The fire crackled in the dark. It was small, but provided just enough light to illuminate the tiny cavern. It was cozy, but simple. All one room, with two beds, a water hole, and a latrine. The only safety from the cold, stone floor, was a small woven rug, placed at the edge of each bed. The pit was in the center of the room, with two chairs on either side of it, where the two men sat.

The older man, just over his mid-life, was staring deeply into the fire, debating how he was going to convince his son to listen to his beliefs. He knew what had to be done, to save not just their Sect, but all of the Sects in Rudan. And not from an outside force, but from themselves.

The young man, who sat across the fire, was staring at his father, wondering why he had been prevented from going to the ceremony. Today, the Lord of Drake was crowning his son, Prince Hajit, the champion of Drake, and sending him off to Aero on a five day journey to complete the Queen's challenge. The entire fiefdom was attending the ceremony under the Golden Mountain. But his father had refused to let him attend, telling him that there was much more important business to attend to.

"Father," Pafhi began slowly. "Forgive me for being blunt, but what is it that you have to tell me, that is more important than the crowning of our champion?"

Kurin listened, and nodded as his son spoke. "That is an excellent question, but its importance depends solely on your reaction."

The fire popped loudly, and Kurin looked quickly towards the cavern door, covered by only a torn, red sheet. The serfs in Drake rarely could afford doors, and so would close off their sections of cave within the mountain, with sheets or decorated tapestries. Mining within the cave rarely paid for more than food, and any serf caught stealing gold found within the mountains was punished.

Usually, that punishment was death.

Of course, punishments for missing the royal crowning could be quite severe, depending on the Lord's mood, however nearly all of the guards were attending the ceremony or were drunk, and so Kurin was not too worried. Though he poked the fire a little, causing it to weaken even more, until Pafti could barely see the walls themselves.

"Pafti," began his father after another long pause. He sat up in his chair, the fire reflecting in his eyes. "We cannot allow royalty to win this competition."

This was a shock to Pafti. "But why?" he asked. "They know how to rule..."

"But they do not know how to live," he emphasized darkly. "Those pigs at the top of the Golden Mountain are only concerned with their money, and it is the same in all of the Sects, but the most here in Drake." He smiled darkly. "We control the kingdom's currency, and gold production. Do you not think that if our Lord controlled the entire kingdom, that they might decide to keep even more gold for themselves?"

Pafti thought, his chin in his hand. "How... how can we prevent that?" he asked. It seemed to make sense. He knew that he had lived in poverty, but he had never known anything else. When every meal you eat is regulated your entire life, you don't realize what it is like to have the freedom to eat what you want.

Kurin looked distant, lost in thought. "Only a member of the working class can win this competition, or else the kingdom will be lost..." He looked down at his hand, fighting with himself. But it had to be done. He looked back up at his son. "Which is why I am sending you, Pafti."

Immediately, Pafti sat up straight. "Father, with all due respect, how are you going to do that?" He bit his lip, thinking. "Serfs aren't allowed to leave the Sect, how... how?" He thought of his pokemon, and shuddered, thinking what would happen to both them and him if he was caught trying to escape.

"The river," was his response. The Gyra River. It sliced through the Stone Mountains, separating the Stone and Drake Sects, and leading to Wave.

"How can we use the river to get me all the way to Aero?" asked Pafti, becoming more and more worried. He knew his father knew people, but he also knew of his other crazy plans he had attempted when he was younger. Plans that placed their family under close watch from the Lord. Plans that caused the death of his mother. "And what are you going to tell them happened to me?"

His father smirked. "That you ran away, and I, old frail me, couldn't stop you."

Kurin watched his son, fear slowly appearing in his eyes, and he laughed, a barking, harsh thing. "Son you cannot be afraid of saving the people. You cannot fear doing what is right. Arceus willing, this is what needs to happen, equality not just between pokemon, but between people."

Pafti nodded, and so, Kurin explained his plan. As he listened, he slowly began to wish that maybe his father was less of a revolutionist.

~

That next day, the day following the champion's ceremony, it was business as usual in their Sect. Pafti left early in the morning, worked his shift, and returned late that night. He was just a miner, and worked with silver. At the end of his shift, each wheelbarrow he filled he wheeled to the processing building. Down, down, down he went, until he came out of the side of the mountain. It was a sheer drop off the side, with the river rushing by below. The sun was always nearly set at the end of his shift, but he enjoyed making this leg of his trek the longest, taking in the rays that he was rarely permitted to see.

