"So it's settled, then?" Morticia asked, sitting at the round table whilst the claw print banner wavered above. "You're not at odds with each other anymore?"

George, sitting beside her with Gareda behind him, shrugged. "Guess not. I'm right here and still in one piece."

Gareda drummed her claws on the table. "I'll make a long story short, yeah? We talked. Had our disagreements. Had our frustrations. Some embarrassments as well, because of course those come up in difficult conversations. Creator knows you've heard your fair share of mine over the years. But in the end, we learned about each other. Understand each other better. And… buried the hatchet, cliche as that phrase is."

At the far end of the table, seated right beside his wife, Solhynin paused his scale polishing session to let a snort out. "No need to change what works, right?" he said, smirking.
Gareda bared her upper teeth as her eyes dawdled off to the ceiling."Yeah, dad. Whatever works… ugh."

Arms folded on the table, George kept his ears perked up to whatever the family squabbled over, tiny as it might be. For one, Solhynin rambled on to Gareda about her personality. Lurid, anger prone, overwhelming... Evidently, he'd been looking forward to this, given his penchant for dropping ancient family drama on the table. Gareda just rolled her eyes, listening to him prattle on about how frightened he was of her, only protesting about calling her 'Gargar'. George had to cover his mouth at that one.

'Pfft. Gargar. How do you even come up with that?'

It was amusing, all things considered, sitting between two Garchomp, let alone two members of the same family. A few months ago, the thought fueled nightmares. But times changed for the better. Alas, good times never last. George was a part of this conversation as well, and it didn't take long before he was back on the receiving end of the questions, right after Gareda halfheartedly apologised, if only so her dad would shut up for a while.

Morticia cleared her throat. "So then, George. I'm glad you and my daughter are on amicable terms now. But you and I have some unsettled business to take care of."

George's fingers buckled inwards, scratching the wooden surface of the table. "Really, now?" 'You didn't say that this morning.'

The scarred Garchomp nodded, then waved a talon to the far end of the room. The guards keeping watch jumped into action: One opened a crate reeking of berries, another vanished through the hall. "Apologies for not mentioning it earlier… A little heat got in the way."

The Dewott bit his lip. "You could say that." 'A little heat… way to play it down.'

"Do you need my help for this, honey?" Solhynin asked, leaning up to his wife's neck with his pointy face. She planted a lick on his forehead, then nudged him back.

"Oh, we will be quite fine on our own, Sol. But if you paid attention, I would appreciate it."

"Mhm!" the Kommo-o hummed, arms jangling as he resumed polishing his scales. It wasn't a sophisticated grooming session; he used a sharpened stone to get the job done.

In the meanwhile, George looked over his shoulder, and spotted Gareda slouched over in her chair, tail dangling behind as she stared up at the ceiling, resembling a cat spying on birds outside. George flicked an ear back. 'Also losing interest, huh.'

Yet again, Morticia cleared her throat. "Ahem! First off, don't be alarmed about anthing we'll be going over. All I want to hear are your honest thoughts, no filters needed. Your companions and I had quite the talk yesterday. Your goals, your motivations, what your plans are, you were there for the brunt of it, yes? But you didn't say anything yourself. You walked off. Why was that?"

George breathed in deep, then sighed it out. 'Here we go already.' "Didn't feel like I belonged at the meeting. Couldn't get a word in."

"Because of Hein, no?"

"Pretty much."

Morticia nodded. "Can't say I'm surprised. We've all heard the stories of Lone Eyed Hein having a certain… presence about him. Experiencing it for myself, I can't deny the man's power. Even his voice sounds imposing enough." She snorted. "Nothing I couldn't handle, mind you, but I imagine it-"

George shook his head. Morticia needed no further hints to stop. "It's got nothing to do with that, honestly. Hein enjoys the sound of his voice, and he enjoys being a leader. He used to be a mayor himself."

Gareda scoffed all of a sudden. "Politicians and liking the sound of their own voice. Name a better combination."

Once the dragons in the room had their round of laughter, George sucked in another breath. 'That wasn't funny.' "Right, but that's the thing. No one's told him to lead, he just does. He has that kind of personality. And the confidence to just run with it." He groaned.

"Which begs the question, doesn't it?" Morticia asked. "Do you have any thoughts on the matter? Anything you'd like to share on these 'Swords of Justice' and why we should throw our lot in with them?"

