Chapter 33

A Third Chance

Cathbad had been feeling uneasy since the rite had begun. Though they could feel the jovial atmosphere of the congregation as they gradually filled the church, it was hardly contagious, at least not to the Absol.

It wasn't nerves; they were well used to crowds of this size.

It was the familiar feeling of danger.

Something calamitous would happen today, and they could feel its imminence encroaching ever closer.

They were stoic enough to keep their composure during the rite. But right at the end, a series of visions suddenly hit them.

A spark of red, followed by an explosion.

Pokémon screaming in panic as the smoke enveloped them.

A dark, cloaked figure grabbing a Treecko, using the smoke as a veil to escape from the crowd.

A Dragonair leading a Riolu away from the explosion.

"We shall send her to the gallows tomorrow." A Druddigon in an office, writing something down. "If it will shut you and Praetor Dominian up."

It was to their luck that Cichol quickly jumped in to conclude the rite, as Cathbad froze up on the altar due to those haunting visions. Their visions had gripped them before, but they were usually quick to recover and immediately set about making a plan.

But the sight of a Riolu and Treecko in their foresight formed a dark pit inside their stomach. Said concerns were justified when a loud explosion boomed from outside.

KABOOOOOM!

Stained glass shattered, and those leaving the church immediately fought to get back in. Cathbad snapped to attention, the safety of the congregation in mind.

"Stay in the church, all of you!" they called out. "Give priority to the children and elderly! Brothers and sisters of Arceus, tend to the wounded! There's bound to be casualties out there!"

"As you wish, Your Grace!" Cichol obliged.

Right after their speech, Cathbad leapt between the pews, getting around the crowd. The broken windows due to the blast were a blessing in disguise in this moment, for it was through them that the Absol jumped, and out into the courtyard.

It was a scene of unbridled chaos. Smoke plumed the air, while cries of pain and harsh coughing rang through the courtyard. There were several bodies on the ground, laying either unconscious or dead, and some loved ones were dragging their wounded and dead to a safe place away from the smoke. Cathbad sincerely hoped they were okay, although the sight of a Mightyena's unmoving body didn't give cause for hope.

But they weren't the focus of the archdruid's attention. No, where the smoke faded, they saw a tall figure, encased entirely in a dark cloak, running away from the scene carrying something. Something with a green tail…

Elvira! Cathbad realised, and immediately dashed after the figure.

"You! Stop right there!" they yelled, and for emphasis, shot a Razor Wind at them. The figure leapt on top of some boxes and kicked them over, making them absorb the impact, before leaping up to a nearby rooftop and continuing their escape from there.

Cathbad did not let up, chasing them from the streets below. A number of dwellers who lived in this area of Breifne, having already been disturbed by the noise of the explosion nearby at the cathedral, watched in wonder as the archdruid of Alba tore down the streets in an attempt to catch up.

To their luck, they spotted a stairwell that happened to lead up to a second storey house. The Absol leapt up the steps, and jumped from there onto a rooftop, where they spotted the cloaked figure with Elvira under their arm. The Treecko lay limp, clearly unconscious.
Cathbad now had a better view of them, although the cloak made it hard to tell even the slightest physical identifying feature. Other than their height - they were fairly tall and lanky, enough that picking up a Treecko was of no difficulty to them - any features the cloak didn't cover was obscured by an inky black darkness. On their face, they wore a mask, which looked like a theatre mask with a lengthways divide down it, with one half happy and the other sad.

"Release the Treecko!" yelled the Absol, a snarl crossing their face.

The figure said nothing as they drew their hand back, and from their hands, to Cathbad's surprise, they unleashed a torrent of water - though its dark colour implied some kind of corrosive element to it. The Absol dodged to the side, avoiding the attack, and dashed closer to try and pounce on the cloaked figure.
But before that could happen, they threw what looked like a black orb to the ground. Black sparks shot out around them, and before Cathbad's swipe could land…they suddenly vanished. The Absol landed face-first into the roof, with no cloaked figure under their claws.

"Urgh!" The remaining sparks also shocked them, and they gritted their teeth in pain. Thankfully it didn't hurt too badly.

However, a new pain came to Cathbad upon realising that the perpetrator had slid out of their grasp. As had Elvira.

Damnation! I nearly had them! A growl emanated from them, and they slammed a paw on the ground in frustration.

Suddenly, Cathbad felt a throbbing ache in their horn, to which they cried out in sheer pain, clutching their head with their paws to try and keep the sensation at bay, without much success.

They'd had enough of these impulses to know what this was.

Danger.

But not just any danger. Judging by the sheer force of how the danger pulsated in their horn in that moment…the danger felt much greater than normal. Perhaps even…akin to calamity.

Immediately Cathbad deduced the trigger for such a painful sensation.

I couldn't save Elvira from that cultist's grip. And…Arian, too! The reminder of the Riolu probably indicated he was in no better state either. He had probably already been lead away by the Dragonair from the vision while they had gotten sidetracked with chasing Elvira's kidnapper.

No…No. No no no no no no no no–!

"Your Grace! Are you well?!"

The Absol craned their neck to the side to see a Skarmory swoop down towards them. The orange scarf with the triskelion emblem marked them as a Rí's Guild merc, and their face was drenched with worry.

