Chapter LV

"Sunnyshore, hey?"

Nova and Riley lay there, backs pressed against the damp soil, the black veil of the night hanging over them. The soft sound of Owl's rain was still there, and the droplets themselves were caught by the canopy of trees above them. Still, after all the dancing and laughing, they were drenched, and Nova could feel the dampness in her bones as the cold mud crept along her clothes.

"Barry wants his last legionary crystal," Nova explained. "So, aye. Sunnyshore."

"And what about you?"

"I don't know."

Riley propped up onto his elbow, brow arched. "I thought you wanted to kick Volkner's arse."

"I already pretended to kill him once. It's starting to lose it's fun." She smiled as she caught him biting back his smile, before adding, "If I go to Sunnyshore, would you come with us?"

For a moment, Riley hesitated. Then, he sighed.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I sent a letter to the castle," he told her. "I warned them that I would be telling all of Sinnoh about Queen Cynthia's absence."

Nova's eyes went wide. "And?"

"I'll be taking the throne, as we had agreed upon. Until a gladiator can come along and kick my own arse."

In that moment, breathing in the earthly smell and feeling the beads of water along her face, Nova couldn't help but think about Barry – the way he had led gladiators in Maylene's legionary battle, the way he had fought at Spear Pillar, the way he had even impressed Byron without having to kill a single prisoner.

Seeing the glimmer in Riley's eyes, she couldn't help but wonder if he was thinking the same.

"So why can't you go to Sunnyshore?" she asked suddenly.

Riley winced. "Flint and his men are hunting me. They want to kill me."

"What? For telling Sinnoh the truth?"

"If I become king, I choose who stays in the castle and who doesn't," Riley pointed out. "Flint knows that. So make sure you stay away from him, too. Just in case."

"Oh."

Riley took a long breath, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "I'm going to find my father. I think I need to talk to him about… everything."

"Do you even know where he is?"

"I suspect near Twinleaf. Lake Verity was always his favourite." He stared down at her, eyes narrowed. "Don't tell anyone, aye?"

"My lips are sealed."

"That's a first for you."

Nova reached out to shove him away as he laughed. "Piss off."

They lay there for hours longer, Nova in Riley's arms, drenched in water, the taste of rain lingering on their lips. Riley's cloak beneath them. Stone and grass around them. All the world against them. Death looming both behind and in front of them.

And, for that single, simple moment, none of it mattered.

"This feels like a dream," Nova whispered. "A dream."

Riley met her eyes then. "Aye?"

"…worse than any nightmare i would conjure…"

And, laughing ever so slightly, Nova leaned in, closed her eyes, and gifted Riley a gentle kiss.


By the next morning, Nova was beginning to regret dancing instead of sleeping.

Her Pokémon were waltzing ahead of her, with Barry by her side, cool water lapping at their boots and fizzing and bubbling like brine. Even though the sun was beating on their back, with the wind ripping at their faces as they crossed the beach, Barry was grinning – laughing as the waves roared and rolled down, crashing onto his feet with a soft hiss before peeling away from the sand and rolling back into the ocean.

Meanwhile, Nova just moved on ahead, her frown an echo of Rhys' as they padded through the golden sand.

"Is the scarf yellow?" Barry called out the edge of the shore.

"You already asked that."

"Bloody hell, what colour haven't I said?"

"Silver."

"Is it silver?"

"No."

"You're a pain in the arse."

Nova was too busy staring at Sunnyshore to care. By the harbour, there were hundreds of sails scattered across that carpet of rolling blue, with folk all dolled up in corsets and suits strolling in. The streets were lined with little lights – blue and golden orbs, shining pale lights throughout the canals and alleys.

And, by Arceus, of all the places she had been, this one made even Hearthome look like a beggar's market.

It was a broken archipelago, shimmering in the sunlight. Every metre was encrusted with tenements and shanties and graceful villas, clinging to the shoreline like barnacles on a ship's hull. Then there were the big towers – stretching high into the sky, their bleached white glare almost blinding.