He took his load to the large, sketchy looking wooden building, built right into the side of the mountain. This was the silver processing building, and was the most active, next to copper. Each day, the barrels of raw silver were placed on nets, and the larger dragon type pokemon would pick them up in the night and carry them to the rafts below, where they were sent downstream to Wave. There, they were taken to the shaping foundries, where the Sect made coins from the ore, and then distributed them all around Rudan.

Pafti arrived home that night, more nervous than he had ever been. "There are forty days in the Flying unit," his father said, giving him last minute information as he packed his limited supplies. In most Sects, young men go on their Leaving Day at 11. In Drake, a fee must be paid to the fiefdom before any man can leave. And it was set up so that only those in the upper class could afford that fee. Therefore, Pafti had never left the mountainside, and had little to no experience in the real world.

He packed some ragged clothes, what little food he had saved up, some copper pieces that, no matter how hard he tried to make his father keep with him, he was still forced to take. And of course, his pokemon. That was one thing the Lord of Drake wasn't stingy about. He wanted his people to own as many dragon types as they could, but only dragons. The mountains where they worked unearthed so many jewels, that dragons were attracted to them like wildfire. They were everywhere, as common as ratatta in other areas of Rudan.

His four crystals clipped in his rugged belt, shoes on his feet, bag on his back, he was ready.

"Now remember," said Kurin, straightening his clothes for the third time. "You must keep a bright eye. When the sun starts to rise, you should be close to the processing station in Wave. You must escape your barrel then, and find the transport to Aero. Tell them once again that the old dragon under the mountain is your father and he wants his favor. She will know what to do."

Pafti nodded for the third time, trying desperately to remember as much information as he could, and to memorize every detail of his father's face, in case this was the last time they were ever to speak.

"Remember," he said. "Do not introduce yourself as the Drake champion. It is only important that you win, not that you are labeled as such." He glanced towards the red curtain, and lowered his voice again. "If somehow it is found out that Drake has another 'champion,' the first place the Lord is going to look, is going to be here."

Panic seized Pafti's chest, as he was pushed towards the door. "Go!"

"But, wait, now?" he stammered, panicked, not expecting this to happen so sudden.

"You will run out of time before the pickup. Go!" And with that, he was pushed out onto the rocky path, and sent along.

Panicking, he swung his head back and forth, searching. But, there were no guards in sight. For now. He knew that their hole was under close watch, and so it wouldn't be long before they were back, and he was caught breaking curfew.

It was dark in the caves, with torches lining the walls. Pafti knew them by heart, easily able to find his way to the river. Every time he thought he heard a guard coming, he would freeze, but he was lucky, and managed to avoid notice. The only time he got too close, he jumped into another hole, startling a small family. He placed his finger over his mouth, and they nodded, and the guards passed without catching on.

He reached the outside opening, and was in the open air at nighttime for the first time in his life. He gulped, feeling much more exposed than normal, and lowered himself closer to the ground. He inched along, thankful for his black and brown clothes. He blended in with the wall well enough, for he wasn't noticed. He could see dragons flying above him, dragons that kept watch. But they hadn't had an infraction in years, and nowadays didn't even really search for escapees. They simply flew in circles, enjoying the chance to stretch their wings, and intimidating those who would try to escape.

Good thing Pafti wasn't easily intimidated. He made it to the pick up docks, where the barrels of silver were sitting on nets, waiting for transport. He quickly took one of the empty barrels and rolled it onto one of the less-full nets, and climbed in, sealing it shut with the handled lid.

And then he waited. For hours. He was cramped, and the position he was sitting in wasn't the most comfortable. But, he didn't dare adjust himself for fear of knocking his barrel over and being caught. So he just sat, until a deep horn sounded in the distance. Terrified that he was known, he began shaking, and praying to Arceus that he make it though.

The flapping of large wings was heard above him, and suddenly he was lifted from the ground, moving along at a rate much faster than he had braced himself for. His face slammed into the side of the barrel, smashing his nose into the wood, giving him more splinters than he would have liked. His eye lined up with a small hole, out of which he could see vaguely his surroundings.

