anyways?" he asked, all humor evaporated away.

"Gallade took him an hour ago," Audino answered through her teeth. "He should be lying down right now, but… The Guildmaster can be… whimsical. That's a nice way to phrase it."

The Riolu cocked his head to the side. Last he'd seen Kirlia, he was still standing proud. "W-wait… Hold on. What happened after the duel?"

"Well," said Audino, taking a deep breath, "My knowledge starts when Blaziken dragged you two in here a good three hours ago. I honestly couldn't tell which one of you was beaten up worse. Still can't decide."

"How bad?"

"Bad," she said. "On you, six broken ribs, a mild concussion, slight muscle degeneration from over-exertion, your left hand was shattered beyond use, and not to mention that part of your muzzle was chipped and twisted. Six teeth were knocked out. Kirlia had it similar, but add one more concussion from a kick to the head. I don't support violence, but Blaziken did what she had to so he didn't injure himself any further."

"Damn..." Riley murmured. He briefly looked down to his previously-shattered fist and flexed it. No pain, no resistance, no delay, no problems. He flicked his eyes back as a question formed in his mind. "Wait, she kicked him?"

"Knocked him out, yeah. She'd deny it- wouldn't even tell me anything more than that you fought- but I can piece things together from the wounds." Audino shook her head. "If I find out she was watching this go on, I'll have to give her a piece of my mind…" Riley speechlessly lowered his head. God, the stress we put her under... The Normal-type took a deep breath and forced herself to smile. "So sorry. I've had this pent up for a few hours now. Didn't mean to do that to you two."

"You're fine." It was the Pikachu who spoke up, feigning that she had only been half-listening. "You've earned the right to blow off a little steam."

"Yes, well, it's unprofessional to show this off in front of my patients," Audino replied, back to her loving, protective self. "Well, Riley, you should be good to go. You're feeling fine, aren't you?"

"Mmhm."

"Just making sure. I managed to piece you back together without too many complications, but it still needs some time to set. Some time tomorrow you'll be back in order, but until then, watch yourself. Chew too hard and you'll push your teeth out of place," she explained.

"Tomorrow?" In his head Riley went through the list of injuries he collected. Broken ribs, broken hand, concussion, muscle… something… Pretty serious injuries regardless. Twelve hours of taking it easy, and he's good to go? "You've gotta be the best medic in the world or something. That's amazing."

Audino bashfully laughed. "W-well, with kids like you, I have no other choice than to be the best," she not-so-subtly bragged. "And if I'm being honest, it's only because you got to me minutes after it happened. If you had to be transported out of a dungeon in the state you were in you'd be bedridden like Aileen here."

Riley's gaze now flicked to the Pikachu, apparently named Aileen, who dropped the act and tamely waved back to him. "Hey there," she greeted. Though his attention was drawn to her torn ear, Riley managed to look her in the eye and wave back.

"Right." Audino reached underneath her desk to remove a folded piece of otherworldly red cloth that captured Riley's attention instantly. "I went ahead and washed this for you. Had to get it out of the way while I was reconstructing, so I took the opportunity. Go ahead and take it."

The Fighting-type almost leapt out of bed right then to snatch the scarf back. It called to him, beckoned him with its sunbaked warmth like a lover's embrace. He had to grip the sheets to remind himself to stay composed, and ask like a rational being would. "Y-you mean I'm free to go?"

"Yep. You're free, so long as you don't get into another fight on your way out. Everything still needs a bit of time to settle," she explained.

Riley tossed the sheets aside and jumped out of bed, hurriedly making his way over to the scarf, and held it with his paw. It was warmer and more soothing than it had ever been, bringing with it the comfort of an open fireplace on a winter evening, or clothes just out of the drier. Ages seemingly passed since he felt this tenderly tepid touch. He brought the scarf to his neck and wove it in a carelessly elaborate bundle, until it lay loosely hugging his neck with one arm draping behind him. They had embraced; a blazing star was born within him.

Audino cleared her throat and dispelled Riley from his hypnosis. The boy shook slightly. "Anyways, they're having dinner in the mess hall. Get out and grab yourself something to eat. You need a good meal," she instructed.

"Right." He left without another word.

When he first opened the door, Riley was flooded with a wave of indecipherable chatter from an uncountable carol of voices. This would not have been unusual if not for how concentrated it was. Normally, somewhere between a third and half of the fellow explorers would eat in their rooms, thus dividing their voices. Yet from what Riley could hear, and confirmed when walking into the cafeteria, just about everyone was in there. There was some hundred and fifty heads gathered around under the luminescent yellow plates in the ceiling.

It was more baffling that Gallade was amongst them. On the far side of the room the Guildmaster sat behind a long, raised table with the rest of his staff. Rhyperior was on his left, Dusknoir to his right, and the reclusive Ampharos on the far left. There was a blank seat between Rhyperior and Ampharos, and one on the end next to Dusknoir, for the two members missing. They ate alongside the explorers and talked amongst themselves. Gallade even looked to the Riolu in the doorway, flashed him a smile, and then continued talking to Rhyperior beside him.

