Chapter 21 – Seeds of Doubt and Hope

Hi Mom,

I hope you’re doing well, because I’m not.

Things have taken a bit of a turn for the worse for us. We were in Rusalka doing a mission, and somehow, we happened to come across not one, but two marshals from before five years ago! What a coincidence, huh? We agreed to team up, and thankfully, we now have two strong allies by our side.

However, before we could leave town, we were cornered by the knights, led by Marshal Metody, one of Mitrofan’s top brass. We weren’t going to go down without a fight, of course, and so we fought against them. We did fairly well, actually, and nearly managed to beat Metody.

But right when we were about to win, Mitrofan showed up out of nowhere. I can say without a doubt he’s a monster. He’s not that honourable guildmaster Dad always spoke fondly about. He nearly killed both me and Arian. And when our friends in Team Sandstream were thrown into the Evor, Metody tried to drown them. Mitrofan didn’t even react to that. How could he allow such a thing to happen? I’ll never forgive him for this.

Thankfully, we got out of it, somehow. But there’s two big problems. One: Mitrofan knows where we are. Two: our friends in Team Sandstream are in a bad way. We couldn’t give them medical attention immediately, and so matters have gotten complicated with them. We think they’ll pull through, but we’re still not certain yet.

Arian’s taking it pretty hard. He keeps blaming himself for what happened, saying he’s the one who let it slip. I keep trying to tell him otherwise, but I don’t think it’s gotten through to him.

Honestly, Mom, I feel like I could have done better myself. I just wish I could have done more. At least I’m still alive. That’s something, right?

But because of the way things are, Arian and I, along with the rest of the Guild, may have to go into hiding. If that’s true, then I’d be scared to try and send you letters in case Mitrofan decides to track them down.

I’d love to see you again. But I don’t know when I’ll see you next. Hopefully it’ll be soon.

Wishing you lots of love,

Elvira.

---

The Treecko put down the pen. Once the ink had dried, she folded the piece of paper and placed it in an envelope. Writing her home address (technically, old home address) on the envelope, she walked out of the room, and into the atrium of the church they were staying in.

Her mind reflected on yesterday evening, when they returned to the Guild.

---

“Melchior! Melchior!” Arian yelled. He and Elvira were sent ahead of Yuliya, Branislav, Maciej and the indisposed Team Sandstream to let the Guild know of the present situation.

“Oh, it’s you two.” The first reply came from Terran, who happened to be in the main area. “Stop yelling! And I told you, his title is Guildmaster – “

“Shut up, Terran!” the human interjected in an irritated manner, catching the Larvitar by surprise. “I’ve no time for this! We need Melchior, now!”

“Arian?” As if on cue, the Guildmaster himself appeared. “What’s all the commotion about?”

“Melchior!” Arian cried, with some degree of panic. “I messed up! I messed up big time!”

“…Messed up?” Melchior tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a lot to explain,” Elvira said, a hint of grimness in her voice. “A lot happened in our mission to Rusalka today. There’s some good, but a lot of bad.”

“Sounds serious.” Melchior’s tone matched his words. “Come to the office and tell me all about it.”

---

“…So that’s what happened,” Elvira informed. “We have new allies. But…we had a close shave with Mitrofan and the knights. They nearly killed us, and Team Sandstream nearly drowned. They’re being transported here by Yuliya, Branislav and Maciej. They’ll need medical attention once they get here.

“And worst of all…they know where we are now,” Arian revealed, with such shame in his tone it hurt. “All because they overheard us talking…”

“…Is that so?” Melchior’s expression turned grim.

“I’m sorry!” the Riolu apologised. “I didn’t know Metody would have spies…”

“…He is known to be crafty, from what I’ve heard,” the Swampert murmured. “Then again, he does hail from House Kumiega, who were known for being rather…unscrupulous when they were a noble house.”

“…I shouldn’t have said it. I should have just waited till we got back here. Or until we were out of Rusalka.” Arian’s fist clenched. “If only I knew…!”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, Arian,” Melchior urged. “These things happen. …In truth, I’m surprised we’ve managed to keep the Guild’s location out of the eyes of Melchior and the knights. Perhaps that’s thanks to House Kalininis.”

“House Kalininis? They’re the house that presides over Nagoria, aren’t they?” Elvira recalled. “But…aren’t they with Mitrofan?”

“…Yes and no,” Melchior replied. “They side with Mitrofan, but only for the sake of making sure their people don’t fall under the rule of an unfit ruler, like Hinnerk. Those oaths they take for him…they’re just empty words, in their eyes. Plus, they’ve always been friendly with the Guild. Thus, when Lord Agafon met me in the streets of Kamengrad, he told me he knew about the underground Guild below the town. But as long as we did good work and followed in the way of the old Irian Guild, then he wouldn’t tell a soul.”

“…Actually, didn’t Mitrofan say something about that house?” Arian recalled. “He said he’d have words for them…”

“…So he’s headed up here, then.” The Swampert’s expression turned serious once again. “…We need to call an emergency meeting about this. Could you tell everyone? They’re all in the canteen right now, eating dinner.”

“We’ll do that,” Elvira promised.

“Thank you,” Melchior said gratefully.

Team Elpis went to go and tell everyone. The Swampert watched them leave the room.

