Alright, I'm back! Another fun chapter in All the King's Gold. I have
one review! Yay!
Gary: Am I in this one?
Maybe.
Gary: I'd better be!
Whatever. Here's the story!
All the King's Gold
Chapter 1, Part 2: Bards, Knights, and Sorcerers, oh my!
By midnight, Misty was wishing fervently that she had thought to
take her horse as well, or at least stayed in the confines of the City
until dawn. It was too late by then, though. She was in the middle of
the dark forest, completely lost, without a light. Luckily, she wasn't
lacking in sense, so she didn't stop to cry tragically over her fate.
Instead, she kept on walking, hoping she would find a camp before the
creatures of the forest found her.
After walking for some time, she saw a fire flickering between
the trunks of the trees. With a shout of joy, she ran towards the light
source.
It was a small camp. A sleeping pallet had been rolled out next
to the fire, the owner reclining against a tree next to it. A gorgeous
black stallion was tether a few feet away, and it whickered softly as she
approached.
It was warning enough for its rider. He jumped to his feet and
pulled a dagger from the confines of his clothing, then stopped short.
"Oh, it's YOU!" she cried, exasperated.
"Princess Misty?" the Bard asked, while putting away his daggers.
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm running off to seek my fortune, what else would the
youngest, ugliest daughter of the King of Cerulean be doing out in the
woods in the middle of the night?" she asked. It was, of course, plain
logic to her.
He obviously didn't think so. "You could have gotten yourself
killed! There are bandits, and-"
"I'm capable of taking care of myself," she raised her chin,
wishing she had worn her crown. "I'm a princess."
"Aye, and you're about as brainless and defenseless as every
other princess I've met," the Bard glared right back at her.
An idea struck her. "You will be my escort."
"WHAT?!"
"Well, since you're so keen on calling me brainless and
defenseless, and you're suited to traveling these woods, you will be my
escort," she looked him up and down. "You're not much, Bard, but you'll
do. You did say you'd guide me in your prophecy."
He shook his head. "If you want a hero, you should find a knight. I
only work for money."
Misty bit her lip. She hadn't thought to bring money with her.
Cursing herself for being as stupid as one of her sisters, she pulled her
crown from her handbag.
"Will this do for payment?" she held it out at arm's length. He relieved
her of it, and studied it carefully.
"Yes, princess, it will do well," he bowed slightly, and went to
stow it away in the already bulging saddlebags next to his pallet.
"Good," she stepped over next to him, and looked down her nose at
the sleeping pallet. It was poor, but it was better than the ground.
"I'm glad we could come to an agreement, Bard."
"Call me 'Ash', and unless you keep blankets stashed in that
little bag of yours, you're sleeping on the ground," he sat meaningfully
on the pallet. Misty glared at him, but he paid her little attention,
looking into the flames. With a huff, she stomped over to the other side
of the fire. As she lay down to what most certainly would be the most
uncomfortable night of her life, Ash threw something to her.
It was a blanket.
"So, how did such a famous Bard end up traveling alone, without
an escort?" she asked him the very next day. He had allowed her to ride
on his horse, Nightrider, while he led it from the ground. He was no
longer wearing Bard colors, but a simply cut tunic, breeches, and knee
high boots, all in black. His lute was still slung over his shoulder,
but a sword had been added to his attire. He looked like a lowly thief.
"An escort would be too expensive, and too much of a hassle," Ash
replied.
"Doesn't the Bardic Guild acquire you with an escort?" Misty was
taken aback. Apparently there was a lot she didn't know.
He laughed at that. She had to admit that he had a nice laugh.
"Princess, I'm only fourteen, the youngest member of the Bardic Guild.
Gifted or not, famous or not, I'm not worth the trouble. Anyway, I can
take care of myself."
"If you're going to insist that I call you 'Ash', then I will
have to insist that you refrain from calling me 'princess'," Misty
demanded.
He turned and smiled at her. "I didn't insist, Misty."
They continued upon their way, with very few words passing
between them. Misty tried to engage the Bard into conversation,
commenting on the scenery or the weather. He would merely make a simple
reply and keep his silence. He had to be the most anti-social Bard she
had ever met in her life, but she supposed she hadn't paid him enough for
him to carry on a conversation. She was about to point this out when
there was a yell from farther up the road.
"Back, villain! Unhand the fair Princess Misty!" there was a
great deal of clattering, and a knight came into view. His armor didn't
fit well, the joints connected at odd angles, and the craftsman ship was
shoddy. The knight held up a sword and charged Ash with a shout.
Ash cursed and drew his own sword, more slender and probably
lighter than the knights, and leapt out of the way. His horse, with her
still on its back, leapt the other, and ran into the forest.
She began to yell at it to stop, but once the road was out of
sight it came to a halt and waited patiently in the trees.
"I wonder if this happens often," Misty muttered, getting down
from the horse without much difficulty and running back to the road to
clear up the knight's apparent misunderstanding.
There was no need for her arrival, however. Ash clearly had
things under control. The knight wasn't dead, but was clearly stunned, a
large dent in his helmet. Ash hadn't even broken a sweat.
"Princess Misty! That you could escape such a fiend!" the knight
gasped when she reappeared on the roadside. "Alas, he has wounded me,
and I cannot fight him. Be brave, Princess, another knight will soon
rescue you!"