Her chest hurt, her eyes misty, as she took those short and final steps towards it.

She had spent all her life believing she would be trapped in Twinleaf forever.

And now, she could finally say she had been to every bloody place in the region.

"We're here, Barry," she breathed out. "Sunnyshore."

"A step closer to the legionary crystal, aye?"

Nova smiled.

"A step closer to freedom."


Of course, while Barry stayed up to train along the beach, Nova went straight to the tavern.

Off through the sprawl, over bridge and under stair, the stink of the bay receding. Sunnyshore was chiming to the tune of howling winds, and a few knights loitered the streets – higher-classed, she guessed, from their red cloaks. Nova trotted down the twisting canals, her shoulders hunched, moving through the bare marketplace.

The sun hung low, and the Darkrai in her shadow seemed longer than usual as she moved past the few kids squabbling over dice games, and found the tavern. She squinted at the sign.

"What does it say?"

"…the prince's bed…"

"Named after Volkner's bed?"

"…i hear it's quite empty as of late…"

"Please."

She stepped inside and found a booth in a shady corner, smiling as a weary barmaid offered her some whisky.

It was about then that the cathedral struck midnight. It caught Nova off-guard for a moment – the sound of the bells weaving and crashing together, sleeping Wingulls bursting from the bell towers and out into the winds.

"Hello, November."

Nova felt her stomach flip as she watched a figure limp over to her – an old man with bright blue eyes.

"Duke Rowan…"

Her grandfather smiled as he perched herself across from the gladiator. "Nice to see that you're not dead yet, aye?"

"How much coin have I earnt you, old man?"

"Almost enough to build a few houses in Twinleaf."

Nova flapped her lips for a while, but found no retort.

Perhaps if she also kept going with this stupid gladiator business, perhaps if she won that final legionary crystal…

Rowan scoffed, blue eyes wrinkling as he smiled.

"Volkner is a bleeding prick," he muttered, almost as if he had read straight through her. "Damn fine swordsman, though. Be careful with him."

Nova glanced over at her arm, where her skin – a lovely shade of yellow and grey from the bruising – was concealed by her cloak. "It's taking bloody ages to heal. I don't think I can do it."

"Bullshit. It's hardly even bruised."

"…aye, it's hard to bruise something when there is hardly any skin left…"

Rowan raised his voice over the Darkrai, shaking his head. "Sometimes, weakness is a weapon. If you're smart enough to use it."

Nova chewed her lip and nodded slowly.

"Then what?" she asked him. "I beat Volkner, you get more coin. What happens then?"

Rowan sipped on his whisky, his eyes heavy on the table.

"I can't ask you to take back our throne," he said. "I'm not that cruel."

Nova scoffed. "I'd make a shit queen anyways. But Barry…"

"You think he would be fit for the throne?"

"I think the throne would be fit for him."

"…Aye." Rowan's voice seemed hoarser now, nodding. "I believe you."

He looked wearier than she'd ever seen him. His skin was like paper. His eyes bloodshot.

"You've not been sleeping," she suddenly said.

He snorted. "How can I when my granddaughter nearly had herself killed by pretending to kill her aunt? How can I when I don't even know where my son—"

His words caught, and it was all Nova could do to stop herself from rising to hold him. Instead, as he gave her a brief nod and pushed himself away from the booth, she stared down at her hands.

"By the shitting shadows, I almost forgot."

His words made her glance up, and she saw him reach into his greatcoat, pulling out a small little rectangular plate.

"I've been staying up to work on these," he said, passing it to her across the table. "The pieces of stone you took from the Distortion World… I think they have more power than any of us could have imagined."

Nova brought her fingers down the smooth stone, the engravings along it catching at her nails.

"What does it say on it?" she asked.

"…a will of steel…"

"I've been writing messages on them," Rowan added. "That one says a will of steel."

Nova turned it over in her hand, frowning. "Aye, and what does it do? Or is it best you don't tell me?"