Thank the Creator you didn’t perish. I don’t know if I could forgive myself if that ever happened…

---

At that emergency meeting, the whole Guild had been informed of that situation. There was a general reaction of shock and anger at what had happened to Team Elpis and Team Sandstream.

But at that meeting, Melchior had made a critical decision.

The Guild was to be abandoned, and everyone was to scatter to various locations in the vicinity of Kamengrad, where they could still at least be within reach of one another.

This was met with a degree of reluctance and misgiving among all who heard the speech. But they all agreed it was for the best.

And so they scattered. Arian and Elvira were sent to a smallish church to the north of Kamengrad, where they were taken into sanctuary by a elderly but kindly priest. They spent the night in the church.

Now it was morning, and Elvira had just penned a letter to her mother informing her what had happened the day before. As she walked into the aisles, she found herself faced with the priest that had taken her and Arian in.

“Hello, Miss Elvira.” He was a Noctowl. “Did you sleep well?”

“…As well as I could,” was the Treecko’s reply. “…Um. I was hoping to get this letter posted to my mom, but…I don’t think going into town would be a wise move on my part.”

“Ah, don’t worry. I can do that,” the priest volunteered. Elvira handed him the letter, which he took in his beak and placed on one of the nearby pews.

Something occurred to her at that moment. “Where’s Arian?” she asked. She was too busy writing the letter earlier to realise her partner had gone out of the room where they had spent the night.

“Over there.” The Noctowl gestured a wing to where the blue canine was kneeling in one of the pews. “Seems he’s doing some praying.”

“Praying?” Elvira’s brow furrowed at this. “He doesn’t usually pray…I’ll see what’s going on with him.”

She went over to where her partner was kneeling. His eyes were closed, and his paws were clasped together. As she came closer, he opened his eyes, and looked at her.

“…Hi,” he greeted halfheartedly.

“Hello,” Elvira returned. “…Are you praying? I must admit, I’ve never seen you do that since we met.”

“…Yeah,” Arian confessed. “I might as well try. Maybe a god does exist out there that can give us good luck, or whatever. I just don’t want bad things to keep happening…”

“…There are gods depicted in just about every church in Ardalion,” Elvira replied, feeling somewhat puzzled at his words. “Are you…questioning the existence of them?”

“…You don’t?”

“No. I’ve never questioned it. I mean, the world and all its constructs had to be created by someone, right? Hence, Arceus and His pantheon.”

“…It feels more authentic here,” the Riolu muttered. “…I don’t think we had a god in the human world.”

“What?” Elvira frowned at this. “You don’t have gods?”

“…I don’t think so. At least…from what vague memories I have of the human world. There was definitely religion, and churches just like this one. But…I don’t know. Something about being religious…just doesn’t sit right with me. As if being in a religion and believing in a god was…something I wasn’t fond of.”

“A god?” The Treecko emphasised Arian’s use of the singular. “Only one?”

“Yeah, I think so. And I guess there’s a religion that believed he created everything. And yet…” Arian paused, considering his words. “…Somehow, I remember the words ‘Big Bang’ when I think of ‘creation of a world’.”

“Big Bang?” Now she was even more confused. “What, was the human world created by an explosion?”

“Maybe?” Arian shrugged. “Possibly. As if there was an explosion one day in empty space – poof – ” He mimed one. ” – And with that, matter settled, and planets formed, including Earth, where humans lived.”

“Earth? So that’s the name of your home,” Elvira murmured. Admittedly, the talk about ‘matter’ and ‘planets’ went over her head.

“Yes. But I can’t get back there. So I’d rather not talk about it,” Arian immediately replied, before changing the subject back to the original topic. “Besides…somehow, this world’s depiction of gods feels more authentic to me. And…who knows? Maybe one of them will take pity on us. Might as well give it a shot, I thought. I just…” He let out a big sigh. “…It’s my fault that all this has happened.”

“Arian, stop.” Elvira had this same conversation with him yesterday evening. “Don’t blame yourself. You’ll only feel worse about yourself. Melchior said the same thing. And even if that detail hadn’t slipped out, we still would’ve had that confrontation with Metody and Mitrofan. And Team Sandstream still would’ve suffered the injuries they did.”

“…We could’ve acted sooner to help them,” Arian muttered in self-admonishment. “If only I hadn’t been pinned by those knights…If only we’d have seen what Nikita and Metody would do to them…!”

“That should be blame on their part, not yours,” Elvira went on. “Besides, if we did nothing, then Team Sandstream would have definitely drowned. They may be in a bad way…but they’re not dead. That much, we can be thankful for.”

“…I don’t want them to die,” Arian said quietly. “Of everyone in the Guild, we’ve known them the longest. We wouldn’t have defeated Hinnerk without their help. Without them, we would have been dead. In that fight, they definitely saved us.”

“They did. And on this occasion, we saved them,” Elvira reminded. “They’ll probably be full of thanks when they’re in a better condition. …They’ll recover, Arian. Diarmuid and Gráinne are looking after them, as well as Raya. They’re skilled in that craft. We can trust them.”

“…It sounded serious from what I’ve heard,” Arian refuted pessimistically. “…I don’t want them to die. I don’t want our friends to die…” He sounded close to tears.

