AN: Good day everyone. My continued thanks for your taking the time out of your day to read my story. It seems the pattern into which I've slipped is to post on Tuesdays, but that said I can make no promises about the next few weeks; I have a few things coming up that will be seriously eating into my schedule. Oh well. Thanks again!

Peace!

Wallace – Chapter Two –The Armistice Ends

Lying on his back in his bed, Wallace had long since thrown away the fur covers to help cope with the unseasonal heat wave striking his home. Eyes closed, face contorted in pain, the young trainer struggled to catch his breath, each heaving of his chest bringing a fresh stab of pain to his lungs. Opening one eye to glance at the little Pokémon sitting beside him on the bed, he reached over and rubbed the back of his Ralts' head a moment before letting his arm drop back to the bed. "I know, I know," he muttered, feeling the Pokémon's concerned gaze falling on him. "I overdid it. I just thought that since yesterday I did one lap around the perimeter that today I should go for two."

Taking as deep a breath as he could while trying not to cause his lungs to spasm in protest, Wallace started to speak but stopped short as a shout from beyond his bedroom door cut him off. He recognized his father's voice bellowing at someone, though he couldn't make out the exact words. "Something's wrong," he muttered, sitting up and reaching out his hand for the walking stick propped up in the corner on the opposite side of his room. Eyes flashing red, Ralts' clapped its hands together and the walking stick jumped through the air to Wallace's hand. Snatching the implement from the air, Wallace turned and caught the glowing scarlet belt pouch flying towards him, thanked his Pokémon for her help, and leaned his weight on the stick to half-stand, half-roll his way out of the bed as he fixed the pouch to his side by his belt. Motioning with his other hand for the Pokémon to follow him, Wallace walked through the door and into the stone hall beyond.

Simply following the sound of his father's shouting, Wallace paced to the main entry chamber of the Weaver Estate. The expansive room, constructed of heavy dark timbers interlaced between layers of white limestone, normally served as the Weaver Family's center of business, where they would entertain guests from other manors or sort out issues among their own serfs and hired hands, though on this day the room's only occupants were Lord William Weaver on his throne, no fewer than a dozen of his personal guard, and ten visitors clearly divided into two equally sized camps.

One of the visiting parties wore distinctive red and orange robes beneath gleaming steel armor. In their hands they carried halberds and lashed by leather cords to their other arms were between two and five pokeballs. Most distinctive about the trainers in red and silver though were the thick and winding scars they each wore on their faces; each man and woman bore, starting on either end of their jaws and crossing symmetrically over their faces, a gnarled scar in the shape of an "M" that made misjudging their allegiance impossible. Seeing the troops and instantly recognizing them as Magman trainers, Wallace's breath caught.

Opposite those trainers, before his father Wallace saw five more men and women with pokeballs, though these soldiers wore robes dyed deep blue and lined with golden thread over their lighter shirts of fine mail. The robes shone emblazoned with the broken white "A" of their band clearly branded on their backs, matching the sigil scarred into the back of each trainer's right hand. While the Aquan trainers wore no open weapons like the Magman warriors, Wallace could clearly make out the outlines of sabers and knives hanging from their waists beneath their cloaks.

Glancing to the extreme end of the chamber, William Weaver spotted his son and immediately turned back to the guests before him. "I think," he said, voice as firm as Wallace had ever heard it, "that we must finish this discussion another time. Gentlemen, ladies," he inclined his head to his guests.

One of the men in blue stepped forward, pushing his cape back over his shoulders to reveal the sword hanging at his side. "No," said the Aquan agent. "Lord Weaver, I do not believe we have time to discuss this another time! These fiends," he drew his sword with a metallic ring and a flash of light as the blade caught the sun, pointing the saber at the Magmans and prompting both of the other parties in the room to draw and level their weapons at the men and women in blue and silver, "stole an enormous treasure from our master, a treasure you now hold here on these grounds. We demand," the emissary stomped his heavy boot on the ground, "that you return the coffers to us this instant and execute the lot of these thieves."

Aiming his halberd at the Aquans with one hand and holding a pokeball in the other, the largest of the Magmans looked between the man on the stage, flanked by his numerous house guards in their emerald cloaks and matching breastplates, and the Aquan trainers on the opposite end of the conflict. "This is preposterous!" the Magman trainer shouted. "Lord Weaver, by the authority of General Maxie and Team Magma I demand you execute these fools and return the treasure to its rightful owners, to us!"

The lead Aquan glared down his sabre at his Magman counterpart. "Lying, thieving scum," he yelled, face tight with hate. "I'll have your head!"

Slamming his halberd against his breastplate as his four compatriots howled for him to attack, the lead Magman took a step forward. "Try it!" he shouted back. "It's been days since I killed one of you slime."

Stepping up from his seat and stomping down the stage, William positioned himself between the two groups of trainers and held one hand out towards either party. "This is my house!" he bellowed. "You are all guests beneath my roof and I'll have no bloodshed in my hall!" He whipped his gaze between the two posturing parties of trainers. "All of you! Stand down immediately!"

As Wallace watched, both the Magman and Aquan trainers looked from the man between them to the other party, neither backing away but neither charging the other either. Gradually, William stood straight up and lowered his hands to his sides. "Now," he said, his tone calmer but still firm, "you are all perfectly welcome to share in my hospitality, but there will be no bloodshed in my home," he looked again between both groups. "Gerard," he said to the lead Magman, "Alfonz," he looked almost pleadingly to the head Aquan, "please. I've been more than happy to work with you both in the past. We've done good business together and we've brought a measure of stability to this land not seen in a generation. Please, let's not throw away the profits and the peace we've all enjoyed over a single dispute that we will work out to everyone's satisfaction."