Breathe. Compose yourself in front of others. You cannot show weakness now.

"...I am fine." The words struggled to get out. But Cathbad knew that the pain from their senses would only worsen if nothing was done. It was that thought that made them stand up, through sheer will, and leap back down onto the streets below.

Plans needed to be made, and fast.


It felt like a blur as Cathbad dodged past passersby along the Príomhshráid as they hurried to the Guild. Around them, news about the explosion had gotten out, and the Absol overheard various whispers on their way.

"D'ye hear that aul' bang, Niamh?"

"'Course I did! Sure, ye couldn't have missed that!"

"You think the Dressies did it?"

"Could be. But ye know them Dálriadans? Heard their rebellion got crushed the other day. Maybe it could be them?"

"Oi, that the Archdruid?"

"W-Why are they headin' away from the church?"

"You don't think…could they have…?"

Cathbad paid them no mind, as they ran to the Rí's Guild like their life depended on it. Deep-seated dread had taken hold of them, and their danger senses were running haywire after all that had happened.

Ardalion's fate relies on them. If those monsters take away their lives, then… They gritted their teeth, not wanting to contemplate that possibility.

The Guild's gates loomed before Cathbad, and Alasdair and Salann were standing at each side of the gate. Both were standing alert, having no doubt been informed of the incident over at the cathedral.

"Your Grace!" Relief flashed in Alasdair's eyes. "Thank goodness you're safe!"

"That I am, but I cannot stay! I must see Rí Trahaern and Tánaiste Scáthach at once!" Cathbad replied, and before either guard could respond, the Absol was on their way again, weaving through crowds of mercenaries and Guild attendees as they burst into the main Guild itself and ran towards the throne room. The guards on either side of the big red doors of the throne room had barely enough time to open them before Cathbad came barging through them.

"What is this commotion?" Trahaern's gravelly voice boomed across the throne room, clearly not pleased at having been interrupted. But when he looked down and saw a familiar Absol, his expression softened. "Ah…it's you, Your Grace."

"Ca, you're safe!" Scáthach cried. "I heard what happened at the cathedral and was really worried about you…"

"We've sent out medics already, along with investigators," Trahaern informed. "The truth will be discovered in no time, and soon we'll bring those perpetrators to heel." He looked up at the ceiling, snorting in anger. "Is this your gift to me from beyond the grave, Eilidh? If it is, your surviving clansmon are in for a hiding!"

"It's not Dálriada or Annwyn. I can say that with confidence," Cathbad said, locking eyes with the Alban rí. "Those who set this up did so for sinister goals on their end. And they are in the process of succeeding in them. Unless we halt them in their tracks, all of Ardalion will be in great peril."

"Is that so? Then pray tell, who set this up, and what are their 'goals'?" Trahaern stomped a hoof in agitation. "I do not appreciate being kept waiting, Your Grace! Surely your insights have determined that much?"

"Their goal, at least with this attack, was the kidnapping of two mercenaries," Cathbad stated, flicking their mane. "Two young fighters who you have come to know well. Two who have aided us greatly in expunging two threats to the nation. When I say that Ardalion's fate depends on them…I do not speak lightly."

"...Team Elpis?" Scáthach presumed, their feathers ruffling nervously. "They've been kidnapped?"

"Indeed, and I need help to rescue them," the Absol requested. "And I believe I know where they have been taken to."

"Whereabouts?"

Cathbad took a breath, knowing what they would say next would create some degree of consternation.

"Ceredigion."

The mention of the tír in Alba's east incited a reaction in both the rí and the tánaiste.

"Whaaaaaaaaat?!" Scáthach nearly fell off their perch, frantically flapping their feathers to stay upright. "Ceredigion?!"

"Ceredigion…!" Trahaern's face darkened. "Curse those blackhearts! They would threaten the lives of my people for a mere kidnapping?!"

"Indeed, Rí Trahaern."

"I'll have their heads!" the Copperajah roared. "Blasted Dressies, occupying our land! Savage curs, the lot of them! Reprisals will be had for this!"

"Ciúnas, a rí," Cathbad interjected. "Do not be hasty. Justice can be dealt another time, but we must act now. I need fighters willing enough to infiltrate Ceredigion and get Team Elpis back from the clutches of their prisons."

"I can think of just the people," Scáthach piped up. "They should be heading back to Breifne as we speak…I'll personally intercept them!" She flapped her wings, getting ready to depart.

"Go, Scáthach." Trahaern was quaking with fury. "Do not let that Dressie filth get away with this."

"Sure thing, Trahy!" With those parting words, the Archeops flapped her wings, and was away, the guards by the door opening the door to allow her to leave.

"I must go there too. Arian and Elvira need to be saved." Cathbad turned to follow Scáthach, but immediately–

"Halt, Your Grace. Where do you think you're going?"

Cathbad turned back to see Trahaern gazing down at them with his familiar steely gaze. The rí's look resembled that of a parent's scornful gaze at their child who had committed a misdemeanour. However, the archdruid's returning glance showed no hint of shame.

"I am going with Tánaiste Scáthach to rescue Team Elpis," they replied. "Ensuring their safety is paramount to the fate of our country."

