Surprisingly, he wakes up. It would be a pleasant surprise if the bed he was on wasn't so unpleasant.
Blinking blearily at the world around him, he takes a few moments to adjust. He's in a small room, far too small for his tastes, lying in a straw bed. The wooden walls and floors suggest he's in a cottage of some sort. There's a small bookshelf with ratty books against the wall, and a poorly made vase resting on a chipped end table. The rug beside the bed looks scratchy and uncomfortable.
He's not in much better shape than his surroundings. At the very least, all his injuries have been cared for. Electric burns marr his skin, wrapped carefully in bandages. He tries to move, but the motion shoots stinging pain throughout his entire body, and he falls back. The impact makes him wince.
As he waits for the pain to subside, he glares at the ceiling. How is he supposed to beat Zekrom now? The dragon was already unbeatable, but now he's got all these injuries weighing him down. He doesn't have time to recover; he needs to return to his father's good graces as soon as possible.
Just as he's considering scrounging together some cash and hiring some cheap mercenaries to do the job for him, the rickety door swings open with a loud creak. His head shoots up to see a swadloon waddling in with a bowl of soup. The swadloon, in turn, jumps at the sight of him awake and drops the bowl on the floor.
"Oops!" The bug laughs, his tone absolutely delighted in spite of the mess on the floor. "Silly me! I oughta clean that up, though—"
As soon as he bends over to pick up the bowl, he bumps right into the end table. The vase wobbles dangerously, and before Montgomery can even say a word, the swadloon bumps into it again and the vase falls over. The loud shattering sound startles the bug, who quickly whirls around.
...And then runs straight into the bookshelf, knocking several books off the shelf.
With that same carefree country accent, the swadloon remarks, "Aw, shucks. Well ain't that just a mess?"
The swadloon chuckles to himself, cleaning the soup. In what was once a peaceful room, this lone bug-type managed to let all Hell loose in the span of five seconds. Montgomery trains an eye on him warily. He's not gonna die in some dusty hovel because of a clumsy insect.
Out of nowhere, the swadloon shoots back up. It does not make Mongomery jump.
"Pardon my manners, I haven't introduced myself! My name's Lenny, what's yours?"
When Mongtomery is certain Lenny isn't going to accidentally knock the roof down on them, he responds, "Montgomery."
Lenny's face brightens. "Montgomery? Well that's an awfully nice sounding name! But we have some neighbors with the last name of Montgomery, and it might get a little confusing if we keep mixing you up. You might need a nickname…"
Montgomery bristles at the thought. "No."
Lenny doesn't seem to hear him, head in the clouds as he picks up the fallen books. "Mind if I call you Mott? It's got a fun little ring to it, don't you think?"
Montgomery scowls, deciding he isn't just cautious of this Lenny. He hates him.
"Why am I here?" He demands, glaring at the back of Lenny's head. Lenny turns, still smiling, the hostility going right over his head. "And where am I?"
"We're at my folk's home, just outside the valley in Wheatfield Village. I was out picking berries last night when Zekrom attacked. I saw him knock you into the river before flying off, so I dragged you back home."
Having his blunders brought up again and rubbed in his face isn't helping his mood. "Thanks."
He means it in a biting, sarcastic way, but that's not how Lenny takes it. "It's no problem! You distracted Zekrom from attacking the valley, so the least I could do was help you out, too. One blast of lightning from that guy and I'd probably go up in flames!"
Montgomery looks out the window, seeing a measly excuse for a farm outside. Most of the crops are withered and dying, even though it's prime time for growing. Looking out at dead fields does nothing for his grim thoughts. Last night was a disaster. One strike from Zekrom—one—was enough to take him out. How is he going to get back in the good graces with his family?
"So, Mott," Lenny begins, and it takes all of Montgomery's willpower not to lose it right then and there, "where are you from?"
Montgomery is not in a talking mood. He has been beaten. He is in a suffocatingly small room. He is sitting in a straw bed, overlooking a dead field. And an annoyingly cheerful stranger keeps calling him Mott.
He answers, "Out of town."
Lenny laughs. "I guessed as much, silly. What town?"
His lips twist downward at one corner. "Andovine."
A surprised exclamation escapes Lenny, and he drops the book he was putting away. "Andovine City? Oh my, you must be awfully rich."