Confused, Riley walked over to the kitchen counter to talk to the cooks and, at least, get his food. The trio had all sat down around a kitchen isle stained with green and red juices, playing a game of cards after a hard day's work, all the while exchanging some mild banter. Riley knocked thrice on the counter, gaining him the attention of the cooks. They conversed briefly and pointed fingers at one another until Simisage shook his head, stood up, and made his way over to their customer.

"Whaddya need?" asked the Grass-type.

"Food and an explanation." Riley nodded behind him. "No one mentioned any party, or whatever this is."

"Ha. I know the feeling," Simisage chuckled. "It's a feast. Normally, they're announced a day or two ahead of time, but…" His eyes darted over to the Guildmaster. Gallade met them, flashed him a smile, and then continued speaking to the rest of the staff. Simisage shook his head. "Anyways. They're just to get the Guild together. Nothing special."

Riley turned back around to glance at the tables filled with faces he vaguely recognized as his fellow explorers, both older and younger, stronger and weaker…He smirked faintly as the jovial atmosphere seeped into him, for he spotted a small table at the near edge where a familiar Roselia and Charmander sat across from none other than an equally familiar Luxio and Buizel Just to get the Guild together, huh? the boy thought. Weird, but I can get it. "A feast? Then what d'ya got cooked?" he asked.

"A lot," Simisage answered. "We've been dancing around the kitchen for-"

"'Ey!" the fiery cook called to him. "You got one minute before I'm skipping your turn."

"It hasn't even been a minute yet, jackass," spat Simisage. "For the love… Alright kid, we got a lot of stuff, but it boils down to meat and a side-dish. And some pastas. And a Highland-style casserole, and some bread."

"Meat and a side sounds good."

"M'kay. Steak and roasted greens?"

"Sure."

Simisage retreated back into the kitchen, dancing around the steam-tables where the food was kept warm, plucking the food off with wooden tongs and delicately placing it on a plate, garnishing it with a single slice of lemon, and proceeded to place it on the counter paired with a fork and dull knife.

"Enjoy."

"Thanks."

They parted ways. The cook returned to the relaxed card game, snatching the deck from the table and dexterously shuffling it in his hands, whilst Riley grabbed his plate and breached the maze of explorers that lined the tables. Pokémon that he barely knew but vaguely recognized from all around the Guild, faces in the crowd in the morning. It didn't take long before he was within earshot of his team, where Buizel was seemingly leading a somber conversation.

"... at least I got to talk to him for a bit," Buizel said optimistically. "I'm not gonna lie and say 'it was all I could hope for,' but… But, it was something. I needed something."

Riley plopped down next to the Charmander, breaking whatever mood had been established, and catching the attention of the group. Buizel forced himself to smirk. "'Ey, look who's up," he observed. "How're you feeling?"

"Sore as all hell, but pretty good overall," answered Riley. He grabbed the fork and began to saw a piece of his steak off with the edge. "Confused, too. Wasn't expecting you guys to be sitting together."

Pyro shrugged. "They're good Pokémon, and they looked like they could use the company. Why wouldn't we?"

"Yeah," Luxio agreed. "We're not exactly strangers anymore, right? Sitting together at a feast should kinda be expected." Riley mulled it over briefly before nodding in approval.

Rose piped up impatiently to claim the wheel of the conversation. "Sorry Buizel, but I'm gonna change the topic here to-"

"Don't worry about it, I was done anyways," Buizel said.

"-to something I've been thinking about for a while now," she finished. "Your fight with Kirlia. Do you think you could explain what happened at the end there?"

"What-" Riley darted his eyes to the other team warily. Buizel's smirk had calmed into a small curl that wasn't quite a smile, and Luxio retained his overall casual patience. "You already knew," he said with a twinge of guilt.

"Everyone knows," Luxio stated. "Blaziken dragged the both of you in covered in bruises. A lot of Pokémon saw it. It wasn't hard to piece together what happened."

"Look, I didn't mean for it to go down like that," RIley blurted out. "I just wanted to talk, and then-"

"Relax," Buizel told him. The Riolu complied yet did so questioningly. "It's no big deal. Really. Whatever sparked this duel is between you and him, and none of us have any stake in it." The Water-type looked over to his partner, then to the Roselia, and finally to the Charmander. "We're just curious, ain't that right?" he asked to them.

"Yeah," Pyro concurred. "We could barely hear anything, and the rain made it hard to see everything that went on."

All eyes were on him now, and Riley wasn't sure how to feel about being the center of attention, even in such a small group. Regardless, he couldn't help but to satisfy their curiosity. "W-well…" Be careful, he thought. It'd be best not to tell them everything. "You know where Kirlia's been the past few days, right? I went back there to try and talk to him."

"Tried that twice," Luxio murmured. "No dice."

"Right? He's a tough guy to get through to," the Riolu agreed. "No matter what I said, he'd just tell me to leave. So I did what I could to get through to him, and I made something up to call him out. I told him he was just doing this to be more like his dad."

Buizel inhaled through his teeth. "Harsh," he said.

