Chapter 17 – Iria, Part 3

“Damn him! Damn that stuck-up Dressie priest! How dare he tell us what to do!”

Ludmila was raging at the knights’ barracks, where she, Mitrofan, Nikita and Metody had reunited with Spiridon, who, true to his word, had looked after Rufus while the others had focused on chasing down the four mercenaries. Once he’d been filled in on what had happened, the Hawlucha was quite surprised at what he’d heard.

“Calm yourself, Ludmila,” Mitrofan advised. “Being worked up will solve nothing.”

“But he’s an outsider trying to influence your decision-making, Master Mitrofan!” complained the Nidoqueen. “The last thing we need is the likes of the East controlling us like puppets on strings! That pontiff’s as rotten as they come from that side of the continent!”

“…I would agree,” Nikita seconded. “It was bad enough, having the noble families of Selenia try and manipulate the runnings of the Guild. But the East? We can’t have a return to the days when Selenia was controlled by the Eastern Alliance some two hundred years ago. That caused the Great Selenian Famine, and that, more than anything, was the darkest time our nation faced. If not for the hero Gamaliel and Team Hope, then we may never have gotten out of that rut.”

“You are quite right, Nikita,” Mitrofan agreed. “…But I’m not risking a war with the East. That was how Selenia lost its autonomy and got into that mess in the first place. Four mercenaries…it’s not worth killing the pontifex over that. Even if it is an affront…acting rashly now will only cause trouble down the line.”

“If I may ask, Master Mitrofan…don’t you believe you are being paranoid?” Metody replied, his tone slightly critical. “He was bluffing to high hell, that pontiff. Apparently, from what I’ve heard, he’s something of a divisive figure among the Eastern nobility, that Sansarn fellow. Many of them would probably rejoice at his death! We would be doing them a favour by getting rid of him!”

“No,” Mitrofan shut down. “I will not inflame tensions for this transgression alone. Besides…there is no evidence he has been ordered by the Dresilian emperor or the Miletan archon to do this. If the pontifex sees fit to bar my path again, however…then there will be hell to pay.”

The Aggron took a long breath after this, still cross at being bested by Sansarn. His gaze then met Spiridon’s, who was standing next to Rufus.

“…How has he been, Spiridon?” he asked. “Not too much trouble, I hope?”

“Nah, not at all,” the Hawlucha replied. “He’s been quiet. I think he’s learned his lesson about straying into the Catacombs. …Haven’t we, little Rufus?” he asked the boy.

“…Yes…” the Growlithe mumbled mutedly, the guilt in his voice too evident. “I’m sorry…I promise I won’t do it again. …Please…just let me go home…” he begged

“…If you show signs of willingness to right your wrongs, and vow to never venture there again…then I accept your apology,” Mitrofan responded. “Some people in this world are truly vile, with no hope of salvation. They deserve nothing short of brutal punishment. But…I can recognise an effort to repent when I see one.”

“…Really?” Rufus was genuinely surprised by the Aggron’s merciful offer.

“You misunderstand, boy. I am letting you off with a warning,” Mitrofan clarified. “If you break the understanding we’ve reached…” A hard glare formed. “Then you will suffer the appropriate consequences, and there will be no third chance. Understood?”

“…Crystal,” Rufus blurted, too terrified by Mitrofan’s glare to say anything else.

“…Good. Let’s bring you home, where I will speak with Dalibor,” the Aggron announced. “Spiridon, Nikita, with me. Ludmila and Metody, return to your posts around the city. We cannot focus all of our efforts on four mercenaries, nor let such a loss destabilise order in this city. There exist other criminals who would gladly take advantage of the distraction created by those four mercenaries.”

“Yes, Master Mitrofan!” Ludmila saluted.

“…As you wish, Master Mitrofan,” Metody said.

“Be on your way. And let us away, as well.” Mitrofan turned for the exit, accompanied by Nikita, Spiridon and Rufus.

Once they got onto the street, the Aggron knew which way to go. He’d travelled the route to the Grimmhatt Orphanage on many an occasion, when he’d visited Dalibor in the past, both as Guildmaster and as leader of Selenia.

Now, though, our time of mutual friendship may finally be coming to an end. I don’t wish it to be, but…I will do what I must.

They winded their way through the streets. As he knew the way there as well, Spiridon led the group through the winding streets that led to the orphanage in question. As they approached the building in question, Mitrofan made a request to Spiridon.

“You go first,” he said. “Dalibor will appreciate your presence more than mine.” He then looked at Rufus, next to the Hawlucha. “…As would the boy, I would think,” he added.

“Sure thing, Mitt,” Spiridon obliged. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s bring you home.” He walked ahead, with the Growlithe trailing him, and arrived at the gates of the orphanage. From the outside, it looked deserted, with no one in sight. That was to be expected; all of the children had been called inside for the night, and the lights were on inside.

Seeing this, Spiridon walked up to the orphanage doors and knocked three times. There was silence, until shuffling could be heard from the inside and the door opened.

“Good, you’re back. Did you bring…” Dalibor’s voice drifted off as he realised who was at the front door. “…Wait a minute. Spiridon? What are you doing here? I thought…” he trailed off, stopping his words there.

“I came by to see my old companion’s face once again,” the Hawlucha replied, a smile coming across his face. “You doing well, Dali?”

“Getting by,” the Grimmsnarl replied. “Although the orphanage is in a right state, what with Rufus’ gallivanting off to the Catacombs…”

“That’s also the main reason why I’m here.” Spiridon gestured to the Growlithe beside him. “I’m here to bring this little one back home after he trespassed in the Catacombs.”

“…Rufus?” Dalibor looked down at the orphan. “You’re back. …But why did you enter the Catacombs in the first place?”

“…I…I wanted to prove I was brave,” Rufus confessed. “The other orphans said I was all talk. I thought if I went through the Irian Catacombs, then I’d prove them all wrong!” He then looked guiltily off to his side.

“Bravery? …Rufus, that’s no act of bravery,” Dalibor chastised. He was worried for the boy, of course, but he was cross with him; after all, he had escaped into the forbidden Catacombs behind his back. “You could’ve been killed in that place! There’s a good reason it’s forbidden for the public to enter there, because of how dangerous it is! …What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry!” the Growlithe apologised, in a voice that sounded truly remorseful. “I never realised how dangerous the place was, and what it would mean to you and all my friends if I died there! I’m sorry! I’m really sorry!” He began to shed tears once again.

