Chapter XXIV

The thing about gladiators is that townfolk adored them – especially the ones who were notorious for bloody battles against the legionaries. In the Veilstone inns that were made especially for gladiators, even the lads and lasses serving the stew in the dining chambers were bickering over who would be lucky enough to serve the big hulk from Canalave, or the handsome young man from Snowpoint.

Except, of course, when it came to November of Twinleaf.

"One potato? That's all?" Nova asked the lanky little lad who had spooned the stew into her bowl. "The lout before me got four potatoes!"

The boy snarled. "That lout, you say, is actually Eldritch of Canalave! Have some respect!"

"Besides," a cool voice added from behind Nova, "I'm not sure your stomach can handle real food in the first place, no?"

It was Volkner. Just the sound of his voice had been enough to make her hairs stand on end, to make Nova wish she still had her new diamond sword tucked into her belt. Worse yet, all her Pokémon had been left in her chambers, supposedly resting but, in all truth, were probably fighting over who would battle with Nova in the morning.

Which meant that Nova was alone with Volkner, surrounded by gladiators and servants and legionaries, only a chuckling shadow with her.

So, the young gladiator did what she did best.

"That's rich coming from someone who probably eats bollocks every day," she said with a snort.

Volkner glared down at her. "Excuse me, I am a prince."

"Oh, beg yer pardon. Perhaps pickled bollocks, then?"

"You are a filthy little-"

Nova scowled at him before he could even finish. "What did I bloody do to you? Do you live to plague my arse just because I spat in your face when you were in Twinleaf? If that's the case, just spit in my eye and we'll be done with it, aye?"

F or a moment, the prince eyed her silently. Both the servants serving the stew and the gladiators awaiting the stew were watching them, ready for the blood, ready for the order to send the crip back to where she belonged.

But Prince Volkner only lowered his voice and whispered, "You said my sister beat my rump in a fight."

"What?"

"You told me that I lost to my own sister in battle. But you were wrong. We never fought. I was cast out of the games before they would let me fight Duke Rowan, and if I had fought him before my sister, I would have been the king."

Nova blinked slowly.

"That's it? You're taking me potatoes away because I got some bloody politics wrong?"

There was no glimmer of amusement in Volkner's eyes. Instead, with his face a mottled red, the prince snatched the bowl away from the gladiator and handed it to the next gladiator in line.

"Yes," he said curtly. "And your disrespect has cost you all your potatoes."

"Oh, you motherstinking son of a-"

Strong arms wrapped around Nova's waist before she could claw at Volkner's face.

"Leave the prince be," the knight told Nova, dragging her away, wincing as she slammed her boots onto his metal ones and tried to rip free. And yet, the knight didn't budge, nor did he so much as flinch as Nova threw her head back into his helm.

"Let me go, shithole," Nova hissed. "Let me go."

The knight said nothing to her, even as he dragged her all the way across the dining chambers. And finally, when they were far from the prince and the potatoes, the knight grabbed Nova by the shoulders and spun her around to face him.

"Really, Nova?" the knight said. "I go away for a few hours and, not only do you rile up a prince, but when I try to help, you call me a shithole? Again?"

Nova instantly stopped trying to punch the knight through his metal armour.

"Lucas?"

"Aye."

She reached out to rub the spot between his eyes, where she had left a small purple mark from trying to scratch his eyes out. Then, she frowned again.

"Why did you stop me? The bastard took my potatoes!"

Lucas rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Forget the potatoes. Look."

He gestured over to the nearest table, where Barry was seated and scooping away at his stew – a stew that was packed with carrots and potatoes and broccoli and vegetables that Nova had never dreamed existed. And, beside him, was a full plate of stew. Steaming, hot stew with plenty of potatoes. Waiting for her.

"Knight privileges," Lucas murmured, his grin ever so smug as Nova stared and stared.

And when she was done staring, she turned to the knight and shook her head.

"What did I do to deserve you?"

He snorted. "I believe you stole a Chimchar from Duke Rowan."

The poor knight had expected another snarky quip in return, or even a nudge to his ribs.

He certainly hadn't expected the gladiator to stand on her toes and plant a short, brief kiss on that same, bruised spot between his eyes.