The Magmans and the Aquans looked amongst themselves, though it was William that continued speaking, stepping back and climbing two of the three steps up to the stage behind him. "Put your damned weapons away," he said, growing calmer with each word. "The last thing I want is to have to explain to Archie or Maxie why their men were slaughtered at the foot of my throne. Please, everyone remain calm."

William went silent as the lead Magman lowered his halberd before dropping the weapon to the ground and approaching the stage. The soldier in red and orange inclined his head before reestablishing eye contact with the lord of the manor. "Lord Weaver," Gerard said, his voice too quiet for his physique, "respectfully, I demand a private audience."

Folding his arms over his chest, William looked down on his assembled guests. "No one is in a position to demand anything of anyone," he said, "not while they're within my walls. Now, all of you are done for the time being," he raised a hand and gestured to the doors at the end of the hall. "Return to your camps. I'll have my servants bring you meat and wine before sunset. We will continue our discussion at first light."

Mutterings and grumblings rose from both the Aquan and Magman parties, though the former, followed a moment later by the latter, filed out of the chamber. Wallace watched from his vantage point about halfway down the hall as his father sighed and nearly fell back into his throne. Emerging from the shadows Wallace approached the stage, his walking stick clanging on the stone floor followed by the almost silent patting of his Pokémon's feet behind him. He caught his father's attention and bowed before continuing his approach.

The lord of the manor motioned for his son to approach before waving off his guards. "You're up sooner than anticipated," said the man on the throne, looking about, his eyes eventually setting on the decorative halberds lining the hall's ancient walls. "How are you feeling?"

Wallace opened his mouth to speak but a twinge in his chest cut him short. The boy doubled over beneath the weight of a raking cough, raising a hand to his mouth and drawing it away bloody. "I've been better," he said.

Face unreadable, the lord sighed. "You should be resting," William stated flatly, looking past his son to the door at the end of the hall. "I realize I said you need to rebuild your strength, but you're not speeding your recovery by over-exerting yourself."

Pointing his walking stick at the door, Wallace faced his father. "How could I possibly stay in bed when we have soldiers from Team Aqua and Team Magma camped at our door?" he asked. "Were you planning on telling me? How many are there-" another fit of coughing filled the chamber with the sound of ripping paper and left Wallace trembling in silence a moment.

Sighing and sitting forward, William closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "Each came with no fewer than fifty men," he growled, "each armed to the teeth and interested in very little beyond starting a fight and taking that treasure you found for themselves." He shook his head. "We should have left it alone, or buried it so deep in the Petalburg Forest no one would ever find it."

Wallace exhaled slowly and carefully, his vision losing focus momentarily and forcing him to sit on the stage to regain his composure. He thought a moment, glancing around the hall, taking in the tapestries and murals decorating his ancestral home and telling the stories of its people. "So what are we going to do?" he asked, his gaze settling on a mosaic on the south wall, one depicting his great grandfather's slaying of an enormous Tyranitar. "Can we just hand it over to the Magmans and be done with it? It was in their possession after all."

Shaking his head, William sank a little lower on his throne. "The Aquans claim the Magmans stole it from them; saying that's why they were moving it in secret. I don't think I can just give it to one side or the other without giving the other party ample cause to see the action as deliberately favoring their enemy." He chuckled, though the laugh sounded hollow and brought no joy to his face. "Tell me, future lord of the manor, what would you do in this situation?"

Wallace leaned a little more of his weight on the walking stick as he thought, turning to his Ralts and meeting the Pokémon's scarlet eyes. "I'd divide the treasure in two equal parts," he said, his face reflecting the uncertainty in his tone, "coin for coin, pokeball for pokeball, casting lots to see who got which half."

Stroking his bristling beard, William looked at the ground at his son's feet. "Simplistic," he said, "overly so maybe, but I was thinking the same thing. I see no other option to maintain our neutrality. Now tell me," he went on, "if it came to bloodshed, which side would you choose?"

"Honestly," Wallace responded without hesitation, "I don't know nearly enough about either side to pick one over the other," he paused, "probably whichever gave me the least reason to distrust them. At this point that would probably be Aqua, given they weren't secretly hauling enough treasure to start a war across my property. Then again, we have more history with the Magmans, and their reputation for atrocities is a little more," Wallace searched for words, "muted, than the Aquans."

"Wise," William muttered, "given the limits of what you know. I do believe I've taught you well, moreover you've grown beyond my teachings and I think you'll make a fine lord," he stopped as Wallace straightened up following the compliment and grinned from ear to ear. William smiled as his son bowed again, then shifted on his throne and nodded his head towards an especially heavy-looking iron door set in the eastern wall. "Go. Head down to the vault and tally up the treasure. Divide it up as equally as you can and report back to me when you're done. We might yet get these assholes off our land without any bloodshed."

Still beaming from the compliment, Wallace reached down and scooped up his Ralts, setting the Pokémon on his shoulder like he would a small child. "I'll have it done before nightfall," he answered, turning from his father, walking down the steps from the stage, and crossing the hall to the iron door. Reaching out and tugging at the heavy slab of metal without success, Wallace stopped for breath and glanced to the Pokémon in his shoulder. "A little help," he whispered.

Stammering, the Ralts clapped her hands together. Simultaneously her eyes and the door's handle flashed with a dark crimson glow that faded almost as soon as it sprang to life. Hinges grinding under years of accumulated settling, Wallace opened the door with ease. Thanking his little Pokémon he reached up and mussed her hair, disappearing down the stairs and into the dark on the other side of the door.