“…” Dalibor’s expression softened in the face of this. He was never one to remain cross for long in the face of those he looked after, especially toward those who were sorry for their misdemeanours. “…Don’t ever do something like that again, you hear? Cornelia, I and your friends were worried sick, wondering if you were okay.”

“I won’t…” Rufus snivelled, wiping tears from his eyes with his paws.

“…Good. Go inside. We’ll talk later.” Rufus did so, heading inside and leaving the two men at the entrance.

“…He’s an adventurous one, that Rufus,” Spiridon remarked. “He actually got quite far into the Catacombs for a thirteen-year-old. The fourth floor, I think? I’m sure if his technique was honed, you wouldn’t have to worry about him as much in the future. …Hey, maybe we could sign him up to be a squire in the knights? We could use someone with his determination.”

“…We can discuss that another time,” Dalibor said, feeling unsure at the marshal’s suggestion. “Because there’s another thing I’d like to speak to you about, Spiridon. …Why did you bring him here?”

“It’s the duty of a knight to help those in need,” Spiridon replied. “And as one of Mitrofan’s loyal marshals, I have to uphold that duty more than any of the rank-and-file soldiers. I could hardly neglect that duty, could I?”

“…I suppose not. But I thought…”

In sudden realisation of what he was about to say, he held his tongue, so as not to give away that he had dispatched Teams Elpis and Anima to the Catacombs. However, Spiridon caught this slip, and immediately knew why.

“…Oh, so you did send those four mercenaries into the Catacombs,” he said, now able to confirm this fact for sure. “…Boy, Mitt won’t be pleased about that. In fact…he’s here right now to give you a talking to.”

“Mitt’s here?” This was unexpected news to Dalibor.

“Yep, he sure is. He’s out there with Nikita, by the gate. …Why not go out and talk to him?” the marshal suggested. “If you don’t, he’ll come here, and then those kids will hear the inevitable argument. I’d rather they not hear that.”

“…You have a point,” Dalibor conceded. “…At least I can see your way of convincing people hasn’t lost its touch, Spiridon.”

“You said it, partner.” A look of reminiscence crossed Spiridon’s face. “Good to see you looking out for those kids, Dali. Y’know, not to say you weren’t a bad merc, but…this feels more like your true calling. And at least your experience as a merc means you can defend them when they’re in trouble. …You remember when it was me and you in Team Hair Trigger? Those were the days, weren’t they?” He then looked off to the side, a shade of bitterness in what he said next. “…Shame what happened to you meant that we had to end our little collab together.”

“…Yes. You were quite a good partner, Spiridon,” Dalibor said to him. “But…that was the past. I’m retired as a merc now, and I want to look to the future. And that…is looking after these kids with Cornelia. I wouldn’t go back to being a merc, even if it was allowed.”

“…You do you, Dali. Oh, and tell Cornelia I said hi. I assume she’s doing well these days? I knew you two were a good fit for one another. A pity you never had kids of your own with her, but I suppose why bother when you’re surrounded by these adorable little tykes? Even if you have naughty ones like Rufus, it’s still worth – “

“You can continue this conversation another time, Spiridon,” Nikita interrupted brusquely from the entrance. “We have more business with Dalibor besides friendly chatter, if you recall.”

“Don’t worry, Niki. We’re about done,” Spiridon called back. “…I’d go to them if I were you. Mitt’s not a man that likes to be kept waiting.”

“…If you insist.” Dalibor stepped out into the cold night, and walked to the entrance, where he faced Mitrofan and Nikita. Both gave him a frigid, steely look.

“I know that face, Mitt,” Dalibor began, dreading what was to come. “It never was a nice one in the Guild days, and…these days, it seems even more sour than before.”

“…That boy of yours certainly has ideas about bravery,” Mitrofan replied, ignoring his old friend’s comment. “But in the fashion of an amateur, he hasn’t realised the difference between bravery and recklessness. Do you consider his actions brave, Dalibor?”

“No. Not at all,” the fairy denied. “It was foolish for him to do that.”

“Point proven. At the very least, the boy did not vandalise anything, nor did he rob any graves. And he is barely a juvenile. If he were older, this breach of regulations would have more serious ramifications. But because of his youth, I shall reduce it to a mere fine. Money that will be deducted from the donations I normally send you.”

“…Should’ve seen that coming,” murmured the Grimmsnarl.

“Be grateful. Were Tsar Kliment in charge, that punishment would’ve been far more severe,” Mitrofan went on. “He would give no mercy to any trespasser in the Catacombs, no matter their age. But Rufus is only a young juvenile. Leniency should be exercised in his case, given his youth. I am kind enough to let him off, with the hope that he knows to keep out of the Catacombs in future. That being said…do keep a closer eye on that boy Rufus, Dalibor,” he reprimanded. “He has potential, but he can’t develop it into something better if he meets his maker too soon.”

“I’ll do that. By the sounds of it, he’s learned his lesson. I’ll keep an eye on him, don’t worry.”

“…That’s that sorted. But I’m not finished,” Mitrofan continued. “…I had an interesting encounter, whilst in the Catacombs. Four mercenaries of the Irian Guild happened to descend into the Irian Catacombs, searching for Rufus. …They claimed you had sent them to rescue him. And of the four of them…” Nikita produced the wanted poster of Arian and Elvira. “…Two of them happened to be prominent outlaws. It is known news that Hinnerk was defeated by a Riolu and a Treecko, and they have the potential to set a precedent. …So why, pray tell, did you cooperate with them?”

“…You make it sound like I asked them to kill you or something,” Dalibor remarked, though with no humour in his tone. “I didn’t. All I asked them to do was rescue Rufus from his predicament. That’s all. Nothing more. …So then let me ask you, Mitt. …Where are they? Why did you bring Rufus here, and not them?”

“…You don’t need to know where they are. I merely saw to the proper delegation of that responsibility to the knights, as it should be,” Mitrofan answered. “The welfare of citizens should not be placed in the hand of outlaws like them. Especially those that pose a threat to my rule, and especially those who make their opposition to me quite clear.”