"You're perfectly fine," Ash told him. "I didn't even hit you
that hard."
"Brigand! I, Sir Brock, shall slay thee!" Brock struggled to
rise, and made a big show of it. "If I could but stand, I'd cut thy
lying tongue from thy mouth! Thou unholy-"
"Sir Brock! Wait!" Misty came out of the woods, trying very hard
not to laugh at the knight. This was a serious situation, after all.
"Oh, fair Misty, you are brave to uphold such tribulation, and I
salute thee," and he did so. "Hark, a light."
Misty was thoroughly sick of him. She stalked over to him and
pulled off his helmet, hitting him on top of the head with her fist as
she did so. "It's the sun, you dolt."
Brock put his head in his hands, but not before she could get a
good look at him. He was dark, with a rather strong chin and spiky hair.
The overall effect would have been handsome if he hadn't of been
squinting, enough that she couldn't even see his eyes.
"Ow."
"Serves you right!" she yelled at him.
"But m'lady! I came to rescue thee from the villain who has
taken thee from thy father's castle!" Brock protested.
Misty blinked. "Kidna-oh. No, Ash didn't kidnap me! I ran
away! He was simply kind enough to render his services! Besides, Ash
wouldn't kidnap me! He's a Bard!"
"Oh," Misty couldn't be sure whether Brock had blinked or not.
"Well, then."
"Yes, so I insist that you leave me to seek my fortune," Misty
ordered him.
"I apologize, Princess Misty, but I cannot allow that!" Brock
stood up and sheathed his sword with some difficulty. "I must attend
thee, as thy father would wish it! One Bard can not hope to stand
against some of the ruffians along these roads, though good with a sword
he may be, and I insist upon protecting thee!"
"Ash!" Misty looked over to the Bard for assistance.
Ash had been watching the proceedings with amusement, and now
sheathed his own sword. "If you really want to come with us, lose the
armor."
"Pardon me?" Brock looked a bit horrified.
"It's a bit conspicuous, don't you think?" he whistled, and his
horse came trotting out of the woods.
"And two men of lowly station traveling with a lady of obviously
noble birth isn't?" Brock retorted, but already he was removing his
gauntlets. "I suppose the armor is rather noticeable. It will have to
go."
"Good, I'm glad we agree on something," Ash held onto the reigns
while Misty mounted. "But this could be a bad situation if we had to
make a quick get away."
Brock nodded. "True, we have but one horse, and there are three
of us. Alas, if we are forced to flee, I will remain here, as I am the
heaviest of us all and would only slow you down."
He looked rather dejected at the thought, but Ash either didn't
notice or didn't care. Either way, Misty liked him all the less.
That night they camped a little ways off from the road. Brock
volunteered to cook, which left Misty to talk to Ash.
She wasn't happy.
"So, where are we going?" she asked, as he spread out his sleeping
pad. "I would like to know, so I can be prepared for what lies ahead."
"I'm not sure," Ash admitted. "We might try going to Celadon, or
Pewter-"
"I prefer Celadon. I've been to Pewter, but never to Celadon,"
she cut in, her eyes lighting up. "They have the biggest market in all
of Kanto!"
"-Or Pallet," Ash finished.
Misty made a face. "Pallet? Why would anyone want to go to
Pallet? It's a little, out of the way kingdom on the coast that is
constantly under attack by raiders from Johto! That, and it's dingy and
everyone there is so poor they can't afford to move anywhere else!"
"And it's my home town," Ash gave her a strained grin. "I said
Celadon because that's the headquarters of the Bardic Guild, and Pewter
because the food is excellent and the inn is cheap."
"Oh," she thought about apologizing, but decided against it.
Princesses didn't apologize, especially not her sisters. Of course, her
sisters were quite dull, so they said very simple things that no one ever
had to apologize for. "Well, I still think we should go to Celadon."
"Pewter is my humble birth place," Brock joined in their
conversation. "It is not a grand place, but it is worth a short visit in
the least."
"And it's on the way to Pallet, so we'll be going there," Ash
made up his mind. "Of course, we'll have to go around Mount Moon."
"Ah, yes, Mount Moon holds many dangers not suitable for a lady
such as you, Princess Misty," Brock nodded sagely. "Perhaps we should
visit Celadon after all."
Misty agreed whole-heartedly with him. "I think Brock's right.
Mount Moon is dangerous, and-"
"And that's why Brock is with us, to protect you," Ash
interrupted
A voice from very nearby caused them all to start. "Now, I'm
sure it's around here somewhere."
Ash was on his feet in an instant, his sword out. Brock was a
bit slower. His sword was halfway across the clearing they had decided
to camp in, and in its place he brandished the ladle he had been stirring
the stew with. Misty thought it best to stand behind them.
An elderly man in flowing white robes and a circlet in his iron
grey hair walked right into their clearing. He stopped short when he saw
them, an absent expression on his face. A boy about her age with scruffy
auburn hair in grey robes of the same cut followed closely behind.
"Oh, hello," the man gave them a curious look. "We weren't
expecting anyone to be here, were we?"
"No, Grandpa," the boy replied sullenly. "We weren't."
Ash made a funny noise and brought his hand up to his mouth.