Making his way to the bottom of the stairs, Wallace stopped on the landing beyond which the light filtering down from the door above him did not reach. Grabbing an unlit torch from the steel bracket bolted to the wall at the bottom of the landing, Wallace held the wooden handle at arm's length as his Ralts again clapped her hands together. A purple spark leapt between the Pokémon's red eyes and instantly the oil-soaked head of the torch burst to fiery life. "Thank you again," Wallace said, watching as the orange light filled the sandy colored hall. The Ralts cooed happily, scooting on his shoulder to snuggle against Wallace's head, eyes closed contentedly.

The young trainer made his way down the hall, passing barred off cells on his left and right, some of which contained iron manacles bolted to the wall or floor, others occupied only by cobwebs, while still more contained the coffers holding his family's accumulated wealth. These latter cells drew Wallace's attention for a moment as he wondered what his family's grandeur must have looked like in the past if even now there sat literal piles of gold and jewels in their dungeons just waiting to be spent once the continent recovered. As he reached the end of the passage, coming upon another iron door Wallace glanced into the barred cell beside him and spotted the human skeleton slumped in the corner. Pushing the heavy door aside, Wallace wondered momentarily to whom the bones belonged and how long they had rested there, wasting away in the dungeon.

Deciding to put that mystery out of his mind for the time being, Wallace pushed his way into his family's vault, a domed room constructed of massive orange bricks some fifty feet below ground level. Steel tracks crisscrossed the ceiling, supporting burlap curtains that divided the vault into a number of smaller sections. Throwing the curtains aside and walking the perimeter of the room, Wallace passed his torch through the mouths of two small oil lamps set in the vault's walls before he turned to the collection of boxes and coffers sectioned off by themselves in the center of the room. Looking to the other steel boxes set around the outside of the room, most of which were closed and locked even though some sat open, displaying the grandest of the Weaver family's wealth of jewels and artifacts cast from precious metals, Wallace sighed and looked to his Pokémon.

"What do you think little fella?" he asked, leaning down as the Ralts hopped to the ground. "Is all this shiny metal really worth fighting over?" Wallace muttered. "What about the colorful rocks? Are they worth killing for?"

Looking up at him, curiosity plain on her face, the Ralts cocked its head off to one side.

Wallace shook his head, setting the torch in a slot in the wall. "I don't think so either," he muttered. "You can't eat gold," he picked through a collection of small bags and sacks, coming upon a sturdy key. "You can't drink gems," Wallace went on as he walked among the Magma coffers, unlocking the chests and lifting the lids to better get a look at the contents. "So I don't see the point."

Sifting and sorting through the chests of coins of gold and silver, digging through chests of pokeballs to ensure no other items lurked beneath the obvious treasures in the chests, Wallace tallied up an estimation of about how much wealth he guessed the Magman cart had been carrying. Lugging the chests away from each other then, with constant help from his Pokemon and taking frequent breaks to either cough noisily or catch his breath, Wallace divided the treasure down what he thought to be the middle. Thereafter he stepped back to examine his work, panting heavily, sweating profusely, and red in the face. All in all the endeavor had taken the better part of nine, perhaps ten hours he estimated, only then realizing that his stomach had been complaining loudly for the latter half of his efforts.

Sitting on one of the closed chests, peeling his sweat soaked emerald shirt from his shoulders and using it to wipe his face and neck, Wallace took several breaths before dropping the shirt to the ground. The wet cloth slapped to the ground by his leather boot as Wallace grimaced and glared at the uneven piles of coffers and chests in the center of the room. "Dammit," he muttered, spotting the darker steel box which left his two piles uneven and walking over to it. "What am I going to do with you?" he hovered over the coffer. "What do you think?" Wallace pivoted and looked to his Ralts where she sat by another box humming a tune quietly to herself.

Turning back to the box, Wallace reached down and flipped its lid open. "How am I supposed to divvy up a bunch of fancy bones?" he looked down into the box at the human skeleton contained therein and the lines of gleaming gold and platinum carefully and neatly inlaid into each and every one of the bones. "I don't think I can split them up," he said, reaching down and picking up the skull from the pile, hesitating a moment at the seemingly disproportional weight of the item. "What's this?" muttered the young trainer, turning the decorated skull over in his hands to get a better feel for its mass, only then noticing that the eye sockets, ear canals, nostrils and the hole at the base of the bony structure had all been covered over with gold, even though the skull's weight failed to convince Wallace the entire bony structure had been filled with the precious metal.

Turning back towards his Pokémon, Wallace took a step. "Hey Ralts," he said, carefully studying the skull as his Pokémon looked up, "give me a hand with this will you-" the boy screamed in surprise as he stepped in the puddle of sweat forming around his discarded shirt, felt his foot fly out from beneath his body, and found himself looking up at the ceiling as he flipped through the air. The skull, almost as if by its own accord, shot from Wallace's hand like an arrow from a bow as he fell.

Gasping as her eyes went wide, the little Pokémon jumped to her feet and clapped her hands together. Instantly her eyes flashed red and a cloud of dull scarlet light sprang to life beneath Wallace, catching the young trainer like a net as the Ralts guided her little nimbus with a thought. Wallace reached out helplessly for the ornate skull, his heart shattering with it as the decorated item smashed into the brick wall and flew into a dozen pieces. Another glint of red light however caught Wallace's eye; some solid object flashing brightly dropped from the skull to the floor with a loud crystalline clank, even as the bony structure broke to splinters against the bricks.