He was.
Again, he doesn't appreciate the reminder of how far he's fallen.
"What's it like, in that big city? Are there a lot of people? Big buildings? Fun things to do?" Lenny practically bombards him with questions, the dropped book long forgotten. Montgomery leans away from him, but Lenny doesn't seem to care. His eyes shine like stars. "I bet it's wonderful, there. I bet it's like you're on an adventure every day."
Montgomery scoffs. "Yeah. It's like floating on clouds of cotton candy."
Lenny's eyes sparkle even more.
Barely concealing his eye roll, Montgomery looks back out the window. This guy is clearly some clueless, dense country bumpkin without an inkling of reality. Even more clearly, he isn't worth Montgomery's time. He should be out there tracking Zekrom right now, not cramping himself in a dusty hut.
"Is there anything else you could tell me about Andovine? Or anywhere you've been?" Lenny asks, hopeful. "Is it a lot like this place?"
Montgomery looks outside at the molding fields and hardly suppresses a grimace. "It's nothing like this place."
"I thought so," Lenny says, almost dreamily. "I bet it's wonderful. Really, really wonderful."
He's not going to sit around and gush about how sparkly and perfect everything is with this hillbilly. He has things to do, legends to beat, so on and so forth. Swinging his legs over to the side of the bed, he moves to stand up. Lenny's eyes widen, and not in the over-eager way he's seen too much of today.
"Hold on, hold on—you're in no shape to be getting up so early!" Lenny protests, trying to block him from leaving the bed. Montgomery frowns, ducking to get around him. "Don't push yourself—"
The moment he stands, pain shoots up his legs like his bones are on fire. Hissing, his legs buckle under him and he falls against the wall. Hastily, Lenny catches him just as he grips the end table to keep himself upright. He hates that he probably would've fallen without Lenny there. Every inch of his body shakes like it's about to crumble apart.
Every second he spends standing only compounds the pain. It feels like the flesh is being stripped from his bones. With no strength to fight back, he can only grudgingly relent as Lenny gingerly places him back in the bed. It doesn't make him feel much better. The straw pokes his back like a dozen needles.
When Lenny seems satisfied that he's safely back in bed, he chides, "You oughta stay in bed for at least the rest of the day. Probably more, but I won't push my luck. I have a feeling you wouldn't listen, anyhow."
That's the one thing Lenny's gotten right all day. "I don't have time to rest. I'm leaving, now."
"Why, you got something to do?"
"I need to beat Zekrom." Lenny's eyes nearly pop out of his skull. "And I need to do it now."
"You need to beat—hold on, that's not…" Lenny stumbles over his words, as if trying to wrap his head around Montgomery's insane quest. He understands the feeling; he's still trying to puzzle through it. Eventually, Lenny manages to land on: "Why have you got to have it done now?"
Montgomery snarls before he can help it. "Why have you got to stick your nose in everyone's business?"
Lenny flinches back. A moment of silence interjects itself between them, and Lenny wordlessly bends over to clean the remaining mess. For a moment, Montgomery actually feels kinda bad. The guy did save him, after all. And bring him into his house, as unpleasant as it is. The way Lenny deflates in the slightest forces Montgomery to look away before this… feeling… in his chest gnaws him to death.
He doesn't have time to focus on it, he tells himself. He doesn't have time to focus on anyone's feelings or even his own. He doesn't have time to focus on anything but Zekrom.
Once the room is (relatively) clean, Lenny stands back up. Montgomery doesn't know how he manages to smile, even if it's more diluted than before. The gnawing feeling returns with a vengeance, and he has to muster up all his strength to shove it back down.
"Get some rest," Lenny says. Even if his tone is gentle, there's a hint of insistence in his voice, and Montgomery knows he won't take 'no' for an answer. "I'll fix another pot of soup so you can eat something when you wake up."
Montgomery doesn't acknowledge him as he leaves the room. He doesn't think he could stomach looking at a smile when he feels so gross inside. The door quietly shuts behind Lenny, closing with a soft 'click.' For the first time all day, Montgomery is left alone in complete silence. Again, he mercilessly shoves down the mixed feelings that come with that. Ironically, struggling to bottle it all up makes him angry. He's been meticulously trained by his father to contain all his emotions and never let them see the light of day. Yet, years and years of learning to school himself into carefully balanced neutrality has gone out the window after mere days of banishment. Maybe this is why his father never gave him the crest; he's so useless he can't even silence his emotions right.