He was jerked around, bouncing up and down with each flap of the dragon's wings, until it finally got settled on an updraft. It was smooth sailing for a bit, and Pafti was just about to relax again, when he was taken into a steep dive. It took every ounce of self control he had to not cry out in fear, or wet his pants. He gritted his teeth as his stomach dropped, and the dragon swooped down, diving almost parallel to the giant waterfall cascading from the mountains into the lake below.

He was pressed into the bottom of the barrel when the dragon pulled up, skimming the top of the lake. It had leveled out, and once again Pafti was having a better ride. He felt his nose, and when he took his hand away it felt warm and sticky. He licked his fingers, They tasted of blood. He groaned to himself, knowing it was probably broken.

He continued on, soaring above the waters, until he could feel the momentum slowing. Then, without warning, he was dropped!

But not far, only a few feet, but enough to scare the crap out of him, and hurt his legs. He landed on a dock, and looking out of his small porthole he could see that the lake had narrowed once again into a river.

He waited, and waited, rubbing his behind and wincing in pain, until he heard footsteps. Next to him, he could see men laying the barrels on their sides, and rolling them onto a ferry.

Pafti began to panic again, knowing what was coming. He didn't even have time to brace himself, until he was thrown on his side. He clamped his mouth shut, as the barrel rolled towards the boat. Up and down and up and down he was tossed around, becoming dizzy and having his whole body pounded over and over until he was finally set back up.

Upside down of course.

Resting on his shoulders, with his feet in the air, he strained to hold his body up with his shoulder muscles so his airway wasn't constricted and he could breathe. His whole body ached, but he held it, until the boat started to move.

"That one was pretty light, sir," said a man on the dock, watching the boat sail away.

"Sometimes they send a half barrel, it's not our problem," said another man, lighting a pipe on the dock.

Once he was out of eyesight, Pafti struggled to get into a more comfortable position, and managed to get his behind under him once again. He breathed hard, thankful for the muscle he had built up working the mines his entire life. His bronze skin was covered in cuts, bruises, and splinters.

Now, it was once again, a waiting game. He tried to get some sleep, but the sleep he did get was restless and broken up, him waking every thirty minutes or so, glancing out the peep-hole to see if the sun had yet come up.

He must have fallen into a deeper sleep eventually, because he was jolted awake as someone lifted his barrel off the boat. He remembered to keep his mouth shut, and clamped it closed before he could cry out in shock. He was thrown onto a cart this time, and he was able to barely catch a glimpse of the machoke that had tossed him around.

The cart carried him down a busy street, with the noises of morning activity in the port city of Rain filling his ears. He tried to remember the direction he had come from, so he could remember his way back to the river, as his father had told him. It was another fifteen minutes before he was unloaded once more into a shed, and after all of his fellow barrels were unloaded, a door shut. And it was dark.

He waited a while, to see if anyone would come, but no one did. He pushed the lid off of his barrel and stood, wincing as his beat up body stretched itself. He clamored out, and headed to the door, checking one more time to see if he had everything. The door locked from the inside, and he moved the bar up and pushed out.

He stepped onto the streets of Rain, and was blinded. Never before had he seen the sun so bright. It was high in the sky, beaming down on him. His eyes squinted, and he stared at the ground. Even that seemed blinding. He knew that eventually he would need a hat.

He kept his eyes on the ground, looking out of place and suspicious as ever, and headed back towards the river. The transportation center of trade was located on the river, and things were shipped all across the region, either by boat or bird pokemon. He headed towards the large stone building, topped with a gigantic aviary.

He opened the door, and a woman spoke. "We don't need anymore bird seed how many times do I- oh hello?" she said. She turned and faced Pafti, gasping. "What happened to your nose, my dear!"

"What?" he mumbled, feeling his face again, remembering his face slamming into the barrel. "Wait... hold on a second..." But he was being ushered into a back room.

"Nonsense! Here, wait just a moment." She was gone and back within a flash. "This water should help." Water helped everything if you asked a Wave.

"Thank... you?" he said. "Wait is your name... Sylva?"

She laughed, her blonde curls bouncing as she did so. "No, that is my sister. I am Coral."

"Are you... a healer?" he asked, feeling dumb, and still completely blinded by the light outside.

"No, I help her manage the trade center, but I do my best!" she said, flattered by his assumption that she could do something as complicated as healing. Wave was known for having some of the best healers in Rudan. And also some of the most powerful spells.

"I need you to tell her that..." What was it again? "That the, um, old dragon in the mountain, no under the mountain, that he wants his favor..."