“…Are you listening to yourself, Mitt?” Dalibor said, astounded by what he was hearing. “You think they pose a threat to you because you make them out to be! It doesn’t have to be like that. There surely can be a world where you’re still the leader of Selenia, and the Irian Guild coexists! Have you even tried to make a settlement with Melchior over this?”

“…Melchior was adamant that he wanted nothing to do with me,” the Aggron returned. “He has made quite a point of opposing my rule, and no doubt hopes to one day bring it down. And so I must respond in kind. If he exists as a pest that intends to obstruct my way at every turn, then I have no choice but to not ignore him. To kick that can down the road would be to only create greater problems for my leadership in the long run.”

“…Listen, Mitt,” Dalibor began, trying to hold back his shocked anger at the Aggron’s words. “I’m grateful for what you’ve done for the orphanage. Your donations to us have been a great help to Cornelia and I, who would struggle to feed and house the children otherwise. And…nor can I just forget the years of friendship between us, back in the days of the Guild. Even now…the very fact that you donate to the orphanage is proof, to me at least, that you still care.”

“…Get to the point,” Nikita bluntly replied for Mitrofan, his eyes narrowed with knowledge that there would be a turn to this.

“…What went on in Ozerograd under Hinnerk…I’ve heard stories about that.” Dalibor’s expression turned resentful. “And I’ve heard the stories of his rampant corruption and perversion as the lord there. The fact you supported a man like him…it’s unacceptable! If you truly claim yourself to be a benevolent ruler, then why? Why put stock in a man as vile as him?”

“…I will say to you what I said to them. Hinnerk was all but a tool to be disposed of when I no longer had use for him,” was the Aggron’s reply. “I had my own plans to displace him, but…it would appear Arian and Elvira acted before I could constructively put such a plan in place.”

“…The fact that you refused to oust him, thus they took matters into their own hands and deposed him…Does that not say more about your leadership than them?” Dalibor pointed out. “…What happened to your role as a leader? This support for despots like Hinnerk, and now this intent to chase Guild members down, the very organisation you once led! …What the hell has gotten into you, man? Why are you acting like this?”

“You don’t need to know what drives me,” growled Mitrofan.

“Yes, I do!” Dalibor retaliated. “What happened to my good friend and colleague? What happened to the Guildmaster that I and many others looked up to so highly? And most of all…

“…What happened to the husband and father that you became? What would Rufina think of this?”

This seemed to garner a silent reaction from Mitrofan; his eyes widened, then instantly, shock vanished in favour of menace that threatened the Grimmsnarl to say no more. Dalibor paid this no heed; the reaction alone was enough to know he was on to something. That name – he knew it meant a great deal to Mitrofan.

And so he continued.

“You’re an idiot if you think I haven’t noticed. Five years you’ve ruled over Selenia, and yet there’s been no sign at all of Rufina, or your children. You loved her to death, Mitt. And it never waned once. From the day you married her to five years ago, there was no sign at all of splintering. It was a match made in heaven, up there with Kallias and Melchior’s marriages! …What the hell happened? Where is she? Is she dead? And what about your kids? Did they meet the same fate?”

The Aggron remained as silent as ever, as his once good friend barraged him with questions. One response from him, however, stopped the Grimmsnarl cold in his tracks.

“…I’d like to know the answer to that question myself.”

“Wh-What?” Dalibor was somewhat bewildered by this response. “You mean you don’t know? How could you not know what happened to her?!”

“…Manipulators beyond my control saw to that,” Mitrofan replied, confusing the hirsute fairy all the greater. Then, to add to the perplexity, he posed a new question. “…Tell me something, Dalibor.”

“…What?” By this point, Dalibor was beginning to lose his patience.

“Imagine this scenario. I have kidnapped Cornelia and the orphans you take care of. And I have told you that if you do not comply with my every move, then they would be history, and I would see to it that all trace of a good name within them would be erased. …What would you do, if thrust into that situation?”

“…You wouldn’t dare,” the Dark/Fairy-type snarled. “If you ever do such a thing to Cornelia or the kids, I’ll – !”

“Answer the question, Dalibor.” Mitrofan’s reply was calm and unfazed.

“…Well…I…” The Grimmsnarl curled his fist of hair in anger. “Come on, man! You can’t expect me to answer that!”

“But I can,” the Aggron returned. “So tell me; would you obey the orders of someone who’d kidnapped your loved ones? …Even if those orders went against all of your moral instincts and involved you to do less than lawful deeds?”

“…” Dalibor’s face showed a great deal of conflict.

“…Silence, I see,” Mitrofan noted. “I can’t blame you, to be honest. After all, you’ve never been put in a situation like that. But if Cornelia and the children were taken from you…only then would you be compelled to contemplate committing wrongdoing. …Something that you as a former mercenary, would never dream of.”

“…Listen, Mitt.” Dalibor’s voice was threatening. “If you’re thinking of laying one finger on Cornelia or any of the orphans in here, then I swear…”

“You swear what? What would you do?”

“…I’d tear your fucking guts out,” came the snarling reply. “I would make you know the feeling of pain. No one dares to do that against Cornelia or the kids, even if it’s my old friend threatening to kidnap them!”

“So you would kill me, then?” Mitrofan surmised. “…Hmph. Then you are no better than me.”

“Don’t compare me to you!” snapped the Grimmsnarl. “Unlike you, I’ve never murdered anyone in cold blood!”

“I wasn’t,” refuted the Selenian leader. “I was merely pointing out that you would kill me for the welfare of your wife and the orphans. …We all say we would do anything for our loved ones. But how many actually mean that? Would they truly do anything and everything if it meant keeping them out of harm’s way?”

“…Well…” Dalibor tried to consider the Aggron’s question. “…Only if it meant their absolute safety if I did whatever deed they wanted me to do. But…I’d draw a line somewhere. Like if I had to murder someone in cold blood…”

“So even in that situation, your oath would come first,” Mitrofan noted. “…But what if non-compliance meant the death of Cornelia and the kids? Kidnappers aren’t exactly negotiable people.”

“…” The Grimmsnarl tried to give an answer that wouldn’t play into his old friend’s hands. But he found himself unable to muster a different reply, and only growled in annoyance.

