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Anthien City, Roria

I can think of nothing more dangerous than for society to fall into the hands of a hero.

-Emrett Dialoges, compiled works

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From a distance, Anthien City was a blinking smear on Roria's azure skies, floating in the clouds with its many outlying districts, suspended by a hypermatter reactor core. Built fifty-eight years prior, the capital of Roria was a city of the future, reaching heights that all humanity wished to attain, and fleeing from the depths from which it could fall. Stoic, secular, and scientific, the flying metropolis stood sentinel to hundreds of thousands of citizens and journeyfolk from all over the world's wide breadth.

But if one were to walk on the streets, minding the shifting, humming ground, the sights and sounds of Anthien would shock the stately professional. Unlike the days after its founding, Anthien was filled with hordes of radical fanatics, straining the city's resources as they took the sacred Hajj, the path of the Grand Bashar on his journey through Roria fifty-two years ago.

Colorful banners and images of the Chairman fluttered in the thin wind, with ignominious statues of Bronze side by side with images of Arceus and other lesser Elohim and Rorian deities. The central square before the city museum was a noisy place: there were spirit cultists that sold Spearow trained to screech a "call to heaven." Food was being sold by shouting vendors. Many things were offered for sale to the faithful: commentaries by the Grand Bashar imprinted in shigaweave books, exotic bits of clothing that were supposedly guaranteed "to have been touched by the Grand Bashar himself!" Another had vials of water that "came from Mitis Town, where the Grand Bashar lived in his youth."

Pilgrims and Pokemon from Roria and even some northerly regions bounced and gyrated through the throng in colorful clothing and skins and fur. The susurration of nervous feet on plazcrete was all about, while two performers were paid units to recite lines from the currently popular "Dialogue of the Grand Bashar and Delegate Armistead." Signs in both Kantoian and ancient Logarian runes bore angry slogans or reverential sayings. Love the good Chairman. He brought us out of the darkness with no desire for self-glory. He is Arceus's anointed; woe to the apostate!

Then the crowds parted around a pier by the old museum, noting a small figure standing atop it. He was a little man that looked to be about seventy, with a flowing green robe about him and a hood that covered his round face. His hair was golden, wrapped in dreadlocks down his shoulders. Two bandoliers crossed his chest, scoured with Logarian runes but filled with mud from many places around the world, either as a talisman or for some other purpose. People looked up in awe. After all, this strange man was clearly a figure from the past.

He called himself the Preacher.

As he stepped into full view with his entourage of priest-guards, some of them off-duty Rorian Commandos, he raised his arms over the crowd. Scattered applause greeted him, with noticeable pockets of hesitation. Quickly, the Rorian Commandos reached the unwilling persons and dragged them out of the square, while confiscating the Rotom phones of all present before the Preacher gave his address.

"I bring the Hand of Arceus," the Preacher shouted. "And that is all I bring! I speak for the Hand of Arceus, the Grand Bashar. I am the Preacher who tells no falsehood. I am a Pokedex Holder of the old order. I am the one called Emerald, He Who Brings Calm."

The uproar drowned out the hum of the city's reactor, and Emerald paused for it to die down before he continued with his ministry.

"The Grand Bashar," Emerald said. "Is the One Who Leads The Way. He is wise in the ways of the world. He creates his own wisdom. He hides from the sun and travels during the cool night. He is fruitful and his followers multiply over the land. The Grand Bashar is who we call the instructor-of-boys. That is a powerful base on which he has built his life, Bronze Tercano, who is the Great One among us."

The applause swelled again. Emerald caught a glance of a woman of about eighty in the crowd and almost faltered. Could it be her? The same hair, the coat, the worried disposition...but she was occupied in the north. Still...it could be her!

"Deep in the human mind, there is a need for logic, for cause-and-effect," Emerald said, burying his fear. "But the true universe is always a step beyond logic. The Grand Bashar has seen beyond this fallacy and given such duties to Arceus. The Original One had then inspired him as his messenger, and thus the Grand Bashar is an apostle of the highest order. Those who do not wish for something are far more likely to deserve it."

The Preacher saw her again. Yes, it was as he feared. His guards could remove her from the square, but he would never do such a thing to her of all people. She was coming forward, slowly, slowly, not quick enough to draw alarm, but she had her own goals. It would be best if he end this, and quickly.