He hesitated for a moment, fidgeting his fingers on the table for a good while. Sure, George had wanted to talk yesterday. But now that all the blockades had been torn down, suddenly he struggled to put to word what he felt. And that didn't change until he felt something else: Morticia's talon nudging his shoulder.

"Take your time."

George did a breathing exercise or two. "Thanks," he muttered, then stretched his arms out in front of him. Now was his time to shine, apparently.

"I get why you wouldn't be enthusiastic. After all, why couldn't the Swords just come down themselves, and save the day if they wanted? They have an army back there. They prefer hiding out on that island." He shook his head. "But I know what you're thinking. You're following them anyway. You know they've isolated themselves, yet you're still going out there and… risking your life, just to get other people to join them. Something like that."

Morticia nodded. "Sounds about right. Though, I wouldn't be that uncharitable, if I were you," she suggested with a wink. George, unsure of what else to say, clasped his hands before his face. Elbows now resting on the table, said face ended up leaning against his hands.

'Thanks, I guess.' "Right. But I get the question at hand. I get your confusion. Why follow a group of people hiding on an island? Why place your hopes into their hands?" 'Or hooves, rather.' George paused, took in a deep breath, then tucked his ears back. The sound of his exhale wound up echoing through the hall.

"It's complicated, because… it reminds me of what I've been through. It's not the nicest story you'll hear, and my childhood was rough, to put it mildly." His right eye twitched. 'So mild, it barely passes as a childhood!' "Urgh. I grew up in a foster's home. Didn't have any friends there to speak of. Went to school on the weekdays, and that… was a little better, but still. Didn't have friends there either. Do you know what that's like? Not having friends?"

The Dewott's eyes panned over the family. First Morticia, then Solhynin behind her looking up from his polishing, then Gareda behind him with an eye raised: For as much as a Garchomp's eye could be 'raised'.

"Not really. Had plenty of folks around growin' up."

"Same thing here! Funnily enough, I met Morticia when we both had thirteen years."

"Blegh. In the army, at times. Dragons take care of each other, but the Crest? Just another faceless hick."

Gareda circled a talon around her face, one leg dangling around under the table. George blinked at her. For a predator, she certainly tried to not look the part. Then again, everyone had a casual side. She sniffed the air, then stood half up. George whiffed, as well.

'Guess she's smelling Pecha, too.' He pinched himself in the side, then moved on.

"So yeah. To make a long story short, I'm a veteran in loneliness." His fingers dug into his skin. 'What kind of saying is that?' "Err, I'm all too experienced in being lonely, rather. Gareda can confirm this, but… being alone is horrible. You don't know what it's like, unless you've experienced it for yourself. You're an easy target for all the wrong kinds of people. Frauds, thieves, liars, people just looking to get their kicks. You can try and weather the storm. Grow thicker skin, maybe. I've certainly heard that one enough to last a lifetime. And you might even be successful, and shut your feelings off. Become jaded enough to ignore it. But you know what?"

George refolded his arms, and sat back in his chair. "Deep down inside? You wish it didn't have to be this way. You wish you'd have those you can trust. People who like you as you are, and want to spend time with you. People who'll lend you a hand in bad times. People who just… want to hang out with you. Don't mind spending time around you. Laughing at bad jokes together, chatting about how the day went, and so on. Deep down inside, you miss having friends, even if you don't really know what it's like yourself."

Sighing, he let his arms drop, and stared up at the ceiling. "Call me crazy, but that's… how I see the Swords. It's how I see Hein and Terez, especially. Even though the world's run by Pokemon who want my head on a silver platter, and the world's under some divine maniac, I feel like I can live through this. Even though Eravate's never been worse than right now. I don't have to face the world alone anymore."

He shook his head, giving everyone the time to let it sink in, and answer questions if there were any. The hall stayed silent, sans some commotion coming from the entrance. He didn't recognise the voices, but the topic involved berries. None in the family had anything to ask of him. They all watched, waiting for him to continue.

"I know this is all farfetch'd, but from where I'm standing? You're also alone at the moment, aren't you? Here in the mountains, surrounded by the Alliance on all sides. Who knows when they'll come. Maybe the Renegade himself will do the dirty work. But they're coming, and you know that."

Morticia nodded. "Indeed they are. Go on."

