Chapter 16 – Iria, Part 2

“Intruders?” Mitrofan scanned the dark room.

“Yes. Behind the tombs of Tsar Vedran II and Tsarina Arkadiya,” Nikita clarified. “There are people there. Thieves, perhaps, that have come to rob the bones of the tsars of old.”

No, we’re not! Arian wanted to say. But he held his tongue.

“I’ll snuff them out,” Spiridon said. “Together, Niki?”

“Hmph. Whatever works.”

Both charged respective attacks. Nikita’s bone glowed with turquoise fire, while Spiridon leapt up into the air. Then the Marowak broke into a sprint, and as he passed where Serafina and Natalie lay in hiding, he hurled his bone at them. Meanwhile, Spiridon twirled in mid-air, before bringing his move crashing down on where Arian and Elvira were hiding.

“Shadow Bonemerang!”

“Acrobatic Smackdown!”

Their move call-outs happened at the same time. In an instant, both teams felt the force of the attackers’ moves upon them. And they hurt, especially the full force of Spiridon’s Acrobatic Smackdown, which Arian and Elvira were unlucky enough to be on the receiving end of.

“Argh!” cried Arian. “That hurt…”

“I should hope so. It means I haven’t been slacking,” Spiridon quipped. “…A Riolu and a Treecko? Oh hey! It’s the two that brought Hinnerk to his knees!”

“What?” Mitrofan snapped to attention upon hearing this. “Bring them here, at once.”

“Sure thing, Mitt!” the Hawlucha obliged. “…Come on now, you two. He doesn’t bite!”

“Tell that to Tsar Kliment,” huffed Elvira. “And to all the people that have died under his regime!”

“Aw, don’t be that way. All that frowning will give you wrinkles, you know,” Spiridon returned. “…You’re Kallias’ little girl, aren’t you? Does he want his kid to become a frowning sourpuss for the rest of her life?”

“Hey, shut up!” Arian interjected. “Stop making fun of Elvira like that! What do you know of her dad, anyway?!” He attempted to attack him with a Metal Claw, but the Hawlucha sidestepped the attack, and retaliated with a rapid Poison Jab, which was enough to push Arian into Elvira.

“You obviously don’t know me at all, little Riolu. I actually know quite a lot about Elvira’s dad,” Spiridon regaled. “We worked together in the Irian Guild, back when that was still a thing. We were good pals, and we got along well. I even participated in a few missions with him and Melchior. We even had drinks on a good few occasions. …And I know enough about the man to know that he loved his daughter to death. A bit of a shame to be treating her like some common outlaw. Come on, I don’t wanna keep doing this. I don’t want to be your enemy. At least hear Mitt out, will you?”

“…No.” Elvira was defiant. “A true friend to my dad would never side with a despot like Mitrofan! You’re trying to guilt-trip me into doing the same!”

“…So that’s what you think, is it?” From his tone, Arian could detect an amount of disappointment, but surprisingly, anger as well, within Spiridon. “…That’s a damn shame, alright. Just like them, you can’t see the forest for the trees. …Tch. You really do take after your old man – that is, the bad side of him. The side that neglected and abandoned a friend in need!”

He dashed forward and struck Elvira with another Poison Jab. The Treecko, due to her Poison-type weakness, suffered badly from the powerful onslaught from the Hawlucha’s attack, and was thrown towards the side of one of the tombs.

Strangely, a look of worry crossed Spiridon’s face at this.

“…That’s not good. Don’t want to go around causing damage to these tombs,” he muttered. “Gotta finish this quickly.” He took a Quick Attack from Arian, and focused on the Riolu. “Feisty fighter, aren’t you? …Well, how about something Fighting-types like you and me hate?”

Before Arian could react, Spiridon suddenly ran forward and grabbed him, before springing into the air.

“A bit of air time!” the Hawlucha followed up. “Hey, Mitt! Catch!”

“What?!” Before Arian even realised it, he was being thrown through the air. And just as he had finished processing this, he collided with something hard, heavy and metallic, before landing face-first into the ground.

“Owww…” he moaned. “That smarts…Did I hit the wall?” He craned his neck and yelped at what, or rather, who, he saw.

The glaring eyes of a threatening-looking Aggron that towered over him. It was Mitrofan himself.

“Arian!” Elvira’s voice cried out, and the Treecko rounded the tomb corner. Curiously, Spiridon made no move to stop her, only watching her dash up to her partner. Instead, he turned his attention to helping Nikita out with his own clash against Team Anima.

“…So they reveal themselves in the flesh,” Mitrofan said, which made Elvira turn her attention to him. “Whatever are you doing down here? Were you not aware that the Catacombs are forbidden unless permission is given by me?”

“…We’re here to rescue Rufus,” Arian said, acknowledging the Growlithe who had hid behind one of the tombs, away from the action that was taking place a few rows down.

“…I presume Dalibor sent you?” A look of contempt crossed Mitrofan’s face. “…I’ll have words for that man for this…”

“Why do you care?” retorted Arian. “What are you doing down here anyway? What, are you going to vandalise this place?”

“Certainly not, you fool!” the Aggron snapped, offended by the suggestion. “The Ruslan bloodline is diverse in character. There have been many great tsars of Selenia that I respect among this dynasty. I would not dare destroy this place of cultural importance. Rather…I would seek to prevent its contamination by the admission of an unworthy man. One man whose vileness on the throne has poisoned his bloodline.”

“Let me guess,” Elvira said, her tone cold. “…It’s Tsar Kliment you’re talking about.”

“Correct.” Mitrofan’s focus fell on Elvira. “…Are you here to defend him to the death, just as your father did, Elvira?”

“…Mitrofan.” The Treecko’s coldness persisted, and she chose to ignore his question, wanting to get right to the point. “It’s been a while. I haven’t seen you for a long time. The first time I’ve seen you in person as tsar of Selenia.”

“Tsar? …Tch,” spat Mitrofan. “That was an epithet meant for the grandest of individuals, and a dynasty that was once held in the highest of regards. But the likes of Kliment have soured the name of the tsar, and shown that such hereditary customs have run their course. Tsar…what a vile title. I want no association with it.”

“…What?” Arian was confused. “Okay…that’s yet another weird thing to chalk up about you. Not gonna lie, I was expecting some power hungry jackass just like Hinnerk who’d abuse every bit of power he had.”

“…You would be a fool to believe that, Riolu,” the Aggron scoffed. “Hinnerk was a vain and arrogant lout who far overstepped his intended role. He was a pawn, a tool to be disposed of when he was no longer useful. I had intended to remove him myself, but it appeared that task was taken out of my hands and mostly dealt with by the two fugitives before me.” He gestured to Arian and Elvira.

“So…wait. You didn’t like Hinnerk either?”

“Ha! Who would? Like I said, he was only a pawn to me, and far from a faithful ally. To have him deposed and replaced by someone more loyal was always my intention, once it became clear that he was too egotistical for his own good. …I would almost be glad to see him put behind bars, as was described to me. …But there’s a problem. He doesn’t belong there either. He shouldn’t be rotting away in a fragile cell in a rural Selenian town! There’s only one place he should, and that’s in the deepest, darkest pit of hell where his ilk belong!

“So, tell me, Arian and Elvira; why didn’t you kill him when you had the chance?”

“…” Arian didn’t reply instantly, instead finding himself taken aback by the vitriol Mitrofan seemed to have against their former adversary. Yes, he’s one of the vilest people I’ve ever met and fought, too. But…the way he’s talking, it sounds personal. This sounds like it’s more than just the last five years. Could it be…the smuggling thing that he was involved in seven years ago? he suddenly realised. Man, is that cropping up a lot…I need to find out more.