No, it was too late. She was before the raised altar! He took action, lowering his body. "Remember the Grand Bashar's words!" Emerald yelled. "He said, 'I am going to rub your faces in the things you try to avoid!' How else do humans invent such traps that lead to mediocrity? How are we trapped in our own indulgence so easily? That is what his words meant!"

The crowd cheered again, and Emerald grabbed the woman's arm without faltering or hesitation. Leaning closer, he pitched his voice for her ears alone.

"Stop trying to pull me out of this, Crystal. I know what I am doing."

He released her, and she stepped back into the throng. Hands reached out to touch the Preacher, but some reached with careful tenderness, terrified of what they might find under that robe. Emerald was lifted up by his guards at the Preacher's bidding and carried away into Anthien Museum.

The crowd murmured, wondering where the Preacher had gone. Crystal continued to wait until the thickness of the mob had dispersed, staring at the podium. There could no longer be any doubt. Emerald had gone beyond her help.

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The people who can destroy a thing control it.

-Chairman Bronze Tercano, private journals

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Henry and Casey crouched in the snow behind a frozen oak, seeing the cluster of Eiscue bob up and down with the stolen ice cane in the gorge. They did not turn it into a toy for amusement or attempt to eat it; rather, they treated the staff and the Poke Ball with great care. It would be wise to understand why they took them and what they intend to do with them before I seize both.

"I think I know where they're headed," Casey said, smiling. "The place where I first met Peta! Look at that clearing just over yonder!"

The Eiscue filed into a slight depression before a great forest that clutched to the valley in many meandering rows, with a small, level stage of ice within it. Like a coven of witches, the Eiscue carried the Poke Ball and the half-tempered cane into the midmost point, before taking up a chorus in their shrieking voices.

"Back before I went to the Slumbering Weald to get some Wishing Stars for Magnolia," Casey whispered, "I found this place while gathering data on Eiscue. Just watch, something is about to happen!"

The alpha Eiscue opened the Poke Ball and Mr. Rime emerged with no hesitation. The mood of the gathering changed from somber to jovial as more Pokemon emerged from the forest, taking a seat around the fire. Henry reflected on how the northeastern mountains had not been fully explored even by watcheyes, and that Pokemon mostly minded their own affairs.

"Look at what the Pokedex says!" Casey said, watching the ceremony begin. "Mr. Rime performs comedy skits for wild Pokemon! Back when I came here, I watched its psychic movements for so long that I fell asleep. I must have neared the brink of death in the cold, but Peta and the other Pokemon helped me. We hit it off, and it joined my team."

Mr. Rime began to dance, and Henry immediately knew that it naturally possessed neuro-stim techniques in its movements. Averting his eyes from the addictive motions, Henry assumed that once Melony had captured Mr. Rime in the wild, the other Pokemon wanted it back. As soon as he had let his eyes off the Poke Ball...

After the short routine was over, the Eiscue handed Mr. Rime its staff. Henry's pupils widened, and he leaped forward with a howl, tumbling into the ice and seizing the cane from Mr. Rime's open hands with a greedy swipe. "Mine! I haven't finished fixing it yet! It's all mine!"

The Eiscue wheeled in anger and began to lift their stubby arms, and a cold glow filled the air. Casey sent out Kilo, parting the frost attack with a jet of water. Henry clutched the cane and scrambled for shelter. "You and your one-track mind!" Casey yelled, seeing that the entire assembly of Pokemon was going into a riot.

An Eiscue departed from the main contingent that was intent on swarming Henry, running for Casey over the ice. Terrified, Casey reached down for her Poke Balls, but the Pokemon had already reached her.

The little creature's flippers joined with Casey's hands around her torso, and the Pokedex Holder felt a faint memory in that touch.

"Peta, is that you?"

The Eiscue nodded its ice cube of a head.

"Peta!"

"That's great, Casey!" Henry yelled, running out of the way of another blast. "I could use some help!" Fumbling with her Poke Balls in the cold, Casey sent out Tera. "Peta, Tera, help Henry!"

