Chapter VI: He that Serves on Holiday
1st Cycle, Ice-Type Month (January), 1191 AAD
Office of the Accountants, Gongsun Prefecture
In every prefecture there were banks from which the commoners and imperials alike managed their finances. Dao the lucario worked at a particularly important bank; it was one of few that housed the nation's ruby reserves. The Gongson prefecture itself was not particularly special, however. It was just a prairie and sparse forests at the eastern side of the country. It was the prefecture's history that gave it any sort of significance. General Gongsun, also a lucario, won a decisive victory here in the Old War with his 'Night of Fire'.
Dao's bank was not a single structure. It was a collection of six buildings, two courtyards, a tall landing post for the mailmen, of course surrounded by a protective wall. Dao rubbed his aching ribs as he walked the finely lacquered floors in one of the buildings. He could only wish his bedroom were so lavish.
There was a small dormitory for the accountants nearby. The craftsmen attempted to hide it by planting a forest around it, but its moldy white paint stood out like blood on a fresh napkin. Dao often gritted his teeth before bed. His tiny room had a leaky roof and no torch holders. Water dripped into a bucket in the center. Each day he emptied this bucket, rearranged his meager furniture, and figured out which of four corners seemed least painful to sleep in. This could easily be fixed. It had not been. Dao knew why.
The accountants rarely saw their meowth leader, let alone got a chance to complain to him. The Minister of Finance cared only that no rank stood as tall as his, and therefore dismissed all concerns with a hiss. He stated that, legally, the dormitory was of lesser importance to the bank. It therefore did not have to be built as well. If the lucario had issues with this, he should take it up to the Ministry of Arts, the cat said. Dao pressured his boss once again. The meowth presented his claws, yelling that Dao should man up and fix the roof himself. This was months ago.
Dao stretched his back once again. Sure, he could fix it. That meowth's stinginess, however, was incurable.
He shook away the thought. Dao was to meet with two other 'skeleton' accountants. They were a brother-sister pair of pidgey. The three were the only ones scheduled to be at the bank. They were to deal with what few clients there were, then collect currencies from sellers in the nearby area. The currencies in question were called 'credits', essentially checks signed with imaging ink. This system took away the burden of carrying money. There were harsh punishments for spending more than what one had.
Dao bet the pidgey would be perched on the outer wall, bobbing their heads to footsteps of a blastoise. The large water-type arrived some time ago with his platoon of wartortle recruits. They came by every year, entering the vaults and carrying out large stacks of used checks. The fire chief told Dao that the useless credits were set ablaze and tossed into patches of forest. His platoon never failed their fire drills. If they did, their friends' homes would become ashes.
Dao came to the front gate, where one entered the bank. Sure enough, both pidgey danced their heads in a back-forth-back-forth motion. Upon spotting the lucario, they flew to a branch closer to him, readjusting the tiny satchels on their backs.
"Finally packing your stomach in, Dao?" The brother tweeted.
The lucario held out his hand as if to stop them. "I have no need for these comments! My nerves have already been bad enough."
"You always feel as if lighting will strike you!"
"Please," the sister interrupted, "leave our difficult co-worker. I'd rather not be cursed with all this bad-luck talk!"
The brother chirped. "I smell rice on him!"
"Thank you, thank you," Dao said, ending the conversation. "We all need to begin our first run for the year."
"And we need to help you with your bad spirits!"
They flew away. Dao walked westward along the Central River. This river bisected the country into upper and lower halves. Inevitably, some pokemon left the celebrations early, typically cold-blooded ones. They used this river as a landmark to guide themselves home. Vendors took advantage of this, setting themselves up along the canal to sell whatever they could.
—
Great Hall, Gongsun Prefecture
The name of the area was all that was left of the grand Shaolin temple. Dao's nose lead him to a temporary market set up by the river. A swath of pokemon bartered and ate. Meanwhile, market regulators supervised. They would later report the earnings of this travelling market to that same meowth.