The old king smiled, hovering uncertainly. "I'm not too sure myself. I was hoping you'd help."

"Aye. I'll try me best." She pushed it into her own coat. "My thanks."

"Watch your back. And your front." He waved vaguely. "And the rest of yourself."

"Always."

Then, he pulled his tricorn down, his collar up, and limped out of the tavern. Nova watched him go, counting the steps, the heartbeats, the seconds.

A rowdy pack of gladiators were coming into the tavern, dressed in their white armour and red cloaks. Nova glanced up at the sound of their laughter, their young faces sliced and scarred.

Two weeks of the Gladiator Games left. Some of these men would finally be free, be respected, have enough coin to bet on new gladiators or find themselves a home. Maybe even be betrothed to the daughters of young noblemen.

What would she do?

What did she want to do?

"Pardon me."

Nova looked up, blinking. One of the gladiators was standing above her, a smile that would have been killer if not for the missing tooth.

"Forgive me, lass," he said. "I couldn't help but think it was a crime to see such a lass by herself. May I join you?"

Nova felt her finger twitch, only realising then that, without her own armour on, she looked like nothing more than a young maiden drinking alone. So, she just smiled.

"Pardon me," she said. "But me-my friend is expecting me. Perhaps another time?"

He raised a hopeful brow. "I'm sure your friend can wait."

"Apologies, but I really don't think—"

"Come on." He blocked her way out of the booth, his eyes dark as a few of the other gladiators chuckled behind him. "I think she can wait."

"…i certainly wouldn't mind waiting if it meant seeing you and him brawl…"

Nova tried to quash her rising anger and keep her voice steady.

"You are in my way."

"I'm just being friendly, lass."

"…others might call it being an ass..."

Nova could have broken his jaw, then. Buried her knee in his bollocks. Sat on his chest and screamed at his face.

Instead, though, she just spat on his boots.

Gladiators howled and laughed behind him. Anger blotched his face – the quick fury of a lad used to getting his own way. He reached out with one gauntleted hand, seized her wrist, holding it tight.

The buttons at her cuff popped. Cloth tore. And as she twisted her arm to try putting him off-balance and tear free from his grip, she heard a heavy hand clap the boy at the back of his neck.

"Leave the girl alone, Buck. We're here to drink, not chase Starly."

Nova and the boy, Buck, glanced over their shoulders, where a man loomed. He was a tall man, on the lankier side, his face grim.

"Forgive me," Buck quickly muttered, turning on his heel to move away, not daring to give Nova an apologetic nod.

But Nova was frozen, her eyes on the man's face.

Oh, Arceus…

She recognised him now. It had been months, but she'd not forgotten him and his shock of red hair.

Nova shuffled around the table, knocking over her empty cup. She tried to walk to the door, but like Buck before, the man blocked her way from the booth. Fingers creeping down to his belt, disbelief etched into his features.

"Can't be…"

Nova tried to muscle past, but the man grabbed her arm, squeezing tight.

"By Arceus…" he breathed.

"Sir Flint?" called Buck from behind them. "Is all well?"

Flint fixed Nova in his stare. A smile coming out to play. Riley's words echoing in her head.

Flint and his men are hunting me. They want to kill me.

"Oh, everything is well," Flint said. "Very well."

So make sure you stay away from him, too. Just in case.

Nova didn't think a second longer.

Her knee collided with the man's groin, her elbow with his chin. He cried out, his hand flying to his head as he toppled backwards, and Nova was vaulting over his body on the way to the door.

Buck and his gladiator friends took a moment to react, watching the queen's stableman drop like a whimpering sack of potatoes, but soon enough, they barrelled into the street behind her. Nova heard whistles blowing behind her, furious shouts, running feet.

"Of all the taverns in Sinnoh," she gasped. "What are the fucking odds?"