He casts those thoughts aside after making a mental note to work on his inadequacies in the future. Perfecting himself into the ideal son will mean nothing if he isn't accepted into the Alcott family, and that means he needs to get back to hunting Zekrom. But where does he start? The first time he encountered Zekrom was a complete fluke; he doesn't expect he'll be so lucky in the future. As much as he loathes to admit it, he's already blown his best chance at redemption. It's going to be a lot harder to catch Zekrom, starting now. Especially because no one seems to understand its pattern.
As far as his understanding goes, the creature seems to come and go on a whim. It'll disappear for weeks at a time only to unexpectedly return with a vengeance. There's no predictability to it, no method. It's simply the depraved, bloodthirsty whims of a beast.
Montgomery hadn't paid much attention to all the Zekrom talk back when he was still in the good graces of his family because he found the matter boring. Right now, he's cursing himself for it. Even the slightest hint would be better than what he has now: an empty bag, a lot of injuries, and no leads. The best he can do is ask around town and see what people have to say. A direction, no matter how misleading, is at least a start.
With a nod of conviction, he forces himself to his feet. When the aches and pains unpleasantly remind him of their existence, he cringes but carries on. He holds himself with the dignity of the Alcott family name to hide the discomfort of his wounds. The one thing he can't seem to disguise is the subtle limp in his gait, but it will have to do.
He reaches the door, placing a hand on the knob. The sound of soft humming makes him pause. It's terribly off-key, but that's not why he hesitates—it's because he realizes if Lenny catches him, he'll be nagged back into bed. Not only would that be incredibly annoying, it would be detrimental to his mission. He has to get out of the house without being caught.
Easy. Retracting himself from the doorway, he instead turns to the window. The grimy, smudgy window that he would rather not touch, but he doesn't have much of a choice. Steeling his nerves, he hobbles over to the bed to climb back on it and grip the window. With a tug that strains his scraped up arms, he shoves the window open.
It squeaks, loudly. He winces and holds still, waiting for Lenny to bust in. But nothing happens; there's not even a sound of footsteps. Grinning triumphantly, Montgomery leaps out the window, his foot inches away from touching the earth...
...Only to be snapped up into the air.
Sticky, sturdy white silk wraps around his ankles, dangling him upside-down over the dead field. He struggles and wiggles in vain, trying to reach up and separate the threads from his feet. He can't even get a hand to his ankle to try.
"I thought I told you to rest," Lenny says, gazing down on him reproachfully from the roof. Why is he on the roof?! Holding the other end of the white string between his hands, he chides, "You're not gonna get any better at this rate."
Montgomery folds his arms and resolutely glares at the space in front of him. He knows any intimidation he exudes is impeded by the slow, comical spin of his hanging body.
"Let me go."
"Are you gonna go back and rest?"
"...Yes."
"No, you won't."
"Let me go!"
"Escape on your own," Lenny orders, sitting at the edge of the roof to watch him. "If your injuries are healed enough that you can escape, you'll be strong enough to travel. I surely won't be able to catch you, at least."
He scowls at the resistance. What happened to commoners obeying every whim of the nobles? Everywhere his father goes, people practically bow to him, racing to and fro in fear of disappointing him. How can he not invoke the same response? Is this another lesson Montgomery has been failing direly?
Before Montgomery can even think of some clever threat, he hears an unfamiliar voice clear their throat. It's haughty and impatient, shrill and grating. Almost impressively, it annoys him even more than Lenny does.
Lenny turns to look before he can. He's still stuck lazily spinning; but after a few wriggles and nudges, he turns himself around to see an unfezant arching her brows at them with disdain. A bag is slung over her wing, bearing the insignia of Florian's family. Florian must be the lord over this region. The reminder of that bastard's existence doesn't help his sour mood.
Somehow raising a brow even higher up her face, she drawls, "Are you Mr. Tom Mirthwood?"
"That would be my father," Lenny answers with a surprising tone of apprehension. Montgomery expected him to be all sunshine and rainbows about meeting a new friend or some sappy bullshit. "Can I help you, madam tax collector?"
"Only if you have your monthly dues."