"Do you forget who you are, Your Grace?" Trahaern's gaze remained unabated. "You are not without responsibility. You are the leading clergymon of our nation! Therefore, the fact you have been as láthair for quite a number of your scheduled sermons has been…concerning."

"...I have my reasons." Cathbad's claws tensed, digging into the red carpet. "They are for the prevention of calamity. If I must abandon my duties to save lives, then so be it. That is what our Creator would want."

"Yet your abandonment of the altar is creating consternation among your fellow clergy as well as your congregants," Trahaern continued. "An archdruid that abandons their duties to gallivant for some 'fate' of theirs does not wash well with those that do not witness your heroic deeds. And right now we see another example of this! There are many wounded at the cathedral still, are there not?"

"...I have not forgotten." The Absol's lips pursed, and they breathed in, trying to suppress their growing frustration.

"What would the people think if, instead of tending to the victims of the attack, Archdruid Cathbad went off to rescue two kidnapped Selenians instead?" Trahaern reprimanded, shaking his head. "You need to be here in Breifne, Cathbad. The Guild will handle this, as will those in Ceredigion itself."

"But…urgh!" Cathbad visibly flinched, with the familiar danger senses heightening at Trahaern's words. "I cannot, I cannot, I cannot…."

"I appreciate your concern, Your Grace. But after Chief Eilidh and Chief Uther's stands against me…I will have no more rebellions," Trahaern declared. "Dissent has no place in Alba right now. And I cannot allow for any more chances for attacks on me through your abdication of duty."

"I confess I may have abandoned my duty in a number of cases," Cathbad confessed. "But I saved many lives as a result of my warnings! If I did not jump in when I did, then many more of our people would not still draw breath today!" They were beginning to slide into desperation. "Please, I implore you, Rí Trahaern! Let me go to Ceredigion! I must save Team Elpis!"

"No." Trahaern's voice boomed throughout the throne room. "I have made my decision, Your Grace. You are to stay here. That is final."

"..." Alba's archdruid was about to raise another protest, but their words died at their lips as their vision suddenly became enveloped in gold. A sensation all too familiar to the visionary Absol.

Riots, with carts and stalls turned over on the Príomhshráid.

A familiar Archeops cowering while stones were thrown at them.

Regular citizens of Breifne trying to barge into the Rí's Guild against a wall of mercenaries.

Breifne Cathedral being charged upon by a crowd wielding torches, among a number of yells.

"Kill! Kill!"

"Kill the Archdruid!"

"Kill the Dressie mole!"

The vision dissipated, and Cathbad resisted the urge to scream. To hear a mob call for their death by their own name…it was nothing short of chilling, and they were hyperventilating rapidly.

"A vision, Your Grace?"

Trahaern's voice barely registered in their panicked stupor. A note of shame hit them there and then; they could keep their composure in front of hundreds in Breifne Cathedral right after receiving a concerning vision, yet in front of the most powerful 'mon in Alba and his guards in the exact same scenario, they could not.

"...I must go," Cathbad murmured.

"What did that vision entail, Your Grace?" Trahaern asked.

Cathbad did not answer him.

"Answer me, Your Grace."

Still nothing.

"Do not defy me, Your Grace! I demand to know!" An impatient edge was creeping into the rí's voice. "What was in your vision?"

Cathbad struggled to find the words as they recalled what they had seen.

"Answer me, damn you!"

Trahaern's sudden explosion made them yelp, and a stamp from his right hoof called the Absol to attention. Still in a panic, they breathed in and uttered two words:

"Our downfall."

"Our…downfall?" Trahaern repeated. "Your Grace…what are you saying? Describe to me what you saw."

"...There is no time." To the rí's shock, Cathbad turned away from him. "We must act at once to prevent it."

"Do not ignore me! Your Grace!"

"If correcting the course of Fate means ignoring your words…" A cold edge coated Cathbad's words as they delivered their final salvo. "...Then so be it."

They began to walk away.

"Halt, Cathbad! Halt!"

Cathbad ignored him as they walked out of the throne room, away from him.


Cathbad returned to the foyer, attempting to be discreet as they did so and making sure that there was no hint of a disturbance in the throne room. They hid down a side corridor near the medical wards as they considered their next move.

The memories of the vision came back to them, and they gritted their teeth, hiding their wince.

It is plainly a downfall of this regime. Scáthach was attacked, the citizens were charging the Guild, and they wanted me dead. This is an ill omen, no doubt. Cathbad bit their lip. But when does it happen? Will it be tomorrow? Will it be next month? Will it not be for another few years?

That was the most irritating part of their visions; not necessarily knowing when the events in their foresight would occur. More often than not, however, the Absol found they occurred sooner rather than later, and the thought that such collapse could occur in Alba in such a short space of time was quite harrowing.

And the conversation Cathbad had just had with Trahaern made a dark thought occur to them.

Could my abandonment of duty be the catalyst? Could it be they see me as an abdicator in a time of crisis, and that is why they want me dead? Alba has never been fond of direct nominations. …Something I know all too well through experience.

The berating words of an Armaldo druid from a year prior came back to them. They shook their head, trying to consign such a memory to the past.