"…they're pretty bad, if you ask me…"

Nova threw her hood over her head, skidding off the main drag and down a twisting side alley before bolting over the drunks, the sweetboys with their dancing girls. More footsteps were behind her, more whistles, more cursing. The buckled cobbles slid under her boots, narrow walls closing about her as she bolted into the marketplace, around the bubbling fountain at its heart.

Then, she found a stall – a small wooden thing, with a few crates around it.

It would have to do.

She pushed herself behind it, all the world dropping into gloom and silence as she knelt there.

Footsteps came. Heavy boots. Through a small crack in the wood, she caught sight of a few gladiators, dashing into the marketplace. They were splitting up and thundering off in all directions as she remained there, Darkrai at her feet, the pair just a smudge of darkness behind the crates. She waited as another group of gladiators – this time, with Flint – rushed past, shouting and shoving.

And finally, silence.

"Do you think they're gone? Or are they just being quiet?"

"…i think they must be quiet if they are gone…"

Nova stole away slowly, feeling her way along the floor. She pawed her way through the maze of backstreets, but, by Arceus, she didn't know Sunnyshore at all. Even with Darkrai roaming ahead, it would take her hours to find her way back to the inn where her Pokémon were waiting.

Out onto the main drag, crossing three bridges, moving down stairs, dodging any man in armour who came within a block.

If she weren't so intent on spotting large groups of men in gleaming white armour waving burning swords, she might have noticed a slender figure dressed in grey who had picked up her trail as she entered the harbour district.

But she didn't.

And by the time she did, it was too late.


A hard slap. Water dashed in her face. A sputtering gasp.

"Wake up."

Nova opened her eyes, immediately wishing she hadn't. Blinding pain arced across her shoulder, all the way to the base of her skull. She was starting to remember more – a group of gladiators, cudgels, repeated blows, blood in her mouth. And blackness.

Wincing, she looked around her, at the stone walls and metal door, her back pressed against a heavy, iron chair. Her hands were even manacled behind her back, with Darkrai drinking down her fear from her shoulder.

"…i'm here…"

"Wake up."

Another slap landed on her face, whipping her head to the side. She tried to lash out with her feet, only to find they were bound, too.

"I'm awake, bloody bastard."

She looked up at the man who had slapped her. It was Flint – a fresh cut on his face, his eyes fiery.

"Oh, shit," she hissed.

"…indeed…"

A Pokémon – Flint's Infernape – walked slowly around the room until he stood behind Nova. Craning her neck, she saw a long table, lined with tools. Pliers. Screws. Burning coal. Five types of hammers.

And yet, there was no fear in her belly. Not even a quiver in her voice as Nova turned and looked Flint dead in the eyes.

"What do you want?"

"November," was all Flint said.

"Aye?"

"Daughter of Legionary Byron. Granddaughter of Duke Rowan." He cocked his head to the side, his breath so close that she could almost taste the wine and tobacco. "Friend of Sir Riley."

Nova's heart skipped a beat at that. She felt her shadow shiver, Darkrai chewing hard at her fear.

"Where is he? Where is Riley?"

"I don't know."

Crack. A bright red handprint – the size of an Infernape's hand – etched on her face.

"Tell us where Riley is."

"Nowhere."

Her chair was dragged backwards, the awful sound of iron grating on stone ringing in her ears. Nova saw a barrel filled with dark, tepid water in a corner of the room. Infernape's rough hands seized a fistful of her hair, dunked her head and held her down.

She thrashed, bucked, but the manacles had her pinned, the hands holding her tight. She roared, bubbles bursting from her mouth into the brackish dark. Harbour water, she realised – probably fished straight from the bay.

Black spots swam in her eyes. Her lungs burned.

And finally, the hands hauled her up out of the water and she dragged in a desperate, sputtering lungful of air.

"Tell us where Riley is."

"Please, no—"

Down beneath the water again. The pain and the dark. Darkrai seething around her feet, helpless and desperate.