“They’ll pull through, Arian. They’re strong.” It irked Elvira that she couldn’t think of a better reply in that moment. “But please…don’t beat yourself up over it. They would probably say the same thing.”

“…I guess. They would. I can even hear Ishmael now. ‘Don’t be a misery-boots, Arry, mate!'” the Riolu mimicked, in an admittedly not great imitation of the Krokorok’s distinctive accent.

Elvira couldn’t help but give a slight giggle. At this, Arian’s expression did brighten slightly.

“There. A sad face doesn’t suit you, Arian,” she said. “…Remember when we first met and you were the one cheering me up?”

“Yeah…How could I?” the Riolu reminisced. “…How long’s it been? A month? Two months?”

“Nearly two months. …Time flies,” Elvira murmured.

“…It sure does,” Arian replied. He did sound slightly better, but by the sound of it, the melancholy still persisted with him.

“…We should go to Diarmuid and Gráinne’s,” Elvira suggested. “See if they need any help.”

“…I suppose. It’s the least we could do.” Arian got up from his kneeling position. But before they could move, the Noctowl’s voice echoed through the church.

“…Hello there. Whoever might you be, fellow Sister? And whatever brings you here?”

Arian and Elvira looked over. The priest seemed to be addressing a visitor at the front of the church.

“Greetings to you, fellow follower of our Creator.” The voice was feminine. “I am Archbishop Lachesis, and I have a letter for Guildmaster Melchior of the Irian Guild.”

“Archbishop Lachesis?” Arian’s ears pricked at this. “Sounds like an important figure. I say we go see what this is all about.”

“A-Archbishop Lachesis?” The priest sounded quite surprised. “Y-You mean…the Archbishop Lachesis? The newly appointed Bishop of Metaxai?”

“The very same.”

“…F-Forgive me, Your Grace.” The Noctowl bowed in slight shame, still rather surprised by the presence of this woman. “I did not realise. I did not think someone of such influence would come and visit my humble little oratory out here in rural Nagoria.”

“It’s alright. I dressed discreetly so I wouldn’t be noticed in public.” As she was saying this, Arian and Elvira came closer, they got a glimpse of the one claiming to be Archbishop Lachesis.

Admittedly…they weren’t blown away by her. She was a Cinccino, and she did at the least look like a holy woman, with a cross-wheel necklace and what looked to be a nun’s habit. One thing that struck them was the woman’s youth – she looked no older than thirty. However, that was it. The word ‘archbishop’ conjured the image of a dignified, robed individual, like Sansarn and Khariton had been, and the one before them didn’t follow them in that image.

Still…they heard her words about dressing discreetly. In that context, it made sense.

“Hm? You have visitors to your church,” noted Lachesis, pointing to the duo behind the Noctowl priest. “…A Riolu and a Treecko? …Hold on a minute. Excuse me, you two.”

“Yes?” Elvira asked. “You mean us.”

“I do. …Would you be Arian and Elvira of Team Elpis, by any chance?” the Cinccino asked.

“…Yes, that’s us. …You know of us?” Arian tilted his head.

“His Holiness Pontifex Sansarn informed me of the two of you,” Lachesis explained. “He told me of his journey to Selenia, and how he took into sanctuary four mercenaries of the Irian Guild. Two of whom were you.”

“Yes. That’s correct,” Elvira confirmed.

“He suggested to me that I go over and see the land of Selenia for myself. That I needed to get out of Metaxai and observe the way Selenians did things,” Lachesis went on. “And while I was in Selenia, I was to deliver to a letter in secret to the famed Mud Bomber Melchior in Kamengrad. Thus…that brought me here.” She took out the item in question.

“That seal…” The Noctowl was astonished to see the particular seal on the envelope. “That’s a seal from the office of His Holiness himself. …That’s legitimate. Goodness gracious me…”

“Um…we can take that,” offered Elvira. “We can deliver it to him for you.”

“…Very well. But it is critical that the information in there be shared only amongst the mercenaries of the Irian Guild,” Lachesis advised. “It would not be ideal if another party got their hands on it.”

…It’s like the world just wants to remind me of my failure yesterday, Arian couldn’t help but dejectedly think. Even if it’s some stranger I’ve never met saying this.

“We’ll deliver this to him,” Elvira said. “…We have to go somewhere first, but we’ll find him after we’re done there.”

“Thank you,” Lachesis said appreciably, handing the letter to them. “May the Creator guide your path. And…may your nation eventually know freedom.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” The Treecko bowed. In reaction to his partner, Arian chose to bow too.

They both left after this. Lachesis watched them go.

So they were who His Holiness wished for me to see. Hmm…they didn’t look that remarkable to me. But who knows? Maybe there’s something in them.

While she was lost in thought, the Noctowl priest came up to her.

“Forgive my impudence, Your Grace. But…may I ask why it is you here, and not a lower-ranking messenger? Surely the Archbishop of Metaxai would have many duties upon her plate?”

“…His Holiness has his reasons for sending me here, and so do I,” Lachesis chose to say. “Let us leave it at that.”

I do have reasons, alright. …Anything that involves me being away from them.

---

“I think it’s best we stay out of town for now,” Elvira suggested. “It reduces the chance of us being recognised if Mitrofan and his knights happen to be there looking for us.”

