18th Winter Moon, 907

Luna awkwardly played with the skirt of her dress as she and Monica were being carted to the opera house, another one of Asterio's strangely generous offers. According to Monica, it was at his insistence, apparently too paranoid of the girls coming across nighttime creeps, crooks, or, perhaps the highlight of his concerns, certain specters. Still, it beat walking.

Monica poked at the puffy shoulders of her dress, which was a modest red with some jewelry hanging around her neck. "Are you excited?" Monica asked.

Luna looked up, stayed quiet for a moment, then shrugged. "Eh."

"You could at least fake it."

"I'm not used to these fancy things, honestly. I go out of my way to avoid them whenever I can. I much prefer training with my group than attending operas."

Monica smiled. "Oh, there's nothing wrong with a little night out."

"I came to terms with that yesterday, but I'm still nervous."

Monica laughed. "About what? It's not like you are the one performing time. You get to sit in the privacy of a booth above the stage and relax." The Alcremie whipped out a pair of tiny binoculars on a stick. "I even brought my own opera glasses. Pretty cool, huh?"

"You've never been to an opera, yet you already owned those?"

"Actually, I got them from my sister. A 'going-away' present."

Luna blinked. "I was unaware you had a sister."

"Yep. Older sister. She's actually the reason I got my job as a royal archivist. She knew Prince Asterio and Princess Evangelina. From what they told me, they were pretty close."

"Where is she now?"

"I think she went to…ooh, what was it again?" She knocked her head a couple times, then grinned. "Ah right, she went to the Arcania Kingdom. Probably to help with some land disputes. She's really good at settling debates."

"Land disputes? With other kingdoms?"

Monica shook her head. "No, civil. With how little land the Arcania Kingdom has control of, small revolts have been breaking out to seize as much property as possible. Not even the kingdom's own subjects recognize Arcania as a kingdom anymore. So, land's either being taken over by the people, or revolts are being sprung against the current king. Mostly unsuccessful."

"How dreadful."

"Yeah, but I heard my sister's doing fine. She sends me letters every month." Monica laughed. "And she keeps pestering me to fix myself up. Always insisting I go to Asterio or Evangelina if I have any problems."

Luna smiled. "I wouldn't know the feeling since I'm an only child. I hope your sister's managing those land disputes well."

"Nothing's changed according to her, but she hasn't given up yet!" Monica exclaimed. "In my line of work, you always have to stay positive and never let the bad stuff hold you back."

Luna looked off to the side and chuckled. "I sure wish I had your optimism during my first week of training." Luna frowned. "Things are getting pretty bad in the far eat of Virdis. Wars, civil wars, mistrust; I'd hate for any of that to bleed over to the west."

Monica waved it off. "Oh, we're fine. I trust the Visconti family with my life. Sure, things aren't exactly…stable at the moment, what with the high nightly crime rate and murderous specter on the loose, but it could be worse. It's no dark age of Virdis."

Luna raised her brow. "Dark age of…Virdis?"

"Well, you see—" The carriage stopped before she could explain. She looked out her window and smiled. "Ooh, we're here. Come on, Moon Lady!"

Luna got up as the coachman opened the door and helped Monica out. He offered his hand to Luna. She almost didn't accept it, not use to such service, but relented her instincts and allowed him to help her down. She took to Monica's side and watched the coachman take his place back on the carriage.

"His Highness instructed me to return in three hours to pick you two up," the coachman explained.

Monica smiled. "Thank you very much. See you later!"

"Yes, thank you," Luna mumbled.

"Hyah!" The coachman whipped the reins and drove off.

Luna took a deep breath and sighed. "Well, no turning around now."

"That's the spirit!" Luna yelped as Monica seized her hand and dragged her into the opera house. "Let's go find our seats. Ooh, maybe we can get some fancy dinners, too."

Luna smiled weakly. She's enjoying this way too much.

"I am having second thoughts."

After Melissa spoke with Klaus regarding her nighttime plans, he agreed to cover for her. Granted, based off his brilliant excuse for her, she wondered how he was going to justify her bathing in the river for three whole hours. Princess or not, Melissa never took a bath for that long…on purpose. That was a particularly relaxing bath, that day.

Anyway, after the plans were set, Melissa went back into the capital to meet with Armant. He took her behind the opera house where a backdoor was available to them. Now that she was actually there, Melissa's lawful side started to show.

Armant, however, didn't seem to see the problem. "Hey, it's not like we're robbing the place. We're just going to sneak through, get up on the catwalk, then perch ourselves on the rafters above the audience."

"What if we get caught?"

Armant laughed. "Sucks to be them, then! Gahahahahaha!"

Melissa chuckled nervously. "Oh yes, of course…" She awkwardly rubbed her arm.

Armant knelt down and smiled. "Hey, I've done this sort of thing before. Beats paying for tickets. You just got to remember to not make yourself stand out."

"Are you sure no one will see us?"

"Positive. The audience will be dark while the lights are focusing on the singers. Plus, interesting little thing I learned on some routine business in the Great Gate Empire, most Pokémon tend not to look up when they aren't thinking about it. You could hide on the ceiling and not be spotted, so long as you aren't hiding above the other end of the hallway."

"Experience?"

"Forgot to pay some tabs at a brothel…again. Didn't take them long to find me, resulting in another debt when I escaped through a wall."

"…"

"Don't give me that look." Armant went up to the door. "Now, what's the quietest way I can bust the lock?"

"Uh, before we do that…" Melissa approached him and showed off a lockpick pouch. "I may have read up about picking locks in a book someone gave me."

"A Reference Guide to the Art of Hiding and Escape?"

"You know that book?"