"Begging pardon, ma'am, but we paid our dues yesterday," Lenny says, his expression scrunching up with confusion.
"Can someone please let me down," Montgomery says.
Lenny talks right over him. "We weren't missing any of it, were we?"
From her bag, she whips out a paper scribbled with numbers and names. Clearing her throat, she says, "You're missing half of what you owe."
"Can someone please let me down."
"Half?! My apologies, ma'am, I thought for sure we paid the full two-hundred gold…"
Two-hundred gold? For this measly, dying plot of land? They're getting ripped off.
"The lord has changed what you owe," she informs, pocketting the paper. "You are now expected to pay four-hundred a month."
Montgomery and Lenny share an incredulous look, thinking the exact same thing. It isn't his favorite moment. Still, it would take a fool not to reach the same conclusion they both did.
"Begging pardon, ma'am, we're getting cheated as is," Lenny argues, his face donning a pleading expression. She doesn't seem moved. "You and I both know two-hundred ain't right for this size of property, but we paid it honest because the lord keeps us safe from Zekrom. But four-hundred…"
"Is what you owe," she interrupts, cold.
"We don't have it," Lenny says, helplessly. "We barely scraped together the two-hundred for this month."
The look of displeasure on her face is clear. But she quickly sweeps it away to say, "No matter, the lord will simply have to reclaim your property. Please vacate the premises by tomorrow; we'll be demolishing the site then."
"What? But, ma'am—!"
"How about you just accept what you've been given and leave?" Montgomery demands, impatient. The longer this goes on, the longer he stays up here, okay? Plus, he hates that he has to wiggle a bit to keep from being turned around again. "You're lucky you're even getting two-hundred for this shoddy piece of land."
"How about you mind your own business?" The tax collector sneers, her words sending his blood into a boil. "Aristocratic affairs are no place for a disowned and disgraced child, wouldn't you agree? Or should my Lord Florian come down himself and beat some manners into you—again?"
With a strength Montgomery didn't know he had, he lunges up and rips the white thread binding his ankles to shreds.
He hits the ground, hard, but he can't be bothered to care. The tax collector staggers back and squawks indignantly, as if offended that he had the gall to break himself free. He stands, ready to give her a piece of his mind, but she opens her wings in a sharp motion and shoots a jet of sharp air at him.
Before the move can make contact, it's extinguished by a barrage of leaves. The moves cancel each other out. Just in time, too, because it looked like Lenny was exhausting himself with that one attack alone. With that, Montgomery marches right up to the tax collector.
"All right, I wasn't about to start a fight, but you wanted one, so here it is!" He snarls, power rushing into the scalchops he grips in his hands. At the sight of the water blades, the tax collector makes another screech of dismay. Hurriedly, she flaps her wings, taking to the air.
"I'll be back next month, Mr. Mirthwood!" She vows. "You better have that money!"
She flies away before Montgomery can even think to shoot a Water Gun at her.
Still seething, he reluctantly sheathes his scalchops. Her words are still burning under his skin, festering and blistering. Is that what the aristocratic world thinks of him now? An unwanted, idiot son who can be treated like dirt? Mere days ago, she wouldn't have dared to say those things to him.
A 'thump' behind him distracts him from his thoughts. He turns to see Lenny has leapt off the roof, bouncing over to him. That annoyingly cheerful smile is back on his face.
At least it makes that gnawing feeling from before go away. Just a little.
"Mott, that was amazing! You drove her off as easy as anything," he praises, as if he's seen an act of a great warrior. Montgomery can't help the way his chest puffs out a little bit. "You must be awfully strong."
"I am," he responds, pleased. Then, he realizes he should probably thank Lenny for neutralizing that attack. Right?
Before he can even muster up the shamelessness to thank a commoner, Lenny continues, "We made a pretty good team back there. You oughta take me to go beat Zekrom!"
Montgomery makes a face. "No."
"Oh. In that case, you should probably go back to bed."
What the hell? Is Lenny seriously leveraging his freedom as a bargaining chip?!
"No," he repeats, determined. He just drove off that tax collector; Lenny should think twice before challenging him. Standing a little straighter, he declares, "I'm leaving now. You're not going to follow me, and you're not going to try and convince me to stay. Understand?"
Lenny stares at him, almost bewildered. Maybe even offended.
A beat of silence passes them by.