Dao went to an exceedingly popular stand in which a druddigon cooked. The dragon worked messily, yet flawlessly, to appease his line of customers. Tienamo was a professional maker of tantalizing dumplings. He saw Dao out the corner of his eye. "The noble credit man hopes to help his province," the druddigon said, bowing. Tienamo swept his large talons above a family of ingredients as he crafted his most popular dish. It was a snake-shaped zongzi: the Longzi. Its head, tail, and body were made of different wrappings and stuffings. His dish became popular because it enabled pokemon with varying diets to share the same meal.
Dao, working on behalf of the government, had the right to skip the entire line for work purposes. This did, however, prevent him from ever tasting the food, lest he be punished. He maintained a steely expression, silently swallowing the building saliva in his mouth. "We serve our province, Tienamo. Your new treats, these 'onigiri', sit prominently. How has the public reacted to these?"
"There lays an abundance distrust in their hearts," referring to his customers. "When even your eyes touched these triangular treats, they quickly glanced elsewhere. What drives you from them?!" He asked as aggressively as he cooked.
Dao kept his head up, straightening his satchel. "The 'onigiri'?" Tienamo nodded, handing off a basket of dumplings. "I cannot indulge on duty, my friend."
"Even so, I know you too well. You would not take them. They are stamped by Her Royal Majesty. They are royal food, made by the best, yet only she will bite!"
"The problem is simple, brother. Her red seals makes it seem as if these few rice cakes are not just endorsed by her, but literally are her snack for tonight!"
"Thank you, brother, but I have explained this to many. If only they knew," he thought.
A family of explosions popped distantly. Everybody turned to the Solar New Year's fireworks.
The lucario smiled. "At least she will have her fill! Have you any credits?"
"How's this?" Tienamo handed a hefty stack of paper to Dao. It amazed the accountant that so much had sold so quickly. He continued to move along the river, corralling more credits, then returning to his office.
—
Office of the Accountants, Gongsun Prefecture
The Twentieth Founding Ceremony had begun. The event was to tour the coast of Uptown, descend south to Kyogre's beach, and rise to the top of the Samurai's Beach in a giant 'U' around the nation's coastlines. Dao reminisced to the days where the fallen empress would stand proud atop her parade float—her daughters looked comparatively puny. He walked through the gate. The two pidgey waited for him from the same branch.
"Congratulations, your stomach has shrunk two noodle-widths!" The brother exclaimed. "Whilst you were out, we collected a combined three-hundred-twenty-nine papers!"
The lucario lifted the four feelers on his head in preparation for more of the brother's banter. However, there was none, as the sister spoke next. "Accountant Dao! Guess what we found!" She flew onto his forearm. She rolled her head over her back and pulled out a particular slip from her satchel. Dao examined it.
"This looks familiar…Is this not a signature from one of the senior monks?" He said, squinting.
"Yes, I had to have it!"
"This seems a dull waste of time."
The brother interjected. "What she isn't telling you is that a mienfoo spy was holding that same paper just two shifts ago! We were in Uptown when the crowds began to riot!"
"I knew your reaction would be priceless, Dao!" The sister exclaimed. Indeed, he stood as if frozen solid by the news, his eyes quivering. He took a deep breath and stood straight, closing his eyes.
"This mienfoo is jailed now, then!?"
"He is! "
Eased, the lucario entered a building in which loans were handed out. He sat upon a step ladder made of sturdy wood, clutching his face. "We are not prepared for a sieging of the city."
The brother spoke. "Maybe we should suggest to Her Majesty to close the gates! There are so many of them, any enemy clan could swim up the rivers, through the walls, and knife our throats as we sleep!"
"Shut up! Shut up!" The sister trilled. "I did not intend to curse us like this!"
"Sorry! I will shove my face in the dirt with you!" The phrase meant to bear shame.
Dao shouted. "We have enough to worry about with the Fire Pot! This spy will certainly be tried. Will the High Priestess attend his trial?"
The sister answered. "Let's think. Would she willingly witnessing—or I suppose hear, the same screams her people made in the Old War? I'd bet not! She won't go!"
"Betting is a sin, sis!"
"Then stop playing the lottery!"
Dao lowered his head, not in respect to his coworkers, but to the heavens. "Something in my breast tells me that the unexpected will become normal. Let us get back to tallying these credits. I do not want extra work in the morning."
—
Author's Note
If everything works out, there will be three new chapters per weekend. I'll finish up posting all of Volume One by late December.