"Hey, hey, sing for us, little birdy! Tweet tweet!"

The jeering laughter from down below is nothing new. The mercenaries have been at this for about two hours now, and any anger Montgomery could possibly feel has already been felt. All he can do is sit in his suspended cage, chin dropped against his hand, and glare at the bars separating him and freedom.

Maybe, just maybe, he shouldn't have announced his intentions to overthrow their boss in front of their base.

After the krokorok came and punched his lights out, there was a scuffle between them and the mercenaries. Bela tried to mediate the issue, but it was to no avail. The mercenaries couldn't be reasoned with, and Montgomery was beyond pissed. It seems Hilda was, too, because it took ten mercenaries to finally take her down.

But in the end, they were beaten. They were outrageously outnumbered and no one came to their aid. Even when it was clear that Bela would be getting locked up with them, she didn't fight. All she did was fret about how she'd be able to help her people if she was all locked up.

They locked up the maractus mother, too, in the same cage as Lenny and Bela. Lenny's natural friend-making instincts kicked in and he's gotten to know everything about her now that they're "cage buddies"—Lenny's words, not his. Her name is Agnes, she's a mother of four, and she likes to grow vegetables. Montgomery could be irritated at Lenny for pestering this poor woman about vegetables of all things, but listening to their conversation helps him drown out the mercenaries.

"Chirp! Chirp! Come on, don't be such a quiet little birdy!" One of them taunts. He'd roll his eyes if he wasn't already sick of doing that. "If you're in a bird cage, you might as well sing!"

"Maybe he can't sing. Maybe he's sensitive about it," the other sneers. In a mocking, derogatory voice, they say, "Poor little baby."

Montgomery frowns. He's actually quite good at singing, thank you very much!

Not like he'd sing for these chumps, though. He's sick of giving these guys the time of day, much less wasting energy on them.

They must notice that he's ignoring them, and that seems to irritate them. He could almost smile vindictively if he didn't feel so dead inside. If they're so upset that he won't entertain them, they can go find something else to do. Don't they have, like… mercenary things to do? Or something?

The two mercenaries mutter amongst themselves for a few moments. Their tone goes from disgruntled to excited in a frighteningly short time. Warily, Montgomery dares a glance down at them. One of them races off to the center of the room, where the big pile is, and rummages around. Then, with a red cloth in hand, they jog eagerly back.

His red cloth.

Holding his bandana, they wave it cruelly in front of him, just an inch out of his reach. He doesn't make a move to try and grab it; he knows that will just end in them yanking it back and him looking like a fool. But it doesn't mean he doesn't feel a bitter, burning rage toil through him as they put the bandana on and do poor imitations of him. Most of them involve him crying like a baby.

They seem to squeeze all the satisfaction they can out of that before taking the bandana off and tossing it away carelessly. Montgomery swears he feels his blood pressure spike when the cloth touches the ground.

"And what about you, lady?" One of the mercenaries says. "What's your deal?"

For a bewildering moment, Montgomery thinks they're talking to Hilda, whose body and rage are barely restrained by the flimsy cage they've stuffed her into. But when he follows their eye line, he sees they're grinning at the maractus, Agnes. Which makes much more sense. He can't imagine these idiots are dense enough to try and commit suicide via pissing off Hilda.

Agnes doesn't respond to them, instead shirking away from the bars when they lean up against them. Lenny grabs onto her, holding her close and backing into the corner. Bela remains between them and the mercenaries, swallowing down her obvious apprehension. With shadows covering their faces, the mercenaries smirk down at the three of them.

"You're the medicine lady, ain't ya? Tryin' to get medicine for your dead kid?"

Their taunts seem to pierce straight through her heart. Shudders course through her with every word, and tears pool into her eyes.

"Hey, we're really doin' you a favor by not givin' you the money for medicine. Ain't no use in tryin' to heal a kid who's half dead, anyway!" They hoot and holler like they've told the best joke they've ever heard. Agnes' lip trembles. "We might as well toss that kid in the river and let him float away before he croaks; save you the hassle!"

Their ridicule echoes sharply through the room, jarring and unpleasant. It seems to reverberate painfully through Agnes, who crumples into miserable, broken sobs. Thoroughly entertained and looking for more, the mercenaries turn back to Montgomery and stomp on his bandana.