Closing her eyes and tracing her hands through the air to mirror the mental directions she gave the cloud of scarlet light, the Ralts set Wallace, unharmed, on his feet and sighed, dropping her hands as the cloud disappeared behind him. His attention still held by the fate of the decorated skull however, Wallace glanced from where it had struck the wall to where it had dropped its payload on the stone floor. He zoned in on the red orb resting silently, but glowing brightly with some inner light, in his family's vault.

"What in the world are you?" Wallace mumbled, stumbling over to the wall and reaching down. The boy's fingers hovered mere millimeters above the orb's glassy surface for a moment as Wallace froze where he stood, leaning his weight against the brick wall. New beads of sweat dotted his forehead and dripped to the ground while he pressed his lips into a fine white line as he prepared to take the silently glowing object in his hand.

Slowly however, Wallace pulled his hand back and away from the orb. His eyes grew narrow as he levelled all his scrutiny on the luminescent artifact. The inner light of the orb swirled and turned in on itself like roiling crimson smoke, hypnotizing the young trainer as his hand hovered inches from the artifact. Wallace jerked, stirred from his state as something brushed his leg. Turning about and looking down he saw his Ralts, her crimson eyes full of worry, looking up at his with her fingers gripping the cuff of his pants. The young trainer had known the Pokemon only a short time but he had yet to see her quake with such fear.

Reaching down, Wallace again mussed the little creature's hair. "I'm fine," he answered the Pokémon's unasked question. "Nothing to worry about." Wallace stretched out his hand and picked up the glowing red sphere. Instantly his ears perked up and his eyes grew wide. "Hello?" he turned about and looked over his shoulder. "Who's there?" he called out, gripping the orb tightly. When no answer came the trainer turned to his Pokémon. "You heard that," he asked, "right? The whisper?"

Still looking up at him with a face full of concern, the Pokémon at his side shook her head.

Wallace's eyes narrowed. "Huh," he muttered, "weird. I swear I heard something," the trainer paused again. "No," he said to the Ralts, "I couldn't make out what it said. It was just, it was like," he thought a moment, "like a whisper in my head." Wallace held the orb a little higher until it caught the light of one of the vault's oil lamps and, much to the boy's surprise, grew darker. The orb's internal light cooled, the smoky tendrils inside its glass shell slowing their twisting dance.

Spinning about Wallace again glanced over his shoulder. "Seriously," he called ignoring his Ralts and shouting to the otherwise empty room, "is anyone else in here?" he looked between the curtains hanging about the chamber making sure none of them hid anything in their shadows, shadows, the boy thought looked to be growing deeper. "This place is getting to me," he muttered, slipping the orb into the pouch on his belt, twitching in surprise when the artifact felt almost to shrink in his hand to fit more clandestinely in the pocket. Double checking with a pat to his side, Wallace tried to measure the size of the sphere, unable to be sure that it had indeed changed size despite his reflexive guess that it had. "I need to get some food," said the boy, looking over the two piles of treasure in the center of the room, snuffing out the oil lamps, and walking out of the vault.

Scooping up his Ralts and carrying her in one arm and his torch in the other hand, Wallace climbed the stairs out of the dungeon, stopping on a landing halfway up when he saw the door back to the manor's main hall had been closed. Wallace climbed to the door and stopped to catch his breath. "Thought I left this open," he wheezed, putting his hand on the door and leaning into it, gasping in surprise when it remained closed fast.

Sucking in a breath, Wallace pressed all his weight against the door. "Damn it," he cursed when it didn't budge. "Ralts," he looked to his Pokémon, who had already climbed down his leg and readied itself to act, "a little help please?" he stepped back a few paces as the little creature clapped its hands and a red spark leapt between the Pokémon and the door. Wallace grinned when he heard the latching mechanism click. "So glad I taught you that," he laughed, stopping short as pain ripped into his chest and he wrenched over, hacking and coughing.

As the fit of wheezing and coughing intensified, Wallace felt his Pokémon put her hand on his knee and worriedly chatter. Taking a moment to close his eyes and breathe, Wallace ceased coughing. Turning his head with one last raking pain in his chest he spit some pink slime against the wall and wiped his lips. Scooping his Ralts back up, Wallace pressed on the door and stepped through as it swung open. Instantly the boy froze, the sound of angry screaming filling his ears as the smell of smoke reached his nostrils.

Casting about the hall and seeing no one, Wallace took one of the decorative halberds from the wall and leaned his weight against the polearm as sweat broke out on his forehead. Quickly he grabbed a cloak slung over a chair and threw it over his shoulders. Making his way down the hall to the manor's main entrance, Wallace could see through the windows set high in the walls that smoke billowed outside the manor. Angry firelight he saw as well flickered on the underside of the dark clouds, twisting and flashing as if dancing to the chorus of the screams outside the manor.

Grabbing the handle to the manor's entrance, Wallace paused as his Ralts tugged on his pants to hold him back. "Not now!" he shouted at the creature. "I've got to find out what's going on!" Wallace threw the door open.

Instantly the screaming intensified and a wave of hot air, carrying with it the smell of burning canvas and flesh, blew into the manor. Wallace squinted against the rush of air, looking from the manor down the cobbled path as it dipped with a drop in the land to the estate's muster field, in which the boy saw three groups of armed, screaming men and variety of snarling, hissing, and roaring Pokémon. One of the three parties wore what Wallace instantly recognized as his father's colors and carried a banner baring his family's sigil, though these men, armed with halberds and accompanied by a pack of Mightyena, a Lairon, and, Wallace saw, his father's Scyther and Sandslash, stood vastly outnumbered by the gathered forces of Teams Aqua and Magma.