"I know. But it worked," Riley shrugged. "He told me to take it back, I didn't, and then he challenged me to a duel. And I accepted. So…" He involuntarily smiled. "We dueled for a while. Admittedly, it was fun."

"Yeah, I was wondering about that," Luxio interjected. "Kirlia should… I mean, we all know he has his moves. How did you avoid all that?"

Riley paused for a second to piece together his response. "You know… he didn't use any of them," he explained to them. "I didn't notice during the fight, but he was just using his dagger tucked in its sheath. Guess I was so caught up in it that I forgot about his gimmicks." Another pause. The word 'gimmick' was unintentional, but everything else came out as he wished it to. None of them would know what to make of it, anyways.

"Maybe…" Pyro whispered to himself. Whatever he was about to say had been thrown loose as he shook his head. "Nevermind."

"So, yeah, we fought for a while. According to Audino we'd injured the hell out of each other," Riley continued. Another pause, this one longer than the rest. He placed his left paw against his temple. "Until, we stopped…" Riley panicked briefly before turning to Rose. "I'm sorry, but my memory is kinda… fuzzy near the end. You caught what happened, didn't you?"

"Not really," the Grass-type said. "Like I said, it was hard to see. It looked like you'd stopped for a minute, then there was a loud thud. After that, Blaziken hopped down the cliff. She returned a minute later with the both of you out cold. That's all we saw."

"And all she told us," added Pyro.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to work with. Riley snapped his fingers as an alarmed expression overcame him. "That's right. Both of us were beaten pretty badly, so it was senseless to continue that. It was mutual, so we just… stopped. And that's where it cuts out." And where the memories started, his thoughts added. Don't forget about your- He stopped listening to himself. While his 'phantom family' was important, they could wait. This whole thing had to be resolved first.

Rose clicked her tongue. "Well, that's a bit anticlimactic," she sighed.

The Riolu shrugged. "Maybe, but before then, it was amazing," Riley gushed. "I didn't want it to end from us just getting tuckered out. That was about some of the most fun I've had since I got here. In fact…" He hesitated. Nervously he swallowed. "I-I've thought about it for a minute."

"Oh boy, here we go," Pyro whispered.

"I'd like it if we could do more of this," he said. "Do you think… I dunno, that we could tackle some wanted posters next time? Spice things up a bit?"

Pyro blinked. His shocked eyes turned to the Roselia to check if she shared his surprise, and she did. "That…" He turned back to Riley. "That sounds doable. So long as it's nothing out of our reach, yeah. We can take on some wanted posters."

"Really?" he asked, beaming a tamer version of the grin he wore during his duel.

"Really," Rose confirmed. "Being a bounty hunter isn't too much more dangerous, and if it'll keep you satisfied, I don't see any reason why we can't mix things up."

"Thank you guys. Honestly." The Riolu performed an odd sitting bow which took an awkward snicker from Buizel.

"It's no problem," she dismissed. "You're our teammate. Making accomo-"

The mostly-empty plates clattered on the table as they were joined by their final member, Kirlia, who slumped into his place at the end of the table. He brought with him no food, no drink, no cheer, and only offered the group a mournful expression as he stared intently at a knot in the wood. Kirlia's silence was like a vacuum, sucking away the conversations around him. Nearby ears twitched as they tuned in. The attention shifted onto him now. Rose, Riley and Pyro were not exempt from this as they watched with shameful curiosity. Their fixation with the morbid made them look, for who knew what the new arrival might do?

Kirlia let his eyelids slump down, curtains hiding their hollow gaze, and became still. Unnaturally still. Even as he took an audible breath his body did not appear to move. He held it for a second, during which the onlookers checked with each other, before exhaling it in an invisible jet. When his eyes opened again, they had been filled once again with a cold compassion coming to terms with its contradictory existence. They met with a silent Luxio and Buizel who were patiently awaiting his response. After one of the longest ten seconds in Kirlia's life, he finally spoke.

"I'm sorry," he proclaimed, gently but sincerely. "I've been… it's been rough, and I was only thinking about myself. I was selfish." Another pause. Kirlia clenched a fist. "I was naive. Foolish. You don't deserve to deal with someone like me." Yet another pause. He broke eye contact and bit his lip, drawing blood. Every word he spoke was another wound to his injured pride, and he wasn't even done yet. "I abandoned you for my own fruitless pursuits, only adding to your stress. I… I'm ashamed of my actions, and can only hope for a chance of redemption."

Silence followed. For Kirlia, it was maddening. He had exposed himself in admitting his failures, something he hadn't done since before he had evolved, and was met only with silence. Silence that he deserved. He couldn't even bare to raise his head to look at them and give them the satisfaction of witnessing his shame. It could always be worse, and he would not allow himself to drop any lower than this. But to be met with stagnant silence…? Kirlia had been bracing himself for any reply so that he could overcome it. Smugly laughing at the fallen 'princeling,' rejecting his 'facade' of an apology, anger that he dared to come back after thoughtlessly leaving them behind… Just about anything they could throw at him, he could grab onto it and climb back up to the top and raise his ego once again. He had reached out to climb higher, but there was nothing. Kirlia could not climb on this silence.