Flurries of blasts tore holes in the arena as Henry ran across the slick ice, diving for shelter. Henry's Pokemon went into the melee as Mr. Rime made its advance through the ranks of its underlings to Henry, reaching out to seize the cane. Henry worked with unrivaled fervor, cutting tools and shigawire brushes from his pockets moving across the long staff in flickers of grey against white.

Mr. Rime shot another blast at Henry, and the boy went flying out of the clearing. The staff hurtled into the air, and the psychic mastermind caught it. "There!" Henry said, panting. "Now, it's yours! Do what you will with it!"

Peta broke free of the mass of shuffling Eiscue in the dying battle, and Mr. Rime struck the cane down on its head. The ice around its face shattered into cold mist, the snow around Peta melting as heat and light emanated from its form change. Anomalous nullentropy particles protected Peta's own calorie reserves from depletion as it morphed into its Noise Form.

"It seems as though the cane is hard enough to be used in battle," Henry said, satisfied with his work. "It might still need improvements, but it ought to suffice for the Gym Battle." He activated the Rotom Phone, sending a message to Circhester Gym. "Melony must be summoned, and I shall receive my payment."

Casey sat with the Eiscue to watch Mr. Rime start its enticing routine, posturing with its reforged staff. "We still have time to wait! Why not watch the dance?"

Henry obliged, but he thought about how the Pokemon's movements had ensnared him before. However, he knew how much consternation he would cause Casey if he exercised too much restraint. Despite his misgivings, he knew now that subtlety and self-control were his enemies.

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Circhester City

A process cannot be understood by stopping it. Understanding must move with the flow of the process, must join it and flow with it.

-the Bibliographers Creed

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Sonia walked through Circhester's lamplit roads, stopping before a dwarfish building that contained the fifth tapestry of the Two Heroes. Hammerlocke Library had given her the location of the continuing set of five; the final mural had been moved to the homely Bob's Your Uncle eatery in an auction, located a brief walk away from Circhester Stadium.

She thought of her own investigation, but other memories rose like unwelcome shades to derail her focus. Leon had been in Hammerlocke! Leon! What a distorted mess the meeting had been. Not a word was spoken between them. Stupid! Foolish! Past events would not be forgotten so quickly, except by nature's natural course untainted.

Stepping into the restaurant, the chef eyed her, enjoying the view. "How might I serve you, little lady? It's dangerous to be out at night in these parts."

"I'll manage," Sonia curtly said. "I came here to take a look at that mural that you have, the one with the two princes. Where are you keeping it?"

"In a back closet," the man grunted. "Being the head chef and manager of this fine establishment, I got it at an auction for dirt cheap. It seemed like it was valuable, but every time I tried to sell it, something would stop it from going well. Almost like the blasted thing didn't want to be sold. It began to look like I fished it out of a pile of garbage after a few years of keeping it out in the open. That thing can rot, for all I care."

"Could I see it?"

The manager led Sonia to an old storage room and fished out the moth-eaten tapestry for her to examine. On the fabric, the faded visages of two princes bearing candles of gold stood facing each other, with the images of a sword and shield upon two thrones between them. "Keep it if you want," the manager said. "Are you gonna eat anything?"

"No, thank you," Sonia said, smiling. "This is enough."

As the man left, Sonia thought it strange that such a valuable tapestry would have been removed from the Hammerlocke Vault. The four others moldered away, removed from public consciousness. This one was almost entirely ruined, thrown away to disappear from history. Why would such valuable pieces of art be mistreated in such a fashion? Perhaps they had been intended to end up here: relics of a past era.

Sonia remembered the events that precipitated Bede's disqualification in the Gym Challenge. The watcheye footage had shown the blasted hole in the mural, followed by the usual assault from the media, Macro Cosmos's address of condemnation, and the Association vowing to repair the damage that had been done. It seemed that a gap over one thousand years old had been discovered behind the antique rock face, filled with several Wishing Stars. More things had been found within, but of what nature the public still did not know. The ruins had been cordoned off.

A new idea dawned on her. On her Rotom Phone, she brought up the best quality tape available of the incident: the footage available through Rose's combat drone. All private entities had to broadcast their feed to an Association-controlled military network, one that Magnolia allowed Sonia limited access to. Sonia input her own eight-digit security credentials and was brought to a website where the released images could be seen. Rose would never have accounted for little old me snooping around in his public archives...