"I get around a lot." Armant stepped aside and gestured to the door. "Be my guest."

Melissa smiled and started working on the lock. I guess Shingo's book did come in handy.

After showing their tickets, an attendant led Monica and Luna up to their private seats. A booth near the front of the stage. They sat down and took in the soft cushioning of the chairs, sinking back into the velvety plush. Luna involuntarily sighed and allowed herself to relax into the seat.

"The VIP treatment, just the way I like it," Monica said. "I should ask for favors more often."

Luna smirked. "Ask too many times and Asterio might lock you in the archives."

"Oh, we both know that won't hold me." Monica giggled. "So, you know anything about the opera?"

"Uh, not exactly. I'm guessing it's a comedy?" Luna's face fell as Monica turned away and suppressed her giggles. "What?"

"Oh, nothing~."

Luna blinked, then flashed a deadpan glare. "It's…not a comedy, is it?"

"Hehe~."

Luna facepalmed. "Welp, that's what I get for not researching. Still, is it any good?"

Monica let out the last of her laughter and shrugged. "Beats me. I told you, this is the first time I've been to an opera. I just know the story because I've researched it a few times back when I was in school. It's an old play that got adapted into an opera. I'm not surprised you aren't familiar with it. Echo Bell sort of appropriated the piece after it was found in the Great Ruins."

Luna's eyes widened. "It comes from the Great Ruins?"

"Well, yes and no. The writer's unknown, but it was written many years after the Great Kingdom was destroyed. If you want, I can translate for you."

"I'm sure I'll get the context." Luna folded her arms over the booth's banister and gazed down at the audience. "A play about the Great Kingdom, huh? Isn't it a bit weird to show something like that, especially with the history behind the kingdom?"

Monica shrugged. "Eh, if you complicate everything based off the actions of our ancestors, life would be depressing. Plus, it's supposed to be really good, so I don't think anyone thinks too hard about the content."

"I suppose so." Luna looked around at the audience, then asked, "Do you think Sir Gerard might be down there in the audience?"

"Well, he is a former knight. Wouldn't surprise me if he were a little well-off." Monica patted the Snivy's shoulder. "Oh, but don't let work get in the way. We're here to have fun, not give you wrinkles."

Luna pouted. "I don't have wrinkles."

Monica giggled. "You sure? Your brow's pretty creased there."

"Is not." She stopped glaring and rubbed her forehead. "It isn't, right?"

"I'm kidding." Monica slapped Luna across the back and laughed. "Loosen up on the serious attitude and enjoy the performance. Trust me, you will be blown away!"

"I thought you said you've never been here."

"I haven't! I'm just going off what Asterio and Evangelina told me! I think it'll blow you away!"

Luna sighed and shook her head. "If you weren't the royal archivist, I'd wonder how airheaded you are."

"Fair enough!"

Through a complicated series of tumbles, rolls, and acrobatics across the backstage, Melissa and Armant found themselves going up the ladder and onto the catwalk. As Armant assessed their next path, Melissa gripped the catwalk's guardrail and nervously judged the steep drop.

Huh, I would imagine living in a tree house for several months would cure my fear of heights. Nope, still there.

Armant finished scouting the ceiling and grinned. "Alright, we'll have to be quick. Once the lights start dimming, I'll carry us atop the stage and onto the ceiling's rafters."

"And you can…do that?" Melissa asked, looking her muscular companion over. "No offense, but you are not exactly…subtle in appearance."

"Gahahahaha!" Melissa flinched from his booming, definitely-not-subtle laughter. "Fair point, but a simple maneuver like that is nothing for me."

Melissa gripped tighter to the railing. "Yay…"

"I have to say, you picked a good night to go out to an opera," Armant said. "You haven't seen this one, right?"

"No, I have not."

"Well, if you're into historical stuff, you might like this one. It tells a fascinating story, if I do say so myself."

"That so?"

"Remember that stuff I said about myth bleeding into history and vice versa? Well, you might get something like that out of this. Not sure what you're after, but details, details."

Melissa took a deep breath and eased her hands off the railing. "Of course." She looked up and saw the lights dimming from the other side of the curtain. "Oh, it looks like the show is start—EEP!" Armant scooped her up in his arm and leaped off the catwalk.

He grabbed the edge of the stage's frame and flipped himself up through the curtains. He flew right out, barely detectable from the spotlights being operated by the illuminated Pokémon, and twisted his body so that he was gripping into the groove of the wall.

Melissa shivered within Armant's arm. This is Sadie's escape shenanigans all over again. She looked up and, despite the fear shooting through her head, had to compliment Armant's stellar finger strength. Despite how little he actually held onto, his grip didn't waver or shake from strain. His strength seemed boundless to a small fry like her. She dared consider him the reincarnation of Regigigas. A horrifying thought to be sure.

Armant crawled up the wall, occasionally looking down to see if anyone spotted them. Though his brief departure through the curtain may have drawn some eyes, no one alerted the guards of his presence. He continued crawling until reaching the ceiling, lifting himself onto the rafters. He hopped between a few before landing of the fourth farthest.

"Ah, a decent view of the stage." He sat down, as well as Melissa, who curled up as far from the edge as possible. Armant laughed and swung his feet carelessly. "Chill, it's not like I'll let you fall."

"I'm not nervous, you're nervous!" Melissa blurted.

"…Glad to hear!" Armant boomed with laughter and clapped his hand against her back. Melissa jolted forward and nearly slipped off the rafter. "Whoops!" He caught her cloak and lifted her back up. "Close one!"