Then came the first jab to his pride- Buizel grinned with a single hiccup of laughter. Kirlia bit down harder. His teeth pressed together as he bit fully through his lip. Fire had been rekindled within him. He'd been right; coming here had been a mis-

"Awfully dramatic," Buizel smirked. "I should've expected something like this… I didn't, though. Don't know why." He looked away and scratched the back of his head. "Regardless… Thanks for the kind words. Good to see you back."

"Agreed," Luxio chimed in, brandishing a similar smile. "I figured you needed some time for whatever happened, but it isn't the same without you here. We're not at full-force, y'know?"

As quickly as it ignited, the fire had been doused from existence with one final hiss. Kirlia found himself petrified. His coldly compassionate eyes grew in the warmth of his teammates. Now it was his turn to be silent. He had prepared himself for anything and everything to climb higher, save for the obvious: a hand to pull him up. Forgiveness surprised him, and the fact he had been surprised also surprised him. Had Kirlia gone so far that he believed himself unworthy of redemption?

Kirlia's teeth let go of his lip, formed a bitter smirk, and raised his head to look his team in the eyes. "It's that easy? Just one speech?" he asked.

"Easier than that, probably. Our standards have to be pretty low with you," Buizel joked.

Kirlia chuckled, if only out of obligation, and then paused for a moment to let the mood reset. "Thank you guys, really. I'd thought I messed up beyond repair," he admitted.

"Hey," Luxio called. "You're fine. Welcome back. Just don't do it again, and everything will be okay."

Now that things had progressed and the tension had been overcome, Rose saw it fitting to include herself in the conversation. "Today's been a crazy day," she said playfully, "and somehow you've managed to top it. Impressive."

Kirlia found it easier than usual to remain diplomatic, as his warm expression held despite his bleeding lip. "If you're trying to rub it in, you're not doing a good job," he explained patiently.

"You've had a rough day. I'll be merciful, if only for now. It's the least I can give you after the shame you've fallen today," said she with a deviant grin. Kirlia faltered. This was what he'd been anticipating for the past several hours. Even more than his rejection, Kirlia found himself afraid of this more than anything else, but it was not insurmountable. He even had a line prepared, and yet he was unable to climb higher. Kirlia had dropped his guard upon rejoining his friends.

He opened his mouth, prepared to bark through his teeth at the Grass-type and rip into the imp, but she continued after relishing his silence.

"You even had the type advantage and the experience on Riley, and you tied with him." Silence yet again. Never before had his emotions changed so wildly in such a small amount of time. A tie…? Kirlia darted his eyes over to Riley, who met them with the smallest of nods. The fire was back, igniting a mere candle's flame from the wet ashes, yet still hot. Pleasantly hot. No longer did it burn, but merely flickered and danced as it radiated heat.

Kirlia spoke up with an air of camaraderie in his voice. His gaze still favored Riley. "Admittedly, it was a match I wasn't prepared for. Dealing with… unconventional styles can either be the easiest or the hardest matchups," he said. "It makes me wonder where you picked it up from."

"Oh y'know, here and there," Riley shrugged. "You'd be surprised how much you can pick up just by watching."

"What've you been watching…?" Pyro murmured.

"It was fun, though, to try it all out. Just a shame it had to end that way." Riley locked his eyes with Kirlia's. No matter how hard the Psychic-type tried, he couldn't get a read on them. "What d'ya think about resolving that?"

"What, you want a rematch?" Kirlia asked daringly. "That sounds doable. But I warn you, I-"

"'I won't underestimate you this time,'" Riley finished for him with a devilish smile. "Or was it gonna be, 'I know all your tricks'? Either way, I don't need no warning; just a time and a day."

Buizel chuckled. "I knew I'd like this kid."

Kirlia sneered back. "One week from now," he said. "We'll finish it up later on."

"Tsk. Seven days from now? If I didn't know better I'd-"

Pyro grabbed the Riolu by the wrist and pulled him out of his banter. When he was about to demand answers, the Fire-type pointed him in the direction of the Guildmaster. Gallade stood quietly behind his table, hands patiently folded behind his back, as the last of the conversations faded away. It only took a moment for attention to unanimously fall upon him.

"Thank you. I'll be sure to keep this as brief as I can," Gallade promised them. "It's always nice to see everyone coming together like this. These feasts aren't as frequent as I'd like them to be, but… it makes them more special that way. It pleases me to no end to see everyone coming together, like a family." Gallade lowered his head and closed his eye.

"It is weird," he continued, "to look back and see how things have changed over the cycles. Not only have you, but the world at large has grown and developed in the last century. This is all the work of valiant Pokémon who have joined this side and fought for our cause, and for that, both you and those who cannot be here now have my sincerest gratitude. Despite your own reasons for enlisting, every head matters. Every bit helps."

Another pause. Riley leaned towards Rose and whispered to her, "Does he usually do this?" She responded swiftly, "No. Never."