If I go to Ceredigion…will the people truly be displeased? Will it be the straw to break the Camerupt's back? I cannot know for certain…but I cannot discard that possibility either. And yet…

The image of Team Elpis in a dark prison cell, imprisoned by them, made them shudder.

If they are not rescued, then we Ardalion will collapse no matter what! Cathbad began to hyperventilate again. If I do nothing, then they will perish, and Ardalion's fate will be endangered! But if I rescue them in Ceredigion…then the people will regard that as abandonment, and that will also lead to the collapse of our nation! My death will be imminent as well…and so would Scáthach and the lives of many other innocents.

What do I do? Blessed Creator, please I beseech you! There has to be a way out of this dilemma!

"Your Grace! Are you alright?"

Cathbad was so caught up in their spiralling thoughts that they didn't register someone speaking to them. Not just anyone, though - the accent didn't sound like the average Breifneach.

In fact, it sounded notably Selenian. Feminine, too, with a hint of nobility about it.

Cathbad looked up, and saw the long cream and brown furred form of Yuliya in front of her. Bandages marred her midsection, but the fact the Furret was able to walk in these corridors in the first place was a good sign.

"I-I am fine." Their response sounded anything but fine.

"Is something the matter, Your Grace?" another voice chipped in. Behind Yuliya, Cathbad spotted a Clefable nurse. "Are you unwell?"

"I do not need treatment, thank you, Nurse," Cathbad denied. "I…need to work something out."

"Well, we can do it in private if need be," suggested Yuliya. "You can come back to my ward if you need to. It's very quiet there now. Would that be okay, Nurse Bróna?"

"That would be grand," the nurse said. "Would you be willing to follow us, Your Grace?"

Cathbad considered their offer, and made their decision. Despite the pressing need for rescue, the hallways were hardly the place to have a breakdown.

"...Very well."


Thankfully, Yuliya's ward was small, intended for smaller intensive care patients like the Furret. That was perfect for Cathbad, who didn't want a crowded unit filled with eavesdroppers who would hear all the secrets they needed to tell.

The Furret, though able to stand and walk again, still limped in pain from her injury, wincing in pain every once in a while, and Nurse Bróna guided her every step of the way back to the ward. She breathed a sigh of relief as she sat back down on the bed again. By her bedside, her knight's armour lay. The Furret looked bare without it, Cathbad thought.

"What's the matter, Your Grace? I heard there was a big explosion earlier at the cathedral," Yuliya asked, worry crossing her face. "Thank goodness you seem to be unharmed."

"I am. However…" Cathbad bit their lip. "I cannot say the same for your fellow Selenians."

"What?" Yuliya tensed. "What's happened to Arian and Elvira? Don't tell me they're…"

"They have been kidnapped."

"Kidnapped? No…No!" The Furret's ears drooped. "All while I was out of commission and unable to protect them…!"

"Do not blame yourself," Cathbad said. "Those who have kidnapped Team Elpis - direct your anger to them instead."

"...Who did it? Who kidnapped them?"

"I cannot say for sure. But I have a feeling I know who it may be." Cathbad paused to fish something out of their robes, and after some prising, caught a small golden badge in their mouth and showed it to Yuliya.

"We found this on Labhra Mhic Riada's possession," the Absol told her. "Have you come across it before?"

"...I have." Yuliya herself sounded surprised to say those words, but the badge seemed to remind her of something. "Seven years ago, we found this very same badge among those who were involved with the attempted assassination of Tsar Kliment. We didn't know what it meant at the time, and though we delved into investigating the matter, our efforts were quashed by Mitrofan's coup. But the presumption at the time was…that this was an underground organisation of some kind."

"You could say they are that," Cathbad replied. "This organisation exists in all parts of Ardalion, from the rural outback of our country to the holy shrines in southern Miletos, and especially in Eldisholm's volcanic tundras. They are synonymous with subterfuge and terrorist activity, and were the ones behind the overthrow of your tsardom. And with how they dabble in the worship of dark, sinister forces…the outcome of their control would be a bad omen for us all."

"Dark forces?" Yuliya gazed at the badge again. "I've seen this shape before…In a book of old legends, I think it might have been."

"You should. For that is the shape of he who betrayed our Creator. This is an old evil of our continent, one gripped by malice and hatred."

"Y-You don't mean…!"

"I do." Cathbad cleared their throat before continuing:

"I refer to Giratina the Renegade. His followers belong to an organisation called the Renegade Cult - a sinister, shady group that is beginning to emerge from the shadows again."

"Wh-What?!" Yuliya's ears pinned back, aghast. "The Renegade Cult…so that's who was behind it all…"

"Indeed. As they speak, they work on spreading their malice and corruption further into Ardalion." Cathbad's eyes narrowed. "And your two companions will become victims to their whims, lest we act now."

"We need to rescue them!" Yuliya cried. "I wish I could, but…" She looked down at her bandages. "I'm really sorry, but I can't help. Not in my condition…"

"Nurse…" Cathbad turned to Bróna. "How soon until her discharge?"

"Not for another while, at least." Bróna shook her head. "Another few days at the very least. …Ah now, you're not thinking of bringing her to Ceredigion, are you?"