Both the rival organizations boasted forces of at least sixty men, accompanied by half again as many Pokémon. The Magmans wore breastplates and carried steel shields, against which they beat their fists and their halberds opposite the Aquan forces. The soldiers in blue and silver however carried crossbows and javelins in their ranks, stomping their armored feet and shouting war cries and taunts at the men in red and orange.

Behind the Magman forces, the young trainer saw, sat a number of tents, several of which had burned to the ground or bore signs of fire damage. In front of one of the tents lay three rectangular sheets of white cloth, covering up three human shapes.

Wallace sucked in a breath, his eyes going wide as he surveyed the battle lines. "I've got to find father!" he shouted, running down the path towards the muster field. As he moved he saw a single figure break away from his family's forces and take up a position in between the three armies. Immediately the boy recognized William Weaver, holding out his hands towards the Aquans and the Magmans as if to keep them apart. Arriving at the rear of his family's forces, Wallace stepped up behind the last rank of his father's men.

The expression on his face pleading, William looked between the Aquan and the Magman forces. "-intentional sabotage!" the lord of the manor's words carried on the wind to all present. "Everyone sheathe your weapons and return your Pokémon to their pokeballs!"

A towering man in heavy armor, Gerard, Wallace saw, stepped forward from the Magman ranks. "Sorry old friend," he shouted back, "no one is backing off until we get our treasure back and these Aquan scum pay for killing my men!"

The lead Aquan stepped forward from the rest of his ranks, levelling his crossbow at the line of Magman troops. "The treasure is ours you worthless sack of shit!" he screamed. "We didn't set those fires! This is a ruse, a transparent trick!"

Moving up to stand directly between the two band leaders, William again shouted for everyone to lower their weapons. His demand however served only to incense both sides, and the screams from the opposing battle lines intensified. On either side of the slim divide between them, men screamed to attack and Pokémon roared and howled. Wallace pushed his way through the ranks of his father's men to the front line, stepping out from the ranks of soldiers, the young trainer and his Pokémon drew the attention of all those present.

"Dad!" Wallace called out, fighting to maintain his composure even as his chest grew tight and his lungs burned with the urge to cough.

His eyes wide with horror, William turned to his son. "Wallace!" he barked. "Get back to the manor! Now!"

Leaning more of his weight against the halberd, Wallace leaned forward as a ripping cough tore from his chest. Looking up he glanced between the Aquans and the Magmans, both sides screaming at one another. "Shit," he muttered beneath his breath. "How am I going to stop them?" Wallace turned as a hand fell on his shoulder.

The burly soldier, shielded from head to toe in sturdy metal armor with his face hidden behind a thick visor, pulled on Wallace's shoulder just enough to move the young trainer back a step. "Sir," he said calmly, voice too low to reach either the Aquan line or the Magman soldiers, "I have to advise that you return to the manor. These barbarians look pretty intent on starting a fight and I don't think your old man can hold them off."

Pulling away from the man in the emerald armor, Wallace jerked his shoulder from beneath the man's gauntleted hand. "I'm not leaving my father," he barked, taking another step back towards the center of the muster field. "Not without-" Wallace stopped and shouted as his heel struck a rock and he stumbled backwards. Again his Ralts clapped her hands together and again a cloud of crimson light sprang into existence to catch the young lord as he fell.

Tumbling backwards Wallace fell into the cloud though, despite the relatively gentle landing, the flap of his pocket still flew open and the red orb shot from his possession with a speed almost too great for the manner in which it was launched. Landing in the dirt several feet closer to William Weaver, the orb gleamed red, too brightly to simply reflect the firelight from the torches gathered beneath the evening sky. Almost immediately a hush fell over the battle lines as all of the Aquan and Magman troops turned away from each other and faced the new light source shining from the dirt in front of the Weaver forces.

Climbing from the crimson cloud back to his feet, Wallace turned away from his Pokémon and looked between the crimson orb and his father who, much like the leaders of the Aquan and Magman armies, had turned to stare at the orb. Identical expressions of surprise and uncertainty settled on all three leaders' features, before Alfonz visibly twitched and shook himself from his stupor to look around at his cerulean-clad soldiers.

Raising his saber, the Aquan captain looked back at his men. "They've stolen the orb!" he screamed. "Attack!" On one cue, the Aquan forced bellowed their war cry, more than half of them dropping to one knee, simultaneously raising their crossbows, and loosing a storm of bolts as their Pokémon surged forward like a tsunami. Cries rose from the Magman ranks and from the lines of William's forces as a handful of men in each party fell beneath the crossbow fire.

"Protect the lord!" a soldier behind Wallace shouted.

The young trainer glanced around to see his father retreating for the ranks of his men, scooping up the red orb as he ran, while the Weaver soldiers charged forward with a cry. Meanwhile the Magman soldiers levelled their weapons at the Aquan troops and charged alongside their Pokémon headlong into another volley of screaming bolts, losing perhaps half dozen men when the steel-tipped missiles struck home. Screams louder than any Wallace had ever heard rose in the air as the armies met in the center of the field with a thunderous crash. Streaks of lightning, pillars of fire, and storms of crossbow bolts leapt between the Aquans and the Magmans as the Weaver forces closed ranks around their lords amidst the screams of victims being rent apart by voracious Pokémon.

William put a hand on Wallace's shoulder, his face hard as he pulled his son closer. "Wallace," he hissed, jamming the red orb into his son's hands and closing the boy's fingers on the artifact. "We need to get back to the manor and lock ourselves in. Now that the fighting's started there'll be no stopping it. We-" he stopped short as a deafening roar split the night and left Wallace's ears ringing and his head throbbing.