“Yeah…That would be for the best,” Arian agreed.

Despite receiving the letter, Elvira wanted to stick to the original plan and check in on Team Sandstream. To get to Diarmuid and Gráinne’s, the two had to walk over rocky grassland typical of the Karstlands. It took a while, leaping over boulders and walking across exposed limestone, and Arian was careful not to trip on the gaps between the blocks of stones.

Clints are the stones, and…grikes are the gaps between them, he recalled, remembering the afternoon he’d spent with Elvira in the information centre in Kamengrad about the Karstlands.

Eventually, they made it to the east road out of Kamengrad that led towards Scree Canyon. From there, they had to head towards town, and a little ways before town, they saw the side road that went down to Diarmuid and Gráinne’s. They headed down it, and reached the building in question. On the front of it, there was a sign reading ‘SORRY, WE’RE CLOSED‘ stuck to the door.

Arian rang the bell outside the house. There was shuffling inside, before the door was opened.

“Oh, it’s…the two of you.” Gráinne had answered the door. The Flygon looked tired, a sign she hadn’t gotten much sleep. “Good morning…”

“Hi, Gráinne,” Elvira greeted. “We’ve, um…We’ve come to see Ishmael, Axel and Lillian.”

“…Come in, then,” the Flygon offered. Arian and Elvira followed her into the house. Given it was a shop, there was a counter and a number of herbs and potions stacked up on the shelves behind it.

Gráinne opened the latch at the counter’s edge, and let herself, Arian and Elvira through. She opened the door in the back, and allowed Team Elpis in. They were led through a small hallway and into a room at the very back.

In there…lay all three members of Team Sandstream. Ishmael, Axel and Lillian all lay on beds in what was a makeshift sickbay. On the floor beside each bed was a basin for vomit, and by the smell of the room, they had been used for that purpose. Each member was wrapped up in blankets, and Lillian and Axel were both asleep. Ishmael, however, happened to be awake, and was talking to Diarmuid, as well as Rhiannon, who was also there. Raya was also in the room, though she was checking on the condition of the other two.

“…I swear, I’ll get that weasel if it’s the last thing I do…” He sounded angry…or about as angry as someone could be in a condition like his. He sounded weak, with all the bite taken out of his voice.

“Ishy, please…” Rhiannon sounded emotional. Arian recalled last night she’d been bawling her eyes out over the news of Team Sandstream’s condition. “You nearly drowned yesterday. You’re not well. When you’re better, you can start saying that. But right now, you need rest…”

“Rhiannon is quite right,” Diarmuid agreed. “You’re in no shape to even get out of that bed, Ishmael. You should be asleep, like your cousins.”

“I know, Uncle Diarmuid, I know…” Ishmael lay back in the bed, too tired to argue with the Gliscor. He blinked his eyes, ready to fall back asleep. But just before he did…he caught sight of two familiar faces. Well, three, if Gráinne was included.

“Arry! And El too,” he greeted, perking up slightly. “Good to see yer doin’ okay…”

“…At least you’re still yourself,” Arian remarked. Still…it hurts to see him like this. “How are you holding up?”

“…I feel like complete shit,” came the crocodile’s reply. “Don’t got the energy to do nothin’ ‘cept just lie here and take Uncle Diarmuid’s shit-tasting medicine. Oh, and throw up a bunch too.”

“You need that medicine,” Diarmuid defended. “You, who nearly died yesterday. Thank the heavens you saved them, you two.” He directed this at Arian and Elvira. “I don’t know what we’d have done if our son was killed by a marshal. Same with Lillian, and you, Ishmael. I don’t know if I’d be able to break that news to Conall and Caitríona if you’d died yesterday…”

“Conall and Caitríona…” It occurred to Arian that it had been a while since they’d seen Lillian’s parents. “Did you tell them about what happened?”

“I wrote a letter to them this morning,” Gráinne answered.

“Right.” Arian nodded in understanding. He was about to say more, but at that moment, a bell sounded.

“What’s that for?” he asked. Both he and Elvira tensed, fearful that the knights might have caught up with them.

“Oh, that’s probably Melchior at the front door,” Gráinne replied. “He came by this morning and volunteered to pick herbs for us while we watched the kids.”

“Melchior?” Then Arian remembered. “We need to talk to him. We have something for him.”

“Do you? Well, come with me then,” Diarmuid offered. “I’ll get the door. You watch them, dear,” he offered to his wife.

“Very well.” The Flygon flew over to Ishmael’s bedside, while her husband headed out the door and to the front entrance. He opened the door, and it was as he predicted: Melchior was there, along with Terran. Both held a bag of herbs in their hands.

“Welcome back,” Diarmuid said to him. “Arian and Elvira showed up while you were gone.”

“Ah. Hello, you two.” Melchior waved to them. “Good to see you’re still okay.”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Elvira said to him. “The priest looked after us.”

“Good to hear. …Now then. Where do you want these, Diarmuid?” Melchior asked, stepping inside.

“Just in behind the counter there.” The Gliscor pointed a pincer in that general direction.

“Thanks.” The Swampert headed there, followed by his assistant. However, Terran and Arian happened to lock eyes, and the Riolu saw full well the glare that came from the Larvitar aimed at him.