But then, she was off as if nothing had happened, racing for the stew that so patiently awaited her.

Because, no matter how much a lad tried, nothing could impress November of Twinleaf more than a full bowl of potato stew.

Nova and Barry hadn't had many gladiators sit on their table to begin with – no one really wanted to sit with them. But, with over a hundred gladiators being shoved in the same dining chambers, they had little choice. Some walking lump of a man had grunted as he sat on the bench and nearly rocked Barry off, and another lankier one with the prettiest face Nova had ever seen came along, winking and grinning at Nova – even going as far to ask where her sleeping chambers were.

Then Legionary Maylene came along, skipping past every damned table until she found her two favourite gladiators.

"So," Maylene said, plopping herself across from Nova and Barry, "I hear from Roark that you only want to change your name, November?"

With her mouth full, the gladiator mumbled, "Aye."

"Why?"

Nova nearly choked. She felt Barry reach for her hand beneath the table.

"Don't worry about it," Nova quickly said.

Maylene's eyes narrowed. "I certainly want to know now."

It took everything the gladiator had to swallow down the mouthful of stew. It took more than everything she had to push out the images from her head – of the two knights, of the torn scraps of her tunic falling into the sand, or the bruises and the pain-

"She prefers August," Barry told Maylene, turning to nod at his friend. "Right, Gussy?"

"…gussy? really?..."

Nova ignored the Darkrai. She even ignored her best friend.

Because all she saw was the blood. The way they had touched her. The way they had kicked Barry aside when he had tried to help her, the way they had beaten him bloody, the way they had called him that filthy word-

Always forget.

"There's gotta be more," the gladiator beside Maylene – the one with the pretty face – said.

Even the bigger man beside him was frowning. "Aye. It's just a good ol' name, ain't it?"

"Drop it," Barry said to them – softly, but firmly.

But the one with the pretty face was already laughing, standing up from his seat to call out, "You hear this, fellas? The Twinleaf lass – November – doesn't want to be here. She just wants to change her name, but won't even tell us why!"

Barry stood up, too, clutching the table as he hissed, "That's because it's none of your business, arsehole."

"…most of them have had at least seven cups of ale. everything is their business…"

And the Darkrai was right. The entire dining chambers were already chanting the name November, hooting about it, their voices grating at her ears.

"Why're you changing your name, lass?"

"November. It don't sound too bad."

"You reckon her mother knows about it?"

"Shut up!" Barry snapped. "All of you!"

There was no shutting the hundreds of gladiators, though.

"It does sound pretty bad. Say it. November."

"Who the hell names their daughter November of all things?"

November, November, November.

It was everywhere. Both around her and in her head. The knights touching her, feeling for her, pulling at her hair-

Always forget. Always forget. Always fucking-

"Are you alright, Nova?" Maylene was asking, leaning across the table to touch Nova on the cheek.

A metal hand pressed down on Nova's shoulder, and she heard Lucas whisper, "Come on, Nova, let's go."

And so, like a coward, she stood. She ignored Maylene and her questioning gaze. She tried stepping away from the bench, her stew still in her hands, the words of the gladiators still ringing in her ears.

"November. I wouldn't bloody become a gladiator just to change my name," another one was saying.

The lad with the pretty face laughed. "Wait, I have it! She wants to change her name because her mother was a whore!"

And, without a single word of warning, Nova smashed the bowl onto the table.

Glass shattered beneath her fingers, and hot chunks of potato and stew dribbled down to her elbows. But, apart from the tinkling of the glass shards and the few whispers across the chambers, there was no sound.

"You want to know why I want to change my name?"

Barry sank back onto the bench. "Nova, you don't…"

His friend cut him off with her own voice.

"Five years ago, some knights came into Twinleaf," Nova said – and though she wasn't yelling, her words carried themselves across the room, reaching every damned person as she added, "It was my thirteenth birthday, and I wanted to ask them if I was old enough to become a knight, too. Barry – the blind boy that you all have been laughing about – came with me."

The whispers had stopped by then. Every single pair of eyes had their gazes locked onto Nova, onto the red threads in her eyes and the snarl on her lips.