“…Because we swore an oath not to kill.” Elvira was the one who answered the question. “You, the former Guildmaster of the Irian Guild, should know better than anyone that mercenaries do not kill, no matter the circumstances. …Even in the case of someone as despicable as Hinnerk.”

“…Hmph! But you forget another facet of being a mercenary, stronger than anything in that oath,” Mitrofan spat. “One of the most vital duties of a mercenary is to see their missions through to the end. You failed to do this with Hinnerk and see that end of justice carried out. Mark my words – that will be your undoing. That sly, cunning rat will find a way out of confinement and be a nuisance to us all once again. When you eventually find yourself tangled in his web of schemes, what will your precious oath mean to you then? It won’t be anything but a shackle!

“…And here I was hoping your answer would be somewhat reasonable.” Mitrofan shook his head in disappointment. “But no. You merely regurgitate what your father and Melchior said to me. Have you learned nothing in the last five years? Or have you realised that your current position as mercenaries is the staunchness with which you remain in that stance? …I highly doubt your friend is willing to concede that point either.” He glared at Arian, who returned the gesture.

“I don’t know much about mercenary traditions,” he admitted. “But last I checked, it was you who declared all mercenaries as outlaws. …Well, whose fault is that, then? It’s not like we’re the ones passing laws around here!”

“Any lawmaker recognises a threat to leadership when he sees one,” Mitrofan responded. “You’ve made your enmity of me quite clear, and have been unwilling to compromise on all fronts. It’s not I who won’t allow concessions – it’s your entrenchment in your position that compels you to rebuff me! …A pity, too. We could have a hybrid system that worked, and one that favoured mercenaries over knights. As a former Guildmaster, I would be all too willing to allow greater power for mercenaries, and prevent overreaching lords from trying to control the Guild and endlessly compromise and downsize it. …I can’t express my disappointment in words enough that you, just like those two cowardly turncoats, cannot see the forest for the trees.”

“Cowardly turncoats?” That was a stab in the heart for Elvira. “…You…You knew them well. They looked up to you. They supported you as Guildmaster, and you wouldn’t even be in the role if not for them! And…you were a nice man, too.” Memories came back to her of a scary-looking but kind Aggron giving a five-year-old her money to buy sweets with. “…Why, Mitrofan? Why have you changed like this? How could you go from being a virtuous Guildmaster loved by all to this despotic tyrant that you are today?”

“…You wouldn’t believe my word anymore,” snarled Mitrofan. “Just like Melchior and your father, you would merely treat the words of a murderer as weightless. As long as your position on this remains uncompromising, I can’t for one minute begin to consider you an ally! If you intend to antagonise me further, then I will become that enemy you want me to be!”

With that, he slammed his foot into the ground. This was a gesture that alone demonstrated his sheer power, the force of which could be felt by Team Elpis. But then stalagmites shot out of the ground, and the force behind them became known to Elvira, who was on the receiving end of Mitrofan’s Stone Edge. She let out a pained cry as she was thrown across the crypt.

“Elvira!” Arian screamed. His panic then quickly dissolved into rage when he gazed back at Mitrofan. “Mitrofan! You’ll pay for hurting her!” He charged a Force Palm and ran towards the Aggron, jumping at him in an attempt to strike him in the chest.

However, Mitrofan saw his opponent’s wide opening, and took advantage of it.

“Ironclad Impact!”

To Arian’s shock, his attack was blocked by Mitrofan’s raised arm, which seemed to shimmer a metallic grey. He was then shoved, and in what felt like an instant, he felt the full force of the Selenian tyrant against him. Given the sheer heaviness of his opponent, especially when compared with him…it was quite an attack to take, and Arian was flung across the crypt, just like his partner.

He landed next to her, hard on the ground in a landing forceful enough that the Riolu found himself coughing up blood. His vision blurred, and he found himself losing in the battle to stay conscious.

“…No…I can’t…die…here…” he gasped out, seeing Spiridon approach him in his fading vision. It was the last thing he saw before he, like his teammate, blacked out.

“…A damn shame,” Spiridon murmured, hearing the Riolu’s words. “I don’t want to kill you, kid, but…you’re a threat to Mitt’s rule, and probably not going to convert to his ways. And same with Elvira. I really don’t want to kill my old friend’s daughter…” He shook his head. “No. Best not to think about it. This is the way it has to be.” He marched towards the passed out duo, getting ready to move in for the kill.

“No, you will not! You will not kill my friends!”

Next thing the Hawlucha knew, he was struck with a Psybeam attack from the rear. He had made the mistake of turning his attention away from his current fight with Team Anima. Though they were losing the fight, they were not yet out, partially thanks to Natalie’s deployment of Light Screen and Reflect that allowed her and Serafina to outlast the assault from Nikita and later Spiridon. As well as that, the usage of two reviver seeds had allowed them to stay in the game.

However, it had become apparent to the two girls; they were outmatched heavily against the experienced right-hand men of Mitrofan, and if they were to get out of this alive, they would have to make a strategic retreat.

Serafina’s Psybeam stunned Spiridon long enough for her to run past him and get close to Arian and Elvira. Once there, she stood her ground resolutely as she called out to her partner.

“Natalie! With me!”

“Gotcha, Serafina!” The Ledian fluttered over, throwing a Silver Wind in Nikita’s direction to distract him. The Marowak effortlessly batted away the attack with his bone club as if it were nothing, and moved to pursue the Ledian.

“You’re not getting away!” he yelled.

“Oh yes, we are!” Serafina declared, as Natalie landed next to her. “Now, Natalie!”

The Ledian threw down an orb. It unleashed a blinding white light which made the other four occupants of the room cover their eyes. When the light dissipated…the four mercenaries had vanished.

“An escape orb…Dammit! They got away!” Spiridon yelled in annoyance.

“Don’t worry. They couldn’t have gotten far,” Mitrofan assured. “We need to pursue them, and we need only walk out of the crypt to do that.”

“Sure thing, Master Mitt.” The Hawlucha’s gaze then turned to Rufus, and was then suddenly reminded he had been there the whole time. “…Er, but what about the kid? What’ll we do with him?”

“Ah yes…” Mitrofan turned to the Growlithe in consideration, which made Rufus cower in fear. “…A change of plan. Nikita and I will hunt those mercs down with the knights. Meanwhile, you take him back to the barracks and look after him before we return him to Dalibor. I’ll have some choice words for that man, and I want to be with you when we return Rufus to the Grimmhatt Orphanage.”

“Gotcha. …Well, have fun with the hunt!” Spiridon saluted, as Mitrofan and Nikita headed out of the crypt. “…So, little Rufus. You heard him. Away to the knights’ barracks we go. And if you’re good, I’ll give you a few sweets when we get there. Sound good?”

“…Sure,” Rufus mumbled halfheartedly, following after the Hawlucha.

“Don’t be sad, kiddo. We will get you back to Dali, I promise,” Spiridon promised. “We’re not bastards who kidnap others. …And especially children. Those people are the lowest of the low, rotten to the core. …I mean…I’m not going to pretend we don’t have enemies with Mitt in the hot seat. A lot of people don’t like change, and will fight it every step of the way. …But change happened. And that change…was brought about by those same kind of bastards I mentioned. It was to their ruin, and…it’s why Mitt sits upon the Selenian throne.”

“…What?” Rufus tilted his head, not fully understanding what the Hawlucha was saying.