Cathbad winced. "I had…hoped she would be in a fit enough condition to go."

"Not on my watch!" the Clefable said, with a face like thunder at the suggestion. "My patients leave here fit as a Fidough! That wound of hers hasn't even scarred over yet!"

"...I understand." Their senses were telling them this was a bad idea, anyway. A cursory look at Yuliya's condition told that she needed more time to heal.

But then what? I need to be here…yet I need to be in Ceredigion to rescue Arian and Elvira. There has to be a way. There has to! Someone with personal motivation to rescue them…That is who they need. Not some mercenary who works only for coin.

In the silence, the Absol suddenly heard a noise from outside the ajar door. It was faint…but Cathbad could have sworn they heard a clink not too far outside.

Multiple metallic clinks, in fact, like a suit of armour.

Hope sprung in Cathbad's heart as an idea came to them.

I would rather not give him a third chance…but action is needed, and it is needed now. Even if I must have his help to do it.

"There'd be plenty of mercs out there that'll help you, Your Grace," Bróna reminded. "I know a group who can–"

"I am not interested," Cathbad cut off. "Scáthach has her own help on the way, but that may not be enough. We need more."

Clink. Clank. Clink. Clank. And also accompanying the noises was a smaller footfall of at least six pairs of feet.

"We need the help of another," they went on. "A dauntless fighter who would be willing to do anything for the sake of his country and his countrymon. One who already has that path laid forth for him."

The metallic footsteps came closer, until they were just outside the door. Cathbad turned to it and spoke again.

"Wouldn't you agree, Prince Leonid of Selenia?

Alarmed hushed whispering then sounded.

"Crap!"

"They've found us!"

Then a small crash sounded from outside. Almost like something or someone - or indeed, a few people - had fallen over.

"Who's there?!" Bróna lifted their hand and psychically opened the door fully, revealing a disarrayed, out-of-formation Carwyn, who had clearly fallen over from a stacked formation and were struggling to get back in line. Some were looking at the Clefable and Absol with guilt written all over them.

"Carwyn?" Yuliya leaned over from the bed to get a better look. "Is His Highness with you?"

"He is. Just behind the door there," Cathbad answered. "You can show yourself, Prince Leonid. As it so happens, you arrived at a most opportune time."

"...Hmph," a voice grunted, and Carwyn lined up to move themselves out of the way of the door. Around the corner came the very Bisharp himself, who wasted no time shooting a suspicious leer towards Cathbad.

"Your Highness!" Yuliya reacted in surprise. "Did you overhear that conversation?"

"Only some of it. But enough to know that this unshorn chaplain wishes to rope me into one of their schemes." Leonid gave an annoyed huff. "Stow those thoughts, Your Grace. I will have nothing to do with Team Elpis anymore!"

"So it's true…" Yuliya murmured. "You did break up with them."

"Your obstinance will be to your destruction," growled Cathbad, their fur ruffling. "If you wish for your country to remain beyond your reach, then by all means continue walking your doomed path."

"Bah! You and your cryptic ways, taking matters into your own hands!" Leonid pointed a blade at the archdruid. "I will not have you dangling me on puppet strings as you do to your rí!"

"Rí Trahaern makes his own choices. I only advise him in the correct manner."

"Ha! Lying through your teeth - as expected of a puppet master!" Leonid blasted. "And his choices are made just after you sway him with your wayward words, I would bet!"

"Th-That is not true!" Cathbad's hackles raised at that, being reminded of their audience with Trahaern not too long before. "I am no manipulator!"

"Hah! Exactly the denial I would expect from the likes of–"

"Please, that's enough!"

Yuliya's voice pierced through Leonid and Cathbad's argument, making both turn their attention to the bed, where the Furret herself sat up straight, as best as she could in her current condition. She hissed at her wounds which had not yet healed, but held firm.

"Your Grace," she requested. "May I speak to him?"

Cathbad nodded.

"He is your liege. You may well be the one to talk sense into him."

"Thank you." With that, Yuliya turned to Leonid, and immediately, her lip began to tremble.

"...Why?"

"Y-Yuliya?" Leonid's anger began to diminish upon seeing the Furret's change in composure.

"Why, Your Highness? Why are you so suspicious of everyone around you?" Yuliya said, her eyes beginning to water. "You didn't accept any deal with the Eastern countries, and you bowed out of the training Rí Trahaern gave you! And now you turned away the Irian Guild - your own subjects - when they sought you out and were of no threat to you! I travelled with them - I can attest that they want freedom from Mitrofan as much as we do!"

"I-I have told you before, Yuliya." Leonid lowered his gaze, not looking his night in the eye. "I cannot truly verify if anyone dealing with me has been trustworthy. We have been betrayed before by that dastardly Mitrofan. I cannot allow it to happen again!"

"This isn't like you!" Yuliya cried, a tear dribbling down her right cheek. "The old Prince Leonid was friendly and always willing to lend a hand where necessary! What would Svetlana think if she saw you now?"

"D-Don't mention her…!" Guilt spread like wildfire over Leonid's face at the mention of his missing princess.