Misty suspected he was trying not to laugh from the way his shoulders
were shaking. She hit him between the shoulder blades, hard. "Don't be
rude!"
"I beg your pardon?" the man looked rather offended. "We had no
idea that there would be anyone in this clearing, and-"
"Oh, I didn't mean you," Misty was rather angry by that point,
and when she motioned to Ash it was violent enough that Brock paled. "I
meant my companion here, the one without any manners."
Ash had apparently gained control over his laughter. He
straitened up and took a deep breath. "My apologies, Misty. I didn't
mean to offend you or anyone else.
"He doesn't appear to be rude at all," the older man closed the
distance between them. "I am Professor Samuel Oak, and this is my
grandson, Gary. We both study magic of all kinds."
"You're wizards?" Misty cocked an eyebrow.
"No my dear, we are sorcerers," Professor Oak corrected her.
"Well, actually, I'm a sorcerer, and my grandson here is my apprentice.
We were just coming here because you can see the moon perfectly, and it's
one of our favorite places to conjure."
"Oh," this made very little sense to Misty, but she smiled and nodded
anyway. "We were just camping here for the night. I'm Misty Waterflo-"
Oak suddenly bowed and took her hands. "Princess Misty! It is a
pleasure to make your acquaintance! And please, introduce your
companions!"
"I am Bard Ashton of Pallet, and this is Sir Brock of Pewter,"
Ash took introductions into his own hands. "The pleasure is ours."
"Why are you with these two if you're a princess?" Gary asked,
giving Ash and his black attire a dubious glance.
Professor Oak finally released her hands, and she restrained
herself from sighing with relief. "Well, I don't exactly like being a
Princess, so I thought about running away. And then for my sixteenth
birthday present my father paid this crazy Bard to sing me a prophecy."
She motioned to Ash. Both Oaks suddenly became very much
interested in him.
"You sing prophecies?" the Professor looked as if all of his
dreams had come true at once. "How? Could you perform one now? Could
you explain exactly how you-"
Ash held up his hands, and the Professor fell silent immediately.
"I just do, Professor. If someone is sitting directly in front of me, I
start playing and then suddenly I'm awake again and everyone is
applauding me."
"So, you don't remember what you sing," Gary gave him a
thoughtful look. "Hmmm, quite the puzzle. Could you demonstrate?"
Ash held out a hand. "I'll need the proper motivation."
"Oh, yes, payment," Professor Oak dug around in the pockets of
his robes. The search came out unsuccessful, however. "Drat. All of
our money is in the Tower. Would you be so kind as to join us for tea?
We have several guest rooms."
"We happily accept your offer," Misty said before Ash could open
his mouth.
"Princess, we have no acquaintance with these people," Brock
hissed to her when the Oaks had their backs turned. "How do we know they
aren't evil sorcerers?"
She smiled. "Brock, have you ever met an absent minded evil
sorcerer? If they were real evil sorcerer's, they would have announced
themselves with a flash and a bang. And if they are anyway, we'll know
because of their tower."
Brock reluctantly agreed, emptied his pot and put it back with
their supplies, dousing the fire as he did so.
Ash made no comment as he repacked and tied his saddlebags.
Apparently the prospect of getting paid, having a place to stay, and free
food was enough to drive any suspicions away.
The tower was only a little ways off, after a strenuous climb up
the side of a mountain. Like all Sorcerer's towers, it was perched on
the brink of a cliff, shining a dazzling white in the moonlight. A
single, dark wooden door was the entrance, and once inside Misty gasped.
Mirrors lined the curving walls, a broad, sweeping staircase
right at there feet carpeted with the finest red velvet. Huge silver and
crystal chandeliers lit up magically as they entered. On the ceiling
emerald dragons with topaz fire, knights in armor of silver, and every
other creature imaginable was depicted with gems and metal. Misty
couldn't stop looking up.
"This way!" Professor Oak led them up the staircase. Misty
stumbled so often that finally Gary grabbed her arm and led her up the
stairs.
The top of the stairs held a room entirely different.
They were obviously living quarters, with twisting halls and more
staircases leading to other rooms. The room was lit by magic, but no
chandeliers. It was comfortable, but not dazzling like the staircase.
It was clean, which was surprising, as the Professor hadn't mentioned
anyone else living there.
"You'll have to pardon the entry way," Professor Oak said a bit
sheepishly. "We do like to show off."
"Grandpa! Gary!" a girl a few years older than her burst into
the room. She was rather pretty, her pale skin complementing her dark
hair and big, expressive brown eyes. Her dress was excessively low cut,
showing off her impressively large chest.
Ash and Brock blushed. Ash quickly composed himself, but Brock seemed to
be lost to the world.
"I didn't know you would be back so soon!" she exclaimed, then
she saw the three travelers. "Oh, do beg pardon! I didn't know you
brought guests!"
"They were in the clearing, and the Bard has offered to sing a
prophecy for us," Gary shrugged. She hugged him and immediately began
kissing his cheek. "May! Stop that!"
"I'm sorry, little brother!" she teased, obviously enjoying the
embarrassment she was causing him. "Are these three your new friends?
Who are they?"
"I'm Princess Misty Waterflower of the Kingdom of Cerulean,"
Misty announced herself proudly. "These are my companions and
protectors, Bard Ashton of Pallet and Sir Brock of Pewter."