…I don’t blame him for being mad at me, he thought. I did let that slip. …Just wish he didn’t have to rub it in…

Luckily, Elvira’s words drew him away from those negative thoughts.

“Melchior,” she piped up. “We have something for you.”

“Something for me?” The guildmaster tilted his head. “What is it?”

“It’s a letter,” Arian explained. As he spoke, his partner took the item out of their bag. “Actually…it’s apparently from Pontifex Sansarn.”

“Pontifex?” Diarmuid was surprised to hear this. “You have a line to the pontifex? …I don’t know how you do it, Melchior…”

“Thank them, not me,” the Swampert replied, gesturing to Arian and Elvira. “Without them, I wouldn’t have that connection in the first place.”

“Perhaps it’s news on Leonid? Maybe he’s found him,” Elvira speculated hopefully. She handed the letter to Melchior.

“Only one way to find out.” Melchior took the letter from her, and unsealed the envelope. He looked at the letter, and showed it to Team Elpis so they could read it too.

---

To Guildmaster Melchior of the Irian Guild,

I hope you are in good health. I write to you now from the Holy Cathedral of Padavonum, having returned from my visit to the Tsardom of Selenia, and the meeting I had with four of your mercenaries: Serafina and Natalie of Team Anima, and Arian and Elvira of Team Elpis. Whilst I kept them in sanctuary from Mitrofan and the Knights of Iria, I made a promise to them that I would search through the Church records to seek out where Prince Leonid Klimentovich Ruslan, tsesarevich of Selenia, travelled to since his flight from his native country with his betrothed, Princess Svetlana Gerasimovna Lysagora. Having made inquiries, I will now relay my findings to you.

After his flight from Selenia, Prince Leonid sojourned in the presence of House Navarra for approximately one year, where he attempted to negotiate aid from His Excellency Emperor Annibale to retake Selenia from Mitrofan’s grasp. Alas, he was unsuccessful in this regard, and no aid was given, despite the lobbying of other exiled Selenian lords for the same goal.

Having failed in this venture, he headed south, to try and persuade Miletos in the same goal. Here, he sojourned with House Spyros, and tried to negotiate a similar arrangement with His Eminence Archon Pyrrhus. Once again, alas, he was unsuccessful. From here, the trail seems to have gone cold. He and Princess Svetlana left Strategos Khalkos’s villa in Ithiki one night some three years ago, and he has not been seen since by any noble house in the East.

However, Prince Leonid did not disappear. Having failed to acquire aid from the East, he turned his gaze north, and headed towards Alba to get aid from there. This information is new to us in the East, and only came to light after an inquiry with Archdruid Cathbad. They informed me that Prince Leonid came to Breifne, seeking aid from Rí Trahaern Gwyrddach Ó Riagáin to retake Selenia from Mitrofan. Though the rí wasn’t unwilling, it would appear he had contention over Prince Leonid’s ability to become a leader. Thus, he would not grant the tsesarevich the aid he desired unless he became apt in the skill of leadership. That is where he has remained for the last three years, waiting for the day when he will be able to take his nation from the clutches of Mitrofan and alleviate the suffering of his people.

That is all the information I have for you. Do with it what you will. However you use this information, may you be guided by the light of our Creator, and make the righteous judgement that will alleviate your country’s suffering.

His Holiness

Bishop of Padavonum

Pontifex Maximus of the Church of Lord Arceus the Creator

Illuminatus Conchylius Sansarn.

---

“…Alba…So that’s where he’s been,” Elvira said. “All this time, he was in Alba?”

“We’ve been thinking he was in the East,” Melchior remarked. “That’s what I thought, too. I considered that he might’ve gone to Alba, but I didn’t think it was likely, given Alba and Selenia’s relations in the years before Mitrofan.”

“Hm? Wait a minute…” This was new to Arian. “What do you mean, Melchior?”

“…It’s to do with a political pivot towards building bridges with the East that was one of Kliment’s policies,” the Swampert explained. “He wished to break down the centuries-long animosity between the halves of Ardalion, and make greater progress towards friendship with Dresilia and Miletos. It wasn’t a new strategy – other tsars have tried the same thing. The problem is…whenever they have, Alba has never taken it well.”

“And why’s that?”

“You surely know by now that Selenia and the Eastern countries don’t get along,” Elvira elaborated. “However, that’s nothing compared to Alba. Alba despises the East, and they in turn despise them. They’ve fought many wars, and they rarely ever communicate diplomatically. Therefore, Selenia’s the only potential ally they have. And if Selenia start pivoting towards being friendly to the East…then Alba will be in real bother.”

“Oh, I see.” Arian nodded in understanding. “So Alba needs Selenia as its ally.”

“Yes. But…a fair amount of Albans don’t like Selenia,” Melchior went on. “They see us as weak-willed and pathetic, especially in regards to us being allies. …It’s certainly true on the mercenaries’ side. Some Alban mercenaries mock the Irian Guild for being spineless and weak. Kallias and I have certainly been on the receiving end of insults like that. …Granted, a quick tussle would shut them up. In Alba, you don’t insult those stronger than you.”

“But that’s not true of all Albans, is it?” Elvira asked. “Dad said you and him cooperated with the Breifne Guild on a few occasions.”