Melissa smiled through her clear terror. Shall they write an opera of my unexplainable death? A missing princess who fell from the ceiling during one other performance? It will be spoken about for ages, I am sure. Thankfully, her terror subsided as Armant presented her with a candy apple.

"A little snack for the performance?" he offered.

Melissa smiled and claimed it. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He produced another from his bag and unwrapped it. He inhaled the scent and twirled it between his thumb and index finger. "See? Totally worth breaking in."

Melissa laughed sheepishly. "Yes, I suppose—ooh, the curtains are opening!"

Armant smiled. "Save the enthusiasm for when the singing starts, shrimp." Melissa hid her blush by nibbling on the candy apple and looked down as the lighting crew shined on the dark stage.

Fifteen minutes into the opera, and Luna was mostly getting what was happening regardless of the language barrier. From what she gathered, the piece took place sometime before the invasion on Virdis, where the ten kingdoms fought for the land. She couldn't quite place a time or date because, again, she didn't understand a thing anyone was saying. The clothes and backgrounds were the only visual clues on the performers, like a fancily dressed figure as the king or someone in rags representing a peasant.

Fascinatingly enough, each performer wore a mask representing of whoever they played. Since there seemed to be no indication of what species the characters were, these masks were used to represent what kind of person they were.

The main performer wore a mask with a strikingly gentle, yet stoic expression while dressed in rags. Despite the mask covering the face, it didn't impede the performer's amazing vocals. His voice projected throughout the audience, carrying a weight even Luna could feel from way up in the booth.

"(~When will it come? My destiny! When will it come? My destiny! Oh, when come my destiny! My destinyyyyyyyy~!)"

"(~His destinyyyyyyyy~!)" sang a chorus filling in the background.

"(~This beautiful land! I will show you my faith! I will protect your fertile lands! That is my…destinyyyyyyyy~!)

Luna nudged Monica, who appeared engrossed in the performance, and asked, "So, what exactly is he singing?"

Monica giggled. "He's singing about his destiny."

"I thought there was one word being repeated over and over."

"And he sings it with such power!" Monica cheered.

"So, context?"

"Right. Well, that there is Hawthorne, a humble potato farmer who wishes to join the king's guard to protect the weak from the unruly scum who still bring terror over Virdis. Though records say Virdis was a peaceful place devoid of crime, there were still those within that brought unrest to the commonfolk. Hawthorne wants to become a knight, but he's failed numerous times just to become a mere squire. Even so, he'll never give up!"

Luna smiled. "Well, what did I expect from a story of the past? Pretty simple motivation, but a welcoming one. So, if this was based off true events, what made Hawthorne so special to write about?"

"Well, it's not so much Hawthorne that the performance is about, but he was always seen as the leader of his group."

"So, it's about multiple people?"

Monica nodded. "Powerful group of knights, the keeper of Virdis' peace. They inspired hope in their time, symbolizing the peace and strength of Virdis. They were considered legendary figures of their time."

"That's an impressive status to uphold, I admit." Luna smirked. "Though, you now kind of spoiled the story."

Monica giggled. "Oops. Well, it's not like the title itself doesn't spoil what happens. I remember this one play I read about two lovers where the prologue outright tells you the star-crossed lovers died at the end. Still…" Monica balled into her sleeve and cried. "It was SO sad!"

Luna chuckled. "Well, in some ways, I can relate to Hawthorne, though not as a potato farmer. The rulers of Virdis centuries ago made sure they trained the best knights they could, if I recall correctly. There was a higher demand for quality, unlike nowadays where the rampant crimes and potential for war forces us to find any able-bodied Pokémon available to complete training. I wonder how strong these guys were."

"Pretty strong to have a play written about them. Hawthorne is someone of humble beginnings, in my eyes. You could see him as an untainted soul who sticks by his ideals of justice." She sighed and leaned onto the booth's railing. "Must've been nice living in Virdis those days. It seems surreal an era of peace lasted that long. I wonder what changed."

Luna shrugged. "Technology? Differences in views? Power? I can list a lot of possibilities."

"I just hope we don't actually plummet into a dark age of Virdis. That'd be bad."

Luna raised her brow. "You mentioned this dark age thing earlier. Should I be concerned?"

"Eh, it's less a prediction of the future and more a theory of yet-to-come. Actually, I only got interested in it after my sister left the kingdom, and because Asterio seemed heavily invested in it. It's…a bit weird to describe, if I'm being honest. It's like how certain tribes during the Savage Era predicted the end of the world. It's more a theory of their time that has yet to come."

"But what is this dark age?"

"Well…" Monica smiled. "Actually, I'll tell you a little later." Luna gave her a confused look. "Let's just enjoy the opera for a bit. It might help give context."

Luna narrowed her eyes, now suspicious. "If you say so…" She looked back at the stage and crossed her arms. A dark age of Virdis.

"(~Draw your blade~!)" cried the squire as he drew his weapon. "(~Prove your might! Show us! Show us who you are~!)"

Melissa's eyes sparkled with glee as she watched the scene unfold. Thanks to translations from Armant, she was up to speed on the plot. Hawthorne had finally managed to become a squire and was making friends with some of the other squires, except for one who seemed pretty adamant about testing Hawthorne's resolve.

"(~Very well~!)" Hawthorne drew his sword and held it up towards his fellow squire. "(~For my destiny…shall not end here~!)"

"(~Shall not end here~!)" the six other squires present sang.

Melissa gasped as Hawthorne and the squire performed a stylish duel across the stage, occasionally blurting lines at each other with the same grandiose passion she watched in the last forty-five minutes. "Amazing!"

Armant laughed. "You're easily impressed, though I don't blame you. For a fighter, this seems like nothing. To performers like them, performing all those actions while still capable of singing takes months, maybe years of practice."