"'Tis surely a pleasure to meet thee, m'lady," Brock dropped to
one knee and took both of her hands in his. "I would go to the ends of
the earth to find a beauty such as thee."
"A princess and her two companions?" May jerked her hands from
Brock's, taking no notice of his compliments. He looked rather crushed,
and Misty felt a surge of anger on his behalf. "It's a pleasure to meet
you!"
"This is my grand daughter, May," Oak put one hand on her
shoulder. "My assistant should be around here somewhere."
"Here, Professor!" a boy about Brock's age with dark green hair
tied back by a strip of cloth bolted from a door on the right. He was
dressed in fine clothes, but his weathered face and callused hands told
the truth. He was a peasant.
"Ah, good," Oak's smile broadened. "This is Tracey. Tracey,
could you go get one of the gold chains from the vault, please?"
Ash's eyes lit up at the word "gold", and Misty shot him a
disgusted look. "Yes, sir!"
"Sit down, Ash," Oak motioned to a chair, and Ash took it. "Now,
Gary, you sit in front of him."
Gary did so, looking eager to hear a prophecy. Ash unhurriedly
slipped his lute from his shoulder and took a few moments to tune it. He
arranged it correctly and began to play.
It was another haunting, beautiful melody, but not quite as
captivating as the one he had played at the Ball. Misty supposed that it
was due to the fact that he wasn't singing to her. Once again, his eyes
glazed over and a faint aura surrounded him.
"Join the company three
Help to solve the mystery
Follow the crooked line
Everything in its good time
A sorcerer you will be
If you follow the three."
Now that she knew him, Misty noticed that after he sang the
prophecy and came to his senses, Ash looked very tired. Concern for him
that she didn't want arose.
Professor Oak didn't seem to notice Ash's exhaustion, but he had written
the entire thing down with much scratching of quill. He held it up and
frowned. "Hmmm, a prophecy in the form of a riddle. My dear Misty, do
you remember your own prophecy?"
"Only something about 'running free' and 'the Bard being my
guide'," Misty admitted sheepishly. "So far that's all come true, I ran
away, and now he's my guide."
"Speaking of which, you owe me," Ash held out one hand to her.
Apparently he also became very irritable after singing a prophecy.
Sighing, she dug one of her silk handkerchiefs ou of her handbag
and surrendered it to him. It was enough payment, at least, he didn't
complain.
"Well, how about I double your pay and you sing Misty's
prophecy?" Oak suggested.
Ash sighed and motioned for her to sit in front of him. She did
so. He didn't have to arrange or tune his lute this time, so he simply
began playing.
"The journey's begun
It's far from done
The ending of days
Is where your path lays."
The song was much shorter than the last one, and Ash had some
difficulty coming out of the trance. Misty was more than concerned now,
she was worried. He was pale, he was having trouble breathing, and bags
that hadn't been there before hung heavily under his eyes.
Once again, Professor Oak, or anyone else for that matter, didn't
notice. In fact, Oak was oblivious enough to ask Brock to sit in front
of Ash, insisting on paying him much more than was previously offered.
"Protect her."
All at once, without warning, Ash fell over in the chair, landing
in a heap on the wooden floor. May let out a soft scream (the perfect
pitch and volume for such an occasion, Misty noted), Gary and Brock
started, and Misty was at his side in an instant.
"Ash! Ash, are you alright?" she shook his shoulder. His eyes
remained closed, and his breath rattled in his throat. "Ash! Wake up!"
Professor Oak stood and nodded. "Just as I thought. The Bardic
Guild had no notion of what they were doing when they trained him."
"You did this on purpose?!" Misty turned to glare at him.
"Well, I had to know," Oak admitted sheepishly.
Sounding a scream of fury, she launched herself at him. "You
could have killed him!"
Brock grabbed her from behind. "Princess! Calm thyself!"
"If Ash doesn't wake up then I'll-"
"Then you'll what?" Oak cut her off. "Have me arrested?
Beheaded? Hung? Even if you hadn't of ran away from home, you'd be
powerless against me."
Misty didn't even let the sting of his words sink in. "If he
doesn't wake up I'll hit you so hard you won't come around until the next
time the moon is full!"
"You'd better hope he wakes up, Grandpa. I think she's serious,"
Gary was kneeling beside Ash, taking his pulse. "But really, Misty,
don't get so worked up. He's going to be fine in a couple of hours."
"Good," Misty's anger dissolved immediately. "He'd better,
worrying me like that when he comes to I'm going to wring his scrawny
little neck."
"Err...right," Professor Oak agreed nervously. "You do that,
Princess. I'm going to be in my study, trying to figure out what Ash
meant with these confounded riddles, May, please give them dinner and
show them to their guest rooms. Gary, get Ash into a bed somewhere."
With that, he made his escape.
Gary held his hand over Ash's prone form, and with a flashy swirl
of magic lifted him off of the ground. May silently ushered them into
the kitchen.
Misty stared up at the ceiling of her room sometime later, barred
by moonlight from the window. In a few short days she had come so far
from being the youngest, ugliest daughter of a King. What would tomorrow
bring? Adventure? Danger? Despair?