“We did, indeed. And you’re right, Elvira,” the Swampert acknowledged. “Many more Albans like Selenians. They see us as a breath of fresh air compared to those in the East. Besides…they clearly didn’t hate Prince Leonid enough to kick him out of the country. There must be more to this than meets the eye. We must get to him as soon as possible. And that means sending someone to meet him in Breifne.”

“…A pity we can’t send Team Sandstream,” Arian remarked. “They’re from Alba. They’d know the culture.”

“They would know. But I’d have to object to that, even if they were fit to go.”

“Ah!” Arian was startled, before looking to the counter. Perched behind it was Diarmuid. “Oh, sorry, Diarmuid. Didn’t see you there.”

“Sorry. Couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. But don’t worry,” the Gliscor quickly added. “Your secret’s safe with us about that.” He jabbed a pincer towards the letter.

“Thanks, Diarmuid,” Melchior replied. “…But what do you mean? Why would you object to sending Team Sandstream into Alba?”

“Because of events that happened some ten years ago,” Diarmuid answered. “I won’t go into the specifics about it all. But the end result was that Gráinne and I, along with Conall and Caitríona, fled our village of Ardmacha and left Alba altogether to settle in Selenia. Part of why we left was…disgust with the culture. The idea that anyone could worm their way into a position of power, just because of how strong they are…it didn’t sit right with us, especially after what had happened.”

“What happened?” Arian wondered.

“That’s not relevant to this conversation,” the Gliscor immediately shut down. Arian, reminded of his unintentional prying, guiltily kept his mouth shut. “The point is that Ishmael, Axel and Lillian…they all know it. They all know that strength isn’t everything. Strength can’t keep a family fed. Strength can’t bring back loved ones lost to you. They’re not stupid. They were like us. They saw that when Ardmacha lost its Chief…it lost its soul. We all left the country and never came back. We still haven’t gone back, and we have no intention to. Not even for something like this.”

“…Is that so?” Melchior’s face showed a small hint of disappointment. “…It wasn’t like I could ask for their help anyway, given their condition. Hmm…who instead?” He looked at the two mercenaries before him. He seemed to consider options and weigh up the thoughts in his head, before making a decision.

“…Arian. Elvira. Could I…entrust you with this duty? The duty of meeting with Prince Leonid?”

“Hold up.” Arian thought he’d heard wrong. “You want us to go meet with Leonid?”

“I do. To be honest…apart from the marshals, I can’t think of anyone else,” Melchior responded. “I can’t go to Alba and leave my Guild members to fend for themselves against Mitrofan, who’s actively seeking us out right now. Team Anima wouldn’t be familiar enough with the dry desert terrain of Alba. As well as that, they tend to look down on nobles. Team Mindfist would weather it a little better, but I don’t believe they have enough experience for a long trek across Alba.”

“But we’re the newest team you have,” the Riolu pointed out. “How come we’re your first choice?”

“…Because of the familial connection.” Melchior looked at Elvira as he said this. “You being the daughter of Fernblade Kallias, Elvira…that might give the Albans cause to listen to you too. Fernblade Kallias is known all across Ardalion, and especially among those in the mercenary sphere, which Alba is heavily involved in. I know you don’t like being compared to your father, but…”

“…I don’t. I want to forge my own path as a mercenary,” Elvira replied. “…But I see where you’re coming from, Melchior. It’s a card I’ll play if we need it. …Just know that I won’t be shouting it from the rooftops.”

“I’m not expecting you to,” came the guildmaster’s reply. “I wouldn’t place a burden like that on you. …Are you both okay handling the mission I’ve entrusted to you?”

“…Yes, Melchior. We are,” the Treecko responded, with some degree of determination.

“…I suppose if you really think we’re the best…” Arian replied, though he still didn’t feel confident that they were the best choice.

“That’s the spirit.” Melchior couldn’t help but smile. “Go and make preparations. It’s going to be a long trip to Breifne, in Alba’s north.”

“And across a desert, too…” Elvira acknowledged. “It won’t be a joke, that’s for sure.”

“But where do we prepare?” Arian pointed out. “We can’t go into Kamengrad, because the knights might see us.”

“I’ve considered that. And I’ve made alternate arrangements,” Melchior revealed. “There’s a village to the north of here by the name of Kitesh. It’s along the main road from Selenia to Dresilia. In fact…it’s where Lex and Isaac are staying. You can make your preparations there.”

“Lex and Isaac are there?” Arian replied. He had mixed feelings about this; on the one hand, he and Lex were on good terms with one another, but on the other, he wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable beratement from Isaac about not keeping his mouth shut. It would be just like the Espeon to deliver a cold, hard truth in a manner that did not soften any blows.

“They are. In fact, they hail from that village. They’ll be able to help you out, no doubt,” Melchior replied.

“…I say we don’t waste any more time,” the human said with initiative. “The sooner we go to Alba and bring Leonid back to Selenia, the sooner we can overthrow Mitrofan and end this nightmare.”

“Agreed,” Elvira seconded.

“Then…I suppose it’s farewell, for a while,” Melchior said. “You’ve been working diligently for the past few weeks. You certainly have the work ethic of most mercenaries, that’s for sure. You’re already proving to be an asset to our Guild. That’s why I feel confident to entrust this mission to you.”