“…Eh, forget it. Mitt doesn’t want me blabbing. Forget I said anything.” Spiridon began walking out of the crypt, with the Growlithe boy following him. He thought about what he’d said, and before leaving the crypt, he turned back to look at the lines of tombs.

Yup. Bastards like that Tsar Kliment…No wonder Mitt never buried you here. You don’t deserve a space among a family of honour like this one.

 

 

---

 

 

A flash of light appeared in front of the entrance of the Irian Catacombs, and Team Anima appeared, along with their knocked out comrades.

“…What now?” Natalie asked. “What are we gonna do, Serafina?”

“…There’s one pressing matter that stands above all else.” The Meowstic looked at their downed comrades. “These two need medical attention immediately. …But we have to revive them first. Natalie…we wouldn’t happen to have any more reviver seeds on hand, would we?”

The Ledian rummaged through the bag, searching thoroughly for one. “Naw. Nothin’ in here. We used ’em up durin’ that fight with that Nikita fella.” Then she remembered Team Elpis’ bag, currently strapped to Elvira. “Maybe they have some…” She went over and began searching through it.

At that point, another thought came to Serafina. “We need to hide somewhere first. Mitrofan and his two henchmen will come out of that entrance at any moment.”

“…I see what ya mean,” Natalie replied, ceasing her search for a reviver seed. “Where to go…?”

“…Back the way we came.” Serafina’s gaze fell upon the alley they went through in order to get to the Catacombs. “There’s a few places there we could hide in there.”

“Right. That’s what we’ll do, then.” Natalie moved to pick up Arian, while Serafina did the same for Elvira. The girls carried the duo into the alleyway, and moved quickly along it, to put distance between themselves and the Catacombs.

Eventually, they felt as though they had gone far enough to hide. They sat down outside an abandoned doorstep, and Natalie resumed her search for a reviver seed in Team Elpis’s bag.

But after a thorough search, she came up short. “Naw, they don’t got it either,” she informed, disappointed. “Darn…this ain’t good…”

“…What are we going to do?” Serafina said, despairingly. “Given their fugitive status – and ours, for that matter – we are unlikely to find help in infirmaries in the city. Word no doubt has spread, and surely even the commonfolk know about us now. …We may not even be able to buy reviver seeds at stalls that sell them. Would merchants deal with us knowing that fact? I highly doubt Mitrofan would simply allow knowing dealings with fugitives to pass. The fear of repercussions alone would cause them to rebuff us. And that’s assuming the knights do not corner us. The Merchants’ Quarter will most likely be teeming with knights anyway…thus going back there would not be a viable option. Oh, Natalie…whatever are we to do?”

“…Well…I ain’t sure, to tell ya the truth,” Natalie admitted. “But…ya know what Ol’ Mitt said in there? ‘Bout mercs seein’ things through to the end? …I think there’s somethin’ else mercs should do ‘sides that and all the other oath stuff.”

“…What would that be?”

“…We ain’t givin’ up,” the Ledian said, with determination. “‘Specially when it’s our friends who’re in bad shape. We gotta find help somewhere for ’em, and it don’t matter how we get that help. …’Sides, we might get lucky, and someone’ll help us out. We just gotta look. Either we find someone who’s good at treatin’ folks, or someone who sells reviver seeds.”

“…I suppose sitting here would do us no good,” Serafina assented. “…Let us search for either of those, then. But…we must be careful. The knights will still be searching for us.”

“Gotcha.” The Ledian got up, and resumed carrying the defeated Arian. “Let’s make tracks, Serafina.”

“Of course.”

Team Anima went through the back streets of the quarter of Iria they were in. All the while, they kept their eyes peeled for the two things Natalie mentioned; a merchant that sold items that included reviver seeds, or a doctor or someone medically trained that might have reviver seeds with which to resuscitate their comrades.

However, it became apparent to them that this was a poor part of Iria that did not have either of these things. While the Merchants’ Quarter and the southern part of the city were evidently more prosperous, this was one of the more impoverished quarters of Iria, as evidenced by the shabby look of the streets, houses and the dwellers living in the area. Serafina hoped that one of them would step up to help, but alas, she had no luck on that front. Those they did pass seemed preoccupied with their own lives, and barely took notice of the duo carrying two injured Pokémon.

Taking a moment to look up at the sky, Serafina noted that the evening was setting in. The sky was becoming more orange in colour, and darker shadows were being cast in the area they were in. There was now no chance of them getting back to Kamengrad before nightfall, and even then, it would be well into the night by the time they got home. Not to mention, it had been a long day, with them exploring two Mystery Dungeons, running from knights, and dealing in combat with wild Pokémon and Mitrofan’s right-hand men, and Serafina found it hard to resist the fatigue encroaching on her.

But she and Natalie were determined not to give up in helping their comrades. That compelled them to keep going in their search for aid. They kept walking through the streets that had seen better days, and ended up on a wider street that had a few knights on it. Realising this, the duo stayed hidden, and waited for an opening in the knights’ formation. Luckily, the advent of evening had created dark shadows to aid the girls in keeping themselves hidden.

They crept along by ducking into alleyways and behind obstacles. It was the same strategy they had used when sneaking to the Catacombs. The difference was that on this occasion, they found themselves facing more knights to sneak around, and they had no fixed determined destination.

The presence of knights was quite a persistent problem for Team Anima, especially in areas where the range of hiding places wasn’t great. At one point, the girls had to duck behind some casks that weren’t big enough to obscure them completely. Natalie, the biggest one of the four, couldn’t hide her antennae and the top of her head fully, even when crouched, so she had to settle for a position of semi-obscurity and hope the shadowy evening would make up for that.

While they waited for an opening in the knights’ formation of three, they overheard the conversation between them.

“So…have they found those mercenaries yet?” one of them, a Magmar, asked. “Y’know, the ones Marshal Ludmila was going on about.”

“I don’t think so,” another knight, an Azumarill, replied. “If they have been caught, we haven’t heard about it.”

“…Hey, you have any idea why Ludmila was cross when talking about them?” queried the third knight, a Graveler, asked. “She seemed pretty pissed…”

“Can you blame her?” the Azumarill returned. “You’d be angry too, if four criminals escaped from your notice. …Pesky mercs. Can’t really say I liked them all that much. Going around thinking they were better than us…”

“I dunno, though…” The Graveler didn’t sound so sure. “They weren’t that bad, back in the day…They weren’t too different from the knights, just a bit more loose and casual than what us lot have to do. Plus…since Mitrofan took over, some of those merc duties have been passed onto us.”

“…Weird as hell, isn’t it?” the Magmar shrugged. “You’d think the former Guildmaster of the Irian Guild would do everything to keep that place going. But I guess with so many of them turning on him…he obviously couldn’t keep doing that, and moved the mercs who did side with him into the knights. I know for a fact that Marshal Spiridon was a merc before becoming a knight.”

“…Um,” the Graveler began again. “I don’t want to sound like a doubter, but…with Spiridon, a former merc, and Ludmila, who was rank-and-file not long ago, both becoming marshals of Iria in no time at all…you don’t think the quality of the Selenian knights is suffering, do you?”

“What?” the Azumarill said. “How could you say that? Hell, it’s better now than it was! If even Ludmila, who was an ordinary soldier like we are now, can rise to become a marshal in no time at all, then that’s great news for us! It means it’s possible for us to do the same, rather than marshals and other high positions being locked to pampered nobles and friends of Tsar Kliment that haven’t seen a day of combat in their life! At least Mitrofan’s crop of marshals have seen a thing or two about fights!”