George bit his lip for a moment. "I don't know how many other tribes are in the mountains, or how many are willing to join you. But I think you and I both know… this isn't living. Eventually, they'll be here, and you'll be destroyed. Everyone cracks eventually. Everything breaks if you apply enough force to it. And that's not what you want, is it? You don't want to see your people being destroyed, enslaved, killed, you name it. Who knows what the Alliance will do to whoever is left at this point."

A jangling came from the other side of the table. "That's all very understandable," Solhynin said, wiping the scales on his arms down. "We've always been an insular bunch. Even in times like these, we prefer to keep to ourselves. When our daughter said she was joining the army, well… me and my wife weren't too happy, heh."
An embarrassed chuckle left his throat, while a growl left Gareda's."Ugh. Told you to shut up about it back then. Don't make me repeat myself." One could hear the pebbles crumble under her feet.
Solhynin, sensing something was amiss, changed the topic. "Ah, my apologies. But that makes me curious, George. What are you suggesting we do? Join up with the Swords, because then we wouldn't be alone anymore? I certainly do not feel kinship with Mythical Pokemon, least of all those who never leave their island."

The Dewott squinted his eyes, squeezing a hand into a fist under the table. 'Says the guy who barely leaves his mountain.' "You're missing the point, here. It's not about the Swords, or even about me. It's… philosophical."

"Philosophical?" Morticia scoffed out loud. "Why, do elaborate on that. That's a big weapon you're pulling out there."

'Egh, I shouldn't have said that.' George bit his lip. "What I mean is, it's not about allying with the Swords. It's about having allies in general. People who you can depend upon. People who wouldn't kill you when the rest of the world does. That's who you want to find in times like this. That's who you want the world to be full of. No one wants to live their days out in fear, worrying if they'll see the sun again." He paused, then sighed. "I've seen glimpses of what the world could be when we work together." 'Back on the island.' "We'd all be so much better off, and so much happier. If we just… got used to each other's differences, and accepted one another for who we are."

"Hm." Morticia tilted her head a smidge, resting her chin underneath both her talons. "Fair enough. But this sounds an awful lot like what the Crest proposed. A union that encompasses all of Eravate. You might not have been here for long, but surely you've seen for yourselves how that turned out. How would you avoid that?"

George leaned back in his chair. "By giving everyone a voice. Doesn't matter where you're from, or how poor you are. How weak you might be. Everyone deserves to have some say." He shook his head. 'Don't think that'll go over well.' "Or rather, every community should get a say. No favoritism, nothing. It's a long shot, I'll admit… but I can't help but wonder something. About the world."

"Which is?" Gareda now asked.
George sucked in a breath. "How to prevent this from happening again. Even if the Renegade is no more, what's to stop something similar from occurring?" The Dewott held his tongue for a moment. "The Crest was too closed. Too cruel. And that's what needs to be avoided. That's where the problems started. Well, that, and the cult."

"Certainly," Morticia filled in for him, pulling her chair backwards. "That's the dilemma after all is said and done, isn't it? But now we're getting ahead of ourselves. Getting back to our current problems… I can't help but agree with you, George. It's true that we can't survive on our own. Whether we'll survive with friends, however? That is tricky."

Solhynin perked his head up. "Eh? But what are you proposing we do then, honey?"

The scarred Garchomp rested her chin on a talon. "We have nothing to risk by aligning ourselves with the Swords, for the moment." She crackled a smile. "With all due respect, accepting the Othersider into the caves has effectively done this already. You've heard the reports from the scouts, haven't you?"

The Kommo-o nodded. "The Alliance is moving into the mountains, yes. They've blocked the route north. We'll have a hard time cracking the siege by ourselves."

George's heart skipped a beat. 'Already? Ergh, for the love of God. And I'm supposed to go north after this. Did they know?'

What began as a smile wound up as a grin, as Morticia seemed amused by the threat at hand. "Not to worry. We've fared worse in the past, haven't we? Consider where we're sitting right now." She chuckled. "Regardless. I think we have a plan, here. And you, George, are instrumental in said plan. We're not the only tribe in the Dragonspines under the same threat. I'm sure there's others who'd think the same as we do."

George folded his arms. "Mhm."

"And I'm sure someone here would like the chance to help you out, no?"

The Garchomp winked at her daughter, who still sat behind George. She got up; George whipped his head around. They stared at each other for a few seconds, only to shrug at the same time.

"Beats sitting still," Gareda said.

"Guess so," George replied. 'This'll be interesting, at least.'

"Back so soon?"