Suddenly he opened his eye again, revealing a bright red jewel that glistened in the golden light from above. When he began to speak his voice had an audible quiver to it that he made no attempt to hide. For the first time since he took the mantle of Guildmaster, even had begun to cry. "I can't apologize enough for not being able to reciprocate just how I feel. There isn't much time for me to talk one-on-one with everybody, but I can assure you that I care deeply for each of you. The Guildmaster before me felt like a father to everyone. He kept things official, but…" Gallade shook his head. "It's hard to describe without giving examples, and I don't think I need to do that. They're fairly well-known enough. I'm disappointed in myself that I can't achieve that same kind of leadership that he held… And yet, when I look at all of you, I see the same kind of determination that I saw in myself and my brothers and sisters when I was still an Explorer. That in itself gives me endless joy."

Gallade wiped the tears away, yet kept the glistening orbs perched on the end of his finger and looked down at them longingly. He turned back to his colleagues. Rhyperior met him with his usual stoic pride and nodded in approval. Dusknoir did the same, though his wispy red eye had taken on more of a pink tint. Ampharos avoided eye-contact altogether, as she was focused on not collapsing under all the attention sent her way. With a dutiful nod, Gallade turned back to his audience. Before they knew it, Gallade was folding before their eyes. Hands down to his side, head lowered, and upper body bent forward as he bowed before them.

"From the bottom of my heart," Gallade gasped, barely holding back sobs, "and on behalf of the world at large, thank you. I love you all."

The mood would never recover that night. His speech hung over the feast like a cool fog, and only left late into the following morning. No one could agree on whether it had been heartwarming or incredibly awkward.

…

A little over an hour earlier.

Kirlia had been shaken awake in the infirmary by his father, pulled from his rest and woken to see the stern look in Gallade's eye. Through Audino's shouting he said a familiar ten words: We need to talk. You know where to find me. They were words that had been spoken many times in the past that Kirlia could sense them coming just by seeing his father. Gallade left the room seconds afterwards, leaving the frustrated nurse to glare at him behind his back. Less than a minute later, Kirlia followed him.

For as long as Kirlia could remember, the cemetery had been the location of all of his talks with Gallade. Every instance where he had to correct Kirlia's behavior took place amongst the smooth stone monuments that had accumulated over centuries. His first time as a mere Ralts, nearly eight cycles prior when he first became an Explorer, had been for Gallade to show the weight of the task his son was about to accept, and to show what can happen to those who give the ultimate sacrifice. While that one fit the setting, the rest could have easily been held in the Guildmaster's office. Things like his attitude, his behavior, like his father had suddenly become his counselor. This day marked their tenth meeting, and their last one had been merely a week ago upon returning from the desert. Kirlia had personally thought that he used this cemetery as a crutch to provide atmosphere. Rows upon rows of graves had watched them like a spiritual jury, silently judging the defendant.

Gallade was exactly where he always had been when awaiting his subject: standing in front of the Groudon's skull that marked the grave of the first Guildmaster. His eye was closed and his breathing regulated in meditation. On any other day, the sun always managed to hit him just right to give Gallade an angelic glow. The heavens themselves would cast a ray of light to mark him as blessed with wisdom, granting him a sagely quality to his words. Today, it was drizzling. The sun was a ghostly pearl in the clouds, and instead of an angelic glow, Gallade had instead been granted a dark sheen.

Before either of them could speak, Gallade held his open hand towards his son expectantly. "Let me see it," he demanded. Kirlia reluctantly reached into his bag and removed the dagger, held it by the sheath, then offered it to his father. Gallade grasped it and yanked the sheath off. The blade had been worn and chipped, and the sheath itself had grown thinner as the blade had cut through the edges. "Tch. You know better than this, Kirlia. This sheath isn't meant for combat. What were you thinking?" he barked.

"I don't know, sir," Kirlia said hollowly.

"I'm gonna have to get this repaired," he murmured. "The guy's no longer around, either, so it's gonna be a pain… Damn it, Kirlia. I told you to be careful with this thing."

"I'm sorry, sir," Kirlia said hollowly.

Gallade clicked his tongue and handed his son the dagger, yet kept the sheath for himself. "Be careful with this. It'll have to remain unsheathed for the next couple days. Otherwise you'll cut through it."

"Understood, sir," Kirlia said hollowly. This was the only way to get through these talks.

The Guildmaster held the sheath up to his remaining eye and looked carefully inside it. "You really went berserk with this thing. A few more hits and you would've cut right through. Didn't I tell you to be more careful?"

"You did, sir," Kirlia said hollowly.

Gallade suddenly snapped his hand firmly onto Kirlia's shoulder, drawing his son's disinterested gaze to him. "This is serious, Kirlia. I'd appreciate it if you at least acted like you give a damn," he scolded.

"I do, sir," Kirlia said.

"Don't lie to me," Gallade spat. "I can sense your emotions. I know you're bored and you're angry. You understand I'm trying to help you, right?"