*Well,* she thought sleepily. *This is better than sleeping on
the ground.*
one review! Yay!
Gary: Am I in this one?
Maybe.
Gary: I'd better be!
Whatever. Here's the story!
All the King's Gold
Chapter 1, Part 2: Bards, Knights, and Sorcerers, oh my!
By midnight, Misty was wishing fervently that she had thought to
take her horse as well, or at least stayed in the confines of the City
until dawn. It was too late by then, though. She was in the middle of
the dark forest, completely lost, without a light. Luckily, she wasn't
lacking in sense, so she didn't stop to cry tragically over her fate.
Instead, she kept on walking, hoping she would find a camp before the
creatures of the forest found her.
After walking for some time, she saw a fire flickering between
the trunks of the trees. With a shout of joy, she ran towards the light
source.
It was a small camp. A sleeping pallet had been rolled out next
to the fire, the owner reclining against a tree next to it. A gorgeous
black stallion was tether a few feet away, and it whickered softly as she
approached.
It was warning enough for its rider. He jumped to his feet and
pulled a dagger from the confines of his clothing, then stopped short.
"Oh, it's YOU!" she cried, exasperated.
"Princess Misty?" the Bard asked, while putting away his daggers.
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm running off to seek my fortune, what else would the
youngest, ugliest daughter of the King of Cerulean be doing out in the
woods in the middle of the night?" she asked. It was, of course, plain
logic to her.
He obviously didn't think so. "You could have gotten yourself
killed! There are bandits, and-"
"I'm capable of taking care of myself," she raised her chin,
wishing she had worn her crown. "I'm a princess."
"Aye, and you're about as brainless and defenseless as every
other princess I've met," the Bard glared right back at her.
An idea struck her. "You will be my escort."
"WHAT?!"
"Well, since you're so keen on calling me brainless and
defenseless, and you're suited to traveling these woods, you will be my
escort," she looked him up and down. "You're not much, Bard, but you'll
do. You did say you'd guide me in your prophecy."
He shook his head. "If you want a hero, you should find a knight. I
only work for money."
Misty bit her lip. She hadn't thought to bring money with her.
Cursing herself for being as stupid as one of her sisters, she pulled her
crown from her handbag.
"Will this do for payment?" she held it out at arm's length. He relieved
her of it, and studied it carefully.
"Yes, princess, it will do well," he bowed slightly, and went to
stow it away in the already bulging saddlebags next to his pallet.
"Good," she stepped over next to him, and looked down her nose at
the sleeping pallet. It was poor, but it was better than the ground.
"I'm glad we could come to an agreement, Bard."
"Call me 'Ash', and unless you keep blankets stashed in that
little bag of yours, you're sleeping on the ground," he sat meaningfully
on the pallet. Misty glared at him, but he paid her little attention,
looking into the flames. With a huff, she stomped over to the other side
of the fire. As she lay down to what most certainly would be the most
uncomfortable night of her life, Ash threw something to her.
It was a blanket.
"So, how did such a famous Bard end up traveling alone, without
an escort?" she asked him the very next day. He had allowed her to ride
on his horse, Nightrider, while he led it from the ground. He was no
longer wearing Bard colors, but a simply cut tunic, breeches, and knee
high boots, all in black. His lute was still slung over his shoulder,
but a sword had been added to his attire. He looked like a lowly thief.
"An escort would be too expensive, and too much of a hassle," Ash
replied.
"Doesn't the Bardic Guild acquire you with an escort?" Misty was
taken aback. Apparently there was a lot she didn't know.
He laughed at that. She had to admit that he had a nice laugh.
"Princess, I'm only fourteen, the youngest member of the Bardic Guild.
Gifted or not, famous or not, I'm not worth the trouble. Anyway, I can
take care of myself."
"If you're going to insist that I call you 'Ash', then I will
have to insist that you refrain from calling me 'princess'," Misty
demanded.
He turned and smiled at her. "I didn't insist, Misty."
They continued upon their way, with very few words passing
between them. Misty tried to engage the Bard into conversation,
commenting on the scenery or the weather. He would merely make a simple
reply and keep his silence. He had to be the most anti-social Bard she
had ever met in her life, but she supposed she hadn't paid him enough for
him to carry on a conversation. She was about to point this out when
there was a yell from farther up the road.
"Back, villain! Unhand the fair Princess Misty!" there was a
great deal of clattering, and a knight came into view. His armor didn't
fit well, the joints connected at odd angles, and the craftsman ship was
shoddy. The knight held up a sword and charged Ash with a shout.
Ash cursed and drew his own sword, more slender and probably
lighter than the knights, and leapt out of the way. His horse, with her
still on its back, leapt the other, and ran into the forest.
She began to yell at it to stop, but once the road was out of
sight it came to a halt and waited patiently in the trees.
"I wonder if this happens often," Misty muttered, getting down
from the horse without much difficulty and running back to the road to
clear up the knight's apparent misunderstanding.
There was no need for her arrival, however. Ash clearly had
things under control. The knight wasn't dead, but was clearly stunned, a
large dent in his helmet. Ash hadn't even broken a sweat.
"Princess Misty! That you could escape such a fiend!" the knight
gasped when she reappeared on the roadside. "Alas, he has wounded me,
and I cannot fight him. Be brave, Princess, another knight will soon
rescue you!"