"How does that feel, pal? Huh? I bet that makes you feel real mad! Why don't you come down and do something about it?"

Montgomery stills.

They laugh and slap each other's backs, throwing out more taunts and curses that Montgomery doesn't hear. He's too busy dealing with something inside him to bother listening to them—something uncomfortable. Something old and familiar, like a bad memory he's tried to ignore.

He remembers, when he was just a little kid, being upset that his mother wouldn't buy him a piece of candy. He complained and complained and complained about it to Torquil until Florian showed up with bruises from his dad. And suddenly, the candy seemed like a pretty stupid thing to get upset about.

Right now, this situation with his bandana and the mother of a dying child… feels a lot like that.

The uncomfortable feeling in his chest keeps rising. It rises and rises until it forms the coherence to whisper: am I a bad person?

He used to ask himself that, when he was younger. A lot. But eventually, he pushed it down, because it felt better. But now, as he watches Lenny comfort a woman whose child is dying, he recognizes what goodness is. And none of that is in him.

He doesn't… really know what to do with that.

He wants to push it down again and forget it, but that would just make him an even worse person. Right? Deliberately ignoring how much of a terrible person he is sounds like a very un-Lenny thing to do. But right now, these haze of thoughts and feelings are distracting him and keeping him from seeing with clarity.

So, he puts it aside. Not to be forgotten, but to be dealt with later.

Because right now, it's time to break out.

Montgomery stands up and slams his entire body into the side of the cage. It doesn't break, but it does dent. The chain that his cage is suspended by swings wildly. Staggering to the other side of the cage, he braces himself against the bars before charging and slamming into the side again. The dent grows larger.

"Hey!" One of the mercenaries snaps, shaking a fist at him. "You, knock it off!"

He ignores them, crashing into the bars a third time. The dent is growing; the cage is swinging in a wide arch. The rusty metal creaks and groans in agony, shrieking like it's about to snap. Glancing up, he notices that the chain attached to the ceiling is more rust than metal. With a few more swings, it just might snap. With renewed vigor, he tackles the side of the cage again.

Hilda catches on to his intentions, and she seems to whole-heartedly agree with the sentiment. With an enraged roar, she smashes her legs outward, denting the sides of her cage. It already looks ready to give under her strength. The room vibrates with her power.

"H-hey now!" The mercenary stammers, backing away anxiously. She retracts her legs to kick at the walls again. "Stop that, or we'll—"

They don't get to finish their sentence, because Montgomery's cage decides to bust right then. It snaps off it's chain and falls to the ground, nearly crushing the mercenaries before they narrowly escape. Upon impact, the cage bursts open, and Montgomery comes tumbling out. He shakes himself off, dizzy and disoriented, just as a loud crashing noise fills the chamber.

To his side, Hilda breaks through her cage. She stands at full height, towering over the cowering mercenaries. Her jagged face is alight with fury.

The mercenaries tremble in place. "B-b-b-boss!"

From the top of his pile, the krookodile snores away.

Hilda glowers down at the mercenaries who shrink and whimper in fear.

No one tries to stop Hilda as she utterly thrashes her opponents. Montgomery races over to the third cage, the one with Lenny, Agnes, and Bela. Gripping the bars, he tugs and tests the strength. Durable, but not much more than his own was. With a little extra push, he should be able to break through it.

As if reading his mind, Lenny says, "At the same time, Mott. Ready?"

He unsheathes his scalchops, pulsing water through them. "Three."

Lenny summons his grass-type powers. "Two."

They lunge at the bars. "One!"

Their blows meet the metal at the same time, compromising the integrity of both sides. At first, nothing gives, and he worries that freeing them will take longer than he thought—but then it caves all at once, as fast as a strike of lightning. The bars bend under the strain and smash apart in seconds. Just like that, the third cage is busted.

Lenny hops out, grinning at him. "We make a pretty good team, Mott."

Montgomery finds himself smiling back.

"Yeah. Yeah, we do."

Bela helps Agnes out, who's still sniffling and swiping her tears away. They both look rather anxious, eyes darting from side to side as if they expect a mercenary to fly out of nowhere. But no pokémon alive is dense enough to swoop in when Hilda is on a rampage.

"Hey. Hey Hilda, I think you got them," Montgomery calls over the sound of shattering wood and bone. He winces at a particularly painful looking smash. "Hey, uh. Hilda? Buddy?"