"The knights asked me for my name, right? So I told them. November. And after I told them, they tried touching me. They tried taking my clothes off and-"

She had to pause, then, if only to blink away the tears from her eyes and push down the lump in her throat. Even the legionary had her hand to her face, wiping the snot from her nose.

"Oh, Nova…" Maylene whispered. "I'm sorry…"

But Nova wasn't done.

Her eyes slowly found every gladiator in the room. One by one. Staring each of them dead in the eye until they withered under her gaze.

"Barry tried saving me," she told them all. "But the knights were too strong. They started kicking him instead of me. They kicked him over and over again, and… and while they hurt him, they kept calling him a fucking crip. Again and again. And they wouldn't stop calling him that until they made him call himself that. A fucking crip."

The blind gladiator had bowed his head, sniffling ever so quietly to himself. Lucas, behind her, had taken a sharp breath, his hand sliding down her shoulder as he watched her – tears already burning in his own eyes. And, from the corner of her eye, Nova could have sworn that there was a flicker of pity in Prince Volkner's eyes.

But she didn't want his pity. She didn't want to stop and let herself cry.

No.

She wasn't going to let herself break in front of these bastards.

"And when they tried to touch me again, they didn't call me a crip," she said slowly. "Do you know what they said to me, instead? Do you know what they fucking called me?"

At first, no one dared to answer. No one dared to even take a loud breath.

Finally, across the chambers, a woman mumbled, "Did they call you bitch?"

"Or maybe whore?" another one offered.

Nova laughed – a cold, hard, and pained laugh.

"They didn't call me bitch," she answered. "They didn't even call me whore."

She leaned closer across the table, her eyes on no one but everyone all at once.

"They called me fucking November."

And, as she stormed out of the chambers, her two closest friends trailed after her. The second they had reached her chambers, all three of them – Lucas, Barry and Nova – were holding each other, crying and laughing as Nova's Pokémon tried to squeeze their way in between them.

While they all stood there, linked together by their arms and more, Nova heard her shadow whisper in her ears.

"…care for a confession, nova?..."

Nova said nothing. She just smiled as Lucas wiped the tears from her eyes, as Barry sobbed into her chest. And, as subtly as she could, she nodded her head.

"…i had never given you nightmares while you were in twinleaf. i don't ever give nightmares to those in twinleaf. their lives are already nightmares…"

Nova frowned at that.

She had had nightmares, certainly. Many times. More times than she could have counted.

"…all those nightmares you had? they were created by none other than yourself…"

"Oh."

"Oh?" Lucas repeated.

Nova nearly swore. She needed to learn how to keep that bloody mouth of hers shut whenever Darkrai spoke to her.

Instead, though, she nodded. "Oh, as in, I realised something."

"What?"

The gladiator ran her hand through Barry's hair and squirmed herself out of his arms. Then, she planted a soft kiss on his hand.

"I realised that our legionary battle is tomorrow," she said. "And we are going to kick some arse."

"Right," Barry mumbled. "We're gonna kick their arses until their faces go bloody orange. Say, is orange the colour of me scarf?"

Nova smiled as he toyed at the pink scarf around his neck. "No. Try again tomorrow."

"Aw, man, I thought I had it. Orange. The colour of… er… what is it again?"

"A warm afternoon."

Lucas arched his brow, adding, "A shy smile."

"Holding hands with someone."

"Stepping on dry leaves."

"Well, what about hot porridge-"

Barry laughed. "The two of you are the biggest bloody sops in the world."

And, as they laughed, Nova almost felt guilty. Almost felt her heart ache at the thought of Bebe and Joy and her mother, who was probably already back in Twinleaf.

But, with a reassuring smile from Lucas and a final hug from Barry, she decided one thing.

She would fight in this bloody legionary battle to keep Barry alive.

Did it have anything to do with the Darkrai in her shadow, eating away her fear as she thought about the hundreds of gladiators with months – maybe years – of experience and training in their belts?

Well, readers and writers, some would argue that it doesn't really matter.

After all, regardless of how she decided it, November of Twinleaf was about to fight for her third legionary crystal.

I was initially going to include the legionary crystal fight in here, but I wanted Nova's story to have its own chapter. Hence, it is short. Hope you enjoyed it, nonetheless!

Oh, and Happy New Year!