She looked at him like he was crazy, but shrugged. "Okay... let me see if she is available." She got up and left the room, leaving him holding a wet sponge on his nose. The water really was helping though, and he assumed it had been enchanted.

It wasn't long before she was back, followed by another woman. They were nearly identical, except this new woman had straight hair. "You are the dragon?" she questioned, skeptically.

"No... I..." Thinking was hard, especially with his lack of sleep and pounding head. "He is my father." They looked on, suspicious. "Kurin."

At his name, she put her hand over her breast. "So he is still alive," she whispered to herself. What? The woman shook his hand suddenly. "I am Sylva, your father and I were friends, once upon a time, when he journeyed on his Leaving Day."

His father had had a leaving day? Suddenly, Pafti wondered just how much he didn't know about his father's past. "So... you'll help me?" That was all he needed. Another day would be for storytelling.

"Anything the old dragon needs, I will do," she said confidently. Her sister Coral nodded enthusiastically.

"Well, all I need is a way to get to Aero..." he began. The two girls pouted.

"But look at you! Do you not wish to have some food, or at least a bath?" Coral asked skeptically. She leaned forward and sniffed him, wrinkling her nose. "You smell like blood and dirt."

He sighed, not having much dealings with girls, and not knowing how persistent they could be. No matter how hard he protested, he was soon in a bubble bath, with washed and stitched clothes. He knew that the Wave admired cleanliness, but not how much. They even offered to send someone in with him, to scrub the 'hard to reach areas,' but he refused.

There was something they called soap on the edge of the tub, and he didn't know what it was for. He assumed it made him stronger, so he rubbed it on his forearms and chest. It bubbled, and smelled nice, and was pleasant to use. He rinsed off the bubbles, and used the water to scrub under his nails and rinse out his hair.

He dried off, actually feeling better, and looked in a mirror. His nose looked crooked, but was no longer bleeding. It didn't affect him much, as he could still breathe from it. His body was solid muscle from working in the mines, and though he had a few more cuts to show, it was nothing he wasn't used to. He put on his fresh clothes, and left the room.

He had been shown to a more house-like section of the building, and he found his way back into the business lobby where he had come from. In the middle of the floor sat a giant bird pokemon. It was nothing like he had ever seen.

"What is..." he said, awed.

They looked at him, a little confused. "This?" said Sylvia. "This is a pidgeot. Never seen one before...?"

He looked on, eyes wide. "I have only seen what lives in the mountains," he elaborated. They nodded, understanding.

"Well, if you are to make it to Aero in time to get prepared for the challenge, you should leave... now."

"Now?" he questioned. Everyone was so rushed, and he was exhausted. "Can I not rest first?"

They looked at him again like he was crazy. "Sleep on the bird?" Coral offered. He held up his hands, backing away.

"Oh no, I've had enough of flying for me to even think about sleeping in the air..." he started, but Sylva just laughed.

"Nonsense! Get on," she commanded, pushing him towards the bird. He swallowed, caving in, and allowing himself to be edged towards the large pokemon. It eyed him, incredulous, almost laughing at him.

"Now, she will take you right to Aero, and she knows how to get back home on her own," instructed Sylva as she continued to push him towards the giant, scary bird. As he stood next to it, she gave him another, small bag.

"Here are some things for your trip... it's the best I could do. Anything for Kurin," she said sincerely. He thanked her and took the bag, way too nervous to even worry about what was in it. He put it inside of his other bag that his father had given him, filling more of the mostly empty space. He walked over to the left side of the pidgeot, and it lowered its body to the ground. He stepped up onto the saddle it was wearing, and swung his leg over. This felt more secure than being tossed around in a barrel, but he wasn't quite sure yet.

"Maybe we shall see you when you come for the Wave unit," Coral called as the pidgeot stood from its crouched position. They walked towards another door, this one leading out towards another dock on the river. The sun burned his eyes, and he squinted them til they were nearly closed.

Sylva frowned, and went back inside. She came back out with a hat, and he gratefully put it on, the shade helping his eyes. She grinned at him and waved her hand, he waved back, and suddenly realized it wasn't a wave. It was a signal.

The pidgeot took off, and instinctively he grabbed onto the hat, keeping it from flying off. He didn't even get the chance to say goodbye as he was propelled into the air, the two women on the ground watching him go.