By the time George returned to the hole in the wall they had been sleeping in, Terez and Hein were mysteriously absent. As luck would have it, an Axew with a chipped tusk had watched them go, and gave him the not-so-friendly suggestion to look outside. Given the sneer on its oversized head, and him not finding anyone initially, the Dewott sensed that he might've been punked. The joys of having no better options.

But as fate would have it, Hein and Terez had gone for a morning stroll, and George discovered them sitting on the same rock together, both holding a bag of berries whose juices stained their mouths. The Dusknoir's response upon seeing him raised an eyebrow.

"As if I knew I'd find you out here."

"Yet here you are, with no Garchomp in tow." The Dusknoir tucked an Oran into his maw. George saw it disintegrate into his ectoplasm before the mouth closed. "Can't say I'm too surprised. You made it back to Morticia, after all."

The Dewott folded his arms. His third eye had felt a peculiar presence during the talk, one coming from the ground. That detail revealed enough. "And that's when you stopped watching me?"

Hein shrugged. "Of course. I wouldn't trust that girl with a lemonade stand, let alone your life. But her mother is a different story," he said, before flinging another berry into his mouth. "Some things aren't passed down from parent to child, alas."

The Dewott's eyes narrowed. "You know, we weren't close to fighting today, at any point."

"You wouldn't have guessed that this morning," Terez added, wiping her mouth down. "In any case, good to see things have been going well. What did you talk about?"

"Eh." said George, before reciting most of the conversation from memory. Not the details, but the general topics came to pass. Nothing surprising at first, spare for Gareda's apparent struggles with being a general, which Hein seemed to be amused by. But he also shared what came after the hatchet had been buried, when Morticia and Solhynin got into the mix.

"We cannot go north?" Terez asked. "Are you sure all the roads have been blocked? Surely there's got to be some other method."

The Dewott shrugged. "Would you like to risk it?"

Terez opened her mouth as if to say something, then unceremoniously closed it, a lock of hair dangling before her face. "No."

"Oh, it might very well be an excuse," Hein echoed, with all the joy of a grandfather woken up too early. "No doubt that Morticia wants a piece of my mind. Could tell it when I spoke to her. But I digress. The cult wouldn't make our quest an easy one, anyhow."

George tapped his foot in the grass, pondering the matter over. "So… we're doing it, then? Morticia wants us to help out here. Get the other tribes to join forces with us as well. Then she'll come along."

The Dusknoir shrugged. "That is also part of our mission. The Azure Flute is but one piece of the puzzle. We aren't about to stop the Renegade on our own."

"Mhm." George nodded along. 'Got that right, at least.' "Guess we're taking it one day at a time, then."

"Indeed," Terez said, gazing at the mountain tops in the distance. "I must say, these mountain ranges are beautiful. I've seen nearly all of Eravate except for the Spines, so this is quite enchanting! These dragons are a lucky bunch."

"Guess they are," George replied, fiddling with his thumbs. 'Not the first reason I'd call them lucky these days, but go ahead.' "So uh, how was your walk?"

Hein folded his arms. "Perfectly fine, thank you very much. Fresh air has never hurt anybody, even in this day and age."

George squinted. "I didn't think you needed fresh air anymore."

The Dusknoir leaned forward past the rock. "Me? Disliking fresh air? Just how bad do you think I've been warped by undeath, lad?"

The Dewott grimaced. "Not much? Sorry." 'God, that was crazy rude, now that I think about it.'

Fears didn't end there, for the Dusknoir poked him in the belly, then traced circles through his fur. "Have you eaten yet? You seem rather fatigued."

"I haven't, no," George admitted. "Didn't feel hungry."

"Oh? Is that so?" Hein got up. "Then let us fix that, shall we? You're not skipping breakfast on my watch. Terez, if you may?"

The Gardevoir chuckled, then gave herself a psychic shove in the back, her body lurching forward and staggering to a stop a few steps away. "Oh, certainly," she said, giving her bag a pat.

George frowned as their shadows were cast over him. "Guys? Seriously, I'm not hungry. You don't have to do this, you're not my parents."

Both Hein and Terez cracked up. "Oh, but we do have an interest in seeing you healthy, George," the latter said. "Don't you want to grow stronger?"

Realising that no amount of arm twisting was getting him out of eating, George resigned himself to what his guardians had in mind for him. 'Urgh. How do I tell them I don't like Rawst?'