“Quite right,” another voice spoke. “I’m honoured by your praise, private. See to it our good word spreads.”

“Hm? That voice…” The Azumarill looked up, and atop an awning stood a Floatzel. They jumped down from there onto the ground below.

“Marshal Metody!” the Magmar said, standing to attention and saluting. “An honour to see you, sir!”

“Gentlemen.” Metody gave an acknowledging nod to each man. “I have come to inform you of an update on the whereabouts of those fugitive mercenaries. They were spotted in the Irian Catacombs.”

“The Catacombs?” Confusion crossed the Graveler’s face. “Why would they go there?”

“Who knows? Probably some petty vandalism or something of that nature,” the Floatzel dismissed. “It matters not. They escaped from there, and are hiding out in the shadows of Iria. The great Mitrofan himself has joined the search, and Marshal Ludmila’s search continues. If you men ever see these two – ” He pulled out that same wanted poster of Arian and Elvira. ” – Then do not hesitate to capture them. Also…they’re not alone. A Meowstic and a Ledian are also aiding them. If you see them, capture them too. …Particularly the Meowstic. If my suspicions about her are correct…then it will be worth getting our hands on her.”

Serafina didn’t miss a word. Her hands clenched, and she silently prayed that Metody wouldn’t look in their direction.

“What suspicions would those be, Marshal?” asked the Azumarill.

“Ah, nothing. Just a little inkling I have at the moment.” As he spoke, Metody’s eyes wandered. He observed nothing at first, then…as he looked to his left…

Hm? Are those…white tails I spy with my little eye?

A slight grin crept across the Floatzel’s face.

“…Must be seeing things,” he muttered out loud to earshot of everyone. …Including the two eavesdroppers.

Darn! Does he know? Natalie ducked a little lower, as low as she could. Please tell me he don’t know…

“Seeing what, Marshal?” the Graveler queried.

“Oh, don’t worry. Just mutterings, is all,” dismissed Metody. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He then burrowed into the ground, in an evident use of Dig.

Natalie breathed an inner sigh of relief. Oh great, he’s gone, she thought. Now just gotta wait for these knight folk to –

Suddenly she and Serafina were struck from below by the resurfacing Floatzel. The attack launched them, as well as Arian and Elvira, out of their hiding place and onto the open street, in direct view of the knights.

“What?!”

“The Riolu and Treecko! Oh, and the Meowstic and Ledian, too!”

“It turns out I was seeing things,” Metody smirked. “A quartet of eavesdropping mercenaries. …How rude. Were you not taught manners? …Especially you of all people…Serafina Feliksovna Dorofeyeva?” His smugness only grew as he spoke the Meowstic’s name.

“…Do not speak to me of manners,” Serafina angrily retorted. “Were you not taught loyalty to the tsar and the consequences of treason…Metody Eligiusz Kumiega?”

“What in tarnation? Serafina…ya know him?” Natalie looked to her partner in surprise.

“I do, indeed,” the Meowstic replied. “Metody Eligiusz Kumiega…the heir of House Kumiega and one of Mitrofan’s marshals and most loyal allies. …As expected of House Kumiega. Your devious strategies line up perfectly with the despotic agenda that Mitrofan pursues!”

“…Devious? I’m hurt, Lady Serafina,” Metody replied, his hand over his heart in mock pain. “It is all for our house’s survival and longevity. Our house lives by one dictum – pragmatism. Times change, and so our house must change with them. If House Ruslan perishes and a new power comes to be, then we must rise to this challenge and go with the flow. Other houses did not, and now they lie in ruin. Others – like your own – are a shell of their former selves. …Not that there was much meat on that bone to begin with!” he guffawed.

“Do not mock my house!” Serafina growled, fangs bared.

“Oh, but I will. After all, there’s nothing wrong with making fun of the misguided,” the Floatzel replied. “What a stupid policy, lowering yourself to the people that you lord over. And refusing to tax them further, despite your monetary problems…to say your decision-making has been poor is quite the understatement. And regrettably, Lord Rafail has been no different in that regard.”

“The people in our oblast are poor, and can barely afford the rents as they are!” returned the cat.

“That’s right!” Natalie seconded, backing up her partner. “Us poor folk in Karelia don’t got much at all! If Serafina’s folks raised taxes any more, we’d be kicked off our land! We’re grateful to ’em for – “

“I did not ask for input from a soil-knuckled farmhand,” interrupted Metody, visibly irked by the intervention of the Ledian. “Be silent while your superiors speak. You know nothing of a noble house’s affairs. You think you can make your overlords bow and scrape to you? What a backward, twisted culture you have cultivated in that backwater land you call an oblast!”

“…B-But…!” Natalie’s counter died at her lips. Metody’s comment had hit her directly where it hurt, and she could feel tears prick at her eyes.

“…Is there no end to your insults?” Serafina rhetorically asked. “…You are sincerely lucky we have bigger problems on our plate, otherwise I would see to it you would regret making such remarks against Karelia, Natalie and my house.”

“And I have a feeling I know what those problems are.” The Floatzel pointed to the passed out forms of Arian and Elvira. “Two down, and two more to go, of which we have a former demure lady and a damsel of the soil. This should be simple.” He prepared to use Ice Beam, which would’ve worked for him in dealing out damage to Team Anima first. However…

“Fake Out!” Serafina called out, and got the drop on him, as he flinched from her attack. This was just the opening the duo needed, and was capitalised on by Natalie, who threw a stun seed at Metody.

“Argh! …I can’t move!” yelled Metody. “You mud-ridden wench! How dare you do this to me!”

“That would serve you right!” Serafina shot back. “Do not speak ill of my family or people again!” She was about to say more, but Natalie pulled her away.

“We gotta run,” she said in an urgent manner. “Now’s our chance! We ain’t got time to talk smack to him!”

“Understood!” Serafina picked up Elvira, then resumed running with Natalie, who carried Arian.

“After them!” Metody was apoplectic. “Do not let them escape!”

“Yes, sir!” the three knights replied in unison, before giving chase.

Now that the pretence had vanished, Team Anima gave up on their strategy of subterfuge, and ran through the streets with all the subtlety of a rampaging Bouffalant. Their running through the streets and pursuit by the knights, which gradually grew in number, drew the attention of passersby, who watched the unfolding action with interest. Many moved to the street’s sides, and wary mothers called their children away from the centre of the street as the knights came through.

Notably, Metody had rejoined the fray, the stun seed’s effect having worn off, and to say he was furious would be to put it lightly. A snarl was present on his previously grinning face. To think I was outmanoeuvred by the spawn of a tactically untenable house and her baseborn serf of a partner…they will not escape my grasp. No one outwits Marshal Metody and lives to tell the tale.

Unfortunately for Team Anima, their need to carry their fallen teammates meant that they were expending more energy, and that in turn meant the knights were quick to gain on them. A familiar but unwelcome sense of déjà vu came over the girls, but it did make them remember what they did last time to slow the knights’ progress.

Natalie was quick to dig into whatever items they had left in their satchel. Blast seeds, a cross-eyed seed, totter seeds, sleep seeds, a blowback orb, and even a hurl orb were thrown at their enemies in an effort to stall their advance. Meanwhile, items that were beneficial to them, such as oran berries and heal seeds that allowed them some retention of their stamina. A quick orb they had was particularly beneficial – it increased their speed which allowed them to widen the distance between them and their pursuers.

Eventually, after a great deal of running, evasion and navigating through winding streets, Team Anima felt that they had finally put enough distance between them and the knights to comfortably take a breather. There weren’t any knights nearby at the y-junction they had come to, and so the duo took a moment to catch their breath behind some boxes and lay down their downed comrades.