Lenny hurries over to her before Montgomery can stop him. Just as he worries that Lenny's life is about to come to a very abrupt conclusion, Lenny places a gentle hand on her leg. She turns.

"You already won. There ain't no need to go overboard."

Hilda shuffles with—is that embarrassment? Is she capable of that? "I'm sorry, Little Lenny. I don't like people who hurt the weak."

Lenny speaks softly. "Me neither."

"Was I like them?" She asks, more to herself than anything. "When I stole and I didn't need to, was I the same as them?"

"Hilda, you could never be the same as them. Let's just get outta here, okay?"

She nods.

From the pile of wealth, the sound of snoring is sharply cut off. "Snnrk?! H-huh? Wha—hey!" The krookodile, now awake, turns furiously in his chair and points a livid finger at them. "Someone! Someone get them!"

Agnes shrinks behind Bela, trembling at the surrounding mercenaries. Before anyone can make the first move, Hilda lumbers over to stand in front of the women.

"Go ahead," she says, to the mercenaries. Her tone is conversational, but her eyes are confrontational. With a voice like a rumbling thunderstorm, she dares, "Get them."

The mercenaries can't back away quick enough.

Busting out of the base is easy, after that. They all just cling to Hilda and make taunting faces at the mercenaries. On the way out, Montgomery snatches the red bandanas back and scoops up a handful of coins.


Trekking through the town back the Agnes' house is just as unpleasant as it was when they were travelling to the base, but this time, Montgomery is plagued with a lot of inner turmoil, too. He made true on his word when he said he wasn't going to ignore the 'am I a bad person' conversation. But now that he's able to confront it, he's not sure if he's ready.

He's never been under the illusion that he's necessarily a good person. After all, he gets in fights with Florian and he disappoints his father all the time. He says and does things that he feels guilty about pretty often. He's not like Lenny. He doesn't pull complete strangers who've just been electrocuted within an inch of their life out of rivers. He doesn't make friends with people at a bar and counsel them through their life's troubles. He doesn't see a town full of impoverished, needy people and think, we can't just leave. Instead, he picks up his map and looks at the fastest route out.

By the time they arrive at Agnes' house, his body is sagging and he's dragging his feet. Even if it is ridiculously early in the morning, he has a feeling that exhaustion isn't the only thing weighing him down.

Agnes' family weeps over her return. The feelings they release are so intense that he can feel them, too. Relief. Worry. Joy. Sadness. There's such a mix of emotions in this moment because even though they fixed something, they didn't fix everything. Montgomery can't help but feel guilty as he hands the family the little scraps of money he snagged from the krookodile. Is this really all he can offer? This will help buy the medicine, but what about tomorrow? What about the next illness, the next famine, the next thing?

He doesn't know why he turns to Lenny, away from the rest of the crowd. He doesn't know why he opens his mouth and asks, "Why did you want to stay and help?"

Because he's a good person, an insidious voice whispers in the back of his mind, and you're not.

Lenny blinks at him quizzically. "Well, why did you give them the money for medicine? Because it was the right thing to do."

But that's different. Lenny does things because he's good, and Montgomery does things because he's not. The only reason he picked up that money for them was because… because… well, he doesn't know. But he only does things for himself, that's why father banished him—because he couldn't put the family's reputation before himself.

Maybe that's why he's always wondered if he was a bad person, because he's always been this way: selfish.


He was ten when he first realized it.

Back then, all that really mattered was what happened in his backyard. The whole world was him and Florian and Torquil, playing make-believe in the woods or staging performances for their siblings. His only worry was what game they would play that day and if the neighbor's mean kids would stop by to torment them again. He lived, content, in a bubble.

But one day, the neighbor's kids started throwing rocks at Torquil. They were older, and tougher, and meaner, and they didn't care that Torquil started to cry. They just kept throwing and jeering.

"Son of a whore! Brothel baby! There's no blue blood in you! Your father doesn't love you, little bastard son!"

Montomgery didn't know what the words meant at the time, and he didn't care. All he knew was that the words hurt Torquil more than the rocks and that Torquil was his friend. At that age, there was a very simple protocol for that.

"Agh! Get off, get off you little rat!" The bullies screamed as he swung and clawed at their faces. The eldest one shoved him off and spit blood at him. "No good Alcott bitch; have fun defending that prostitute's bastard child!"