And yet, it sounds much safer than my training, heh.

"Why are they fighting, anyway?" Melissa asked. "And who is that squire Hawthorne is fighting?"

Armant smiled. "Ah, that would be Ogden. Prince Ogden."

"Oh, I see." Melissa kicked her feet for a moment as she admired the fight scene, then flashed a shocked look at Armant. "Wait, prince?!"

"Yep."

"Why is a prince taking up the role of a lowly squire? I mean, no disrespect to squires, but why would a prince allow himself to become the apprentice of a knight—" Armant held up his hand, silently telling her to calm down.

"While such practice isn't commonly seen nowadays in royalty, what with the princes training with a knight than under them, the kings of old saw it as a humbly experience for the young princes to seek comradery with those of a lower class. It built trust and understanding. In those times, class was merely a status of wealth, but never a status of superiority. The kings of old saw best to earn the trust of the common folk by stepping down to their level as equals. So, Prince Ogden there merely wants to see what Hawthorne can bring to the Great Kingdom."

"I see." Melissa watched as the fight scene petered out, with the two squires shaking hands. "I wonder if I was ever like that. Believing I was superior to others."

"Hmm?" Armant chirped in, half-listening.

"Ah, nothing!" Melissa yelped.

Armant blinked, then burst into laughter. "You're a quirky bunny, shrimp!"

"Gee, thanks," Melissa whimpered through a mortified smile.

Armant sighed and held his chin. "I wonder how strong those guys actually were, especially Dufort."

"Dufort?"

"He's one of the knights who befriends Hawthorne. He's not that important to the original play, but…" He smiled. "He's a favorite of this story."

Melissa smirked. "Why? Is it because he was said to be strong?"

"You hit the nail spot on, shrimp."

"You certainly have a one-tracked mind."

"I parade it without shame." Armant leaned back on his hands and gazed up at the ceiling while Melissa turned back to the performance. "You know, shrimp…"

"Hm?"

"It's none of my business, but I was curious about your little leadership conundrum. You said you're in a rut?"

Melissa hugged herself. "Yes, in a way."

"Mind explaining?"

"It is kind of personal."

"Be as vague as possible, then. I may be an open book, but my pages can sometimes stick together."

Melissa frowned as she watched the next scene on stage, where the performers sang about their duties and development as squires. They sprung across the stage, performing acts of heroism or menial tasks such as transporting crates or polishing weapons. Grunt work starting at the bottom, but building up to what they've worked for. No different to how she worked to become a Forester. It seemed strange how different her life was isolated from the common Pokémon.

"What is the best way to prove one's strength?"

"Thanks for the drink."

"Anytime, Zech. Have a goodnight!"

The Cacturne gravedigger, Zechariah, exited the pub with a drink buckled to his side. Non-alcoholic, but something to keep him up through the late hours. A nutrient booster that gave everything a Grass-Type like him needed. His go-to for sluggish nights.

He lumbered back to his empty wagon and sat down on the edge. His trusty shovel lay nicely inside wrapped in cloth. He uncapped the juice and guzzled it down, keeping his eyes open as they slowly scanned the empty street. He pulled the canteen away and wiped his mouth.

"Five victims last night. No deaths. Must've been a slow night. Perhaps our nighttime crooks are finally wising up and changing venue." He stuck a toothpick in his mouth, then huffed with a tired smirk. "Or it really was just a slow night. So, who gets to ride in the wagon tonight?"

Zech liked to hangout on the streets where the most criminals seemed to join up at. It wasn't the nicest part of town, but it's not like any nobles came by this street. It was decent during the day, but practically abandoned at night. Zech had no reason to fear for his life.

Of course, who'd be stupid enough to mug the wandering gravedigger carrying the heavy shovel?

Zech closed his eyes and listened to the passing breeze, rustling the lanterns and jingling the chimes. A cold night, as expected on the Winter Moon. Would a blue moon appear on this night? A night where he could slumber beneath the stars? A single night of no work?

BANG!

Apparently not.

Zech looked over his shoulder and saw an Electabuzz fleeing from an alleyway while pocketing a revolver. The Electabuzz stopped in the middle of the street for a moment and locked eyes with Zech, whose face remained as unreadable as ever. Though the Electabuzz's hand hovered over the pocketed gun, a gust of wind blowing down the street jolted him into powerwalking out of sight.

Zech slid off the wagon and picked up his shovel. "Well Moros, blood has spilt once more." He unwrapped the cloth and tossed it into the wagon, then propped the shovel onto his shoulder. "Guide that soul to his destined fate. When we find him, shall it be a man or a corpse?"

His eyes narrowed as the wind picked up. A corruption twisted along the gust. A darkness, a black fog of sorts. Strands of darkness flowing from behind, somewhere close by. Specks of darkness flowing in the direction of the fleeing culprit.

With one last sip of his juice, he mumbled, "Time to go to work."

Over an hour in as the eight performers galloped upon their wooden steeds across the stage, engaging the rogue scoundrels of Virdis as they sang and moved across the stage, crossing blades with the heroes. Luna held her head in her hands and watched as Hawthorne leapt off his steed and took one of the bandits to the ground.

"(This fight is over!)" Hawthorne projected boldly. "(Thus we swear upon the banner we ride into battle, Virdis will be freed of the chains of corruption!)"

"(~Destroy the chains of corruption~!)" his team chorused.

Luna crossed her arms and lay her head in them. "So, the actual name for this piece is The Fall of the Great Knights?"

Monica nodded. "In English, yep!"

"They're certainly taking their time showing just how righteous these eight were, but I feel like I'm not getting the whole picture."