"Also, my name's not Mott."
He's immediately covered head to toe in String Shot.
He'll sneak out later. When the moon is up and it's too dark to see him, there's no way Lenny will notice him creeping out. As much as his plan gives him comfort, it also comes with a subtle irritation. Since when did he have to sneak away from commoners?
"So, I've got seven siblings: Merek, Cedany, Emaline, Isabel, Peter, Arthur, and Rose. I'm the youngest, which ain't got as many perks as my siblings think it does," Lenny rambles as he mends some blankets. Montgomery tries to drown him out so he can focus on sulking. "They're all married and moved out now. They still live in town though, and they keep pressuring me to get married but at the same time they guilt me for wanting to move out? It's confusing. Anyways…"
He's been at this for hours, just babbling. Doesn't he ever get tired? Doesn't he run out of things to say? Surely his life isn't that interesting. Although, having seven siblings sounds like a nightmare. Maybe that's why Lenny turned out to be so weird.
For a moment, it makes him think of his own siblings. What are they doing right now? Have they made a case for him to their father? Or were they just as happy to see him gone? He's willing to bet on the latter. As bitter of a thought as that is, he doesn't really harbor any resentment for them. If he was in their shoes, it's what he'd do. They wouldn't blame him, either. They know just as well as he does that getting Father's approval is a cutthroat game.
Does Lenny have to compete with seven other people for his parent's praise? He almost finds himself asking before he remembers that he wants nothing to do with the country bumpkin who tied him to the bedpost with String Shot.
"Everytime I talk about leaving the town my family acts like I'm stabbing them in the back." Lenny rolls his eyes. "As if it means I'm never coming back! They can't blame me for wanting to travel a bit; I've never left the village. Ever," Lenny states, shaking his head as he sews thread through some fabric. "My ancestors moved here from somewhere farther inland and stayed here until they died. And so did their kids. And their kids, and their kids and their kids, and… well. You get the drift."
On top of all of Montgomery's grievances toward life, his nose begins to itch. He glares at the ceiling. Could he ask Lenny to take the threads off him? It probably wouldn't do much good. He's starting to realize that this commoner isn't as easy to boss around as the others.
"I know they just worry about me, especially with all this scary Zekrom nonsense going on. They don't want me to die like so many people already have," Lenny says, looking contemplative and solemn. "A lot of people are on edge about it. A lot of people are suffering. I think it's great that you're fixing to bring an end to that."
Montgomery is pretty surprised to be drawn into the conversation. Lenny has seemed pretty content to chatter to himself for the rest of the night, and he thought his grumpy vibes would chase off any desires to engage him. It usually does. Whenever he's in any sort of bad mood, his father flat out refuses to speak to him until he's neutral again.
It takes him a moment to form a response. "...Naturally."
"Did you like the soup I made? You ate two bowls; you must've been hungry," Lenny remarks, setting the blanket aside.
His mouth waters slightly as he remembers the potato stew that Lenny brought him. "It was okay."
Lenny smiles, as if he knows some great secret. "I'm glad you liked it."
For a moment, silence drifts between them. It's not tense. The quiet doesn't hound him in anyway, but it is awkward. He surprises himself with how much he wishes Lenny would say something.
Eventually, he can't take it anymore and he blurts, "When are you gonna let me go?"
Lenny folds the blanket and rises from his chair. "You should be better by tomorrow. If you stick around, I'll make you a breakfast before you leave. It's the least I can do for someone who helped me out so much."
He wonders for a moment if that remark is some veiled insult. Between the two of them, it's clear that Lenny has helped him a lot more than he's helped Lenny. But no matter how much he replays and analyzes Lenny's words, he can't find a trace of guile in them. His words are straightforward and honest. It's a nice change of pace from the backhanded nobles he's used to.
He kinda likes it.
But he hates being indebted to Lenny even worse. So, there's no way he's sticking around for breakfast tomorrow.
After listening to Lenny ramble on about all the different knit stitches there are (why are there so many?!), the door to the bedroom opens only a sliver. An older swadloon pokes her head in, and upon seeing Montgomery, she quickly hides her face behind the door as if she's unworthy of his gaze.
That's the kind of treatment he's used to from commoners. That's what he's been waiting for all day. It's about time!
He steadfastly ignores the way it makes his heart twinge.