In the center of the muster field, a cloud of white light no less than forty feet high and more than a hundred feet wide spun like smoke caught in the wind, coalescing into four titanic pillars of blinding energy. Wallace's jaw dropped and his heart thumped so hard in his chest it felt as though the organ might fail for fear as the columns of light turned blue and shaped themselves into titanic serpents. As the four enormous Gyarados burst from the cloud, screaming as they arrived on the battlefield, William turned back to his son.

Grabbing Wallace by the shoulders, the lord of the manor looked his son directly in the eye. "I'm proud of you Wallace!" he shoved the boy into the waiting grasp of two soldiers who hoisted Wallace up even as two of the Gyarados turned their attention on the Weaver formation. Shouting to his troops as his Pokémon leapt to his side, William stabbed one finger to the house up the hill. "We'll hold them off! Get my son to the vault and lock yourselves in! Go now!"

Wallace screamed for the soldiers to let him go even as the armored men dragged him down the sidewalk, their iron grips making resistance impossible. Even so Wallace struggled to get free of the men, watching in horror as the two Gyarados bore down on his father's soldiers while the Aquan and the Magmans threw themselves against each other farther back. "Dad!" Wallace shouted at the top of his lungs. "Dad no!" his face went white as one of the huge blue Pokémon reared back, a sphere of golden energy whirling to life between its jaws.

Heaving itself forward, the Gyarados unleashed its hyper-beam on the Weaver forces, the bolt of energy striking the earth with the force of a falling meteorite, shaking the ground and instantly vaporizing five men unlucky enough to be caught in the blast and shrouding the rest in the dust the blast churned up. Wallace screamed again to be released, but the two soldiers ignored his pleas, dragging him up the hill and away from the battlefield. One of the guards looked over his shoulder and stopped in his tracks beside a small tree. "Watch out!" he screamed just before another hyper-beam shot up the hill and struck the ground not more than a meter from Wallace and his escorts. The beam exploded and Wallace felt himself flying through the air. His world vanished in a flash of white, followed instantly by an all-encompassing darkness that utterly obscured his vision.

Feeling himself strike the ground hard, Wallace rolled to a stop and lay a moment on the grass. Unable to breathe and engulfed from head to toe in fiery pain, he opened one eye just enough to see his Ralts rushing up the hill towards him. The little Pokémon was at Wallace's side an instant later, grabbing him by the elbow and straining to lift him to his feet. For a reason the boy couldn't quite place however, his legs refused to support him. Only then did Wallace turn his head to one side and see the wooden stake, at least six inches around perhaps two feet long, the remains of a young tree, sticking through his calf, impaling his leg and pinning him to the ground.

Swearing beneath his breath, Wallace probed the wound with his fingers as the battle raged below him. Wallace's ears filled with the sound as men screamed when halberds and sabers pierced them through, or when flashing claws tore them open. Lashing out he stopped his Pokémon from wrenching the debris from his leg. "No, no, no," he shouted at the little creature. "I don't want to bleed to death. Been there, it's not fun. Help me up." He jerked the stake from the ground and pressed one hand to the grass, then setting the other on his Ralts' shoulder as the little Pokémon braced to bare his weight. Glancing about and spotting both his guards, unmoving in heaps some ten feet away from him, Wallace looked back down on the battlefield where the entire fight had devolved into a morass of fire, lightning, screaming, and monsters. The young trainer couldn't tell individual soldiers apart and failed to locate his father. One of the Gyarados he saw go down thrashing and flashing with yellow light as a blinding bolt of lightning struck the monster square in the back of the skull. As the beast collapsed, twitching with yellow sparks, a Manectric garbed in a green bandana leapt atop its body and loosed a second thunderbolt, prompting the Gyarados to twitch only once more before going still. The Manectric opened its jaws in a victorious howl, only to be silenced a moment later as a Swampert charged forward, tackled it to the ground, and promptly dashed the electric Pokemon's skull open on the cobblestone walkway.

Hobbling to his feet, Wallace looked between the battle and the manor, his face drawn tight and tears of powerless anger forming in the corners of his eyes. "Dammit," he swore, turning for the manor and stumbling towards it. The young trainer felt a lance of pain rip into his injured leg as he tried to walk and he toppled to his hands and knees some fifty yards from the huge house. "Never going to make it," he muttered. He turned as someone behind him but closer than the rest of the battle screamed. A fleeing Magman soldier disappeared in a puff of smoke as a hyper-beam shot from one of the Gyarados and vaporized the man.

The beam of light raced up the hill, carving a trench three feet across in the dirt and missing Wallace by mere feet. Cutting through the walls of the manor like a knife through putty, the hyper-beam sliced into the house on the hill and exploded with a force that sent Wallace toppling backwards. Rocks, glass, splinters of wood, and shards of metal erupted from the manor as it exploded, lighting up the night like a firework and leaving the young trainer dazed and seeing double.

Rolling to his hands and knees, Wallace turned back to the battle below him, just in time to see one of the three remaining Gyarados turn away from the combatants all around and face him and his Pokémon. "Ralts," Wallace managed to mutter. "Raise a barrier or run!"

The little Pokémon threw herself between Wallace and the distant Gyarados as the huge Pokémon opened its jaws wide. As the Gyarados leaned forward and unleased from between its teeth a blinding hyper-beam, Ralts raised her hands as her eyes flashed red. A crimson shield like a pane of stained glass appeared and hung in midair between Ralts and the Gyarados. The hyper-beam struck the light shield, shaking the ground and hesitating only a second before shattering through the barrier like fragile crystal. Shards of the shield shot in all directions, vanishing in little flashes of light as the hyper-beam continued on as though nothing had stood in its way.