“…Whew,” Natalie breathed. “Good thing we got this far. That whole throwin’ stuff at the knights ain’t done much good for our bag. Only things we have in it now are healin’ stuff, like berries and heal seeds and that kinda thing…”

“I see…Then let us see to it we escape those knights as soon as possible,” Serafina replied. “But we must catch our breath first. We cannot keep running otherwise.”

“Ya said it.” The Ledian’s gaze fell to their comrades, still out of action. “…Say, Arian’s heavier than he looks. I mean, I’ve carried heavier back on the farm, but…that don’t mean he’s a light load. ‘Specially when you’re runnin’ from a load of knights…”

“…At least you are much more cut out than this than I, Natalie,” Serafina responded, taking in much needed breaths of air after she spoke. “…What I was taught as a noblewoman is only becoming a hindrance now…”

“Ya’ve gotten better,” the Ledian pointed out, as she took out a canteen of water and drank from it.

“I know. But I still suffer from my noble shortcomings,” the Meowstic replied, downcastly. “And because my own family’s failings, we are mocked and ostracised by other nobles. Shunned by them who see us as commoners, and shunned by commoners who see us as nobles…”

“Hey.” Serafina stopped speaking once Natalie interjected. “Don’t be thinkin’ those bad thoughts. Don’t let that fancy-pants Floatzel get to ya. Us folks in Karelia support yer family and love ’em for all they’ve done fer us. And yer my best friend and comrade, Serafina. If ya fall, I’m fallin’ with ya. That’s another one of ’em merc things, ain’t it? Lookin’ out fer each other?”

“…Indeed. Looking out for one another is one of the central elements of a mercenary team,” Serafina said, feeling a bit more confident. “Thank you, Natalie.”

“Anytime.” The Ledian handed the canteen to her. “Water?”

“Gladly.” The Meowstic took a swig of the liquid, which was a refreshing reliever for her parched self. “Ahh…lovely.”

“Right.” Natalie got to her feet, taking Arian in her arms once again. “I think we oughta get movin’. Which way should we – “

“Wait,” Serafina demanded. Closing her eyes, she listened. “…I can hear knights coming. Not just from behind us, but from that way.” She pointed to the path on the right. “We need to hurry down this way.”

“…’Kay,” Natalie obliged, though worry came over her. How much longer can we keep runnin’ for…?

They made their way down the aforementioned street. Luckily, it was a back street meaning there were barely any knights on it. They continued along it, all too aware of the encroaching group of knights from the rear.

Eventually, they arrived somewhere that made Serafina stop in realisation at what lay before them.

“Iria Cathedral? Goodness, have we really come this far?”

The cathedral was a dominating one, towering over surrounding buildings. While Iria Castle still loomed over everything and everyone in town, Iria Cathedral certainly bore a presence of its own. It contained a tall steeple with a belfry at the top of it, and undoubtedly, one would get a commanding view of the city were they to traverse up to there. Beautiful stained glass windows gleamed in the evening light, and it was a memorable sight. Were Arian conscious, Serafina had little doubt he’d be remarking on the beauty of the scene before them.

But unfortunately, she and Natalie could not do this. Because as soon as they stepped into the square…

“Aha! There they are, those tenacious mercenaries!”

“…Tenacious is correct. But there’s a difference between admirable tenacity, and so far, those four have not garnered admiration in the slightest.”

The duo froze. Looking over to their right in the square at the pair of voices that spoke, the sight made their stomachs drop.

Not only was Marshal Ludmila there…but so was Mitrofan. With him was Nikita, along with a congregation of knights. All other exits were blocked by them, and a quick scan from Serafina didn’t find any gaps in the formation.

Their first instinct was to run back the way they came. However, this was not an option, given the impending approach of knights from that direction.

“…We’re cornered,” Serafina said with dread.

“…S’pose our only option is to fight,” Natalie said, adapting a battle stance.

“Natalie, that is no option either!” the Meowstic cried. “You saw how quick Mitrofan disposed of Arian and Elvira…our two good friends.” She looked at their unconscious forms in regret. “That was when he had Nikita and Spiridon with him. Now he is with Nikita, along with Marshal Ludmila and knights blocking every possible escape route. …If Arian and Elvira could not defeat him, what hope do we have? Outnumbered, outmatched…to say we are in a tight spot would sum it up.”

“I’m glad you realise that,” Mitrofan intervened, hearing the cat’s words. “You’ve done well to evade the knights of Iria, and even my most loyal marshals have had trouble apprehending you.” He looked to Ludmila in recognition.

“Too right,” she growled. “But it would appear your luck has finally run out, you two. In the name of Master Mitrofan and the Order of Knights, you are under arrest! Men, seize them! Don’t let those criminals escape!”

“Yes, ma’am!” saluted several knights, before a number moved in to capture them.

“No! I will not be taken by the likes of you!” Serafina yelled out, backing away from them.

“Oh, but you will,” a new voice spoke up from behind the two girls. A voice that made Serafina feel sick. “After all, there is nowhere left for you to run. Now your little game of runaway has come to a close, and you and that low-born serf you call a friend have been handed a resounding defeat!”

Looking behind her, the Meowstic’s fears were confirmed. Metody had caught up to them, and he and his legion of knights cornered them from the street in which they came.

“Honestly, trying to play the game of a mercenary…What in Arceus’ name were you thinking?” the Floatzel derided. “You were never made for this. A noblewoman like you ought to be more upstanding than that. You could have been a lady of one of the finest Selenian lords around. You could have earned back some self-respect for your family – gods know they need it. A lady like you would be well-sought after, and a marriage from someone like you would obtain a nice dowry for your family.”

“That girl’s a noble?” Ludmila interrupted.

“Yes. She is Lady Serafina of House Dorofeyev. The niece of the current Lord Rafail, and the daughter of former Lord Feliks who deserted our nation,” Nikita explained.

“…Hmph.” The look of contempt on the Nidoqueen’s face deepened.

“But then you go ahead and do this. How is this possibly of any benefit to you?” Metody continued. “There’s no way the likes of you can possibly fit in with a herd of low-born freelancers. You only tarnish your own name by putting yourself in their shoes. What use are you to your family then? You mock them by going down this path. And now look where it has led you; into the arms of fugitivity and capture by us. You, Lady Serafina…are nothing short of a failure.”

“I am not a failure!” Serafina refuted.

“Oh? Do you deny what I say is true, then?” Metody sadistically replied, evidently enjoying this. “If you, as an outlaw – let us face it, that is all you are in this realm – are captured by the authorities, then you could hardly call that a success, could you? Couple that with your refusal to fall in line with your role as a noblewoman, and…you certainly have all the trappings of a failure. …Surely you think the same, Marshal Ludmila? Master Mitrofan?”

“…My opinion does not matter,” Mitrofan replied, a displeased look on his face. “What matters is apprehending them, and that you have not done, Metody. Instead, you’ve wasted time speaking of matters that do not apply in this new age for this country. Capture them, men!”

“Yes, sir!” the knights obliged.

Meanwhile, Serafina couldn’t shut the mocking words of the Floatzel. Am I a failure? Is this my fate, to be locked away by Mitrofan’s men? Will I never see my family again? …Should I have stayed in Dresilia, in a sanctuary safe from the regime that rules the place I once called home? …Maybe I should not have taken this risk. A sanctuary, safe from all of this…that would have been ideal. Especially right now…

As she thought this, her thoughts focused on the word ‘sanctuary’, her gaze drifted towards Iria Cathedral. The stained-glass building still shone majestically in the evening sunlight. The most prominent church in the tsardom, paying host to religious congregations and masses. A place where Selenia’s religious hierarchy carried out their religious duties…

…including giving sanctuary to criminals.