He yelled at them with a vicious war cry and flung sticks and stones and everything he could get his bloodied, angry little hands on. Curses spat forth from his lips, words his father called him when he was upset with him.

"Useless little shits!" He cried, his voice cracking and roaring with too much rage for such a tiny body. "Pathetic, no-good, sorry wastes of my time!"

Watching the retreating figures of those bullies felt like victory. It tasted like triumph, like vengeance, like justice. Helping Torquil out of the dirt and dusting him off felt good. It made him feel good inside to calm Torquil down and help him dry his tears. But just as the atmosphere settled and Torquil's crying turned to laughing at Montgomery's jokes and antics, a shadow consumed them.

Torquil shrunk back in fear and the temperature plummeted. When Montgomery turned, he was face to face with the grim, stony countenance of his father.

Father: "Did you attack the Eaton children when they came to visit?"

Montgomery: "They weren't visiting, they were bullying Torquil!"

A flash of anger stole over his father's features. "Is that how you speak to the Alcott patriarch?"

Montgomery, realizing his mistake, bowed his head and murmured a submissive 'no.'

"The Eaton family are close allies with the Alcotts. Our friendship with them spans generations," his father informs, his voice grave and dire, as if reading an obituary. "Someday, you will be expected to take up the family mantle and maintain those connections. Your strained relationship with their children could ruin our standing with them for years to come—do you understand what I am saying?"

Montgomery nodded. He understood the words being spoken, but he felt that he was missing the underlying subtext surrounding them, or the 'bigger picture.' But he knew better than to ask. Asking his father questions was almost always taken as disrespect.

As if his father could tell that he was lying, he sighed heavily. Wearily. Like he was the most patient man in the world and Montgomery was the only creature who could test that unyielding patience. It made him want to shrink and disappear in shame.

"That means you need to weigh the pros and cons of your actions. Although the Douglass family and ours are close, they do not have the same influence as the Eatons. We need to put more emphasis on fostering connections to the stronger Eatons rather than the weaker Douglasses." Montgomery squirmed uncomfortably while Torquil looked at the ground. He wished his father wouldn't talk about Torquil's family like that right in front of him. "So, tell me: your decision to support the Douglass heir by challenging the Eatons—was that the correct choice?"

"It…" No. That's the answer his father wants to hear, 'no.' But that doesn't sit well with Montgomery. What he did today felt right. Felt good. Doesn't that mean it was a good thing? "It feels right."

His father frowned, displeased. "It only feels right because you're a selfish boy, Montgomery."

He was shocked by the accusation.

Selfish?

"You are selfish. Self-centered. Self-serving," his father condemned, each word striking him like a knife to the heart. "Your choice could have harmed the Alcott's family standing with the Eatons, costing us an irreplaceable asset. If that choice feels right to you, that is because your feelings are inherently selfish."

Montgomery helped Torquil because it felt right. It felt good. But if that was the wrong thing to do, the selfish thing to do…

Did that mean he was a bad person?

"Next time, what will you do?" Father demanded. "Will you serve your family? Or yourself?"

Ducking his head, he mumbled, "My family, sir."

His father raised his head. Not pleased, because he was never pleased, but close enough that Montgomery knew he made the right choice.

"That's exactly right."


He's always been selfish. Ever since then, he hasn't known whether he can trust the voices in his heart or not. His conscience is riddled with flaws and egotism; he's an inaccurate, unreliable judge of his own intentions—even when he thinks he's doing the right thing, his father presents the facts and shows him how dastardly his intentions really are. Even now, as he stands in front of Agnes' weeping family and they thank him, over and over, he knows he doesn't deserve their thanks. Because whenever he feels good about doing something, like getting her the money for medicine, that usually means he did the wrong thing.

He's still puzzling over his actions, trying to figure out how giving the family medicine was wrong or somehow self-centered when Agnes and her family go inside to rest. Bela motions for them to follow her to her home where they can stay and sleep. He follows like a zombie, lost in every way but physical.

Eventually, he rationalizes it. Agnes was crying a lot about her child dying, and the sound must've been grating on his nerves. He stole the money to get her to be quiet. Even if the end result was still good, it was motivated by selfish means. A small part of him is relieved—now that he knows it was just his motives that were bad and not the result, he doesn't have as much to feel guilty over. At least his selfishness didn't hurt anyone this time.