"Well, there's still another part after intermission soon. And this was from the perspective of someone who had a decent recollection of the events. Considering how much history got wiped out in the ruins, this is our only source of history, fictional or not. The nobility holds them in such high regards because the arts are a gateway into the past. It tells a story when the written word isn't enough, or doesn't exist."

Luna glared. "That makes sense, but…"

"But?"

"What caused that fall in the first place? Does the piece say?"

Monica shrugged. "There's a number of ways you could interpret the fall, one you might find soon enough. Did the ruins really fall just because of the ten invasions, or perhaps something contributed to it? You can't be an untouchable ghost of a kingdom and not have some juicy history to sink your teeth into."

"What's your take on it?"

"A difference in opinion, if you asked me. I've skimmed over the original play a hundred times over. There was some implied malice when things turned bad." Monica crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat. "You want to know what I think the Great Kingdom's ultimate flaw was?"

"What?"

"It was too peaceful."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. As far as this play is concerned, the Great Kingdom never had much reason to execute people. We've only found like two records of necessary execution. Other times, they simply jailed the criminal and help them reform. Virdis had pretty much everything to make a sustainable kingdom. Those who selfishly hoarded everything to themselves were dealt with, but ultimately spared. I don't say this like sparking is a weakness, but I'd say they were too soft to prepare for ten kingdoms all deciding to conquer the same bountiful land."

Luna frowned. "You got me there." She gazed down at the stage as the lights started to dim. However, a single spotlight shined onto one figure coming up from the left side, catching Ogden's attention with but a gentle beckoning of the finger. "Hmm?"

The cloaked performer glided across the stage and approached the prince. "(~Do you seek~?)"

Ogden recoiled and gripped his sheathed blade. "(Do I seek what?)"

"(~Your love for this mighty land. An inextinguishable flame. A flame of passion and righteousness~!)" The figure circled around Ogden. "(~Do you fear, might prince, the call to war~?)"

"(War? What is the meaning of this? Who are you?)"

"(~To save what you love, embrace the light! The goddess of life, feel her majesty! With her powerrrrrr, your kingdom…will be reborn~.)"

Luna, though unable to understand the words, felt the gentle, yet ominous melancholy of the newcomer's voice. A performance to praise, definitely, but so many questions to ask.

"Luna." The Snivy nearly jumped from her seat before turning to Monica, who stared down at the stage with a content smile. "Do you often look back and…feel bad about what happened to the Great Kingdom? I mean, it's not my fault, and it's certainly not yours. It was simply in our nature back then. The Savage Era had only ended a millennia ago. Perhaps some primitive part of our advanced minds called to those kingdoms to strike the treasure of all lands. Even so, to be attacked by so many different kingdoms, it must've been frightening."

Luna blinked, then looked to the stage. "Uh, yeah."

"There's a lot to this play I'm still unsure about. What's fact from fiction. I do know this, though. If eight hundred years didn't quell those savage instincts, what's two hundred more going to accomplish? Hard to believe over a thousand years ago, we were hunting and eating each other."

Luna glared. "Is this…the dark age of Virdis you were referring to?"

Monica sighed. "I wouldn't go as far as to say we'll start tearing each other apart for food again, but Pokémon are capable of some horrific actions if given the chance. Take our local killer, for instance. He's either severely injured, sent those into comas, or killed. Then there's the land disputes in Arcania, the war between New Chariot and Umbra Clock, the Foresters' influence on crime, etc. Things are tense now, but they don't seem bad. But…"

"But what?"

"What if there was an event that triggered a chain reaction? An event so horrific, it collapses the tension of Virdis and floods the lands in its chaos. Something that could plunge us into another dark age like the Great Kingdom. The land of bounty to become the land of ruins."

"What…would cause something like that?"

Monica shrugged. "Who knows? Could be anything. With the way things are now, it'd take a significant force to collapse everything. I think that's what I take away from this play. One bad decision collapses the bridge that's supporting all that tension. If we were to enter a dark age like that, I can't imagine the catastrophe it would have on Virdis."

Luna frowned and leaned back in her seat as the lights came back on, marking the start of the intermission. "I can't imagine living through that. What started the dark age of Virdis before?"

Monica smiled. "Better to show than tell. The play doesn't have all the facts, obviously, but you might find something from the climax." She stood up and stretched her arms. "I'm going to get something eat. Want anything?"

"N-No, I'm fine."

"'Kay. Be back in a bit." Monica shuffled off, humming cheerily to herself.

Luna rested back in her seat and sighed. Arcania's disputes, the war, even the little fairs happening outside the kingdom's control. It seems like a stretch to pin everything on, but…could the Crownless King be a part of this?

Once the intermission started, Melissa lay back on the rafter and closed her eyes. No longer did the fear of sitting so high up bother her, slowly accepting she had been living in a treehouse-type fort for the last eight months of her life. Armant snacked on some berries he brought with him, quietly staring at the closed curtains.

He hadn't spoken much since she asked her question. A part of her worried something about the question offended him, as silly a thought that was, but it was obvious the eccentric Machamp slipped into deep thought to ponder it. It seemed like a simple question for a fight-happy monster like him, or perhaps he had more to say about her perplexing question.

The best way to prove one's strength. She had a lot of questions since coming to the Echo Bell capital, but this one was at the forefront of her mind for quite some time. Though she didn't consider herself weak anymore, at least compared to her days as a sheltered princess, strength eluded her. Compared to the strength of Ragger, the teamwork of the brothers, the genius of Lucient, the quick thinking of Lillia, the potential of Kenny, or the unbreakable power of Leon, what did Melissa have besides a bag of tricks? Was that enough?