"Yes, s-"

"Stop," Gallade barked. He took a deep, patient breath. "Alright… just, stop with all the 'sir'ing for now. Just listen to me. Clear?" Kirlia nodded, and Gallade let go of him. "Good. Now, you need to know that you're not ready to evolve. This training you've been doing… it isn't enough."

The hollowness was dispelled and filled with shock as Kirlia locked up. When he first heard these words they had roused anger from him, and even when Gallade told him directly, Kirlia was still angry. But he was not talking to someone like Riley. His anger could not be taken out on his father, the Guildmaster, so it then turned to the second nearest target. His anger turned inward as it was transmuted into guilt.

"Dad," Kirlia said, meeting his father's stern gaze, "you don't-"

"Yes, son, I do," Gallade interrupted. "I know I've told you before, but it seems you've either forgotten or ignored it. Remember what I've told you of my brother?" Kirlia nodded, for he knew not what else to do. "He too wanted to evolve much sooner than he was ready. For him, his evolution was a requirement to progress. When Garchomp caught on to this, do you remember what he said?"

The boy nodded. "A proverb. 'Corn planted where it gets little sun will foolishly think that autumn is approaching and rush to give harvest. The result, while edible, is much less than if it had matured naturally.'"

Gallade broke his stern look and gave the boy an approving smile. "Good," he said. Kirlia murmured under his breath, thank you. "I've always liked that proverb. My brother didn't even think about its advice. He went ahead and evolved without the proper preparations. Before then it was bad, but afterwards… afterwards, he was a nervous wreck. You practicing out back isn't enough to prepare you."

"Then what is?" Kirlia asked.

The stern look reformed. "Proper training from a Highland master," he stated suspiciously. "cycles down the line from now, Kirlia. You aren't anywhere near being ready."

"Dad," Kirlia blurted out. The father remained suspicious, yet gave the boy the conversational right-of-way. But the boy was frozen. The words were on the tip of his tongue, eager to jump off in one bravely childish leap- I just wanted you to be proud of me!- and yet Kirlia was too conflicted to let them go. He had already said that a mere week ago. "I…" Saying it again wouldn't have nearly the same amount of acceptance as last time. He could already hear his father calling him misguided and foolish, kicking his downed pride. Kirlia knew that it wouldn't work. Kirlia also knew he wouldn't remain silent and accept this lecture without trying to validate his actions. So, he spoke hesitantly. "I just... wanted to be a better Explorer," he admitted.

The harshness in Gallade's stare softened, but did not dissipate. A slow, tired breath streamed out his nostrils as he lifted his arms to his chest and crossed them. Patiently he tapped his fingers on his elbow. "You're going about this the wrong way," he said. "You don't want to grow up this fast, do you?" Kirlia couldn't decide what his answer would be, and regardless he couldn't find the words to speak with anyways. "Kirlia… You only have one childhood. Please, I don't want you to throw it away. It's something that's impossible to get it back. Am I getting through to you?"

"Y…" The boy swallowed. "Yes, sir," Kirlia said sincerely but skeptically.

Gallade shook his head and turned away from his boy. His gaze met the empty sockets of Groudon's skull and peered deep into the darkness. "Honestly… I'm so sorry," he said to no one specifically. "You're mother would be so ashamed of me."

The boy stopped instantaneously to stare wide-eyed at his father, for he had said that word. It was a word Kirlia himself had only uttered thrice before, and a word Gallade had not used once unless provoked: mother, and all its lingual relatives.

When Kirlia first said the forbidden word, it was when he was a little over a cycle old in his first Harvest Festival. He was watching the rustic floats come by, parading straw idols from a mythology long-forgotten, hoisted upon the shoulders of his father to get a better view. The young Ralts looked around curiously to see several similar family units, with kids lifted up on the shoulders of their parents, but it was the first time that Ralts realized that he didn't have a mother like all the other kids. The next day, after the excitement of the festival had passed, Ralts asked his dad the question that Gallade had been unknowingly dreading: What happened to mom? Gallade could only bring himself to reluctantly answer with She's not here anymore. She passed away before you were born. To his surprise, Ralts didn't ask much more than that. His undeveloped mind managed to be satisfied with that meagre amount of information.

The second instance was seven cycles after that, a mere week after first meeting Buizel and Luxio, who had been a Shinx at the time. As they were acquainting themselves with each other, Ralts had realized that he knew nothing about his own mother other than that she had died. At the end of the day, he went to his father's office and asked Gallade, weary from a hard day's work behind that mahogany desk and a mountain of paperwork, for some more details about his mother. Gallade only had it in him to tell his child how his mother had passed. She had gone with me into a powerful dungeon- The Ol' Mountain, actually- and… Well, she wasn't quite ready for what laid inside. An accident happened, and… She was gone. This had been information Ralts had not known he'd longed for, and he was grateful for the opportunity, but his thirst was not yet quenched. He pushed for more. Gallade pushed back. Look buddy, I'm really tired. I don't want to talk about this right now, okay? The polite version of telling his child to shut up. Ralts asked a third time the next morning, and to no avail. I thought I told you I don't want to talk about this, Gallade had scolded him. Drop it. I'm sorry, but I'm not in the mood.

