This story was co-developed by Titan127 and beta read by ShonnaRose.
[3-3] Heir to the Throne
Any single one of them could be guilty.
The weight of names sitting at the table was truly impressive. The entire Sinnoh League Council sat with city representatives and League Trainers from across the region, including the Elite Four, the Gym Leaders of Veilstone and Sunyshore, and Dr. Cornelius Rowan. The Viceroy inhabited half of a pair of thrones at the far end of the long table—the other was barren. Several guest speakers were also attending from other Regions, including one Champion of Hoenn who elected to work alongside the Sinnoh Region due to his close relationship with Saber's mother.
Dr. Stone, for the moment, hovered off the courtroom table by the wall of the courtroom, not yet feeling his input necessary. Saber hadn't yet found use for himself either. Instead, he rolled his Dragonite's Poké Ball in his hand as the forest-haired agent hovered over his shoulder, contemplating letting it loose on the room.
Their faces were somber, their words dry. All of them acted as if his parent's deaths were a tragedy. But it could simply be an act. There could be a horrid smile hidden behind one of their masks. Or multiple.
The debate continued without him, and it raged due to a rambling League councilman standing to speak to the Viceroy. He'd been going for a long time. Dr. Rowan made sure everyone noticed him flash his pocket watch.
"Perhaps Jayden Marinus? He was on the list somewhere," the councilman said.
"That upstart who talks in third-person?" Bertha Kikuko cut into the question, though she wasn't its intended recipient. The old woman brushed coarse hairs out of her eyes. "We need a leader, not a wackjob."
Her three peers sat in union beside her. They were quiet, perhaps unusually so for people like Mr. Aaron Feil and Mr. Flint Oba, but Saber couldn't imagine they were any more ecstatic than she was to be there.
"He was a member of the Elite Four."
"For a year," Mrs. Kikuko added. The current members nodded in agreement.
"I agree here. We could recall every prior member of the Elite Four and they probably wouldn't be more qualified than who we have," said another representative.
The man had suggested numerous other names before, only for them to be shut down by the panel's deliberation. He turned to the highest official in attendance, who held his head high but his shoulders low.
"Then let's go with one of them, Viceroy Nølsikker. The people of Sinnoh look up to the Elite Four, and they'd be thrilled to have one represent them," the councilman said.
"No." The Viceroy's single word ceased any outlying whispers.
"With all due respect, sir, what do you mean 'no'? We've been arguing for an hour and we're still no closer to having a new Champion."
"I think it's you who doesn't understand the problem, Moltebær. We have no suitable candidates on record," said the Viceroy, who seemed agitated even further by the harsh lighting. "We're here because we're amending the qualification process, not selecting from a pool."
"No, sir. What I don't understand is how this is even possible. How are your Elite Four not qualified to succeed the Champion when Johto had a new Champion ready days after the vacancy was created?"
The vacancy.
It made Saber want to stride across the surface of the table and send that man's teeth down his throat. He fought his inner self and the thumb placed firmly on the Poké Ball button. Fortunately, someone else represented his anger in a much more collected fashion.
"I'd suggest you rephrase, young man." Dr. Rowan's words, soft as they sounded, hid enough malice to make Saber's next heartbeat sting. The entire room, including the speaker, must have felt it too.
"That is, err—" The man stumbled. "Regardless, the Elite Four are strong candidates to stand where Mrs. Masuta did."
"That's 'Doctor'," pressed Dr. Rowan, only to be silenced by a hand from the Viceroy.
"If I may, our current Elite Four is a joke. A college student, retiree, a rapper, a therapist. Pardon my bluntness, but none of them are Champion material, strong Trainers as they are." The Viceroy pointed to each of them in sequence, and Saber could see Mr. Feil and Mr. Oba shy away from the remarks, though Dr. Furutre seemed to nod in agreement. The Viceroy made himself clear. "We have no candidates."
"That's bullshit!"
The councilman slammed on the desk and rose to his feet, snapping anyone who had dozed back to the issue at hand. His eyes searched the room for some form of support. He slipped off his coat and tossed it back over his chair to address the meeting.
"I don't know if you've noticed this, Mr. Viceroy, but we've had people rioting in the streets for the past week. People are restless, they're anxious, and they're scared without a Champion to guide them," he said.