Was there some special trick to being a good leader, and how does she prove she's a good leader? When she returns home, she'll have to guide her own underlings and prove her competence. And she still struggled to find a suitable object to steal.

What else do I have?

"Hey, shrimp."

Melissa sat up and faced Armant. "Yes?"

Armant rested back on his hands while continuing to shovel berries into his mouth with his other pair. "Kind of hard to say what you want to prove. If you want to lift a heavy object, I wouldn't recommend it. Or perhaps you mean strength of character?"

Melissa sighed. "Believe it or not, there are some…troubling parts of my past that my newfound friends take issue with."

"So?"

"I want to become something respected and revered, but also trusted and loved. I…worked hard in my life to become a leader, but I lacked something. Something that was holding me back. I just never truly found what it was."

Armant shrugged. "If you ask me, you already have those qualities."

"But I lack the…what is the word? Gumption of a leader."

Armant smirked. "Perhaps aptitude would be the preferred word." He lifted his legs and spun himself around to face her. "I'm not really the leader type. I just do what I do. If you want to prove how great you are, just don't put much thought into it."

"But what if—" Armant raised his hand, causing her to hush.

"A leader needs to know what they want done. If they're confused, their subordinates will be confused. That much is clear to me. If you want to prove you're strong, well…I say there's nothing wrong with a bit of flair."

"I have been told I bring chaos wherever I go," Melissa mumbled.

"That's the spirit!"

Melissa sighed. "But what if I screw up?"

Armant smiled. "Then trust your subordinates have your back. Trust is important, just like you wanted to be. If they see you struggling, and they respect your position, they will offer their help. I'm not one to talk, obviously, but strength can be more than having the heaviest punch. The smallest Pokémon could topple the mightiest kingdom if they played their cards right."

Melissa rolled onto her side and smiled at him. "Even the meek and timid?"

"The most cowardly, even. Though I value strength, someone of an adroit mindset can be the scariest being alive. Instead of overthinking something has to be grand, perhaps go back to the simplest answer, and you'll find the answer is about as grand as you could ask for."

Melissa's eyes wandered down in thought. "In other words, just continue to be kind and just?"

"Whatever works for you. Despite what a king might think, you don't need a crown to show your status."

Melissa giggled. "I suppose not." She rolled onto her back and gazed up at the ceiling. A meek, timid creature toppling a kingdom. Maybe I would not go that far. I value my own crown, too.

Melissa wagged her foot as she hummed aloud, waiting for the intermission to be over. After a moment, she blinked, a spark of realization flashing before her eyes.

I value my crown. My symbol. The status of…my kingdom. Wait…

Her mind came to as the lights started dimming. She sat up and watched as the light crew focused their illumination onto the stage. As the audience quieted down, the curtains drew back, revealing the background of a kingdom and the eight knights standing before a hooded priest, she believed. Nearby was the king, standing by and observing.

Maybe…that could work. It is simple, but something never done before. That…might be the craziest plan I have ever come up with.

The priest raised his hands to the sky. "(~Oh hear us, mighty goddess of life! We bring you…your champions! Through your will, and their might, an eternal light will shine~!)"

The priest tapped each of the kneeling knights' shoulders. They rose and spaced out around the priest into a circle. Though the performers wore masks, Melissa could sense the magnitude of the scene as the orchestra played their room-trembling sound.

The priest raised their hands. "(~O speak, o speak, to the mother of life! O speak, o speak, these warriors of Virdis' strife~!)"

One by one, a knight kneeled as the priest sounded them off.

"(Solberg, the Scorcher.)"

"(Dufort, the Destroyer.)"

"(Tyson, the Spear.)"

"(Porter, the Elusive.)"

"(Stark, the Unbreakable.)"

"(Fletcher, the Adaptable.)"

"(Hawthorne, the Swift.)"

"(Ogden, the Preserver.)"

The knights pulled their swords and pointed them to the ground. A stronger light casted down above them, possibly from another stagehand. The spotlights dimmed, leaving only the one angelic light to shine on the stage. The priest raised their hands and, with a clap of their hands, created a blinding spark of blue light.

"(~O mother of life, your children shall bear your will! O mother of life, bless these righteous eight with your gift! Come all, address your symbol of peace~!)"

"(The Laurus Vanguard!)"

Melissa's eyes widened as the knights rose and faced the audience. Though she couldn't understand a single thing they were saying, one line was spoken in English, unmistakably so. Her mind, though invested in the performance, appeared so far removed that she had not realized a possibility as once told to her.

"These eight knights were men of different backgrounds and professions. An unlikely gang of skilled warriors with indominable will and integrity. Legends speak that their wills were so strong that they transcended time itself."

Jason's exact words to her. She only heard the name before in her studies, but never knew the deeper history.

So, this is…their origin, Melissa realized. The Laurus Vanguard…

After some time, Luna stopped paying attention to the opera and waded in her thoughts. Monica appeared too invested to ask about Luna's furrowed brow, though she would say it wasn't in annoyance or anger, but deep thought. Not to say the opera was bad by any means, but it bared little investment compared to Monica's theory.

Could Virdis be a mere misstep away from entering yet another dark age? The last one left the Great Kingdom as a pile of stone buildings and unexplored ruins. Few would return with the tale of their excursion into unknown lands. The living example of haunted grounds, so much so a Ghost-Type felt shivers running up their spines. Would that fate also befall the new Virdis?

She found it hard to believe Virdis would fall into disarray so quickly. Though things weren't great, she didn't want to believe the state of the region could snap in two from a single pin drop. Perhaps not the best analogy as Monica stated herself that it would take something truly significant to change the course of progression. Was she then overthinking what was, as said several times, a mere theory?