"You're perfectly fine," Ash told him. "I didn't even hit you
that hard."
"Brigand! I, Sir Brock, shall slay thee!" Brock struggled to
rise, and made a big show of it. "If I could but stand, I'd cut thy
lying tongue from thy mouth! Thou unholy-"
"Sir Brock! Wait!" Misty came out of the woods, trying very hard
not to laugh at the knight. This was a serious situation, after all.
"Oh, fair Misty, you are brave to uphold such tribulation, and I
salute thee," and he did so. "Hark, a light."
Misty was thoroughly sick of him. She stalked over to him and
pulled off his helmet, hitting him on top of the head with her fist as
she did so. "It's the sun, you dolt."
Brock put his head in his hands, but not before she could get a
good look at him. He was dark, with a rather strong chin and spiky hair.
The overall effect would have been handsome if he hadn't of been
squinting, enough that she couldn't even see his eyes.
"Ow."
"Serves you right!" she yelled at him.
"But m'lady! I came to rescue thee from the villain who has
taken thee from thy father's castle!" Brock protested.
Misty blinked. "Kidna-oh. No, Ash didn't kidnap me! I ran
away! He was simply kind enough to render his services! Besides, Ash
wouldn't kidnap me! He's a Bard!"
"Oh," Misty couldn't be sure whether Brock had blinked or not.
"Well, then."
"Yes, so I insist that you leave me to seek my fortune," Misty
ordered him.
"I apologize, Princess Misty, but I cannot allow that!" Brock
stood up and sheathed his sword with some difficulty. "I must attend
thee, as thy father would wish it! One Bard can not hope to stand
against some of the ruffians along these roads, though good with a sword
he may be, and I insist upon protecting thee!"
"Ash!" Misty looked over to the Bard for assistance.
Ash had been watching the proceedings with amusement, and now
sheathed his own sword. "If you really want to come with us, lose the
armor."
"Pardon me?" Brock looked a bit horrified.
"It's a bit conspicuous, don't you think?" he whistled, and his
horse came trotting out of the woods.
"And two men of lowly station traveling with a lady of obviously
noble birth isn't?" Brock retorted, but already he was removing his
gauntlets. "I suppose the armor is rather noticeable. It will have to
go."
"Good, I'm glad we agree on something," Ash held onto the reigns
while Misty mounted. "But this could be a bad situation if we had to
make a quick get away."
Brock nodded. "True, we have but one horse, and there are three
of us. Alas, if we are forced to flee, I will remain here, as I am the
heaviest of us all and would only slow you down."
He looked rather dejected at the thought, but Ash either didn't
notice or didn't care. Either way, Misty liked him all the less.
That night they camped a little ways off from the road. Brock
volunteered to cook, which left Misty to talk to Ash.
She wasn't happy.
"So, where are we going?" she asked, as he spread out his sleeping
pad. "I would like to know, so I can be prepared for what lies ahead."
"I'm not sure," Ash admitted. "We might try going to Celadon, or
Pewter-"
"I prefer Celadon. I've been to Pewter, but never to Celadon,"
she cut in, her eyes lighting up. "They have the biggest market in all
of Kanto!"
"-Or Pallet," Ash finished.
Misty made a face. "Pallet? Why would anyone want to go to
Pallet? It's a little, out of the way kingdom on the coast that is
constantly under attack by raiders from Johto! That, and it's dingy and
everyone there is so poor they can't afford to move anywhere else!"
"And it's my home town," Ash gave her a strained grin. "I said
Celadon because that's the headquarters of the Bardic Guild, and Pewter
because the food is excellent and the inn is cheap."
"Oh," she thought about apologizing, but decided against it.
Princesses didn't apologize, especially not her sisters. Of course, her
sisters were quite dull, so they said very simple things that no one ever
had to apologize for. "Well, I still think we should go to Celadon."
"Pewter is my humble birth place," Brock joined in their
conversation. "It is not a grand place, but it is worth a short visit in
the least."
"And it's on the way to Pallet, so we'll be going there," Ash
made up his mind. "Of course, we'll have to go around Mount Moon."
"Ah, yes, Mount Moon holds many dangers not suitable for a lady
such as you, Princess Misty," Brock nodded sagely. "Perhaps we should
visit Celadon after all."
Misty agreed whole-heartedly with him. "I think Brock's right.
Mount Moon is dangerous, and-"
"And that's why Brock is with us, to protect you," Ash
interrupted
A voice from very nearby caused them all to start. "Now, I'm
sure it's around here somewhere."
Ash was on his feet in an instant, his sword out. Brock was a
bit slower. His sword was halfway across the clearing they had decided
to camp in, and in its place he brandished the ladle he had been stirring
the stew with. Misty thought it best to stand behind them.
An elderly man in flowing white robes and a circlet in his iron
grey hair walked right into their clearing. He stopped short when he saw
them, an absent expression on his face. A boy about her age with scruffy
auburn hair in grey robes of the same cut followed closely behind.
"Oh, hello," the man gave them a curious look. "We weren't
expecting anyone to be here, were we?"
"No, Grandpa," the boy replied sullenly. "We weren't."
Ash made a funny noise and brought his hand up to his mouth.