When they get to Bela's house, there's only enough room for them to sleep in a big huddle together. There aren't enough blankets and there's hardly enough leg room, but physical discomfort isn't really at the forefront of his mind right now. His focus is captured by the red bandana wrapped around his neck.

Lenny gave this to him a few days ago, and he still hasn't decided what he thinks about it. It was a nice gesture, even if the material is a little plain and scratchy. It makes him feel… good. Even without any blankets on this chilly night, just holding the bandana and remembering the night he received it makes his stomach fluttery and warm.

But he was so focused on getting his bandana back from the mercenaries that he didn't even notice the pain Agnes was going through. The bandana made him self-centered, again. Of course, trust him to be the only person who can turn a nice gift into something so horrible.

He turns to Lenny, who's fast asleep. Everyone else is in a deep slumber. He should try to sleep, too. He really should.

Instead, he finds himself reaching out and shaking Lenny awake.

"Hmm?" Lenny wakes, groggy and blinking slowly. "Mott? Is something the matter?"

Montgomery swallows the lump in his throat. It doesn't go down.

Taking off his bandana, he hands it to Lenny. "I told you before, I don't deserve this. I'm…" Selfish. A failure. "I'm not someone who should be allowed to have this."

Lenny narrows his eyes and frowns like he's been given two puzzle pieces that don't fit together.

"This again? Mott, it's a gift. You don't gotta earn it."

He can't stop himself from blurting, "I'll corrupt it."

Lenny looks at him like he's grown two heads. "...What?"

"I—I already have. I let myself get so focused on losing it that I ignored everyone else's problems—hell I didn't even want to stay in this town and help anyone until it got stolen! And then—!"

Gingerly, Lenny shushes him. "You're getting worked up, Mott. Sure, maybe you could've been a little more thoughtful in the beginning, but you came around and did the right thing in the end, didn't you?"

Montgomery stares at him, uncomprehending.

"Giving Agnes the money she needed for the medicine?" Lenny prompts.

He deflates. "Oh. That. No, I did that for my own sake."

"How's that?"

"I wanted her to stop crying."

"Is that so? You didn't seem the least bit bothered by her crying before. You even looked worried about her."

He doesn't have anything to say to that. All he can do is struggle to return to his neutral mask and hope his emotions inside follow suit. A moment of silence interjects itself between them.

"You know," Lenny begins, "you're a nicer person than you'd like people to believe, Mott. I think, maybe, you've even tricked yourself."

He keeps his mouth shut. The neutral mask remains. After a while, Lenny sighs.

"I know I ain't gonna change your mind. You gotta see it for yourself. I won't make you keep the bandana, but I ain't gonna make you earn it, either. You're free to do with it what you want. Throw it out, if that'll make you feel better."

Throw it out?!

He must make some kind of mortified face, because Lenny laughs. "It was just a suggestion! Again, it's your choice."

He looks back down at the bandana between his hands. He should throw it out. Right? That's the responsible thing to do, to keep himself from corrupting it any further. For some reason, that notion just doesn't sit right with him. His first, immediate thought is that it feels wrong because it's actually right, and that his selfish motivations are dictating his actions again.

But if it was wrong, would Lenny let him do it?

Lenny is good. Lenny does things because they're right, and honest, and selfless. If he's willing to let Montgomery keep it… maybe…

Maybe it's not so selfish, after all.

Does that mean his desires aren't always selfish?

"I think," he says, tucking the bandana closer to himself, "That I'll keep it."

Lenny's smile shines brighter than the moon.

"I'm glad."

Something warm springs in his chest, flooding him with abundant emotions that he could only describe as good. And for the first time in a long time, he doesn't feel guilty about that.


"Oi! Get out here, you lousy, no good bastards! I know you're in there!"

It's not the worst wake-up call Montgomery's ever had, but at the very least it's top ten.

Grumpy and disoriented, Montgomery squints his eyes open and immediately regrets it when the sun burns in his vision. He groans, displeased as an angry fist pounds viciously on Bela's front door. Wide-Awake-Montgomery would at least recognize the potential danger of a furious stranger pounding on his door. His groggy, weary self is much less considerate of the threat.

"Go away," he moans, tucking his face against Hilda's leg. Not very comfortable, but effective for blocking out light.

Beside him, Lenny pops up a sleepy head. "Huh? Mott? What's happening?"