“I can gauge this much, then,” the Aggron surmised. “You would be in complete emotional turmoil. …But then who wouldn’t? If I posed that question to any married man or woman, they would be as unable to answer as you. If placed in that situation, only the truly hard-hearted could escape their emotions being wracked. But few like that exist. For the average Pokémon, such an experience would scar them for life. Perhaps they would succeed, and they would be reunited with their loved ones once again. …For many, though…the world isn’t as merciful as that. Fate remains a cruel and apathetic mistress for them.”

“…Mitt…why are you saying this?” Dalibor asked, trying to gauge his old friend’s expression. He seemed stoic and unemotional, with a hint of judging in them. He tried to piece together what Mitrofan was saying to him about his proposed scenario and what he was saying now about emotional turmoil. If only Cornelia was with me, he found himself wishing. She’d easily be able to determine Mitt’s emotions.

“…That, you’ll have to figure out for yourself,” Mitrofan told him. “…Perhaps it’s time I let you know of another secret. Not many know of this, aside from Nikita and Spiridon. It’s a truth that if heard by Melchior, would most likely cause him to leap to conclusions and worsen the rift between us. But…you are not him, Dalibor. Maybe you might be able to see this truth differently.”

“…Spill it, Mitt. What are you trying to tell me?” the Grimmsnarl asked. Watch it be another roundabout truth. Still…maybe there’s something in here I might be able to glean from him.

A beat passed before Mitrofan spoke.

“My oath not to kill that I swore when I joined the Irian Guild…I valued it highly. I believed in the justice system of this country. I believed that there was simply no need for us to kill – because that responsibility would be handed over to the knights and executioners that would terminate those who deserved nothing short of death.

“But…beyond my control, that oath was broken. I would never have done so, but a malevolent force willed me to break it. …A short time before I killed Kliment and his family, my oath had already been broken.”

“…What?” This was a shock to Dalibor. “You…killed people before you killed Kliment?”

“Not willingly. I would never have dreamed of committing such vile acts. Not even for Rufina and my children. But I wasn’t given a choice in that matter.” A hardened look came into Mitrofan’s eyes. “…It was that very incident that compelled me to put Kliment down. My oath was in tatters, anyway. What did it matter, killing another soul? At least this one was justified, in the overthrow of a despot.”

“Despot?” Dalibor was aghast. “Look who’s talking! Just what did you do?! Who did you kill?”

“…I cannot say,” was the Aggron’s reply. “For the simple reason that I don’t know.”

“Again with this crap, Mitt!” the Grimmsnarl raged. “I don’t care what it was you did or why you did it, but murder?! It’s unjustifiable, no matter the circumstances!”

“Oh? But did you not just say a minute ago, that if I laid one finger on Cornelia or any of the orphans, you would, and I quote, tear your fucking guts out’?” Mitrofan reminded. “Or did you forget?”

“…I didn’t forget,” Dalibor spat through clenched teeth. “…Dammit, Mitt…why are you like this? That murder…was that when this change happened within you?”

“…” For once, Mitrofan was the one to remain silent, refusing to reply.

“Answer me, Mitt!” the Grimmsnarl demanded. “This…This isn’t who you are anymore! You were always someone everyone looked up to when you were Guildmaster. And you were someone who told me that he loved his job, and the guild in which he worked. You were a great leader, and a great friend. Us, Spiridon, and Team Marshwood…we had a strong friendship, all of us.

“But…you’re a completely different person now. Those skills as Guildmaster, that charisma you exuded…I barely see them in you now. It’s almost like…” A realisation came to Dalibor, and he voiced it.

“It’s almost like you don’t want to do this. This whole tsar of Selenia thing. Hell…possibly even living.”

He didn’t know what he was expecting. He had hoped for a greater reaction from his old friend than what he got. Uttering this was good for his side of the conversation, he felt – he was getting worked up as he spoke, and feared that he’d be shedding tears if he continued. Instead, he got an opportunity to compose himself, while he gauged the Aggron’s reactions.

His observation, luckily, was rewarded. He managed to catch a glint of something in the Aggron’s eyes. It was brief, but Dalibor managed to detect it. And the emotion in question seemed to give it away.

Pain.

A thought came to him, based on what the Aggron had been asking him. A thought that made him feel like he was on the edge of figuring out something important.

“…Mitt? Is Rufina…dead? Is that why we don’t see her anymore?”

That, he hoped would coax an answer out of his old friend. After all, he knew her well, too. And he’d found himself wondering during the four years what had happened to the Aggron’s spouse. But on the few occasions when Mitrofan had visited and he’d inquired, his question always remained unanswered, or the Aggron would simply pretend he hadn’t heard it. Part of him feared that maybe she’d wronged him in some way, and faced the consequences for it.

But that thought, the scenario that was forming in his mind, if true…suddenly framed Mitrofan’s situation in a much more sympathetic light. Not enough to completely forgive him, but…he really must have been an emotional wreck if he decided killing Tsar Kliment was justified.

Mitrofan remained silent. However, after having this potential epiphany, Dalibor couldn’t help but feel for his old friend. He must have gone through a lot. There’s still a lot I don’t know about what happened back then, but…more than ever, I’m something traumatic shaped the person he is today. And if what I’m thinking is true…then that might well explain all he’s going through right now.

The Selenian leader’s face spelled conflict. Dalibor, though previously incensed at his old friend, couldn’t help but feel sorry for him with this realisation over what may have happened to him. However, he still wanted to find out the truth. Therefore, he took a breath and tried a softer tone.

“…Please, Mitt. I…don’t want to see you suffer like this. Could you tell me the truth?”

It must have seemed like a tempting offer, based on how the look of conflict developed on Mitrofan’s face. It seemed like he was giving genuine consideration to Dalibor’s request. For a second, the Grimmsnarl thought he was getting through to him. For just a split second, he thought he saw shades of the old Mitrofan, ready to burst through the dictatorial mould he had crafted for himself over the five years he had been ruling Selenia.

Alas, that moment was interrupted by Nikita.

“You’ve said enough, Dalibor,” the Marowak interjected. “Master Mitrofan, we’re done here. Even if Dalibor was a close friend, that doesn’t mean we should leak every secret we have. …Especially what we don’t know.”

“…Indeed,” the Aggron murmured. Notably, much of the earlier bite and menace in his voice had gone. But still…just when he looked to be breaking that mould, he had composed himself and was regressing back into it. “It’s getting quite late. I must return to the castle.”