Misty suspected he was trying not to laugh from the way his shoulders
were shaking. She hit him between the shoulder blades, hard. "Don't be
rude!"
"I beg your pardon?" the man looked rather offended. "We had no
idea that there would be anyone in this clearing, and-"
"Oh, I didn't mean you," Misty was rather angry by that point,
and when she motioned to Ash it was violent enough that Brock paled. "I
meant my companion here, the one without any manners."
Ash had apparently gained control over his laughter. He
straitened up and took a deep breath. "My apologies, Misty. I didn't
mean to offend you or anyone else.
"He doesn't appear to be rude at all," the older man closed the
distance between them. "I am Professor Samuel Oak, and this is my
grandson, Gary. We both study magic of all kinds."
"You're wizards?" Misty cocked an eyebrow.
"No my dear, we are sorcerers," Professor Oak corrected her.
"Well, actually, I'm a sorcerer, and my grandson here is my apprentice.
We were just coming here because you can see the moon perfectly, and it's
one of our favorite places to conjure."
"Oh," this made very little sense to Misty, but she smiled and nodded
anyway. "We were just camping here for the night. I'm Misty Waterflo-"
Oak suddenly bowed and took her hands. "Princess Misty! It is a
pleasure to make your acquaintance! And please, introduce your
companions!"
"I am Bard Ashton of Pallet, and this is Sir Brock of Pewter,"
Ash took introductions into his own hands. "The pleasure is ours."
"Why are you with these two if you're a princess?" Gary asked,
giving Ash and his black attire a dubious glance.
Professor Oak finally released her hands, and she restrained
herself from sighing with relief. "Well, I don't exactly like being a
Princess, so I thought about running away. And then for my sixteenth
birthday present my father paid this crazy Bard to sing me a prophecy."
She motioned to Ash. Both Oaks suddenly became very much
interested in him.
"You sing prophecies?" the Professor looked as if all of his
dreams had come true at once. "How? Could you perform one now? Could
you explain exactly how you-"
Ash held up his hands, and the Professor fell silent immediately.
"I just do, Professor. If someone is sitting directly in front of me, I
start playing and then suddenly I'm awake again and everyone is
applauding me."
"So, you don't remember what you sing," Gary gave him a
thoughtful look. "Hmmm, quite the puzzle. Could you demonstrate?"
Ash held out a hand. "I'll need the proper motivation."
"Oh, yes, payment," Professor Oak dug around in the pockets of
his robes. The search came out unsuccessful, however. "Drat. All of
our money is in the Tower. Would you be so kind as to join us for tea?
We have several guest rooms."
"We happily accept your offer," Misty said before Ash could open
his mouth.
"Princess, we have no acquaintance with these people," Brock
hissed to her when the Oaks had their backs turned. "How do we know they
aren't evil sorcerers?"
She smiled. "Brock, have you ever met an absent minded evil
sorcerer? If they were real evil sorcerer's, they would have announced
themselves with a flash and a bang. And if they are anyway, we'll know
because of their tower."
Brock reluctantly agreed, emptied his pot and put it back with
their supplies, dousing the fire as he did so.
Ash made no comment as he repacked and tied his saddlebags.
Apparently the prospect of getting paid, having a place to stay, and free
food was enough to drive any suspicions away.
The tower was only a little ways off, after a strenuous climb up
the side of a mountain. Like all Sorcerer's towers, it was perched on
the brink of a cliff, shining a dazzling white in the moonlight. A
single, dark wooden door was the entrance, and once inside Misty gasped.
Mirrors lined the curving walls, a broad, sweeping staircase
right at there feet carpeted with the finest red velvet. Huge silver and
crystal chandeliers lit up magically as they entered. On the ceiling
emerald dragons with topaz fire, knights in armor of silver, and every
other creature imaginable was depicted with gems and metal. Misty
couldn't stop looking up.
"This way!" Professor Oak led them up the staircase. Misty
stumbled so often that finally Gary grabbed her arm and led her up the
stairs.
The top of the stairs held a room entirely different.
They were obviously living quarters, with twisting halls and more
staircases leading to other rooms. The room was lit by magic, but no
chandeliers. It was comfortable, but not dazzling like the staircase.
It was clean, which was surprising, as the Professor hadn't mentioned
anyone else living there.
"You'll have to pardon the entry way," Professor Oak said a bit
sheepishly. "We do like to show off."
"Grandpa! Gary!" a girl a few years older than her burst into
the room. She was rather pretty, her pale skin complementing her dark
hair and big, expressive brown eyes. Her dress was excessively low cut,
showing off her impressively large chest.
Ash and Brock blushed. Ash quickly composed himself, but Brock seemed to
be lost to the world.
"I didn't know you would be back so soon!" she exclaimed, then
she saw the three travelers. "Oh, do beg pardon! I didn't know you
brought guests!"
"They were in the clearing, and the Bard has offered to sing a
prophecy for us," Gary shrugged. She hugged him and immediately began
kissing his cheek. "May! Stop that!"
"I'm sorry, little brother!" she teased, obviously enjoying the
embarrassment she was causing him. "Are these three your new friends?
Who are they?"
"I'm Princess Misty Waterflower of the Kingdom of Cerulean,"
Misty announced herself proudly. "These are my companions and
protectors, Bard Ashton of Pallet and Sir Brock of Pewter."