He barely registers that Bela is standing beside the door, tense. "It's the mercenary boss. He's… pretty upset about us breaking out and taking stuff."

Montgomery waves a hand angrily, as if it will get the krookodile to leave them alone. Annoyingly, the rabid knocking persists.

Nervously, Bela starts, "What should we—?"

CRASH!

Dust and wood splinters and suffocating stench rush in through the shattered door. If he wasn't awake before, he's at full attention now. In the broken doorway stands the krookodile, filling up the entire space and seething. At his sides, his mercenaries scowl and spit. He gnashes his teeth, infuriated.

"Y'all owe me some payments," he snarls, his voice a low growl. "The money and the bandanas; cough 'em up."

Skittish, Bela stammers, "We—we don't have the money."

"Oh? Is that so?" The krookodile sneers, gesturing to his henchmen. "Well, I guess I'll just have to give you some incentive to find it."

With a sharp nod, the mercenaries run off into the town. As soon as they see a townsperson or a breakable object, they shove it to the ground. People cry out as they're pushed around, and yelps of surprise ring after shatters of glass. Bela, gapes, horrified at the scene.

They're just… trashing the town. More than they already have.

Montgomery could be outraged at their pettiness if he wasn't internally rolling his eyes at their immaturity.

"H-hey! Cut that out!" Bela protests, trying to push past the boss to stop the others. With a meaty claw, he grabs her by the neck and throws her back. She staggers and falls against Hilda, who's slowly stirring from her deep slumber. Pushing herself back to her feet, she cries, "You swore to protect us!"

"We had an arrangement," the boss states, the words rumbling deep in his throat. "You pay us, we protect you. But y'all decided to get sneaky on us and steal from right under our noses!"

"One of my people needed medicine to save her son; I beg you, have a little empathy—"

"Empathy ain't shit, sweetheart," he rasps, and if he was smoking a cigar Montgomery is sure he would've blown all the smoke in their faces at this point. "Economics is where it's at."

Outside, the sound of wailing grows louder as more goods and homes are smashed. Bela stares at the boss with a blank, empty expression.

Then, she narrows her eyes. She snarls.

With a furious battle cry, she charges the krookodile head-on, slamming her skull into his soft belly.

He wheezes as the wind is knocked out of him, stumbling out of the house and flailing for something to hold onto. He manages to grip a nearby, rickety pole that barely supports a platform of ceramic jars. The momentum rips the pole out from the ground and sends to jars toppling to the dirt, smashing them into jagged bits. Slipping, the krookodile falls into the pile of shattered glass, hissing in pain as it cuts into his skin. The fury in Bela's eyes doesn't abate.

Standing over the boss, she proclaims, "I paid you to protect us; I let you get away with more than I should've, all to keep my people safe—no more!" Stomping a hoof on the ground and lowering her head, she declares, "Today, I'll crush you myself!"

The battle starts up in a whirlwind, Bela thrashing and raging with a vengeance and the boss scrambling to keep up. Mercenaries pause in their destructive efforts in equal parts confusion and astonishment, watching the unlikely brawl play out. Montgomery jumps to his feet, unsheathing his scalchops. He's not going to stand around and wait for them to gather their bearings. Before they can decide to resume wreaking havoc, he rushes out and slashes at the nearest mercenary.

It's the krokorok, who's too busy staring wide-eyed at his boss getting whipped to notice Montgomery coming. A direct strike to the chest blows him back quite a ways and weakens him considerably. A nearby mercenary swings a fist at him in retaliation, but he fluidly ducks and returns with a sizable hit.

He's not the only one intent on laying waste to these scumbags. Hilda marches out of the house, erupting volcanoes in her eyes. The mercenaries closest to her scamper back and start running. Before they can even make it out of range, she raises her front legs and brings them down with a mighty roar. The earth shakes and splinters beneath her, knocking her opponents off their feet.

"Stop! Stealing!" She bellows, smashing her feet into the soil. Craters form under her as she pounds away, quaking the surface and striking anyone in her range. Mercenaries, with snot and tears running down their faces, fight in vain to crawl away. She only hammers them more. "Stop it!"

Montgomery is very grateful, in this moment, that she's more or less on his side.

He doesn't notice the mercenary sneaking up behind him until it's too late. Because by then, they've already knocked him on his back and have a fist raised to pummel him. But before they can even swing, a flurry of leaves crash into them and send them flying.