Wallace closed his eyes and dropped his head. He heard the hyper-beam screaming towards him and instantly the whole world went both dark and silent.

SC

Lying with his eyes tightly shut, the first thing Wallace sensed was his own heartbeat. He could hear the rhythmic thumping in his ears. He tried to move but found it impossible, some colossal weight held him in place, bearing down and threatening to crush the life out of the young trainer. Even opening his eyes, the boy discovered, remained outside the realm of possibilities. Whatever the weight was, Wallace realized, crushed down on his face as well. Even his breathing, noted the young trainer, was nearly impossible.

Nevertheless, Wallace remained determined to either escape his blinding prison, or at least spite it. He focused all his strength and pushed out with one arm, feeling his fingers make negligible progress through whatever restraints held him down. As he fought to simply move his hand, Wallace felt his other senses gradually returning, bringing with them a level of excruciating pain that prompted the young trainer to twist his face and clench his jaw in agony. As his hearing returned to him, Wallace made out what he thought might be the sound of flames.

A moment later, pain exploding in his ribs, Wallace felt some tremendous impact in his side. The blow knocked the wind from his chest and left the boy wondering how such a painful strike failed to send him tumbling away regardless of what restraints held him down.

"Commander!" Wallace heard someone shout, followed immediately by the sound of someone kneeling down by him. "Commander I found him!"

Straining with effort, Wallace managed to crack one eye barely open. Above him dark clouds of smoke filled the sky, shining red with reflected firelight, against which he saw the silhouette of a man standing over him. His vision showing double and triple, obscured by floating blindspots, Wallace struggled to make out the identity of the man above him.

"Is he alive?" another voice asked, its source beyond the edge of Wallace's vision.

The first voice hesitated. "I'm not sure," it responded.

An itch worming into his lungs, Wallace coughed, jerking once on the ground. The action leaving his chest burning and short of breath, Wallace managed to fully open his eyes. Immediately the two figures standing over him dropped down, one sliding a hand behind his back and supporting his head, sitting him upright. The young trainer saw that nothing, in fact, held him to the ground, only a dusting of dirt covered his clothes. So again the boy tried to move but found himself just as immobilized as he had been a moment prior, pinned and paralyzed by his exhaustion.

The source of the second voice, a man garbed in red and gold and orange, a massive "M" scarred across his face, knelt before him. "Wallace Weaver?" the Magman commander asked, reaching behind his back and drawing a small waterskin from between his red cape and his heavy metal armor which, Wallace saw, bore numerous dents, dings, and bloody claw marks. "You're Wallace Weaver?" he asked again, pressing the mouth of the waterskin to Wallace's lips.

Feeling the lukewarm liquid on his tongue, Wallace drank greedily, only realizing when the water rolled over his mouth and down his throat just how parched his unconsciousness had left him. "That's me," he muttered, barely able to voice the words. "Who are you?" he paused as his head cleared some, even in the face of the screaming pain wrapped around his body like a blanket of fire.

The commander pressed his fist to his chest in salute. "Gerard McNomik," said the Magma trooper. "I'm glad to see you survived." He went on. Wallace glanced to his side as movement caught his eye, spotting his Ralts emerging from the Commander's shadow and sitting on the scorched grass beside the young trainer. Looking down, McNomik nodded to the little Pokémon. "That's a loyal partner you've got there. It came to my men and got them to come find you as soon as the battle was over."

Unable to hold back a smile, Wallace reached over and put his hand on the Pokémon's head, ignoring all the pain accompanying the action. "Thank you," he said, looking between both his Ralts and the commander of the Magman troops. "So what happened?" he asked, leaning back on his elbows. "The last thing I remember was," he trailed off, the image of the hyper-beam screaming towards him still fresh in his mind.

McNomik shook his head. "Things," he hesitated a moment, "got out of hand. The Aquan soldiers released their Gyarados and everything happened so fast after that. Your father and his men sided with my forces and together we managed to kill the four Gyarados and every Aquan trooper but," again Gerard stopped and took a breath, "there weren't many survivors."

His muscle's still aching, Wallace pushed himself a little higher and looked down at the aftermath of the battle fought in the muster filed. Everywhere he looked, pikes and halberds stuck up from the ground like broken blades of grass, broken swords and smashed shields littered the ground. His stomach turning over, Wallace made no effort to even count the dead he saw. Interspersed among the four huge blue carcasses of the Gyarados, bodies like sand on a shore lay broken, the fires burning amongst the tents, barracks, and grain silos of the Weaver estate glinting off their orange, blue, or emerald green armors, or their beige tunics and canvas pants in the cases of the Weaver servants.

Looking back to the Magman commander and the battered men in broken orange armor gathering around him, Wallace rolled to his side and pushed himself to his feet, his head spinning as he stood. "And my father's men?" Wallace asked, plainly struggling to keep his composure. "The servants, the field hands, and the soldiers, Doctor Leinwetter?"

Gerard folded his hands behind his back. "The Aquan attack made no differentiation between soldiers and non-combatants," he answered. "Everyone was either killed when the Aquans attacked the barracks, or scattered. I saw a few making for the Petalburg Woods, but I can't say whether or not they made it. Honestly," the armored commander hesitated, "the Aquans going after the noncombatants was all that gave us time to rally and route them."

Breath catching, Wallace dropped his head and closed his eyes. Without speaking he looked back to the shattered remains of his manor, a burned out husk standing out against the dark clouds behind it only by virtue of the fires still smoldering within its broken stone walls. Turning towards the battlefield again, Wallace began walking down the sloping path between his house and the field, his Ralts silently in tow, her hand gripping tightly the cuff of his ash covered pants as he essentially dragged his grievously wounded leg behind him. Stopping at the edge of the battlefield, the young trainer cast about, spotting almost immediately the bodies of his father's personal guard.