Serafina’s eyes widened in shock as an idea came to her.

It is a gamble, but…what choice do we have? Desperate or not, we have to try it!

“Natalie, use Silver Wind!”

“Huh? Er, right on ya!” Natalie, though confused, listened and got the general gist of what her partner wanted. She threw a Silver Wind at the surrounding knights, aiming to hit many of them as possible and throw as many of them off guard as possible.

This had mixed results. Some, such as a Shiftry, winced at the Five-Star Pokémon’s attack, while others like a Drifblim barely batted an eye at the Silver Wind. However, this wasn’t meant to be a damaging attack, merely one to distract.

And some realised this.

“Absolutely not, you wretched farmhand!” Metody shouted. “Those games may work on your soil-ridden peers, but they do not work on us!”

“Would you shut up, Metody?” Ludmila criticised, in an annoyed tone. “Why does her class matter anyway? They’re criminals, no matter their class! You’re only motivating them more with your taunts!”

“Do not lecture me!” the Floatzel shot back. “I should say what I wish to dirty criminals like them!”

Their arguing proved fortuitous for the duo. That moment of distraction allowed Team Anima to make greater progress towards repelling the knights. Serafina used Fake Out on a Vaporeon in her path, making them flinch and allowing her to dodge past them. Luckily, the Meowstic, living up to her species, were nimble, and even with her prior noble heritage and the extra weight she had to carry, she was still able to dodge the moves of a few knights that were intent on catching her.

Finally, she was at the gates to the cathedral. Natalie managed to catch up with her.

“The cathedral?” the Ledian asked confusedly. “Why are ya – “

“You will see,” was Serafina’s only response. “But we must keep them at bay first!”

“Right!” Natalie threw another Silver Wind at the group of knights. “Take this, ya buncha blowhards!”

“…This is getting old,” Metody replied. “Do you not know how to do anything but use Silver Wind? You should have stayed on the farm and made yourself useful to the nation, you lowborn good-for-nothing! …Especially given your strategy. Do you not realise that you have backed yourself into a corner through going to the cathedral? There are no places to escape from there!”

“We know,” Natalie fired back. “That’s ’cause this place is our destination.” She stopped talking by this stage, and her wings buzzed in an effort to catch up with her partner, who had already entered the building.

“Their destination?” Ludmila pondered confusedly. “Why would this place be their destination?”

“Hmm…” Mitrofan pondered, before realisation struck him. “No! They’re not…! Out of my way!” he commanded to the knights, who let him aside.

Meanwhile, Team Anima ran into the cathedral, which was elaborately decorated to befit the prominence of the most religious building in the whole tsardom. Tapestries of legendary Pokémon lined the walls and ceiling of the church, and rows of pews lined either side of the middle aisle, which led up to a grand altar. The stained glass behind the altar depicted a notable scene; a triangle, and at each corner, three Pokémon were depicted; all of them dragons.

And above this…lay an equine Pokémon, with a white body, grey markings, and a golden cross-wheel. Surrounding it were a variety of different coloured plates, and the Pokémon in question was clearly depicted in a heavenly light, as it was a plane higher than the deities depicted below it.

This wasn’t Serafina and Natalie’s focus, however. Rather, their attention was drawn to the people on the altar. They seemed to be a small cohort of priests and priestesses, numbering around five. They all wore white robes with the same golden cross-wheel the equine Pokémon possessed. In front of them stood two other Pokémon in white robes, evidently the leaders, as given away by their fancier robes. One was a Togetic, while the other was a Slowking. The latter wielded a staff, the head of which also bore that same golden cross-wheel, along with bells on each of the four ends of the cross.

The presence of priests was to Serafina’s relief. Thank goodness. I feared the cathedral may have been empty. But now…we might be able to receive aid.

All happened to notice the entry of the two newcomers to the scene. The prior duo of the Slowking and Togetic turned to face them.

“Hm? Who could these be?” the Togetic, asked. “What brings you to the embrace of our Creator?” He then noticed the unconscious forms of Arian and Elvira being carried on their back. “By His name! We have injured people that need medical attention!”

“…Yes. We also need sanctuary,” Serafina pleaded, a hint of desperation in her voice. “Please, I beg of you, Your Graces. We are mercenaries, and we need help escaping from the knights that have hounded us all evening, merely for who we are. Will you grant the four of us sanctuary from them?” Please say yes. Please say yes…

“Hmm…” The Slowking and the Togetic pondered the Meowstic’s request. Then the former’s eyes drifted to Natalie, and then to the unconscious Arian within her arms.

A look of recognition crossed his face, though he did his best to hide his shock. Could it possibly be…?

“We shall,” the Slowking permitted, much to the surprise of his companion and the other priests.

“We shall? But Your Holiness, there are established procedures for giving sanctuary,” the Togetic said. “We must establish – “

“Forgive my interruption, Archbishop Khariton,” the Slowking interjected. “But in the Church of Arceus, we do not turn away those in need, especially the wounded. What would we be if not for our charitable endeavours? That is our duty as clergymen, and as those chosen by the Creator Himself, we have the need to lead by example. And…the priests of Selenia have put in a good word for the underground network of mercenaries in this country. Reciprocity is in order. Administering sanctuary upon these four, therefore, would be in our best interests. Surely you understand?”

“…Yes, Your Holiness. Forgive my doubting of your wisdom,” Khariton apologised, before turning to the group of priests. “Brothers and sisters of worship, you heard the orders of His Holiness. Escort these four to safety, and treat the Riolu and Treecko at once!”

“Yes, Your Grace,” obliged one priest, a Volbeat, and he and an Illumise priestess came to escort Team Anima into a door off to the side of the altar. Relief came over Serafina and Natalie that their words had been listened to. However, no sooner had that door shut, then…

“Where are they? Where have those mercenaries disappeared to? If they have been taken into sanctuary, then I swear the priests here will live to regret it!”

Metody’s voice of annoyance echoed through the high ceilings of the cathedral. He, along with Mitrofan, Ludmila and a number of knights had entered the building, and now locked eyes with Khariton and the Slowking. The priests behind them reared back in fear at this intrusion, while Khariton returned a glaring look at those that had entered. The Slowking, however, kept an impassive, calm countenance as he addressed the crowd.

“Please do not shout within these walls,” he advised, putting his claw to his lips. “Silence is as golden as the Creator’s cross-wheel, and He would prefer it be kept that way.”

“Who the hell are you to talk down to us?” sneered Metody. “No one dares to impede the progress of the knights and our great leader. And certainly not some nobody of a clergyman! Now tell us…where are those mercenaries that escaped into here? We are here to apprehend them, and no one of you shall stand in our way!”

“But we shall do just that,” the Slowking returned. “The four that entered these holy halls have been granted sanctuary. It would be an injustice of charity to ignore them, and it would go against the principles that we in the Church uphold. Do understand.”

“…Oh, I understand, alright,” Ludmila replied, a visible look of anger and irritation on her face. “All that talk about morality and principles doesn’t disguise the fact that you’re aiding and abetting criminals! And you intend to impede our progress? Do you not know the meaning of authority? Or does that belong exclusively to him and no one else?” She pointed angrily at the Pokémon atop the stained glass painting. “You have some nerve!”