“…But…” Dalibor couldn’t hide his disappointment. “…What about – “

“Some things must remain in the dark,” Mitrofan replied firmly. “…Besides…it’s not like telling you the truth will salvage my name at this point.”

“…Mitt…” And just like that, he’s back to his current self. Dammit…I was so close too…

“I must go.” Mitrofan moved to leave. “Nikita is right. I’ve said enough tonight. …Maybe I don’t need to say more for you to figure it out. You’re level-headed, Dalibor. Don’t make a rash, impulsive decision like Team Marshwood did. At least give some thought to it all, rather than rushing to a simple conclusion.”

And with that, he turned and walked down the street back to Iria Castle, followed by Nikita. Spiridon, who had been listening in on the conversation, turned to his ex-partner.

“A lot of the pieces are there, Dali,” Spiridon told him. “If you want to figure it out, it’s up to you to piece them together.”

“…Was I close?” Dalibor wondered.

“Damn close,” the Hawlucha revealed. “But I can’t say any more. Let’s just say…I sided with Mitt for a good reason, oaths be damned. At the end of the day, sticking by your friends is far more important than some words on a page.”

The Hawlucha departed after this, following after Mitrofan and Nikita. Meanwhile, Dalibor was left at the gate, his mind ablaze with thoughts regarding the whole exchange he’d had. He was struck by his mind’s workings at what it all meant that he didn’t notice his wife come up to him.

“Dali? What are you still doing out here?”

“Gah!” Dali jumped. “Oh, Cornelia…sorry. I didn’t realise you were there.”

“Sorry for giving you a fright,” the Hatterene apologised. “But come inside. You look like you have a lot to tell me.”

“…I do.” Dalibor let out a long sigh as he turned to head back inside the orphanage. “…Cornelia…I might have just been given the keys to why Mitt did what he did. I just…need time to join all the pieces together.”

Then I can figure out what happened to Mitt. And maybe…what happened to Rufina too.

 

 

---

 

The next morning…

 

One thing that became apparent to Arian as he began to regain consciousness was a headache, particularly around the centre of his forehead. It ached, like a blow had been dealt to that part in his head.

“Urgh…” As he felt himself coming to, his paw instinctively went to his forehead, in an effort to nurse the pain.

“…He’s coming around, Your Holiness,” a voice spoke.

“…Good.” Another voice replied, though Arian couldn’t help but notice the guilt in their tone.

Eventually, his eyes opened fully, to him staring at a blank ceiling. He tilted his head to the right, and there, he saw Elvira.

“…Elvira?” he groaned, feeling his head throbbing.

“Thank goodness you’re awake,” the Treecko replied. “…How are you feeling?”

“…Honestly? Not great,” he admitted. “My head feels like it’s been hit by a hammer…”

“That is to be expected.” The other voice spoke again, and Arian turned to see Sansarn, behind Elvira. “Your mind actively resisted my attempts to undo the amnesia that clouds you.”

“…What?” Arian uttered. Then he remembered what the Slowking did with him last night. “Oh, right! That amnesia-clearing thing! Did it work?”

“…You should be able to confirm that for yourself,” the pontifex replied. “I fear, however…I know what the answer is.”

“…Well, Arian? Do you remember anything new?” Elvira asked.

The Riolu paused, collecting his thoughts. Did anything new come to his mind? Despite the headache that vexed him at present, he sought out any new thoughts. Any new memories of family, friends, how he came to this world…anything.

However…

“I…can’t remember anything new,” Arian revealed, disappointed. “…Guess that was all for nothing, then.”

“…I feared as much,” Sansarn replied, himself as dismayed. “I sincerely apologise for being unable to remove your amnesia, Arian.”

“…It’s fine,” the Riolu returned. “It’s not like remembering everything is one of my priorities. I mean, I’d like to one day regain my memories, but…for the moment, I’m content.”

“…I see.” The pontifex closed his eyes, surmising what had come from the exercise. “…If there is one thing this action has shown, let it be this. …I am far from perfect.”

“…Isn’t that the same for everyone?” Elvira pointed out. “My dad taught me that.”

“Indeed. That is the way the Creator made us all.” Sansarn let out a sigh. “But a number of pontifices in recent times have claimed infallibility, and that they can do no wrong. Worse still, this has emboldened them to…commit actions we of the Church deem blasphemous to us who preach the word of our Creator.”

“Actions? Like what?” Arian wondered.

“…I’ve heard about this,” Elvira replied. “There have been scandals in the East in the last ten years or so, with high-ranking clergymen supposedly having secret love affairs and fathering children. There was also…embezzlement, as well, along with bribery and nepotism. …At least from what I’ve heard.”

“…Regrettably, you are correct,” Sansarn mournfully confessed. “It was shameful behaviour. To think that archbishops and even pontifices of the highest accord fell to such vices…it has left a lot to cleanse. The responsibility of doing so lies with I – an outsider of the Eastern nobility. It was the wish of the people, who had become alienated from the Church as a result of this misconduct, as well as an admission by His Excellency Emperor Vittorio that if the Church was to be rid of such immoral behaviour, an outsider to the system was necessary. Thus, I came to assume the title of pontifex maximus after my predecessor, Pontifex Nicander, unfortunately met his end through assassination.”

“Well…at least you’re doing good work to fix that whole mess,” Arian said. “You certainly have my back.”

“And mine,” Elvira added. “Especially since you’re keeping us in sanctuary, safe from Mitrofan.”

“…Thank you very much, both of you,” Sansarn replied gratefully. “It pleases me to know that I have support from both the Selenian clergy and the common people. I am more convinced than ever that I can work to wipe clean the stains of impropriety from our holy institution’s name. For the Creator, and those that worship His good name.”

Arian took in the pontifex’s encouraged words. He does seem as good as his word, he thought. Even if he is from the East, he at least seems like someone I’d far rather side with than Mitrofan. …This guy’s good in my book.

His mind then drifted to other matters when he looked over at the other beds, and something occurred to him.

“Where are Serafina and Natalie?” he pondered, before he realised something else. “Actually, how long was I out?”

“A long time,” Elvira told him. “It was evening time when you passed out, and it’s morning now. Team Anima are upstairs with Archbishop Khariton.”

“Well…let’s not keep them waiting.” Arian got up from his bed. “I’m fine, before you ask. Just a headache is all.”