After a few minutes of narrowing down her search parameters, she found the drone footage. There was Bronze and the others...past Bede, Sonia could see a glint through the shattered mural. She had Rotom heighten the resolution, and zoomed in.

What she saw shocked her. In a mound of hewn stone was a carving of two canine beings, one with a valiant sword in its maw, with the other being guarded by a sacred shield. Grainy Galarian runes of the kind used by the ancient Tribe of Theon dotted the base of the rock, which Sonia recognized as dating back at least eight hundred years. It was a symbol neither of one nor the other, but a mixture of the two beings without priority.

The footage stopped, and Sonia dropped her Rotom Phone in shock. The mural had been placed over the other statue. Ideas and theories whirled in Sonia's mind: a rival tribe, saboteurs, a conspiracy by Macro Cosmos, a Pokemon of sorts, meddling from the Association, or any one of thousands of possibilities. Perhaps the shrine of the two creatures had been outmoded by an anthropocentric worldview among the Galarian tribesman? Or was it something more sinister and modern?

She felt as though whoever had hidden the sculpture had done so in order to erase what was being depicted in it. Surely someone else must already know about this! In any case, she would have to tell Magnolia.

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Circhester Stadium

I see now that the circumstances of my birth were irrelevant, and that what I have done and will do with the gift of Life determines who I am. This is sufficient enough...but if the universe was ordered to have only the criteria of Life as the requirement for purpose, then all things ought to feel at home in such a place. If the only verb that matters is "to be," then why do I still feel an insatiable longing for someplace beyond this one?

-Mewtwo, collected comments from Blaine

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"I see," Melony said in the vaunted dome of the arena lobby. "Your work will be satisfactory, albeit not wholly complete. It also seems that Mr. Rime and I have had a falling out."

"What do you mean?" Henry said. His senses were still dulled from the performance, but her words brought up a glimmer of recollection like scrap metal from an old dredge. "It's come out of its Poke Ball. Was that not the problem that you faced?"

"Only a while back," Melony said, "I happened upon Mr. Rime's show. In the middle of it, I fought and captured Mr. Rime without giving it a chance to prepare itself. That was when its cane broke. I have since learned not to act solely on first impressions, no matter how enticing they seem."

"You just forced it to battle with you?" Casey cried. "I would expect more from a Gym Leader!"

"I believed that if I did not capture Mr. Rime then and there, I would never get such a chance again," Melony said. "My logic, as flawed as it was, believed that all of the world should see such a performance, not just a few Pokemon in one of the last remaining wild places of the world. I assumed that would be what any performer would most want, that being famed was their greatest Ambition."

She sighed. "I have a tendency to assume that what makes me happy will also please others. I get carried away. There have been times in which it works, but mostly I dig an ever-deeper pit for myself. In capturing Mr. Rime, I thought that I would gain the confidence to fix other things that I have marred. But in my folly, I marred Mr. Rime. I have nothing left to offer it, and I never truly did."

Melony set Mr. Rime's Poke Ball in Henry's hand. "If you love your child, you must set them free. Mr. Rime seems quite happy with you, young master Sword."

"I will accept Mr. Rime as my companion," Henry said. "Back in days long past, such an exchange of Pokemon could be done without fear. Pokemon would take new masters at a whim, but now they seem to have grown to distrust us more than in any other era. This is a sad thing, and we must do all we can to change it." He turned to Mr. Rime. "I name you Sutekkin, after my late uncle, which in turn is old Galarian for 'song.' Thus, I shall sing one befitting you."

As Magnolia stepped away to take a sudden call, Henry began to softly hum.

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The world was young, the mountains green

No stain yet on the Moon was seen,

No thing was lain on stream or stone,

When Iscan walked, he walked alone.

The world was fair, the mountains tall,

In Elder Days before the Fall

Of mighty kings in Jublife

And Logaria, who now beyond

The Western Seas have passed away,

The world was fair in Iscan's day.

"That was very good," Melony said, clapping. "Perhaps you could sing the full version at some point. Not a Galarian lay by any means, but truly, it was better before these times. Wherever you go in this world, you will find the same concrete cities, the same hopeless people, and the same empty dreams and promises. I would have much rather lived in the past than now or in the future."