With her lungs almost bursting, she was dragged up into the light again. Chest heaving. Legs trembling. Coughing. Gasping. The fear was breaking loose now, Darkrai barely able to drink it all. But still, she stomped it down. Kicked it in the teeth and spat on it.

For Riley.

"Where is he?"

"Nowhere!"

Down again. And up. The question repeated, over and over. She screamed. Swore. Even tried crying and pleading.

And every time, she was met with the same answer.

"Tell us where Sir Riley is."

And Nova retreated. Back into the dark inside her head that she used in all her gladiator battles. Watching her own torture, wondering how many hours had passed until her voice began to break and her lungs began to scream and every breath felt like fire.

Drowning and beating. Spitting and slapping.

For minutes. And hours.

Until they stopped. Left her slumped in her chair, hands bound behind her. Her hair reeked of bay water, draped across her face like a veil.

"If water won't get you to speak," Flint hissed, "I have other remedies."

That's when she saw him move towards the hot coals.

"…nova…"

Nova tossed her hair from her eyes, still trying to catch her breath as she shivered and coughed.

"…for a man from the castle, he seems like a lovely fellow…"

"How does he know for sure that I know where Riley is?" she whispered.

"…doesn't matter. you must get out of here…"

"I'm glad you're here to tell me such bloody insightful things."

She tried to fumble at her wrists, trying desperately to pull the irons loose. But before she could even try getting her fingers wrapped around the metal, she heard the door squeal open.

"What in Arceus' name is happening here?"

Volkner.


A night later, as well as three showers later, Nova found herself back in the tavern.

This time, though, she was face to face with Legionary Volkner.

They were hidden in a private booth, veiled behind thick curtains. Only Flint and Barry knew of their meeting – Flint, because, as Nova had learnt on that day, had grown up with the legionary in Sunnyshore. Best mates, even. With that same, cruel enjoyment of watching those whimper beneath their boots.

And Barry?

The second he had heard Nova cursing about the rat who couldn't keep his hands away from her own bloody cake, he had begged her to ask him for that legionary battle.

Only in the tavern did Nova learn that Volkner had stopped going to his own arena.

"I'm not taking any more gladiator battles."

Nova stared at him, her jaw dropped. "Why the bloody hell not?"

"We're searching for Riley," he told her. "After everything at Spear Pillar, I spoke to Flint. We're going to find Riley, challenge him to a spar. And when I win, I'll become king."

That explained almost too much.

Flint wasn't just worried about Riley telling others about Queen Cynthia's absence, but he wanted someone else to take that throne – someone who would let him remain in the castle and tend the bloody Rapidash. Someone like Volkner.

"Where is Riley, anyways?" Volkner asked, his voice smooth.

Nova scowled. "Up yer arse."

"Funny."

"And you're a funny piece of shit."

"I know."

Nova snorted at that. "No, I really don't think you do."

With his head cocked to one side, he arched his brow. And Nova couldn't help herself – she tightened her grip around the table and glared.

"Not all these people wanted to be gladiators," she hissed. "Some were slaves. Some are making money just for their patrons. Hell, some are just making money for their family."

"And why is that my problem?"

The question made Nova's face mottle red.

This arsehole wanted to be king, and he was asking her why the lives of gladiators and townsfolk were his problem?

"All they need is that final legionary crystal, and they're free," she pointed out. "Do you know what it's like to be free, Volkner?"

He paused at that, his mouth parted. But no words came out.

"You can becoming king whenever you fucking want," she snapped. "But these people – these gladiators – are stuck with tattoos on their backs forever."

Once again, silence.

Nova leaned in closer, her eyes narrowed onto the prince.

"I know you have it in you," she whispered. "I know you spent every bloody week coming to Twinleaf to look for my mother, just for Duke Rowan."

That made his eyes turn wide.

So, Nova reached her hand out. Even had to balls to place it over his.

"Please."

The sound of his sigh – full of exasperation and surrender – was music to her ears.

"Deal."


And now, with a legionary crystal to go, I think I'm going to cry. So close!