Luna spent too many days researching a single group to dismiss theories as just theories.

"Why do any rebellions form these days? It's to fight against an oppressive force."

Theobald definitely spoke from experience. Firsthand or not was a different story, but he spoke from somewhere.

"All the royal families house their secrets, even the very family you swore to protect."

Monica spoke highly of the Visconti family, especially of the only son whose reputation leaves him as an unapproachable mystery. Was there something to hide with this family of ghosts? And what of her own charge? Did the Penworth family carry secrets of their own?

She betted everything on finding Sir Gerard, hoping he could unveil the secrets she desperately needed. This seemed more than just confirmation on the Crownless King, and perhaps an explanation on why he needed to go there in the first place. Expanding territory was the official report, but was that all?

She wondered how much of Virdis' history was accounted for. Pre-Ten Kingdoms, it's a blank, information taken to the grave, or passed along by whoever else resides in the ruins, like Theobald. He knew more than he revealed. In her search for the Crownless King, could there be something from the past?

Even if she got something vital out of Gerard, would it be enough? Her only solace would be to investigate the ruins themselves, but there's no way King Penworth would approve another expedition like that, especially if he had something to do with the original expedition's nonexistence. If he wanted to erase the expedition, why was Gerald's accounts still available? Was it an oversight, or did the king want to keep some record for personal use?

What could she do to get closer to the ruins?

"Hey, Moon Lady?"

Luna jolted awake and turned to Monica. "Eh? What? Is the show over?"

Monica grinned. "Nah, but I didn't want you to miss out. I think we're getting to the exciting part."

Luna sat up and rubbed her face. "Exciting part—"

"(~We are the goddess' children! We shall not let her land fall~!)"

Luna looked to the stage and saw the setting had changed drastically. Moments ago, at least for her, the knights were being honored by some ritual as the…Laura's Vanity Yard? Something like that. Now the backdrop showed a darkened sky with a red moon.

How long was I out for? Luna wondered.

Hawthorne pointed to Ogden, the one who exclaimed a second ago. "(Ogden, my brother! Have sense! Though I would lay down my life for the good of this land, what you speak of is utter madness!)"

"(The indiscriminate slaughter of thousands,)" Fletcher emphasized. "(Ally and invader would be caught in the crossfire.)"

Ogden, standing atop a pillar, waved off their concerns. "(Both will rejoin the afterlife by Xerneas' guidance. We seek only to protect her land by those greedy invaders. I was blessed with power beyond anything I could've dreamed, and I will use it to end this war before it even starts.)"

"(We do not know what will happen if you release that power unrestrained!)" Tyson yelled. "(We weren't gifted with Xerneas' blessing just to misuse it. If you unleashed your gift, the aftermath could be catastrophic!)"

"(So let it be a warning to all who oppose our glorious land!)" Ogden yelled. "(So says Prince Ogden of Virdis! The enemies' corpses will be displayed on the bloody roots of Xerneas' wrath, so says I!)" With a flick of his cape, Ogden jumped off his perch and vanished from the stage.

The remaining knights faced each other. "(Our brother in arms speaks madness,)" Dufort proclaimed.

"(But what if he has a point?)" Fletcher considered. "(This land hasn't faced a war of this scale in centuries. We don't know what the enemy is capable of.)"

"(Perhaps cutting them down would be the preferred path,)" Porter said.

"(But what of the innocent? We've never had to take a life so haphazardly,)" Solberg objected.

"(If Ogden carries out his plan, would we even be able to do anything?)" Stark asked.

"(Enough!)" Their heads spun toward Hawthorne as he slashed the pillar. It broke down, leaving behind the jagged figure of a crown. He sheathed his sword and faced his brothers. "(Virdis is the land that gives to the peaceful. We will win this war, but we will not let Ogden taint its beauty in a sea of blood. Even if I must oppose the king, I will do what I believe in.)"

"(Winning a war without killing?)"

"(I can't guarantee that, but I will not allow a massacre of that scale to be remembered.)" He raised his sword and impaled it through the stone crown.

Luna's eyes widened. "Wha—"

The knights looked to each other as if in silent debate, then drew their swords. Hawthorne stepped back to give them some room.

"(~For the good of Virids~!)"

"(~For the good of Virdis~!)" the knights exclaimed, jabbing their swords into the stone crown.

"(~Today, we shall take to arms, and fight off our foe! But on this day, we vow to defend the pure~!)"

"(~Defend the pure~!)"

"(~Call us sinners, if you dare, but we shall~!)"

"(~We shall~!)"

"(~We shall defend our homes, defend the people's dreams, and take to war! On this day, the Laurus Vanguard shall defy the king~!)"

The last sword impaled the stone crown, then the knights walked off stage in separate directions as the lights dimmed. The music lingered through the opera house as backdrops and props shuffled in the dark.

Monica grinned at Luna. "Pretty dramatic, right? Man, I wonder where they got the idea to stab that crown like that. Did they even do that? Weird, right?" She blinked at Luna's shocked, wide-eyed expression. "Uh, Moon Lady?"

Seven swords…impaling a crown. A symbol of defiance, tied to mysterious origins, and displayed so dramatically on a stage like an epic scene.

Luna fell back in her seat and held her head. Okay…now I know something's very wrong here.

After escaping the crime scene, the Electabuzz fled through one of the alleyways and hid behind some barrels. He peeked out for a moment to see if he was being followed, then sighed in relief.

"(Damn woman should've paid up when she had the chance,)" he grumbled. He patted his hidden revolver. "(Heh, glad I picked this baby up at the black market. Much easier than using some crummy knife.)" He shivered and rubbed his arms. "(I got to get out of here before the wind picks up.)"