"Svetlana always wanted what was best for her country." The Furret sniffled, trying but failing to keep her composure. "E-Even when His Highness Prince Kasimir passed away, she was willing to swallow her grief and marry you, for the sake of Selenia's progress. That's what your brother would've wanted too, Leonid!"

"They…" Leonid struggled to find the right words. "...Svetlana deserved him, not me. She and Kasimir were a greater match than I could ever accomplish with her. No matter how well I did, I could never hope to achieve that same love that my brother had for her!"

"Th-That doesn't matter!" Yuliya's tears were falling all the greater now. "She would want you to rescue Team Elpis! They're Selenians too, and we have a duty to them!"

"…Perhaps she would," Leonid conceded. "But that doesn't solve the problem of the archdruid's prophecy." The mention of their name drew Cathbad's attention. "Selenia will never be saved without the aid of a human…a fictional creature. Another way of saying my realm is beyond salvage."

"You said this before," Yuliya recalled, thinking back to the dinner with Trahaern and Scáthach. "But is that really the case?"

"Pardon my interruption," Cathbad interjected, making both knight and liege look to them. "It would appear he never told you."

"Who never told me what?" Leonid demanded, his gaze hardening once again.

"Arian. He never told you who he truly was."

"...What?" The Bisharp's utterance was one of quiet outrage. "What secret was that mutt keeping from me?"

"I am not surprised he did not tell you, given your appalling treatment towards him."

"Well, spit it out, Your Grace! I do not appreciate secrets being kept from me!"

In that moment, Leonid's words came out just like Trahaern's had back in the throne room. Cathbad tried to overlook that similarity as they moved to reveal the truth.

"The human you were looking for, Prince Leonid…" Cathbad flicked their mane as they revealed the truth.

"...Was in front of you the whole time. Arian - the same Riolu you gave naught but scorn and contempt for - was the human you sought all this time."

"What?!" Yuliya cried. "Arian's a human?!"

"Did he not tell you this, Yuliya?!" Leonid, with his right blade to his chest, was similarly aghast.

"No, he didn't! He never said a word about it!"

"It is a sensitive truth," Cathbad said. "It is one Arian is uncomfortable with, and he has only shared it with his close confidants. That is why neither of you know this truth."

"But he's a Riolu!" Leonid pointed out. "Humans are differently shaped than him, according to the legends! Bipedal, shaped like a Machoke, and with a head fur atop their head! Arian does not fit that description one iota!"

"That is not quite accurate." Cathbad shook their head, their weariness in explaining the truth to the prince all too visible. "When called upon by our Creator, a human's soul is transferred into the body of a Pokémon, and they take the form of that Pokemon upon entering this world. In their home world, they are as you describe - but on Ardalion, they blend in well with the rest of us."

"This is…" Leonid scowled. "You tell fantastical tales, Your Grace. Are you seriously insinuating that a creature of myth approached me and interacted with me?"

"That is exactly what I am saying."

"...I don't believe you," the Bisharp replied. "You are trying to mislead me again to carry out your whims again! To which I say-"

"Please, Leonid." Yuliya's voice cut through her liege's ranting. "Please..." The Furret grasped her paws together, tears beginning to fall again. "Enough of this! Save them! Save Team Elpis, please! I beg of you!"

"Y-Yuliya, I–" Leonid would've argued further, but seeing his knight become emotional again gave him pause for thought.

"A-A knight should be stoic. I know, I know!" Tears continued to fall. "But…But I cannot take any more of this! The constant arguing, the mistrust, the awful way you treated Team Elpis…" She took a shaky breath. "Stop it. Please, just stop it!"

Yuliya had no more words, collapsing into a bundle of sobs and tears after that outburst. Leonid averted his gaze, a deep, uncomfortable expression written across his face.

"I-I…Th-That is…" Once again, he found himself at a loss for words as the tearful wails of his sister-in-law echoed through the hallway.

"...How remarkable," Cathbad remarked. "Reducing one of your most loyal to tears through your own actions…I have never seen such an amount of bridge-burning in such a short amount of time."

"What's it to you?" growled Leonid.

"Dame Yuliya wants a free Selenia. Princess Svetlana wanted a free Selenia. All your subjects want a Selenia free from Mitrofan's grasp. The only way to save Selenia is with the aid of a human, who has just been kidnapped by the Renegade Cult and is currently in mortal peril." Cathbad paused as they felt the sting of danger in their senses at that statement, but soldiered on.

"Tell me, Leonid Klimentovich Ruslan, tsesarevich of Selenia…are you going to betray the wills of those who you hold most dear?"

The Bisharp looked down. At his feet was Carwyn, each of the six Falinks looking up at him in expectation. Loyal soldiers that would follow him to the end, and one of precious few who would do so in his presence.

But even Cathbad could detect notes of doubt among some of them, namely Y and N. By the looks of it, the truth was beginning to dawn on Leonid - that even his most loyal soldiers could one day find his position untenable and desert him.
Cathbad happened to glance at an hourglass to the right of Leonid. Sand slowly trickled down its neck, whiling away the minutes until its hourly cycle was complete.

It was a reminder that time was ticking, and the Absol could feel the sense of danger tugging at them, heavier by the minute.

"We have wasted enough time here," Cathbad huffed. "If you want to save Selenia, you must act now, Prince Leonid."