Yet this was different. This had been the first time Kirlia had witnessed his father bring up the taboo unprovoked, the first time his father had been the one to bring up the absence in the family. That single word, mother, activated a spell that cast all of Kirlia's guilt and anger aside. He shed his skin and was born anew with a single desire: press for information. A chance like this wouldn't present itself again. Finally, he would put a face and a personality to the phantom in their family.

"D…" The boy swallowed anxiously. He could feel his throat shivering. "Dad?" he asked. Gallade turned to face him but said nothing. The look in his eye was terrifying. He could hear his response already. I told you to shut your mouth about her. Don't change the topic here, Kirlia. You're still in trouble. Distracting me won't change that. Have you no shame, using the dead to avoid a lecture? He shook his head and forced himself to focus. This was too important to allow himself to be talked out of it, even by himself. Kirlia opened his mouth and blurted out before he could even think, "I- I was hoping that you could fin- finally tell me about mom!" The boy folded his hands to his side and lowered his head in a respectful bow.

Gallade pursed his lips together as he stared at his son questioningly. For Kirlia, it took every ounce of strength he had to stay still and silent. "I'm not done talking yet. There's still-"

Instantly Kirlia shouted respectfully yet thoughtlessly, "I've already done some self reflecting during the duel, sir! My training wasn't getting me anywhere-" these words stung more than anything else, but he forced himself through, "-and I was being neglectful of my comrades! I have it planned to apologize once we're done here! Please, sir…! I want to know…"

More silence. Kirlia had never been so embarrassed in his life, and he couldn't even prepare himself for it. His cheeks were singed as he stood there, head bowed, eyes glued to the cobblestone path. The only way he could envision this being any worse would be for him to kneel and beg, and in his eyes that wasn't much worse than exposing himself like this. Nothing to hide behind, no excuses he could muster… just left out with all his defenses stripped and the truth presented to the judge and the jury of graves. And there was silence. Seconds upon seconds of silence that crawled by like agonizing cycles. Just the sprinkling rain on his head and back, and a faint wind carrying with it the earthy smell of mud. His father had refused to speak to him, refused to laugh, to growl, to roar, to sigh, to have any audible reaction whatsoever. It was torture. For the love of Arceus, get it-

His calloused hand patted the back of Kirlia's head gently. "That's…" Gallade said proudly. "That's good to hear, son. The next half of my speech was gonna be about that. Good on you for taking initiative." He ruffled his hand through his son's damp hair affectionately.

A shiver ran up Kirlia's spine. He raised his head, wiping the rainwater from his puffy eyes, and met his father's proud smile. "S-so, can we talk about her?"

"Well…" Gallade cocked his head to the side. "I guess I already have the time set aside for this, and bringing up that ol' proverb's got me feeling nostalgic. Sure, let's talk about her," he allowed. "What do you already know?"

"Nothing," Kirlia answered.

"'Nothing?'" Gallade repeated, appalled. "That can't be…"

"It is," Kirlia insisted, eager to change that. "You would never tell me when I was younger, and no one else wanted to be the one to tell me."

Gallade put his hand over his scarred eye and clutched his face in disappointment. "My… I'm so sorry. I thought you knew at least something." He paused momentarily as he sifted through his memories. "Let's… Let's start simple. Do you know her name?" Kirlia shook his head. "It was Gwynevere. Everyone that knew her just called her Gwyn."

"'Gwynevere,'" Kirlia repeated, savoring the sound.

"She'd been born in Baltre, if you're wondering where such a perfect name could originate from," Gallade explained. "After she was around the age of fifteen, she moved to a town a couple miles from here called Pelipper Post to join the newspaper. I met her around a cycle and a half after that. You see, around that time, the Guild had been recognized as a sovereign nation by over half of the countries around the world, and to celebrate, their newspaper decided to publish a new type of article. They published world-wide, to a reasonable degree, so they volunteered to introduce us to the rest of the world a team at a time. Gwynevere was assigned this task, and Garchomp thought that my brother and I should be the first team to be introduced, so… When I first met her, I was confessing my life story in an interview. It was weird, to say the least."

"She's a journalist?" Kirlia asked hopefully. "So… That'd mean that some of her writing is archived somewhere?"

"Oh, yeah. Without a doubt," Gallade answered. "I have my own article preserved in my office. There's a whole scrapbook filled with everyone's from back in the day, if you're curious." Kirlia nodded eagerly. "Though, I must say (for her sake more than your own) that she was young when she wrote those. Her writing was… unpolished, as she would say."

"I honestly couldn't care how bad it is," Kirlia claimed.

"I figured you wouldn't," Gallade shrugged. "Back to the story, she didn't remain a journalist for too long anyways. The paper was just a way for her to practice her writing so she could one day become a novelist."

"Wait." Kirlia took hold of his father's attention. "She's written books, and you didn't tell me?"

Gallade smirked. "You've already read them, buddy," he said. The boy's body locked up. "She took a position as an Adventure Author. Following teams on legendary expeditions, joining as an unofficial member and detailing the events of the explorers, to succeed in whatever quest they ventured out for… Remember when you were a kid, I'd hand you some of the books written about my adventures? Awfully narcissistic of me in hindsight, but, they were written by your mother."