He turned and darted for the other side of the alley, but jolted to a stop as something flew past his face. He looked around, one hand hovering over his gun. He turned and slowly backed away.

"(P-Probably just that gravedigger I passed. Y-Yeah, that's it. Maybe he threw something to scare me. A-As if I'm scared of him.)"

A gust of wind blew past his ankles. He froze, feeling the heat being sapped away from his lower half. He looked down and noted the unusual black coloring of the wind. Black and purple, like smog. Eerie, ominous, and chilling.

He gulped and hastened his retreat. "(I'm not seeing this, I'm not seeing this, I'm not seeing—)" A puff of black and purple fog exploded across his back like flour.

A tendril of fog seeped out and curled around his neck like a noose. It was just air, yet it felt like it was constricting and cutting off his throat. He grasped and tried to rip it off, but his fingers expectedly passed through.

His teeth chattered against his wishes. "(N-No…)"

He could sense the malice behind him. Pure, tainted malice.

He jumped away and turned around, breaking from the foggy noose, and whipped out his gun. His hand shook as he faced a wall of pure, black and purple fog, waving from the darkness like ripped curtains. Tendrils of black waved loosely while the mass of darkness flowed like tainted flame.

Resembling a cloak, it did, while looming over the hapless Electabuzz too stunned to start firing. Was it real, or a hallucination of the night? A creature that towered over him by twice his height with barely a sound, only the woosh of its black fog. Was it a phantom, a wraith, or someone's idea of a practical joke?

They were warned countless times not to go tiptoeing into the starless night, less the blanket of darkness wrapped around the night sky descend upon those wicked and sullied, dragging them by their ankles to the fiery depths of the underworld. Flames reflected within the reaper's two red eyes, and the faint effigy of a demon's face hiding beneath the fog.

Electabuzz gripped his wrist and steadied his aim. "(S-Stay back!)"

The fog did not heed his warning and advanced forward. A cascade of fog resembling a waterfall approaching the terrified crook, preparing to engulf him into darkness.

"(Die, bastard!)" Electabuzz unloaded the entire chamber and fired into the fog.

Five bullets passed through seamlessly, impacting the walls behind the phantom. His sixth and final shot went straight for the face, or at least where he could see the eyes. Despite getting a clear shot on a body, the bullet passed through all the same.

Electabuzz's hand trembled. The gun slipped from his fingers as he backed away on his heels. "(What kind of demon are you?!)"

A metallic shape rose from beneath the fog's body. A sleeve, or something akin to one, held the weapon in a gentle grip. The staff blended in with the fog, as black as a starless sky. The curved blade of the weapon shined like polish silver and radiated with a red energy etched into the blade's face, showing off the intricate design. The lines resembled a river flowing down the face all the way to the very tip of the curved blade.

Electabuzz cowered as the reaper raised the scythe over its dead. With once last burst of bravery, he slammed his fists together and hollered his loudest crying, firing the biggest Thunderbolt he could muster. The electricity pierced through the phantom and ripped a large hole through its body, sending shreds of darkness scattered through the wind. He even managed to hit where the face was hidden, no doubt blowing it to smithereens.

Electabuzz panted as the fog fell to the floor and faded into oblivion. He staggered backward in disbelief, pinching himself to make sure he wasn't already dead. He looked about, nothing but the damp walls and trash littered everywhere.

A cocky, if not panicked grin stretched across his face. "(Ha…haha, hahahahaha!)" He stamped his foot down. "(Is that all you got, Grim Deadlock?! I never realized how much of a coward you were! Consider yourself dethroned! Guess I'm the new Specter of Punishment, you pint-sized bi—)"

SHIIIING!

Electrabuzz gasped as a red slash cut through his body. Silently, not so much as a breath, he looked over his shoulder and saw the apparition of shadows hovering behind him, flashing his recently-used scythe as its red aura faded.

"May your passage into the afterlife be swift and filled with eternal torment."

Electabuzz could've gasped from the haunting, unnatural tone, but felt something immediately wrong when he tried to perform such a basic reaction. The most basic function to most biological Pokémon was breathing, the key to life. A talent all possessed upon birth.

And yet, even as he started heaving for air, gulping in as much as he could, he found himself steadily losing consciousness. He grasped his throat and greedily sucked in the oxygen. A startling realization occurred to him in that moment: he couldn't breathe.

He was inhaling oxygen, tons of it, and he couldn't breathe.

Electabuzz felt to his knees, digging his claws into the stone ground, heaving strained cries for help. Unable to scream, drowning in the oxygen that sustained him all these years and succumbing to his dizziness, the Electabuzz collapsed to the ground.

Grim Deadlock looked down at the fallen criminal with disdain before looking up to the sky. He pulled his scythe back into his cloak, then faded into the wind, guiding his darkness to his next target.

All was silent in the alleyway for a while. Soon, the Electabuzz's desperate wheezes silenced, leaving all once more to a quiet night.

A creaking sounded just down the alley, followed by the soft patter of footsteps. Arriving with a lantern hooked to the end of his shovel, Zech happened upon the body.

He pulled out his juice and took a quick sip, then shook his head in disappointment. "It'd be nice to have one night off work. Doing what you love too much can become tedious. Oh well." He pocketed his drink, then picked the Electabuzz up with one arm, throwing him onto his shoulder.

"This one's barely alive. Wonder how long he has. Don't worry, pal. Even if you were a scumbag, I'll make sure you get a decent grave. You and your neighbors will have…plenty to talk about, I'm sure." He turned and headed back to his cart, body in tow and a jaunty whistling to his step.