"You speak as if we have an enemy to fight, Moltebær," said the Viceroy.
"Two of our greatest Champions were assassinated. And you seem to have forgotten when the Galactic Company turned the entire League on its head when we did have a Champion," the councilman said. Whatever chatter had surrounded him ceased on the word he emphasized, and he pointed to the seat beside the Viceroy. "The longer we leave that throne empty, the more we leave ourselves vulnerable to a crisis."
The councilman's assault ceased, and they stared at each other for a few seconds. The Viceroy was on the verge of ordering security to remove the man for disturbing the meeting's peace, but he chose an alternative option.
The man closed his eyes and angled his head downward. "I appreciate your… feverish opinion on the matter, but I believe it's imperative we avoid causing damage ourselves by settling on a mediocre leader. We need a true Champion."
On that point, the debate ceased. The councilman was defeated not by failure of his own but by the calm authority of his superior leaving no opportunity to continue. It wasn't a loss if the opponent refused to play.
The room turned to proposing amendments for the qualifying process. They were attempting to reduce the requirements to a more reasonable level to let them test Gym Leaders and other strong Trainers in the Region. To some degree, Saber agreed. Hundreds of hours of community service and/or previous experience in public office, a high battle record including local and international tournaments, and a strong public reputation was a high bar for nearly everyone. But on the other hand, he found truth in the Viceroy's logic.
The Sinnoh Region needed its best. His mother was the best, and Sinnoh's people wouldn't stand for anything less after being in her care for over a decade.
That was why he was here. He wasn't present just to throw his doubts around, to search for the fangs in their mouths. He was here to pull them through the gate where they refused to tread. Saber finally spoke for the first time in the debate, seeing his chance among the process deliberations. He took advantage of a lull between debate and rose to his feet.
"I propose we invoke the Succession Clause."
Saber's invasion of the floor earned a curious glance from the Viceroy and nearly everyone else in the room. He was technically only a guest, meant to merely listen and ask questions, not provide an opinion of his own. Many of them asked if he even belonged in a courtroom, as if they didn't believe him mentally sound enough. They didn't know him well.
"It's an outdated, aristocratic provision, Mr. Masuta," said a councilwoman.
How upstanding of them to act like the Pokémon League wasn't both of those things. He pressed on, drawing from his recitals. "People hold value in lineages, and they will root for a leader if they believe them to represent the ideals of their predecessor. It's a comfort. When Mr. Pierrick took over as Gym Leader in Canalave after his father, the community accepted and supported him with open hearts and open arms. The same recently happened with Mrs. Kyō in Fuchsia, Kanto."
"They were both well-vetted professionals who had served the League for years. Lineage wasn't why they were chosen," said the Viceroy.
Saber took it on himself to be bold. It didn't matter that he was in the presence of major League authority. Their indecision on this matter proved that their "authority" was lacking, and their weak plan would only paint them as weaker leaders despite the Viceroy's intention.
"I must remind you, Mr. Viceroy, that there is only one person in the room who has participated in the World Trial," he said.
Suddenly, the panel was talking. Whispers overtook the councilpersons, city representatives, and guests like the spreading embers of a wildfire, but the room wasn't fully ablaze. Someone else decided to add to the kindling, a voice standing right beside him. The forest-haired agent.
"If I may add, Mr. Viceroy, I've watched him train before. He's already surpassed his father."
Saber sharpened his gaze at the man, who locked eyes with him between his thick locks before returning to the enemy at the end of the table. What was he attempting? It was an outlandish claim at best, as Saber had never once beaten his father in battle.
"That is to say," said the man, "he sparred his Pokémon against his father's multiple times today, and every one of his Pokémon was victorious."
That was the spark. Now the entire room was ablaze with conversation, with an excitement that had been missing in the week's vacuum. The Viceroy ordered everyone to quiet and conquered the room once again.
He leaned back into his chair and connected himself with Saber, who sat at the opposite end of the long table. There was curiosity inside him, but he didn't let it overpower him. The rest of the representatives faded into nothing. The two men stood on opposite sides of their own battleground. Behind his calm, locked fingers on the desk, Saber could see him raise his sword to strike.