“…Thanks, Melchior,” Arian said. He would feel flattered if not for his self-doubt.

“Now then…go and meet with Prince Leonid. Make the Guild proud.” Melchior stood out of the way of the door, and watched the Elpis duo leave the apothecary’s.

“…How do you do it, Melchior? Where do you find them?” Diarmuid asked jokingly, shaking his head. The Swampert shrugged in response.

“What can I say? Good fortune?”

---

“So…the village of Kitesh is along the road we were on, where the church was,” Elvira directed, looking at a map. Once again, they were travelling through the limestone fields, stepping over large stones and leaping over limestone slabs. “We just need to keep heading north from there.”

“Right, then.” Arian paused as he righted himself on an elliptical rock. “Are there any Mystery Dungeons along the way?”

“Not according to this map, no,” the Treecko answered. “It should be an uneventful trip. …Hopefully.”

“Famous last words,” Arian half-joked dryly, inwardly hoping his partner’s words would prove true. I don’t need another confrontation with knights. Not after yesterday… He shook his head in an effort to dispel those negative thoughts.

They eventually rejoined the road north, and walked north, back the way they came. They soon passed by the church they stayed at, and happened to see the Noctowl priest from before.

“Thanks for letting us stay!” Elvira called to him.

“Not at all!” the owl called back. “May the Creator guide your path, you two!”

That was the last conversation they had with another person for a while. The trek to Kitesh was rather quiet, with them only seeing the occasional passerby merchant. Thankfully, no knights crossed their path.

They left the Karstlands and found themselves in the grassy uplands of the Nagoria oblast. This area was still quite rocky, just like the Karstlands, and stone walls separated the fields from the dusty road. Looking around him, Arian could see this area as being a bit more inhabited, with the occasional stone cottage, next to which were fields in which berries, oats and other crops were being grown.

“I remember from that book I was reading,” Arian mentioned, breaking a small period of silence. “They say the hero Gamaliel came from here, apparently.”

“That’s true.” Elvira said, remembering her partner had indeed been reading a book on that period of history. “This was the worst affected region in all of Selenia during the Famine two hundred years ago. Nowhere in Selenia escaped it, but Nagoria got hit the hardest.”

“…I suppose if you were in the middle of it all, you would feel compelled to do something about it,” the Riolu murmured. “Hey…have you thought that maybe the situation with Mitrofan right now is similar to the one two hundred years ago?”

“…Honestly? No,” admitted Elvira. “Back then, people were dying en masse, to the point where bodies piled up because people were too weak to bury them properly. More to the point, it was the neglect of Tsar Rihard and the outside force of the East that played into the awfulness of the Famine. This time, it’s an inside force that’s put things out of whack. But not so much that it can be compared to the East’s leadership. Say what you want about Mitrofan…but he hasn’t caused catastrophe to the level of the Famine two hundred years ago.”

“…I guess you’re right,” Arian agreed, seeing his partner’s point. Still…that doesn’t mean he’s a good leader we shouldn’t overthrow.

“The worst part is that if this all works out, Prince Leonid and us will inevitably be compared to Tsar Kaloyan and Team Hope,” Elvira went on. “But it’s not an apt comparison. It would be disrespectful to all those that perished two hundred years ago. It’s not comparable to the Famine War. It just isn’t.”

“…Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, maybe?” Arian suggested. “Let’s worry about that when Mitrofan’s overthrown. Let’s just focus on the path ahead of us.”

“Right. Of course.”

They continued along the road. Once again, it was another beautiful day, with the sun shining brightly. Alas, there was no pleasant sea breeze like there was back at Elvira’s house. Thus, the warm day was ever so slightly more unpleasant.

Elvira’s words in Cyan Cove about the warm climate in Selenia recently came back to him. And these thoughts seemed to compliment passing words from two Pokémon who happened to be tending a field they were passing by.

“Gods, if only we had some rain…We haven’t been having much at all recently.”

“Why hasn’t it been raining?”

“Dunno, boy. But we’d better get some soon, otherwise we ain’t gonna have much of a harvest. And I’ll bet Ol’ Mitt won’t come to help us either.”

“It’s a shame. I was actually kind of excited for him. I think he might do things differently, you know? Because Kliment sure wasn’t that great either…”

Hm. Guess some people didn’t like Kliment either, Arian observed. I guess you can’t please everyone. …Still, though. The harvest might fail? That’s not good. Especially given what Elvira and I were just talking about…

He worried about this matter all along the trek to Kitesh.

---

Around early afternoon, they saw a wooden arch with writing atop it reading ‘Welcome to Kitesh’. As they crossed past the town’s perimeter and into the town itself, they looked around. It seemed to be relatively small, with not a huge amount of traffic going about the town. There was the odd merchant peddling their wares, as there was in nearly every town, but overall, it was a quiet place. Fitting for a town in what was perhaps Selenia’s most rural oblast.

Walking through the street, Arian and Elvira looked around them. At the very least, by the looks of things, there did look to be enough services in the town that they could reasonably prepare for their trip to Alba. A Kecleon Shop, a Klefki Bank, a Kangaskhan Storage – all the facilities were here, much to their relief.

Team Elpis were about to hit up the Kecleon Shop and get started on their preparations. However, movement from another building drew their attention.