“Quite,” seconded Nikita. “I should think you would know that. The most supreme authority in this country is Mitrofan, and all others are subordinate to his word. …That includes Arceus, whether you like it or not. Need you be reminded of this? We made such matters clear to the clergy on a number of occasions. …Pitiful, that you refuse even now to accept this state of affairs, and spit defiance back in our face.”

“…Indeed,” Mitrofan seconded, glaring at the Slowking. “You would do well to explain your impudence. I have never seen you before in my life, and I don’t ignore the affairs of the Church in this country. You most certainly were not among the bishops that were brought to my attention to be nominated at the most recent episcopal conference. Why do you speak, and not Archbishop Khariton, the highest-ranking cleric in Selenia?”

“That’s because, Mitrofan,” Khariton answered for his fellow priest. “This man is of an even higher rank than I. You speak to one of the most powerful men in Ardalion, one whose power surpasses even yours.” He spoke these words with pride. “If you know him not, then let his name be known!

“The chosen one by our Creator, Lord Arceus! He who has been chosen to maintain the peace of the gods amongst us! He is none other than Sansarn, the pontifex maximus of our holy institution himself!”

A shocked reaction made itself known amongst the group of knights that had entered with Mitrofan, Nikita and the two marshals.

“What?!”

“The pontifex maximus? The pontifex maximus? That’s him?!”

“But wait…I thought it was someone else? …I forget his name. Nic…someone-or-other?”

“I heard somewhere that he was assassinated. …Guess this is the guy’s replacement.”

“…The pontifex maximus?” Metody gave Sansarn a sceptical look. “Some claim that is. You ought to have proof to reinforce such a lofty statement. Or is it merely a bluff to assert power in front of our leader himself?”

“It is no bluff, I assure you,” Sansarn replied, as impassive as ever. “And I can prove it. As they say, seeing is believing.” He produced from his robes a rolled up newspaper, and folded it out so that the four in front of him could see the front headline.

“…’New Pontifex Inaugurated’,” Nikita read. “‘In his ascension to the hierarchy’s zenith, the new Pontifex Sansarn vowed to address the scourge of poverty in Eastern cities and cleanse the Church of the reputation it has developed in recent years.'” He then looked to the accompanying image, which depicted a Slowking in ceremonial robes with other priests alongside him. “…Hmm. The newspaper dates from around a year ago, around the same time that we received word of a new pontifex’s inauguration. And you do look quite similar to him. …I believe his testimony is true, Master Mitrofan.”

“…As do I,” Mitrofan seconded, before his expression soured once again. “…I am annoyed, however, that your visit was not brought to my attention, Pontifex.”

“This visit is an unofficial one,” Sansarn replied to that. “It was to assess the state of the Church in Selenia, without garnering too much attention back home in Padavonum. I do not want those that support me to believe that I rubbed shoulders with Mitrofan, the Tyrannical Guildmaster, as you have been called in some circles. Surely you understand?”

“Not like we need the opinions of some clergyman from the East,” scoffed Ludmila. “Keep your stuck-up noses out of our business! Get back to reforming your damn church of its embezzlement problems or whatever it is you want to reform! We have nothing to do with your plans!”

“Marshal Ludmila makes a strong argument,” Mitrofan reinforced. “Even if you are the Pontifex of the Church of Arceus, that doesn’t give you the right to interfere in my country’s affairs. We in Selenia made that perfectly plain to those in the East two hundred years ago when we chased them out of this country. What makes you think you can stand in my way now? I will not have anyone threaten me, be they Eastern or otherwise! Now surrender those mercenaries to us at once!”

“…That, I will not do.” Sansarn’s calm delivery remained unwavering. “The Church of Arceus’s line on sanctuary has been in effect for centuries, and we shall not bend on this occasion. It would be an affront to those in Dresilia and Miletos to overturn such tradition for a reviled figure in their eyes. But…it would also be an affront to the priests of Selenia to relinquish those four. On my visitations to the various dioceses, I learned that the Irian Guild, now an underground organisation, have aided the Selenian priests on a number of occasions. Thus, they reciprocate with support for them. My decision is merely a response to this trend.”

“…Your reasoning means nothing,” growled Mitrofan. “You are still an obstruction. And anyone who has been an obstruction to me in the past knows the results of their stubbornness. Judging by your own idiocy, you plainly wish to know!”

“…My.” To the Aggron’s surprise, the Slowking barely reacted to his threat. “Are you going to kill me, Mitrofan?”

“…Do you even need to ask?” the Aggron spat, finding himself slightly unnerved by Sansarn’s impassiveness.

“…A poor judgement, if I must state my view. Are you aware of the consequences should you carry out such a vow? The killing of a pontifex is by no means a small matter,” Sansarn elaborated. “The pontifical role is one of peace, and a markedly different one from the Dresilian emperor and Miletan archon. To assassinate the pontifex would be to set ablaze the widespread fury of those associated with the Church of Arceus, from the common parishioner to the archbishops of the highest order, coupled with the most prominent noble houses in the East…including Houses Padavona and Metaxas.

“To draw the ire of His Excellency Emperor Vittorio and His Eminence Archon Pyrrhus would be to signal the death knell for your rule, and possibly Selenia’s autonomy. The last time a Selenian tsar dared a challenge from Dresilia and Miletos ended in disaster for him and his people. Yes, Tsar Ippolit the Foolhardy…his overambition in the face of reality two hundred years ago condemned him to damnation within history’s books. Tell me, Mitrofan…is that the road you wish to walk?”

“You dare compare Master Mitrofan to Ippolit?” Nikita was incensed at this comparison. “Do you know no shame, Pontifex?!”

“…Grrr…” Torn was the best description of the Selenian leader right now. He wanted more than ever to shut the Slowking up and show him who ruled the roost in this land. But…he couldn’t deny that Sansarn had a point. The assassination of a pontifex maximus would no doubt draw the ire of the Eastern Alliance, and that could potentially lead to war and a reseizure of Selenia. I can’t afford to do that. I would never win a fight like that. Even so… He looked back at Sansarn, with frustrated anger evident in his eyes. Am I really going to back down to him without a fight?

It was tempting. But the consequences were too grievous should he actually go through with it. And so he found himself uttering what he didn’t want to say.

“…Back down, Nikita.”

“Master Mitrofan?” The Marowak looked surprised.

“But he’s made a laughing stock of you, Master Mitrofan!” Ludmila protested. “Are you just going to let that slide?”

“…I do not want to. …But he makes a valid point. We can’t afford a war with the East. Only an idiot like Ippolit would truly challenge them. We must be pragmatic and stomach this humiliation for Selenia’s autonomy. It would be in our best interests to not stick to our instincts in this case.” He shot a long glare at Sansarn, before scowling. “…Damn you, Pontifex. May you burn in the hottest of hells.”

“…Lord Arceus shall judge that,” was the Slowking’s response. “Not you, Mitrofan. I have no doubt our Creator will not think highly of the last five years in relation to your reign. I fear heaven is beyond your reach.”

“Don’t lecture me. You are no Creator,” Mitrofan snarled, before turning to his subordinates. “…Come on, then, you all. It’s not the end of the world – this loss, we can resist. There are other duties that need attending to. Now hop to it!”

“Yes, sir!” saluted the knights before they and their leader left the cathedral. However, not before Nikita and Ludmila shot a look of hatred towards Sansarn.

“…Well…” Khariton broke the silence that ensued after the knights left. “…Bravo, Your Holiness. I think I speak for all of us here when I say you handled that excellently. To talk down to Mitrofan like that and make him turn away without even so much as a punch being thrown…that is nothing short of admirable.”