"Do you truly believe that a grieving college boy could represent the best interests of Sinnoh?"
Grieving. What a joke. Saber blocked the attack. "I won't deal in belief, Mr. Viceroy. I'm ninety-nine percent the best option you have."
The Viceroy pretended to busy himself with the papers in front of him. He didn't relent and swung his blade again. "Aside from the examination, you do meet the requirements. But there are others who can say the same, and many with more League experience than you. What makes you better?"
"Ask your colleagues, sir."
Using all his willpower, Saber broke free from the place he had been trapped. Dialogues still encompassed the room, and he could hear his name emerge within each of the whispers.
The Viceroy accepted his dare and called out to the Gym Leader of Veilstone. Ms. Hiltja straightened in her seat, looking out-of-place among the rest of the suited participants due to the bandages wrapping her uncovered arms and chest.
"What do you know about Dr. Masuta's son, Maylene? Speak off the cuff," said the Viceroy.
The Gym Leader hesitated. The Viceroy grinned. Saber's fist tightened in the extended pause, cursing himself for letting the test escape his own hands. If she had nothing to say, there would be nothing left to say. He had to put his faith in her like a Champion would.
"He's probably the most impressive Trainer on the planet under the age of thirty," Ms. Hiltja said. "I've watched him in a few tournaments. The Orange Cup, the Goldenrod Showdown, the Unova PWT. The crowds always seem raring to go whenever he or his sister take the field. I'm not much of a gossip, though."
Was that strong enough armor to weather the relentless assault? Saber didn't know. The Viceroy didn't let him linger and probed another attendee. This time, it was his own secretary sitting amongst the council.
"Oh, I, umm—" The woman stumbled over her words. "I subscribe to an online Trainer's magazine. Articles about rising stars, personal interviews, that kind of thing. I've seen him on front-page scoops at least three times."
His sister hated that they could never truly escape prying eyes, just like their parents, but now it was working to his advantage. He could feel the steel of his sword sharpening.
"I'm honestly a huge fan," said someone. "I talk—talked—about the Masuta family with my friends all the time. They just seem so… righteous.
"Yeah. I could get behind him as Champion," said another.
"Have you seen his Dragonite? It's just like his father's."
"Didn't he help arrest the Rockets in Johto?"
The Viceroy's grin slowly disappeared as he obtained more testimonies from the audience. What remained was, surprisingly, permission to move forward. Perhaps it was because the Viceroy wanted to finally end this meeting and escape the awfully inconvenient lighting.
Saber summoned all the courage he had. He came here for one reason, one reason alone, and that reason was to be the person that Sinnoh needed right now.
The viceroy's makeshift interview was merely a formality. He knew perfectly well who Saber was as he, along with every other Regional Viceroy, attended last year's World Trial and saw him in action. They had seen him representing his family in charity events. One representative even mentioned his involvement against the Rockets. There was nothing else he needed to prove.
"I believe you have your answer, Mr. Viceroy. Even if others are more experienced, I'm the most powerful symbol in your arsenal." Saber raised his Dragonite's Poké Ball and tapped the button, letting his partner explode from stasis in a flash of red. He flared his wings and roared—the magnificent entrance earned gasps from the crowd. "By the Succession Clause, the Champion is required to name a close relative as heir apparent to the throne under extraordinary circumstances. The person my mother named… was myself."
Just as it had faded away, the grin on the Viceroy's face returned. This time, it wasn't used as a shield. He could see the support that the Region's representatives had given Saber, and he could feel the warmth he and his Dragonite spread through the crowd.
Sebastian Masuta would be Sinnoh's next Champion.
"I object."
It was the first time Saber had heard this voice today, and it rang painfully in his ears. He turned to the wall, where Dr. Stone pulled himself up to a more proper position.
"Mr. Viceroy and Mr. Masuta, with all due respect," he said, "you're engaging in a destructive fantasy."
Mr. Stone circled around the table to stand by Saber's chair, where they shared a tacit debate. Just as all the others, Saber couldn't see what was truly behind his face. He had no choice but to let the man speak, if only because his mother would have.