"'Tis surely a pleasure to meet thee, m'lady," Brock dropped to
one knee and took both of her hands in his. "I would go to the ends of
the earth to find a beauty such as thee."
"A princess and her two companions?" May jerked her hands from
Brock's, taking no notice of his compliments. He looked rather crushed,
and Misty felt a surge of anger on his behalf. "It's a pleasure to meet
you!"
"This is my grand daughter, May," Oak put one hand on her
shoulder. "My assistant should be around here somewhere."
"Here, Professor!" a boy about Brock's age with dark green hair
tied back by a strip of cloth bolted from a door on the right. He was
dressed in fine clothes, but his weathered face and callused hands told
the truth. He was a peasant.
"Ah, good," Oak's smile broadened. "This is Tracey. Tracey,
could you go get one of the gold chains from the vault, please?"
Ash's eyes lit up at the word "gold", and Misty shot him a
disgusted look. "Yes, sir!"
"Sit down, Ash," Oak motioned to a chair, and Ash took it. "Now,
Gary, you sit in front of him."
Gary did so, looking eager to hear a prophecy. Ash unhurriedly
slipped his lute from his shoulder and took a few moments to tune it. He
arranged it correctly and began to play.
It was another haunting, beautiful melody, but not quite as
captivating as the one he had played at the Ball. Misty supposed that it
was due to the fact that he wasn't singing to her. Once again, his eyes
glazed over and a faint aura surrounded him.
"Join the company three
Help to solve the mystery
Follow the crooked line
Everything in its good time
A sorcerer you will be
If you follow the three."
Now that she knew him, Misty noticed that after he sang the
prophecy and came to his senses, Ash looked very tired. Concern for him
that she didn't want arose.
Professor Oak didn't seem to notice Ash's exhaustion, but he had written
the entire thing down with much scratching of quill. He held it up and
frowned. "Hmmm, a prophecy in the form of a riddle. My dear Misty, do
you remember your own prophecy?"
"Only something about 'running free' and 'the Bard being my
guide'," Misty admitted sheepishly. "So far that's all come true, I ran
away, and now he's my guide."
"Speaking of which, you owe me," Ash held out one hand to her.
Apparently he also became very irritable after singing a prophecy.
Sighing, she dug one of her silk handkerchiefs ou of her handbag
and surrendered it to him. It was enough payment, at least, he didn't
complain.
"Well, how about I double your pay and you sing Misty's
prophecy?" Oak suggested.
Ash sighed and motioned for her to sit in front of him. She did
so. He didn't have to arrange or tune his lute this time, so he simply
began playing.
"The journey's begun
It's far from done
The ending of days
Is where your path lays."
The song was much shorter than the last one, and Ash had some
difficulty coming out of the trance. Misty was more than concerned now,
she was worried. He was pale, he was having trouble breathing, and bags
that hadn't been there before hung heavily under his eyes.
Once again, Professor Oak, or anyone else for that matter, didn't
notice. In fact, Oak was oblivious enough to ask Brock to sit in front
of Ash, insisting on paying him much more than was previously offered.
"Protect her."
All at once, without warning, Ash fell over in the chair, landing
in a heap on the wooden floor. May let out a soft scream (the perfect
pitch and volume for such an occasion, Misty noted), Gary and Brock
started, and Misty was at his side in an instant.
"Ash! Ash, are you alright?" she shook his shoulder. His eyes
remained closed, and his breath rattled in his throat. "Ash! Wake up!"
Professor Oak stood and nodded. "Just as I thought. The Bardic
Guild had no notion of what they were doing when they trained him."
"You did this on purpose?!" Misty turned to glare at him.
"Well, I had to know," Oak admitted sheepishly.
Sounding a scream of fury, she launched herself at him. "You
could have killed him!"
Brock grabbed her from behind. "Princess! Calm thyself!"
"If Ash doesn't wake up then I'll-"
"Then you'll what?" Oak cut her off. "Have me arrested?
Beheaded? Hung? Even if you hadn't of ran away from home, you'd be
powerless against me."
Misty didn't even let the sting of his words sink in. "If he
doesn't wake up I'll hit you so hard you won't come around until the next
time the moon is full!"
"You'd better hope he wakes up, Grandpa. I think she's serious,"
Gary was kneeling beside Ash, taking his pulse. "But really, Misty,
don't get so worked up. He's going to be fine in a couple of hours."
"Good," Misty's anger dissolved immediately. "He'd better,
worrying me like that when he comes to I'm going to wring his scrawny
little neck."
"Err...right," Professor Oak agreed nervously. "You do that,
Princess. I'm going to be in my study, trying to figure out what Ash
meant with these confounded riddles, May, please give them dinner and
show them to their guest rooms. Gary, get Ash into a bed somewhere."
With that, he made his escape.
Gary held his hand over Ash's prone form, and with a flashy swirl
of magic lifted him off of the ground. May silently ushered them into
the kitchen.
Misty stared up at the ceiling of her room sometime later, barred
by moonlight from the window. In a few short days she had come so far
from being the youngest, ugliest daughter of a King. What would tomorrow
bring? Adventure? Danger? Despair?
*Well,* she thought sleepily. *This is better than sleeping on
the ground.*