Magnolia had returned, brushing past hordes of League spectators. "Marvin, Casey, Henry! Sonia has some news for us at the Bob's Your Uncle restaurant!"

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Ballonlea Stadium

Bede stood across from Opal's elacca-wood desk, kicking away the chair that was offered to him.

"Well, if you won't sit, you can stand," Opal sniffed. "I knew that you would come to me in the end. You would never brush my offer away. Rose on your left, your past behind, Tercano on your right, and Paradise ahead...what shall you do, my Bede?"

"Spare me your bitter comments and cynicism!" Bede yelled, thrusting the torn letter that had been sent to him across the wood. "Even summoning me here was an act of bitterness in itself, but I will not be treated so lightly!"

"I never said anything about treating you lightness or malcontent," Opal said. "Excellent, excellent. I can feel your anger, your hatred. It gives you drive, makes you stronger. You must prove to me that you can rule yourself, and then I shall show you how to rule others...something none of your ancestors learned. You pass my test, young human. Now, where do we begin?"

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Membership in a conspiracy, as in an army, frees people from the sense of personal responsibility.

-Bronze Tercano, private journals

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"Sure, keep it," the manager said to Magnolia, meeting her gaze across the counter. "I never should have bought that useless scrap heap in the first place. It ought to be in better hands with you."

"I am shocked that such a valuable tapestry found its way to your back closet," Magnolia said. "But strange are the chances of the world. Thank you for your time."

Turning to Sonia, Magnolia became deathly serious. "I smell a conspiracy of some sort. Someone or something has gone to great lengths over the past to make the Galarian people remember what they want them to remember. This tapestry should be kept in the RV for study, along with the drone footage."

"Henry is doing well against Melony, I assume?" Sonia asked. "That Mr. Rime he had with him seemed fired up for battle!"

Magnolia checked a wallscreen, seeing Henry in the thick of his battle. Mr. Rime's ice attacks were almost hitting Melony herself, and Magnolia surmised that its former master stood no chance against the terrifying singleness with which the Pokemon attacked. A small bar graph showed that Marnie and Hop had battled Gordie and Melony respectively, and won.

"Things are going well," Magnolia said. "Now, as for the information that we possess here, we must keep it secret and safe. Once we find definite evidence of a conspiracy, we will take our case to Tercano. He has the resources to look into this."

She sighed. "Something big is brewing, I can know it. Signs follow with precision through history: Macro Cosmos is afraid of something. Tercano might have something to do with it. Roria is massing for war, not publically, but I have channels to learn of these things. We are on the cusp of a great discovery, but that is only one of a strand of combined events that will bring Galar to another era."

"More things are happening in the outside world as well," Sonia mentioned. "The Aether Foundation is diverting its funds from conservation efforts into large asset pools to buy military-grade weapons! The Devon Corporation and Silph Co. are talking of rebellion. Cultural resistance to the current regime in Unova and Kalos is increasing. BW Agency is-"

"Empty dreams," Magnolia snapped. "Nothing will ever come from rebellion. And if Black and White Agency starts to produce any more anti-Rorian films, then you know as well as I do what will happen. Do you remember Poketch Company and Greater Mauville Holdings? They stood against Tercano's fanatics and paid the price. Jihad. They were annihilated, Sonia."

"Then BW Agency is next in the long march of the Rorians," Sonia muttered. "The first Rorian Jihad after Tercan became Chairman...one hundred thousand dead, the sterilization of many towns, the demoralization of the rest of the world, forty religions wiped out! The fires of destruction, the blaze of an inferno sweeping across the Earth against all those who opposed Tercano's rule! At least things have calmed down in recent years."

"Yes," Magnolia said, venturing into the cold outside air. "Tercano wanted none of this, but he could do nothing to stop it. He once told me that wanting to protect the world was his greatest mistake. He wishes that things would be as they were before he became Chairman. He says that a Pokemon could have done a better job than he has done. That is so terribly, terribly sad."

"At least Tercano is allied with us," Sonia said. "We can rely on his protection when opening this can of worms."

"Unless he is responsible for the conspiracy."

"If that is the case, then we are doomed to fail."