The older woman says, "Lenny, you ought to get some rest. Early day in the field, tomorrow."
They actually use that dead old thing? No wonder they don't have enough money to pay their taxes, they can't grow anything in land like that.
"Sure thing, Ma. I'll be right out."
The woman nods and closes the door slowly, as if any loud noises or sudden movements will get her yelled at. Lenny stands, taking the blanket he folded and placing it in Montgomery's lap. He places his hands on it hesitantly, giving Lenny a questioning look.
"All our blankets had too many holes in them, so I mended this one for you to use tonight," Lenny explains, smoothing it out over Montgomery's lap. He mended a blanket for him? Most people he knows wouldn't even hand him a blanket. Putting out the light beside the bed, he says, "I know it ain't much, but I hope it keeps you comfortable."
It's scratchy where the stitches went in and way too thin to be considered a source of warmth. He runs his hands over it and finds his voice cracks when he replies, "It's great." Then, as if an afterthought, he forces himself to add, "Thanks. For everything."
Lenny smiles, soft and warm, and walks to the door. He opens it, foregoing any courtesies his mother had displayed when closing it. "Sleep well, Mott. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yeah." He swallows. "I'll see you."
By the time the door is fully shut, the air in the room feels different than before. He can't explain why. All he knows is that it feels emptier than before. Colder, too.
Shaking his head, he forces himself to snap out of this weird trance. What is he doing! This is the first real chance he's had all day to escape, and he's wasting it in some imaginary world. He doesn't have time for this! Snatching one of his scalchops, he slices the threads Lenny bound him with and frees himself from the bed. He shakes himself off and leaps to his feet, racing to the door before halting.
He doesn't know what the rest of the house looks like. What if this bedroom just opens up to another bedroom and he runs right into Lenny? What if he walks in on Lenny's parents? With that horrifying thought in his mind, he spins on his heel and hastily retreats to the window. It failed him once; but this time, things will be different.
He's careful to open it slowly. Taking it an inch at a time, he ensures that no loud squeaks alert anyone of what he's up to. Once it's open enough for him to squeeze through, he throws one leg over the sill and pops himself out.
This time, his feet touch the ground. It's such a glorious moment he could cry.
Freedom! Sweet, sweet freedom!
He closes his eyes to focus on the sensations around him. The gentle breeze, the smell of grass, even the chilly night air brings joy to his heart. Finally, finally, he's one small step closer to Zekrom. With a victorious grin, he sets off to take his first steps as a free man.
His ankle is immediately snagged.
"Oh come on!" He protests, his arms thrashing angrily over his head as he's held upside-down once more. Glaring up at Lenny, he demands, "Why are you even on the roof?!"
Lenny holds up a tool that looks suspiciously like junk. "Fixing it."
Grouchily, Montgomery folds his arms across his chest and grumbles to himself. Stupid Lenny and his stupid bug moves and his stupid roof…
Lenny watches him slowly twist in his dangling position for a moment before sighing. "You're really not gonna give this up, huh?"
"So why don't you just let me go already?" He snaps.
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes!"
"You know what, I'll make a deal with you," Lenny starts, and Montgomery regards him skeptically. "I'll let you go. If! If—you take me with you."
Montgomery stares. "No."
"Yes."
"No!"
"Yes."
Montgomery groans in frustration. There was a time, not too long ago, when a commoner like Lenny wouldn't dare to push him around like this. Unfortunately, Montgomery is no longer in a position of power to do much about it. Which means he's no longer in a position of power to order Lenny to do much of anything.
"Fine! Fine," he relents, scowling. As if the words physically hurt him, he slowly grinds them out. "You… can… come."
Lenny beams, letting him down. He tears the silk from his ankles and rubs them grudgingly. Lenny hops down, his face lit up like the stars.
"Let me write a quick note to my Ma and Pa!" He cries, practically bursting with excitement as he rushes inside. "I'll be right back! Don't you go nowhere!"
Montgomery rolls his eyes. Chances are, if he tried to slip away now, Lenny would still manage to catch him with that ridiculous string. Tapping his foot in the dirt impatiently, he looks up to glare at the full moon, as if beseeching it to have some mercy on him.
It smiles back at him with its crescent-shaped glow, so Montgomery has a feeling that's a big fat 'no' on the mercy front.