"If Mr. Masuta represented the Sinnoh League, even if he is technically qualified, it would benefit all but one person." Saber raised his head and Stone looked him straight in the eye. "Himself."
"Is the position not about sacrifice of self?" asked the Viceroy.
"It is. But see who you are suggesting make that choice. How old are you, Mr. Masuta?"
Saber gritted his teeth. "I'm twenty-one, sir."
"You mean to ask a twenty-one-year-old boy to throw away however many years of his life simply to speed up the selection process?"
Saber let his emotions bubble at the enunciation Stone put on the word "boy". He felt heat course through his veins, a burning embarrassment.
"By the time I became Champion, I had years to explore my personal passions," continued Stone. I had published multiple academic papers on my geologic findings, I'd been married once, I'd gone through dozens of hobbies and spent years of time with my Pokémon. And it was through those experiences that I gained the full understanding of my position. Of the lives we fight to protect. He deserves to live as he wanted, and not throw it away in some hollow obligation to his parents."
"This is what I want, Dr. Stone. I want the Sinnoh Region to thrive," Saber said. His voice cracked under the pressure of his own assertion.
"I don't have any reason to believe you wanted any of this."
Saber clenched his mouth shut. He could feel the eyes on him, and though he usually felt empowered in the spotlight, Stone's words were mortifying. He wasn't some broken child.
"Please, Sebastian. Believe me when I say that you aren't ready to take on this burden." The man put his hand on his shoulder. Its gentle contact made the tension in his muscles disappear.
"I agree with Steven Stone," said another person. It was Mr. Volkner Lyn, who sat casually—and disrespectfully, with his feet on the desk—at the table. "He was held hostage two weeks ago, and he would have died if not for your mother. Leave the position to people with less to lose."
The crowd murmured a soft, hesitant agreement. No matter how much they supported Saber's motion shortly before, they seemed convinced by Steven Stone's words. Saber gently brushed the man's hand off his shoulder as he looked to the Viceroy one more time. For a last chance.
"With that in mind," said the Viceroy, "we shall carry on our discussion of the process. Dr. Rowan, as a researcher and Trainer yourself, what do you—"
Saber felt the victory evaporate, and the Audience vanished from his mind. It wasn't worth listening to any longer because it was no longer his meeting. It was no longer his Region. It was no longer his world. He closed himself in at his isolated seat on the table's end, recalled his Dragonite, and held the Poke Ball close.
His pieces fell away. The gambit was all but broken by nothing more than some empty worry, a dismissal of all he had ever done and all he planned to do. He was just a kid. There was nothing he could do. He couldn't stand where his parents stood, whether they were alive or dead. He imagined Stone was laughing to himself. They were all laughing.
When Saber looked up to see their laughs, their jeers, their pity, they were gone. The conference room was yet another vacancy, just like the only chair that hadn't been filled since the meeting began.
A tap on his shoulder alerted him to the forest-haired agent, who had a concerned look hidden behind his strands. "Uhh, sir, shouldn't you be heading somewhere?"
"Did the Audience recess?" he asked.
"It ended an hour ago. I, err," the agent paused, "I didn't want to bother you."
His failure bound him to the chair. When he didn't move, the agent simply returned to patient attention. Saber didn't understand. "Why did you help me?"
The agent's measly offer of a shrug barely loosened his shackles. "I thought you'd be a good Champion. You remind me of Lance. The way he stood."
His statement was the smoldering ashes of the fire he'd lit under the courtroom. Someone believed he could match his parents, even if it was only one person. He couldn't deny that he needed that.
"I like you more than the other ones," said Saber. "Tell me your name."
Surprise contorted his face, as if he never expected to be addressed. "It's Redwood, sir." He hesitated. "Do you need to be somewhere?"
"...Yes. I'll be right with you."
This idea of a big debate conference scene was something I wanted to do years ago, and had been outlined for this story for basically as long as it had existed. I think the aesthetic just really hit me at the time, the idea of it being so big yet so empty at the same time.
Saber really does feel like an impressive force sometimes, and I almost keep forgetting he's only 21, thought I mentally picture him as a tall, beefy man more vividly than readers might. Whether or not it comes out fully on the page, he's towering for sure.
Come back for Part 4: Write My Life For you. See you someday!