"You're kidding…!" There must have been a dozen of his father's books that he'd read when he was younger. A dozen dramatizations of his adventures as a part of Team Excalibur. A dozen relics of his mother's own thoughts and words, and he hadn't even known.

"Until then we had been close acquaintances, but when she came to us begging to tag along, we soon became close friends. In the peril of a dungeon, you can either cling together or drive yourselves apart," he stated. "I remember being surprised at how helpful she was. She wasn't combat-trained, but she had been able to get us out of a few corners with her Protects. It wasn't long until she was considered an unofficial member of our team."

"So, all those adventures I read about…" Kirlia trailed off, eyes gleaming.

"Gwynevere was there. That's right." Gallade had to hold back his giddy laughter, for he didn't get to see his son like this often. He couldn't remember the last time since Kirlia evolved that he had managed to rouse whimsy. "She was there when we were attacked by Kyurem. She was there when we found the Heaven's Isles. All of it."

"Then, when did she finally become…" Kirlia lowered his gaze in embarrassment, but his desire for more pushed him to keep talking. "You know… when did you two start dating?"

Gallade stopped abruptly. "W-well, that's…" he awkwardly stumbled. "It's a long story, and I'll be honest… I'm not prepared to tell it just yet." Silence. The boy knew he just used up all his luck. It would be quite some time until he could have another talk like this one, and while that wasn't good news, he still had something to hold onto. The phantom in the family had a name and a bit of personality. It was comforting, at the very least, to have that much. But it got better.

"I'll tell you what," said Gallade. Kirlia turned back to him. "I can show you to her right now, and leave you two alone for a while." The boy lit up as he remembered the obvious: they were in a cemetery. Obviously she was somewhere around here, amongst all the members of the jury represented with sleek stone slabs. "She isn't all that talkative, but… it's criminal that she hasn't gotten to see you. Visit with her all you want, and then… Not to ruin the mood, but then you're gonna go back and break bread with your team. Sound good?"

"Y-yes, sir. I'd love to," Kirlia said. He was unknowingly grinning, and though it was barely more than his diplomatic facade of a smile, it was nice for Gallade to see. His father motioned for him to follow and proceeded down the wet cobblestone path, leaving the Groudon's skull behind. The boy followed without hesitation.

Their short trek brought them up a gentle slope to the crest of a hill. This particular hill, upon which a select few marble graves were perched, overlooked a great oak tree. Just under half a mile away this mighty oak towered over them at an astounding three-hundred-fifty feet. Twisted branches wove and split between each other, sheathed in emerald leaves darkened by the rain, forming a massive bushel to cloak the warped spire of wood that was the tree's thick trunk. Rainwater dripped from the millions of leaves like a waterfall, audible even at that distance.

Gallade came to a stop in front of one of the marble graves just shy of the hill's peak. On its smooth surface the following had been shallowly etched into its surface:

Gwynevere

851-884

"Through language comes understanding.

Through understanding comes peace."

"Good afternoon," Gallade greeted the grave. "Sorry I haven't visited in awhile. Things have been… pretty hectic lately." The grave only offered him a cold shoulder. "Even worse, it was brought to my attention that I've never brought your son to see you. Forgive me, Gwyn." Still there was no reply.

Gallade placed his hand on the boy's back and nudged him forward. Now he was a mere foot and a half away from the tombstone, close enough to reach out and touch it. Gwynevere was somewhere beneath his feet. His mouth had gone dry like cotton.

"Your boy," whispered Gallade, "asked if he could see you. He needs some time to think, so… I'll leave you two to it. Need anything else?"

"No," the boy answered. "Thank you, but, I don't need anything." Gallade smiled. Without another word, he brought his hand to his son's head and ruffled his hair affectionately. In a soft flash of light the hand disappeared with its owner, then Kirlia was alone. It was just him in front of the marble monument, scarred with regulated text void of any personality. Even the quote, which Kirlia presumed belonged to her, sounded stoic and serious. Through language comes understanding. Through understanding comes peace. From what little he was told about her, and the non-verbal signals his father used while talking about her, this wasn't a monument to remember her by, but only to respect her. Either that or his idea of who she was had been utterly false.

"Peace through language," Kirlia murmured. He dropped to one knee in front of the grave, mud squelching under him, and carefully inspected the smooth slab. "Gwynevere… Mom… Were you really that naive?"

The rain picked up again, pounding down upon the earth as the wind threw the droplets forward like handfuls of rocks. Water that had collected in the indentations of the letters were blown away to the north. "It would make sense that he fell for someone with as much blind virtue as himself," he continued.

The boy reached forward and placed his hand just underneath her name. "Gwynevere…" Elegance and beauty and comfort fused into a single name. Hearing it made him feel loved and embraced, even if for only a fraction of a second. Without meaning to, Kirlia extended his thumb to wipe away a drop of water that had been quivering in the stem of the G, like wiping away a tear. "Just who were you?"