“…Alright, Arian, if you are better, then…let’s head up.”

Team Elpis made their way back to the main congregation area along with Sansarn. When they got there, Serafina and Natalie were indeed there with Khariton.

“Arian! Are you well?” the Meowstic asked.

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Arian assured, and chose to quickly change the subject so as not to focus on him. “So…what’s the plan of action now?”

“…It is our wish to return back to Kamengrad,” Serafina replied. “Though we are safe within the walls of Iria Cathedral, we would like to get back to our friends in the Guild. They may worry for us if we are away for too long.”

“An understandable sentiment,” Sansarn said. “I would be all too glad to allow you all to walk out of here. …But there is the matter of safety. I would be concerned if you did not have a plan to get past the knights in your escape of Iria.”

“…Ah,” Serafina faltered, realising the pontifex had a point.

“You have plenty of time to think of one,” Khariton pointed out. “After all, sanctuary is effective for forty days. Only then will we be forced to escort you out of here.”

“…I doubt we’ll need that much time to think of a plan,” Elvira replied. “…We have a map of Iria. Let’s see what we can think up.”

The four brainstormed for some time, debating what route to take out of the city and how to avoid knights along the way. However, it was becoming apparent that with a lack of knowledge of the knights’ patrol routes, their plan was looking a tad threadbare.

At one point, Arian’s eyes drifted to all the stained glass imagery depicted in the Church. He looked up to see the scene depicted above the altar, and couldn’t help but be fascinated by it.

“Your Grace?” he asked Khariton. “Who are those Pokémon? I don’t think I’ve come across them in the books I’ve studied about Pokémon.”

“…I beg your pardon?” Khariton, who had overheard Arian’s question, sounded quite staggered. “You…don’t know?”

“Don’t forget he’s got amnesia, Yer Grace,” Natalie reminded.

“…I am aware,” the Togetic replied. “But…is Arian truly unaware of the existence of our Creator Lord Arceus, and the gods who He created the world with? Even if he does have amnesia…it’s still a shocking truth to digest.”

Arceus? There’s that name again…So there’s a whole church dedicated to them. …Hmm…guess I’m going to find out just who this Arceus is.

“…There is never a time not to preach His word, Archbishop,” Sansarn said to him. “And as the pontifex maximus of our Creator’s church on Ardalion, I would be all too honoured to tell you the story of Lord Arceus.” He walked up the steps of the altar, and once behind it, he began his gospel.

“Lord Arceus the Creator is the being that created our universe. It was He who appeared, when the world was but an endless void, and forged the world as we know it. He created the world with His 1,000 Arms, and all of the natural beauty in His realm sprung into life. Earth, wind and sky – all were given form by His blessing. By His will, our universe was created. Thus, we worship Lord Arceus as the Creator of our world. It is He who is depicted at the apex of this window.” He gestured to the stained glass behind him, to the equine Pokémon with the golden cross-wheel.

“I see…” Arian said. “So all life was created by Arceus?” He looked up at the heavenly figure in the stained glass. The creator of this world…

“It is because Lord Arceus created life that we exist today,” Sansarn replied. “In His crafting of His ideal world, the Creator saw to the creation of deities. Some were created by His own hands, while others came into being through the life that was being breathed in the new land that Lord Arceus had created. Many are depicted within our churches, including this one.” Sansarn stepped away from the altar and gestured to each figure he mentioned that was painted upon the stained glass windows of the cathedral.

“Dialga, deity of time.” A four legged sapphire-blue dragon with metallic plating and a chest plate with a diamond on it.

“Palkia, deity of space.” A white-and-pink dragon with a long neck and pearl-like crystals on its shoulders.

“Giratina the Renegade.” A scarier-looking six-legged dragon with black wings and a grey body, with gold half-rings along its neck. “Though he was banished for his violence towards the Creator, he is nonetheless a part of the story of our world’s creation.”

“Mew, the Mother of All Pokémon.” A pink, almost feline looking Pokémon that even in its depiction in the stained glass, Arian couldn’t help but find it rather cute.

“Groudon, guardian of the land.” A dinosaur-like Pokémon with red armour plating and menacing claws and teeth.

“Kyogre, guardian of the sea.” A blue whale-like Pokémon with red markings across its body.

“Rayquaza, guardian of the sky.” A long, thin emerald coloured dragon with ring-like symbols along its body.

“Xerneas, bringer of life.” A deer Pokémon with kaleidoscopically colourful antlers, a blue and black body, and blade-like legs.

“Yveltal, bringer of death.” An avian Pokémon with a red and black body in the shape of a Y.

“Zygarde, the reverser of destruction.” A snake-like black and green scaled Pokémon with hexagonal green markings on it.

“Solgaleo, deity of the sun.” A brilliant white lion Pokémon with a mane in the shape of the sun.

“Lunala, deity of the moon.” A bat-like Pokémon with deep blue wings in the shape of a crescent moon.

“They are but a few of the Legendary Pokémon that Lord Arceus created. They help to maintain the stability of this world that our Creator breathed life into,” Sansarn described. “Some of them proceeded to expand upon the Creator’s universe and forge new areas of land and sea. The seismic events, primarily created by battles between Groudon and Kyogre – ” He gestured to the stained glass artwork depicting the two aforementioned deities. ” – Saw the creation of a number of landmasses that dot the world in which we live. One of them…is the land on which we stand today – Ardalion.

“There is perhaps no place in this world more sacred to the Creator than our fair land of Ardalion. Though other parts of the world are cherished by Him, He has remained an undying presence over our fair land. It is said that Lord Arceus dwells in the heavens above Sanctus Mons, the highest mountain in all of Ardalion, where he has watched over us since time immemorial. While the other Legendaries are vital to the continued existence of our world – some of whom dwell in a number of Mystery Dungeons throughout Ardalion – our world could not have come to be without the will of Lord Arceus the Creator. That is why we in the Church of Arceus worship His name higher than any of the other Legendaries. Every day, we give our thanks to His blessing that has allowed Ardalion to thrive all these years. And may it be so until the end of our days.”

Arian listened intently to the pontifex’s gospel, taking in everything he was saying. However, as he came near the end of his speech, he couldn’t help but feel as though there was a contradiction with Sansarn’s words and what was going on in Ardalion at the moment. Elvira’s words about increasing natural disasters and the unusual dryness that had come over Selenia came back to him.