Montgomery turns and grins at Lenny. "Thanks."

"Someone's gotta watch your back," Lenny quips, completely unawares as a mercenary prowls up behind him. Montgomery easily bats them aside with a blast of water. In surprise, Lenny blinks at the soaked and fallen enemy behind him. "Oh. And, uh, I guess someone's gotta watch my back, too."

He can't help the laugh that escapes him as he dives back into the fray.

Punches and kicks and even a few bites are exchanged in the scuffle, all while Bela utterly demolishes the krookodile boss. As it becomes more clear that the boss has no chance of winning, his mercenaries grow restless. Their attacks are more haphazard, more reckless. They miss more than they don't, and they're knocked off their feet too many times to count. The more they fail, the more townsfolk come to watch the spectacle. It almost becomes a comedic event, watching the brutes who took advantage of them for so long finally get what they deserved. Laughter rings in the air with every slip and blunder. Montgomery finds himself feeding into the theatrics of it, just a little, and performing a goofy bow with every foe he takes down.

In all, it's a pretty satisfying fight. And it feels like the right thing to do. It really, really does.

But it all ends in a flash of light. Bela, in her small frame, looms over the massive krookodile as light encases her. Her sickly, frail figure expands, growing in height and weight. Power surges through the air; crackles of electricity heighten the tension. Then, in one, resolute snap, the light disappears to reveal a newly evolved zebstrika.

"I don't need you anymore," Bela declares, holding her head high. "I will protect my people on my own."

With thunderous applause, the townsfolk leap into the air and cheer. Outnumbered and outmatched, the mercenaries and their boss scamper off with their tails between their legs. Bela watches them go with a keen eye, ensuring they don't cause any trouble on their way out. And even if they thought of getting up to something, Hilda's terrifying shout of "And no more stealing!" probably squashed that notion.

It takes a few hours to bring the loot stashed in the mercenary base into the center of town, and it will surely take even longer to redistribute it. But Montgomery helps Bela check and double check the numbers while Lenny hands out each item to the ecstatic civilians. Hilda helps hand things out, too—that is, until she spots something and freezes in place.

For a moment, he worries that the mercenaries came back for round two. He immediately braces himself for a fight, but when he follows Hilda's line of vision, all he sees is an unfamiliar woman.

"Anastasia…?" Hilda utters, like she's seen a goddess.

The woman, a musharna, floats forward. She regards the world around her with casual indifference, as if she's seen other versions of this universe and this one simply doesn't entertain her. But when her eyes fall on Hilda, a certain softness envelops them, like she's the one good thing this world ever created.

Montgomery suddenly gets the feeling he should give them some privacy.

"Hilda," Anastasia greets, her voice calm and serene. The anxiousness in her eyes betrays her true feelings, though. "I've looked everywhere for you after our fight. It's been months."

Lenny, who seems much less bothered by an unintentional breach of privacy, stands by him to watch the scene unfold. It gives Montgomery the thought that he should know this woman somehow…

Wait. Fight? Months?

This lady is Hilda's wife?! Whenever he envisioned her wife, he always imagined someone who looked exactly like Hilda and maybe had an eyepatch. He never thought she'd be some ethereal, gorgeous woman. But when he looks in her eyes, he gets the notion that she's just as capable of violence as Hilda is.

"Anastasia," Hilda repeats, as if it's all she can say. "You're here."

Anastasia nods. "I saw you drive away those thugs. I saw you tell them to quit stealing."

Hilda nods, a hint of shame in her expression. "I… I have been thinking. A lot. Since I stole and lost my job."

"I can see that." For a moment, even Anastasia's cool mask of nonchalance flickers with something like regret. "I never meant to push you away, you know."

"I've learned how to weave," Hilda blurts. Montgomery's never seen her so… awkward? Starstruck? Both? "I might not get another baking job. But I can provide for us."

A smile dances across Anastasia's face. Montgomery has a feeling that's a rare occurrence for her.

"I'd like that," she says, softly. Then, gently placing a hand on Hilda's arm, she entreats, "Come home."

Lenny gasps, gripping Montgomery's arm like he wants to rip it off. He winces.

Hilda nods, tears in her eyes. "Yes. I'd want nothing more."