Silent and unmoving, smashed down or pinned to the ground by arrows and bolts, the men remained in an obvious defensive formation. At one flank of the collection of dead soldiers, Wallace spotted a man in particularly well-kept emerald armor, though the gold crown fitted to the helmet drew his attention fastest of all visible features, and immediately the young boy hobbled over to the figure. Dropping to his knees beside the still body, Wallace looked first at the broken sword in his hand, then at the many arrows piercing his breastplate, and finally at the numerous dead combatants laying about him. Among the body count Wallace counted no fewer than five Aquan soldiers, two Mightyena, half a dozen Zubat, and a Golbat, each crisscrossed by mortal wounds plainly inflicted by the dead soldier's sword.

Reaching down, Wallace gripped the man's battered helmet by the wide ring of gold inlaid above the brow and gave it a tug, though the bowl bashed into the bit of armor made it cling tightly to the man's skull. Again Wallace pulled at the article of armor, removing it after a moment's struggle and instantly the boy's heart dropped. Immediately Wallace collapsed down and clutched up his father's body, cradling the unmoving lord and burying his face in the man's cold neck. Fighting harder than he ever had before to keep calm, Wallace still failed to contain a number of quiet sobs that escaped his chest as he clutched the man beneath him.

Feeling a tiny hand press up against his flank, Wallace turned and spotted his Ralts, touching him gently on the shoulder and staring at him with her big red eyes. Tears streaking down his face, Wallace reached over and pulled the little Pokémon into his embrace. Clutching both the Ralts and William's body to him, Wallace threw his head down and wailed, a long and baleful scream. No wheezing or pain in his lungs, no coughing or hacking held the boy back as he mourned. The scream intensified and rose into the night as Wallace gripped his Pokémon and his father tighter, before gradually fading and eventually ceasing altogether, leaving the boy silently clutching Ralts and William.

Shivering and gasping for breath, Wallace remained silent a moment longer, even as he heard footsteps behind him. After a minute passed, he released his grip on his Pokémon and the dead body, picking up his father's helmet, tucking it beneath his arm, and standing to face Gerard and his Magmans. "Thank you," said the boy, his voice strained and raw, his eyes red and his face streaked with salt, "for helping defeat the Aquans. You have my gratitude."

Stepping forward, Gerard cleared his throat. "I'm sorry for your loss," said the burly trooper reaching up to run a hand across his face and trace his fingers over the thick "M" branded into his features. "Your father and I never really saw eye to eye on much," he paused, "on most things in fact. But he was nothing if not an honorable man and he provided a stabilizing influence to this whole region. My lord," he looked around at the smoking remains of the estate, "For your father's sake, in honor of his memory, I'll happily extend to you an invitation to join Team Magma."

Looking all around him at what remained of the estate, Wallace hesitated before turning back to Gerard. "I'll join," he said, his voice calmer now, "on one condition."

The Magma commander grinned and shifted his weight back to one leg. "And what would that be?" he asked.

Reaching down and picking up his Ralts, Wallace set the Pokémon on his shoulder and faced the commander again. "I'll join you, if you help me dig out my family's fortune from the vault beneath the manor, and put every last copper towards fighting Team Aqua."

"Done," Gerard nodded. "We'll need to get to work then," he put his fingers to his lips and whistled to call in his remaining dozen soldiers. "Alright boys," he shouted, "you heard the little lord. Let's get to it-"

Wallace turned away from the commander and tuned him out, his attention snapping to a little spot up the hill where a red glint of light caught his attention. Pressing his hand to his pocket and feeling it empty, Wallace cursed beneath his breath. Immediately he trekked up the side of the hill and knelt by a smoldering rosebush, reaching inside the thorny mass and pulling from it the glinting red orb he took from the steel chest beneath the manor. "Almost lost you," he muttered, no shortage of relief permeating his voice as he looked down at the little orb, its flickering internal light sparking in his eyes. "That was close," he breathed, slipping the orb in his pocket.

Master, a quiet voice reached Wallace.

The young trainer turned around, looking for the source but spotting no one around. "Hello?" he asked.

Master, the voice sounded again, distinctly feminine and seeming to travel not through the air but somehow reaching directly into the boy's mind. Down here.

Looking down, all Wallace saw was the Ralts clinging to the cuff of his pantleg, looking up at him with her huge red eyes. The young trainer's face grew a shade paler. "Ralts?" he said. "Is that- Was that you?"

The little Pokémon nodded and looked up at him again. Yes, who else would it be? She asked, bypassing Wallace's ears and speaking directly to his mind.

Twitching once with shock, Wallace's jaw dropped. "How did you, I mean how are you," he trailed off a moment. "You can talk?"

Again the little Pokémon nodded, reaching out with her other hand to grab the cuff of his pants. I'm sorry, she said quickly, please don't be angry with me, but after the monster hit us with that beam, you, you were, she looked down and back up again. You would have died, said the Pokémon without moving her lips. So I used what power I could to keep your heart beating and your brain functioning… but I think I made a mistake.

Still pale as sheet, Wallace knelt down, closer to the Pokémon's level. "But I'm still alive," he said. "What happened?"

Once you were more stable, Ralts said, I couldn't break the connection. She looked down at the ground. I still can't. Master, I'm sorry.

His eyebrows raised in surprise, Wallace kept staring down at the little Pokémon. "What?"