Should I call him out for it? he debated. Mmm…we’ve gotten along well so far. I don’t want to mess things up and cause a rift between us. In our situation, we need all the allies we can get. …Best to keep my mouth shut, I think.

“…A rousing delivery, Your Holiness,” Khariton praised, before turning to Arian. “Do you have a greater understanding of Lord Arceus the Creator now?”

“…Oh, er, yes,” Arian replied, still slightly distracted by his own thought process. “That’s very interesting, Your Holiness. I have to look deeper into this.”

“There’s a copy of the Holy Scripture back at the Guild,” Elvira told him. “You can ask for that when we get back.”

“Thanks, Elvira.” Her words then reminded him of what they were doing before he sidetracked them all with his wonderings about the deities of the Pokémon world. “Oh yeah…getting back to our plans. …How do we get out of Iria?”

“I have a suggestion, if I may,” Sansarn interjected. “…Perhaps these might be of aid.”

From his pontifical robes, the Slowking produced four orbs, and gave them to Teams Elpis and Anima.

“What are these?” Natalie asked.

“They are invisify orbs,” Sansarn told them. “Using them turns you invisible to the naked eye.”

“Wow,” Arian remarked, before realising what this meant. “You guys! We can use these to avoid detection from the knights!”

“…Yes, we can!” Serafina said. “Thank you very much for this, Your Holiness! We will not forget your generosity!”

“Generosity is but a part of my creed as pontifex maximus,” Sansarn replied. “You are all too welcome to have them.”

“…Why d’ya have invisify orbs?” queried Natalie. “…If ya don’t mind me askin’, Yer Holiness.”

“…I mentioned before how I am an outsider to the system of nobility in the Eastern Alliance,” Sansarn answered. “It was through the recommendation of His Excellency Emperor Vittorio that I am where I am today. This, however, has earned the ire of those who believe the responsibilities of the pontifex maximus should only be reserved for the nobility. To put it simply…I have been the target of numerous assassination attempts.”

“What? That’s terrible!” Serafina reacted. “I am sorry to hear that, Your Holiness. …I was unaware there were people vile enough to think of assassinating one as charitable as you.”

“…Your concern is appreciated,” the Slowking replied, taking in the Meowstic’s words. “…To get around this, therefore, I make use of invisify orbs to limit opportunities in which I could be attacked. While it hasn’t eliminated intimidation, it has helped. The usage of them could very well mean the difference between life and death. It would be a shame if I met an end akin to my predecessor, Pontifex Nicander. A pity that his life had to be taken in so cruel a manner…”

“…Yes. Or in the same manner as House Ruslan,” Elvira added. “Their lives taken from them, and the end result being that the peace that Selenia once had has now been tossed aside. Now we have despotic figures like Mitrofan and Hinnerk ruling the roost. …What path is Selenia to take now?”

“Don’t forget that rumour, though,” Arian pointed out. “You know, what Dio told us? About Prince Leonid – if I remember correctly – still being alive?”

“That’s only a rumour, Arian,” Elvira rebutted. “There’s no evidence that it’s true. I wish we had proof, but…”

“Hmmm…” Sansarn vocalised. “What’s this about Prince Leonid and rumours? You say he’s still alive?”

“Indeed, Your Holiness,” Khariton said. “I have heard this rumour myself, that Prince Leonid supposedly managed to escape Iria Castle, and was not, as many believe, killed by the marauding Mitrofan. Some of our parishioners believe in it, and hold out hope that the tsesarevich will return and oust Mitrofan from the throne that he unjustly robbed. …Alas, at present, we have no evidence to substantiate this claim.”

“…Well, then.” Sansarn stood up straight, ready to reveal something important. “Your parishioners’ hopes may well be answered, Archbishop Khariton.”

“…What?” Khariton stood to attention. “Your Holiness, you don’t mean…”

“…I do,” the pontifex returned. “…A number of churches over the past five years have received requests for sanctuary from none other than Prince Leonid himself. It would appear Prince Leonid, the tsesarevich – I hope I used that term correctly – did manage to escape. He fled across the border to Dresilia with Lady Svetlana, his princess, and requested sanctuary in a multitude of churches within the Empire. He spent some time, along with fellow Selenian nobles who had fled the new regime in their home country, requesting aid from His Excellency and Dresilia’s noble families.”

“…But nothing’s come through,” Arian pointed out.

“That is true, yes. The reason for that appears to have been greater priorities in the eyes of the then Emperor of Dresilia, His Excellency Emperor Annibale,” Sansarn elaborated. “Though he and Archon Pyrrhus of Miletos attempted to build bridges with Tsar Kliment, that goodwill did not spread to the common man. Many were unwilling to fight to free Selenia. In their eyes, a savage had killed a savage in a far-off land. What difference did it make to their lives unless they were threatened by them? Indeed, there are voices of concern on the other side of the Empyrean Mountains, but many citizens simply have other matters that weigh heavier on their conscience. The last year, in particular, has been tumultuous for the Eastern Alliance, and their internal problems far outshine the problems in Selenia. This in turn has meant the ignorance of Prince Leonid and the nobles of Selenia in favour of greater issues plaguing Dresilia and Miletos.”

“…I recall hearing about this from my family,” Serafina recalled. “It is more difficult than ever now to raise awareness about Selenia to the Dresilian people, where they reside at the minute. Dresilia has been suffering its own sets of droughts, and coupled with the assassinations of both Pontifex Nicander and Emperor Annibale in the past year, there is a fervent need to keep the country stable amidst these crises.”

“Indeed. I myself am aware of these struggles,” Sansarn replied. “Even so…it is regrettable that little is done to address the Selenian situation in the East. It would go a long way towards greater friendship between our two nations, and hopefully that would extend to the commonfolk of both tsardom and empire. The alleviation of suffering…His Excellency has the power to do so for the good of all, and yet he does not exercise it. I wish I could do more…but as pontifex, I am always subordinate to Emperor Vittorio in regards to power,” he lamented with disappointment.

“…Where is Prince Leonid now?” wondered Elvira. “Is he still in Dresilia?”