The Absol began to walk away towards the exit, to emphasise that pressure. They had given Leonid their third chance, and they would waste no more time on him. Team Elpis needed rescuing posthaste, and if it meant cutting ties with a stubborn, entitled prince, then they would have no qualms with that.

"...Very well then. I'll come."

Cathbad turned around to see Leonid walking towards them, with Carwyn trailing behind.

"If it will ultimately lead to my realm's freedom from that monster…then I will rescue them," the prince said. There was some reluctance in his voice, but he looked like he had made his decision.

"Then come." Cathbad nodded to him, secretly grateful but trying their best to keep their measured expression. "We must not delay."

"I will not look forward to returning to that place," Leonid muttered, before letting out an annoyed sigh. "But I do not have a choice at this point."

Thoughts of admonishment for the Bisharp cropped up in Cathbad's mind, but they held them back. Now that he was in agreement, chastisement was not on the agenda if they wished to keep him on side.

As well as that…his sentiment about Ceredigion was one shared by the Absol. The mere mention of the troubled tír put their danger senses in a state of agitation, and they gritted their teeth in an effort to suppress the agitation they felt.

We have a Selenian prince rescuing Selenian citizens in a Dresilian-held tír contested by Alba who engage in violent skirmishes with Dresilian authorities. If anything goes wrong here…

Cathbad shuddered.

Then we could have quite the international incident on our hands.


Meanwhile…

The sight of Iria Castle hoving into view brought a sense of relief over Ludmila. Back in familiar territory, to the city she regarded as home and where she patrolled most often, she was glad to have returned.

At least it was a balm to her feeling of failure, which hung over her like a noose. While the hot dusty dunes of Alba's deserts were stiflingly uncomfortable for her, and the brash attitude of Chief Eilidh drove her up the wall, it could have been a path forward for greater power for Mitrofan, and give him another ally in a world full of enemies.

Gods know he needs them. Me, Nikita and Spiridon are only a few. Ludmila shook her head. I don't know if he'll be mad at me, but…I had a chance to kill the prince. And Team Elpis too. And I blew it!

She curled her fist in shame. If it wasn't for that damn clergymon, I would've wiped Master Mitrofan's enemies off the face of Ardalion! Damn that Absol!

Ludmila walked to the front gates of Iria Castle. The guards saw her and wordlessly raised the portcullis, giving her access to the inside of the castle.

The inside of the castle was as dull as it always was. Castle guards patrolled the insides, making sure that no one nefarious had slipped in to assassinate Mitrofan. They all stood aside, acknowledging their superior as she marched to the throne room.

They had respect for her; Ludmila was glad of that. After all, there was a time where that wasn't quite the case, and no one in the ranks held respect for her.

"You shabby yokel! You dare to leak secrets like that?!"

"But it's the truth! The people need to know this!"

"They most certainly do not! You will not defy me, you damned wastrel!"

She didn't regret her actions that day. Not in the least.

"Yes, I will! Even you won't stop me, Marshal!"

"...Disobeying the orders of a superior…very well, then. You can expect a demotion in the near future. That would teach you to defy me!"

Ludmila growled, remembering back to that time.

And that was what started me down this path, stamping out corruption in Iria. Can't say I regret it, though…you made your own enemy that day, Brani–

"Well, well, well! If it isn't the loser lieutenant herself!"

Oh no. Of all the people to run into…

"How do you do, Ludmila?" The slimy croon of Metody made Ludmila's scales crawl. "How was your time frolicking with those sand-dwelling curs?"

"Shut up." The Nidoqueen was in no mood to talk to someone she deeply loathed. A little under five years she had spent with him, yet not once had his constant aggrandisation been any less irritating. She only put up with him because he was an ally, and Mitrofan had precious little of those.

"Ooh, someone's getting testy," Metody teased. "Could you even speak to them with the farcical accents they talk with? How one could put up with such babble is beyond me…Why can they not speak like proper, civilised Pokémon?"

"I'm here to see Master Mitrofan." Ludmila chose to cut to the chase and ignore her fellow marshal's racist rhetoric. "Where is he?"

"Keeping quiet, are you? Oh well. Not like it matters with those savages anyway." Metody shrugged dismissively. "Master Mitrofan is in the throne room. But he's in the middle of a communication. Outside of an emergency, whatever news you have can wait."

"A communication, huh…" Ludmila had heard that before from Mitrofan, about needing to make a communication behind closed doors. It was a matter he kept explicitly secret, and no one was allowed to enter the same room as him when he did it.

"You could always listen in, you know," Metody said, before lifting his nose in a sneer. "But I doubt obedient little Ludmila would dare to disobey Master Mitrofan's orders."

"Implying you have?" Ludmila raised an eyebrow at this statement.

"I said nothing of the sort." Metody clutched his chest in mock hurt. "I am the most loyal soldier Master Mitrofan has to offer, after all. I would never disobey his orders!"

Liar, Ludmila thought. "I'll wait until he's finished, then."

"Ha! Try not to eavesdrop, would you?" the Floatzel guffawed. "Otherwise Nikita will have your hide!"

"Whatever." Having heard enough of her colleague's oily articulations, Ludmila left him behind and moved onto the throne room.