Lenny's grip tightens. He shakes Montgomery with vigor. He can't tell whether he's going to lose his arm or throw up first.

"It's happening!" Lenny sings in a whisper, still shaking Montgomery. He squeals with delight as Hilda bestows her homemade ribbon upon Anastasia's head. "Oh, I'm just so happy for her! Isn't love wonderful, Mott?"

"Uh-huh," he answers dumbly, too dizzy to form a more coherent response. "Sure is."

Lenny finally stops shaking him in favor of leaning his head on Montgomery's arm and sighing contentedly. "This whole mess really turned out good, huh? The town is free from those mercenaries, Bela is picking up the reins, Hilda is reunited with her one true love…"

For a moment, they stand in comfortable silence, like farmers surveying lands that have just begun to blossom.

Then, Lenny pipes up again. "Do you know why I asked to come along with you, Mott?"

Montgomery opens his mouth to answer, then promptly shuts it. It never really occurred to him to wonder why Lenny joined him. But the more he thinks about it, the weirder the question seems to him. Why would anyone join a complete stranger on their impossible mission to defeat a legendary dragon?

"I wanted to explore," he explains, with a longing glimmer in his eye. "I mentioned to you before that I had never really left my home in Wheatfield Village, and, well… things get boring pretty fast. You don't get to see much of anything."

Montgomery understands that. Lenny's house was nothing more than dirt and wood put together—not exactly the most entertaining place to be.

"I want to see places. Meet people. Try new things." Lenny watches the running river in front of them like he's wondering where each particle of water will end up. "And, well… I guess I thought you'd be a pretty good ticket to that. Sorry if that offends you."

Montgomery regards him for a moment. Then, he shrugs.

"I'm not offended. I'm just glad I was in the right place at the right time to meet you and bring you along."

Lenny looks up at him with wide eyes. "Really?"

"Really." Montgomery holds up the end of his red bandana, as if to gesture with it. With a smile, he says, "I mean, we're adventuring pals, aren't we?"

Lenny stares at him, silent and expressionless. Montgomery wonders if he broke him.

"Uh, Lenny?" He asks, waving a hand in front of his face. "Are you—?"

In a flash, a blinding light envelops Lenny.

Montgomery's eyes are forced shut by the searing white, and he raises his arms to block what glare he can. A small rush of wind scatters some nearby leaves, as if calling them to Lenny. A few gasps and exclamations of shock rise up from the street.

By the time the light dies down at Montgomery can safely see again, he has to look up to meet Lenny's eyes. Way up.

Way, way, way up.

A leavanny stands where Lenny once stood—or, still stands. It's still Lenny, but… different. His body is slender, his waist lithe, his legs impossibly long. In amazement, Lenny marvels at his new form, gasping and laughing as if he can't find the words for it.

Lenny spins around. "I'm… I'm—!"

Beautiful.

"Tall," Montgomery blurts.

Lenny looks down at him, smiling. Like he's an endearing child, he pats Montgomery's head. Montgomery scowls and swats his hand away, much to Lenny's obvious delight.

"You're so tiny now!" Lenny coos.

"I'll kill you," he threatens. Lenny just laughs.

A booming laugh distracts him from making good on his threat. When he and Lenny turn to face Hilda, she's regarding Lenny with shining eyes.

Slinging an arm around him in a crushing hug, she proclaims, "Little Lenny has grown!"

Bela is smiling. "Wow! This day really is a cause for celebration. Although, we don't have much to entertain with right now…"

Lenny smiles, hugging Hilda and Montgomery close to him. "We have each other. Isn't that enough?"

Bela's smile turns into a grin.

Montgomery clears his throat and awkwardly suggests, "Uh. I can sing?"

Bela's grin turns into an unrestrained, delighted laugh.

For the rest of the day, they return the townsfolk their belongings. They spend a few more days in Moressley town than Montgomery had anticipated, but he ended up glad about it. It gave them more time to see Bela prepared to lead, Agnes' child walking healthier than ever before, and the townsfolk slowly repairing their broken lives.

It also gave Hilda a chance to approach them, a few days later, bittersweet at the prospect of returning home. Eager to see her family again, upset to see Lenny and Montgomery go. Lenny and Hilda exchanged teary goodbyes that day, and even Montgomery felt a pang of sadness at losing her.

But as for that night, Montgomery sang for the town, more beautifully than any caged bird.