“…Unfortunately, I do not know,” the Slowking answered. “What I have told you about Prince Leonid’s sojourns in sanctuary is from five years ago. However, I have not heard anything regarding his current whereabouts. I do not believe I have heard of him approaching His Excellency for aid in the past three years or so, in fact. It’s possible that…due to the refusal to grant him aid to retake Selenia…Prince Leonid and Lady Svetlana may have left Dresilia altogether.”

“…What? Do you really think so?” Serafina said. “…But then where could he have gone?”

“…Ya don’t think he’s dead, do ya?” Natalie wondered.

“…I cannot say I know,” Sansarn reiterated. “…When I return to Padavonum, I shall seek out records of sanctuary in the last year in our churches. Prince Leonid may well have sheltered elsewhere in places I have overlooked. If I find any information, I shall inform your Guild of this. …You said the Irian Guild was in Kamengrad, correct?”

“It is,” Elvira confirmed. “Thank you very much, Your Holiness. You’ve been a great help to us.”

“It is no trouble,” the pontifex returned. “I do hope we can unearth information on Prince Leonid’s whereabouts sooner rather than later. Know that I sympathise with your plight and the woes of the Selenian people under Mitrofan, and the sooner they are rid of their suffering, the better. For many, seeing the reinstatement of House Ruslan, the ruling dynasty of Selenia, would put their minds at ease.”

“Indeed, Your Holiness,” Khariton agreed. “As the Archbishop of Selenia, we need a leader that respects the Church and the Creator’s word. Not someone who would gladly take your holy life if not for the consequences!” he added, with contempt.

“…Looks like we got a clear goal in mind, then,” Arian surmised. “Find Prince Leonid. Then we’ll be one step closer to drumming up support for him, and maybe, one of these days, we’ll overthrow Mitrofan, and Selenia can go back to normal.”

“…You paint a nice picture, Arian,” Serafina commented. “Such a rosy image makes me want to make it reality. So…let us do that. Let us seek out Prince Leonid.”

“…Let’s get back to the Guild first,” Elvira said. “We should let everyone there know of this news.”

The four got ready to leave. As they neared the exit, Sansarn called out to them.

“Make sure you exit Iria quickly. Those invisify orbs won’t last forever,” he advised. “But other than that…farewell. May the Creator’s benevolence guide you, and lead you along the path of righteousness.”

“Thank you, Your Holiness. We won’t forget your kindness to us,” Elvira returned to him, before the quartet left the cathedral.

“…What an ambitious group of characters,” remarked Khariton, once they had left. “I can’t help but admire their determination.” He turned to Sansarn. “Your Holiness…may I pose a question?”

“Of course, Archbishop. I am all ears.”

“…I could not help but notice your…interest in that Riolu, Arian,” the Togetic observed. “Could you elaborate further on why?”

“…As I said before, he resembles a Riolu from my past,” Sansarn answered. “…Strangely, though…he is different. And yet…he retains a feeling of familiarity.”

“…Pardon me, Your Holiness, but…I do not understand. What do you mean by that?”

“…He speaks with his own voice. When we met downstairs yesterday evening, it was the first time I had heard him speak. It should have been akin to meeting a completely new face, just like it had been for his fellows. And yet…” Sansarn looked at the entrance once more. “…It wasn’t. That particular body of a Riolu, with all of its unusual quirks and features…I have seen it before.”

“…I apologise, Your Holiness, but I still do not fully grasp your words,” Khariton admitted, somewhat confused by what his superior was saying.

“…Nor do I, truth be told. This mystery wracks me too,” the pontifex admitted. “…The Creator works in mysterious ways, I suppose. As there is reason for all things, so too is there a reason for this anomaly. …One day, the answer shall come to us. Why the Riolu with a familiar appearance speaks in an unfamiliar tone…

“I shall look forward to finding out the truth behind that peculiarity when that day comes.”

 

 

---

 

 

The knights of Selenia were immediately back to another day of usual patrol. They were on high alert, of course. Word had spread that the four wanted mercenaries had been taken into sanctuary in Iria Cathedral. But a common assumption was that they might well use this as a temporary location with which to possibly attempt the disposal of another important figure, like any of the three marshals or worse still, Mitrofan himself.

None of the knights wanted that. They had high respect for their marshals, especially Spiridon and Ludmila, and none more so than the leader whose rule of law it was for them to enforce. New wanted posters had been drawn up overnight, now depicting all four of them, and they had been handed out to civilians around Iria, warning them of these fugitives.

So they kept their eyes peeled sharply for any of the four wanted mercs. Some were extra thorough and scoped out places where the four would be likely to hide. This had been a recommendation by Marshal Metody, who had previously caught them hiding the day before behind some casks.

“They’re hardly professional at that,” the Floatzel had scoffed to some knights he had visited that day. “Just keep your eyes peeled in places where they might be hiding. Kegs, casks, dark alleys – there are no shortage of hiding places in the capital, and they might think to utilise them. But out-think them! We knights must use our brains as well as brawn if we are to outwit them.”

Alas, Metody’s words weren’t fully taken to heart. This couldn’t exactly be blamed on them; after all, who could have foreseen the tactic of invisify orbs being used to avoid detection by sight? That was why many knights did not see anyone exit Iria Cathedral that morning. Maybe one or two may have sensed something was off, but when they turned to look again, they saw nothing, and continued about their duties as normal.

Teams Elpis and Anima, invisible to the naked eye, made their way to the nearest exit briskly. Sansarn’s warning echoed in their mind that it wouldn’t last forever, so they made a point to exit the city as quickly as possible.

Even so, they still attempted to subtly hide when necessary, knowing that the more perceptive guards would sense something was off.

They played this game until the exit, when, after having passed the last two knights guarding the gate, they threw off any sort of pretence and dashed forward once they were outside the walls, not caring about the reaction behind them. All that mattered to them now at that point was returning back to the Irian Guild to inform everyone of what had gone down in the city.

Luckily for them, the knights seemed to look confusedly at a seeming fleeting presence that passed them by.

“…Did you feel that, Adrian?” a Hitmonchan knight asked.

“…I did, Pyotr,” the Durant knight replied. “But…no one’s passed through here.”

“…Could’ve just been the wind,” murmured Pyotr.

“…Could’ve been.” His partner’s own murmur sounded a bit more doubtful. Almost like they were missing something. Had something really passed them by?

Whatever. Let’s just focus on keeping those no-good mercs from exiting the city.