After a short walk, she arrived there, where alongside a pair of guards, a familiar skull-masked associate stood, fully alert and gazing around in all directions. Unsurprising that he was here - after all, that Marowak was never far from his master.

Nikita looked forward when Ludmila showed up, and brought his club upward in a battle stance. Any other passerby would've immediately flinched at the aggressive gesture, but Ludmila was well familiar with Nikita's mannerisms by this stage.

"Marshal Ludmila," he acknowledged. "Please wait. Master Mitrofan is in the middle of a correspondence."

"So I heard from Metody," Ludmila said. She would've said more, but Nikita had a way of making it plain when a point was not to be argued. So she waited. An awkward silence drifted between her and the dark Marowak until they heard noises from within.

Booming footsteps, getting louder and louder.

Nikita quickly stepped out of the way. Ludmila's reaction was slower, and she only just stepped out of the way before the throne room doors were suddenly thrusted open, revealing the figure behind them.

Mitrofan. His tattered cape waved behind him, and his expression contained a barely disguised snarl. He was physically shaking, with his fists curled. Ludmila noticed that his body language seemed to contain an undertone of agitation.

To her regret, it wasn't the first time she had seen him in such a state. In fact, once upon a time, it had been worse.

"H-How could I have…?"

"It wasn't your fault, Guildmaster Mitrofan."

"But I…! Th-These hands, I sullied them with…!"

"Shh. Please, please don't beat yourself up for something you didn't do."

But judging by the prior circumstances before he had burst out of the throne room…

The communication? Is that why he's in such a state?

"Set up the training grounds, Nikita." Mitrofan's voice betrayed his distress as he turned to his two subordinates. "I will hear your report later, Ludmila. If you've returned so soon, I presume your mission was a failure, wasn't it?"

"...It was, yes." Ludmila flinched, worried that her leader's current state would lead to harsh punishment. "I'm sorry I couldn't succeed in Alba. If not for that Absol archdruid…!"

"I had a feeling venturing into Alba was a mistake," Mitrofan growled, before turning away. "Opportunistic chiefs, lusting for power…Why must I be surrounded by such people?"

Without warning, he slammed his hand into the wall in rage, creating cracks where he struck. Ludmila yelped in surprise.

"Dammit!" the Aggron roared. "Even Alba too! Everyone wants to be my enemy, it seems. Curse them, curse them, curse them! Why can't decent people believe in my cause?!"

"Master Mitrofan!" Nikita called above his master's shouts. "I'll set up the training ground for you. Please vent there; I implore you."

Ludmila was surprised to note a hint of desperation in the Marowak's tone. Even the retainer's own grip on his bone seemed to be shaky, as though Mitrofan's anguish was being transferred to him.

Mitrofan stopped his ranting once he heard Nikita's plea. He breathed in, letting out a low growl as he exhaled.

"...Fine. Set it up."

"As you wish, my master."

Nikita stepped forward, and got ready to follow through with Mitrofan's order. Ludmila watched him go, and as she did, a question suddenly burned on the tip of her tongue. Realising they were about to head, she blurted it out.

"W-Wait. I want to ask something."

Mitrofan and Nikita turned to her.

"What?" Mitrofan asked, visibly displeased by the interruption. A sense of shame bloomed within the Nidoqueen and she wanted to kick herself for asking him while he was in the state he was. But since she was in this deep…she had to follow through.

"Who was it? Who communicated with you?"

Immediately, Mitrofan flinched and looked away. Seeing his master's reaction, Nikita's look hardened.

"That's on a need-to-know basis, Ludmila." The grip on his bone tightened, and either end looked ready to burst into viridian flame.

"But..is this info not pertinent" Ludmila tried to argue.

"We cannot tell it." Nikita shook his head. "Let it be, Ludmila."

Nikita's gestures and tone suggested a hint of finality, as though the matter was not up for argument. Given her previous failure, Ludmila realised she was hardly in a position to be asking something of her leader.

"...Very well." Her shoulders slumped in disappointment. "As you wish."

"Hm." Nikita turned away from her, as he and Mitrofan headed for the training grounds. The latter still looked visibly shaken, and Ludmila's heart twinged with sorrow for the Aggron.

He's been through so much…and to think I couldn't succeed in my mission. All this is just adding to his anguish. She bit her lip. I'm sorry, Master Mitrofan. I won't fail you again.

But her thoughts remained on why Mitrofan's aggrieved demeanour, and as she returned to her duties, she kept repeating the question in her head again and again.

Just who was he communicating with that caused this within him?


Notes
So it's been three years since I first published PMD: Dual Wills. Back in 2021, I was merely a greenhorn trying to put my own spin on a Poké-centric setting in a fandom that I was getting quite invested in via its brilliant stories. And now three years later, this little idea has blossomed into something far greater and has a lot more supporters and readers. Thank you all for your support - I really appreciate it, and I hope to continue bringing chapters to you all for the foreseeable future.

Glossary
Breifneach
- A made up word on my end, intent on imitating Irish, meaning 'citizen of Breifne/Breifnean'.
Ciúnas, a rí - 'Silence, king' in Irish.
As láthair - 'absent/in absentia' in Irish.