“…Thank you, Archbishop.” Sansarn’s gaze was still locked on the cathedral’s exit, where Mitrofan and his subordinates had departed from. “…A shame it must be this way. I sense he was a good man once, if tales from this land ring true about him. Just whatever caused him to change?”

“…Hmph.” All of a sudden, the Togetic’s tone became more tetchy. “It doesn’t matter who he was; what matters is who he is now. And there’s a man who doesn’t at all respect our customs in the Church. …Matters were much better in the days of the tsar. At least he knew how to respect the priesthood! …No doubt His Majesty is turning in his grave at the revolting ways Mitrofan has twisted our nation. Oh Creator…” He looked toward the stained glass at the heavenly equine Pokémon again. “…See to it that upon his death, Mitrofan earns a prison in the deepest, hottest pit far away from any form of salvation.”

“…That is our Creator’s decision,” Sansarn said. “He shall decide Mitrofan’s ultimate fate, as well as ours when the end of our years in Ardalion come. …Now that he has left the cathedral, I think we should check up on the four we granted sanctuary to.”

“Of course, Your Holiness,” Khariton replied, and followed the Slowking as he made his way to the back room in the direction where the four mercenaries had been escorted to. This room was full of priest’s robes, crosiers, sacramental wine and other such items needed for religious ceremonies. Notably, though, a stone staircase was visible at the end of this room that led downwards, and the two priests went down the passage.

The stairs went down in a helix, into a basement room below the cathedral. Once they reached the bottom, they heard voices drifting across the room.

“…Thanks a bunch for helping us.” A young masculine voice could be heard.

“Thank us not, young Arian.” Khariton recognised this voice as the Volbeat priest that had escorted the four mercenaries down to the room in question. “It was His Holiness that permitted you to stay here. The thanks should go to him, I feel, along with His Grace Archbishop Khariton.”

The room the two bishops walked into looked like an infirmary of sorts, with a number of beds along the walls and shelves of medicinal equipment in various points in the room. Looking over at where the beds began, Khariton and Sansarn saw the Riolu and Treecko conscious once again, and talking with their Ledian comrade as well as the two priests that had escorted them. Notably, the Meowstic from earlier was lying on a bed at the other end of the room, asleep.

As they walked in, the Illumise turned and saw them, before turning back to the Volbeat. “Here they are now, Brother.” She turned back to the bishops and bowed to them. “Welcome, Your Holiness and Your Grace. We have treated the mercenaries, and they are all healthy. Lady Serafina, the Meowstic who requested sanctuary, has fallen asleep due to fatigue.”

“Yeah, we did a lotta runnin’ today…” Natalie remarked, before letting out a yawn. “I’m knackered. I might hit the hay too.”

“Your plight is understandable and one I sympathise with,” Sansarn remarked. “You are welcome to join your comrade. In sanctuary, you may do as you please within our walls.”

“…Then I think I’m gonna,” the Ledian decided. “Thanks fer everythin’, Yer Holiness.” And with that, Natalie retreated to the rear of the room, where she lay in a bed next to Serafina.

“…Yeah, um…thanks a lot,” Arian said. “Y’know, for helping us out.”

“It is no trouble,” Khariton assured. “The mercenaries of the Irian Guild have been helpful to us in the Church. I have been informed by a number of priests that have availed of your services, and they have all spoken highly of you. We couldn’t very well turn you away after what you’ve done for us. Consider it reciprocity, a key virtue of our church. If you do good deeds, you shall be rewarded for them.”

“…That makes sense,” the Riolu replied, seeing the Togetic’s point.

“Um…If I may?” Elvira requested, and the bishops’ attention fell to her. “Based on what those priests told us…” She alluded to the Volbeat and Illumise that had brought them down here. “Is it true that you two are the Archbishop of Selenia and the pontifex maximus?” Her gaze was on Sansarn, who strangely enough, had his focus on Arian.

“…That is true,” Khariton answered. “I am Khariton, Archbishop of Selenia, and His Holiness Pontifex Sansarn stands next to me. His Holiness is currently visiting Selenia, in order to assess the Church in Selenia. He has spent the last few days travelling the Selenian countryside, meeting various members of our priesthood. His report seems to be mostly positive. Indeed, despite Mitrofan’s despotism, we have done our best to preach the word of our Creator in these trying times.”

“You have done a good job of it, Archbishop,” praised Sansarn. “You are a strong ally of our Church, and a sturdy bastion in this corner of Ardalion. I shall keep you in mind as a valuable ally, and defend you against any potential naysayers back in Padavonum.”

“…I am honoured to receive such praise from you, Your Holiness.” Khariton sounded genuinely touched by the Slowking’s words. “…I promise to keep up the good work! For you, our church, and our Creator!”

“I am pleased to hear such dedication.” The pontifex then turned toward Arian and Elvira. “…Ah, but let us not ignore those we shelter. We did not get your names.”

“Oh, I’m Arian,” the Riolu introduced. “And this is Elvira.” He gestured to his partner.

“Arian and Elvira…” Sansarn processed the names. In particular, his focus once again fell on Arian, which the Riolu couldn’t help but notice. He also took note of the Slowking’s emotions, and couldn’t help but feel puzzled at what he found.

Confusion…?

“Um, Your Holiness?” Elvira inquired. “You…seem focused on Arian.” A thought came to her. “Do you know him?”

“Hmm…” Sansarn seemed to ponder his answer before giving it. “I knew a Riolu once, some years ago. We were forced to go our separate ways, but…looking upon you now, Arian, I cannot help but be reminded of his presence. You…bear quite a resemblance to him, in fact.”

“…Actually, he could be,” Elvira voiced. “You see…Arian has amnesia. He doesn’t remember anything before I found him a few weeks ago. …Could it be possible that you knew him before this?”

“Amnesia, you say?” This further intrigued the pontifex. “…I may well have. And I believe we may be able to find out. You see…some Psychic-types like me have the ability to try and undo amnesia through penetration of one’s mind.”

“…What?” Arian’s eyes were like saucers at this news. “…You can do that?”

“…I can try, although I cannot guarantee success. Sometimes it is easy, and the amnesia quickly becomes a thing of the past. Other times…it is less simple, but rather the amnesiac gradually regains their memories over time. …Sometimes, however, it doesn’t work at all.”

“Well…you might as well try, right?” Arian reasoned, feeling like he was on the cusp of something big. If I can unlock my amnesia, then…! “You never know unless you give it a shot.”

“…Perhaps. I see you are willing to be subject to this,” Sansarn noted. “…Very well, then. If you will permit me…then I will attempt to undo the oblivion that burdens you. But I need you to remain absolutely still for this, and for your mind to be at ease.”

“…Sure thing, Your Holiness.” Arian fought to keep himself rigidly still as he sat down on the nearest bed.

“…Arian, are you sure about this?” Elvira questioned worriedly. “Undoing amnesia…it sounds too good to be true.”

“Maybe it is,” the Riolu accepted. “But if it doesn’t work, we can at least say we tried.”

“…Mmm…” The Treecko’s worried expression didn’t fade.

Sansarn knelt before the Riolu and put his hand to his forehead. Arian closed his eyes, and put himself in a meditative mindset just as Galen had advised him. He began to feel a sensation claw at his mind, and presumed it to be the pontifex’s psychic touch that would work its magic in undoing his amnesia.

Will it really happen? Will I remember who I am?

As he began to have these thoughts, wondering what would happen next, he felt the sensation make its way deeper into his mind. However, as soon as he felt the slightest bit of force being applied…

There was a sharp tug, and suddenly…

…The blackness of unconsciousness.