The door opened in a house across from them. Outside stepped four figures – a Nidoking, a Rampardos…along with a Cranidos and an Espeon.

The latter two were recognised by Team Elpis. And in turn, Team Mindfist recognised them.

“Hey! Arian! Elvira!” Lex called.

“Lex!” Arian called back, perking up a bit. “Good to see you!”

“You too, man!” The Cranidos trotted over to them. “How’re you doing?”

“…As good as we can be at a time like this,” Arian murmured. “But hey – the knights haven’t got us. Not yet, at least.” Look on the bright side, I guess.

“That is a good sign.” Isaac chose that moment to intervene. “Proof that Mud Bomber Melchior is a diligent thinker. …A pity it had to come in a situation like this, where one of our own let loose the details. The knights didn’t even have to send in a spy.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Arian cried, once the Espeon turned a look of accusation his way. “I’m sorry…I-I’ll try and be better in future.”

“Here’s hoping you keep to that,” Isaac returned. “We can’t have our secrets being leaked to our enemies all because one of our own can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“Don’t blame him, Isaac,” Elvira criticised. “Arian wasn’t the only one at fault. We all were. We should’ve realised someone as crafty as Metody would have spies in every corner of his own town.”

“Hmph. Never underestimate the sly ones,” the Espeon retorted. “Miss nothing around them. Because they will take full advantage of what you miss.”

“Hey, Isaac. Give it a rest, will you?” the Nidoking said. “These things happen. And they said they’ll keep an eye out the next time. What more do you want from them?”

“Yes, Isaac,” the Rampardos joined in. “They’re your friends. Don’t be mean to them.”

“…I’m merely reminding them to be vigilant,” Isaac defended. “When you’re an outlaw, you can’t be anything but. Get complacent and your enemies will capitalise on that in an instant.”

“…Er, anyway.” Lex chose to change the topic to try and prevent his partner from ruffling more feathers. “Why are you here, you two?”

“Well – ” Arian was about to answer. However, the conversation with Isaac just now made him stop himself before he could reveal their mission. “We can’t talk about it here. It’s a secret.”

“See, Ise? He’s learned his lesson,” the Cranidos said to his partner. He then turned back to Arian. “…But what is it?”

“How about you come inside and tell us?” suggested the Nidoking, before looking at the Rampardos. “Irma, would you mind getting the stuff for tonight’s dinner?”

“Of course, dear,” the Rampardos promised, before kissing him on the cheek. She then left for the marketplace.

“…Now then. Come in,” the Nidoking offered. “We’ll discuss it over some tea.”

---

“So…Prince Leonid, eh?”

The house, as it turned out, belonged to Lex’s parents. They were the Nidoking and Rampardos that were accompanying Team Mindfist. By the looks of the house, which looked quite nice although not too fancy, it seemed they were doing alright income-wise.

Team Elpis sat down in the kitchen with Team Mindfist, while the Nidoking, who introduced himself as Shura, brewed some tea. He then gave it to them, and they told him and their fellow mercenaries about their mission.

“So Prince Leonid’s alive after all, huh?” Lex said. “Who would’ve thought?”

“I had an inkling those rumours weren’t mere bluster,” Isaac stated. “That being said…I am surprised he’s in Alba. It must be a move of desperation, after the East rebuffed his efforts to take back his country. …If I must be honest, that’s a foolish move on their part. If they worked to take back his kingdom, they would have stronger reassurance in an ally of theirs, and they could turn Selenia against the East’s greatest enemy, Alba, and use them as a point to start invading from. But they’ve lost that chance now. And if Leonid strikes up an alliance with the Albans and rebuffs the East, then we might be in danger of more West-East polarisation. That was a missed opportunity. I didn’t think Annibale and Pyrrhus were that short-sighted. Then again, not since Empress Minerva have we ever had – “

“Ise,” Lex interjected. “You’re rambling again.”

“…Apologies,” Isaac finished, although there was a sense he was somewhat annoyed at being cut off.

“…I’ll be real. All this political mumbo-jumbo’s beyond me,” the Cranidos went on. “The whole point is, get Leonid, overthrow Mitrofan and Selenia’ll be safe again.”

“Essentially,” Arian replied. “At least…that’s what we hope.” After saying this, he was then reminded of the conversation he overheard during the trek to Kitesh, and realised something.

Even if Mitrofan’s overthrown, there’s still a whole lot wrong with the world to be sorted out. Like this unnaturally hot spell Selenia’s been having. That’s some divine power Mitrofan can’t control. …Maybe after getting him out, we can turn our attention to figuring that all out.

“Well, I wish you the best of luck,” Shura said in support. “You’ve been good friends with my boy and Isaac. It’s good to meet you two. …Oh, which reminds me.” He turned his attention to Elvira. “Elvira, is it? Is it true you’re the daughter of Fernblade Kallias?”

“…Yes,” Elvira chose to answer. There’s no point hiding it. “I am.”

“…I never knew the man had a kid,” the Nidoking said. “Like father, like daughter, eh?”

“…I suppose. But…I want to be my own person,” the Treecko told him. “I don’t want to ride on the coattails of what my dad achieved. I want to develop my own style of fighting, and become known as a legendary mercenary in my own right. Dad himself said he’d rather I did that.”

“…You’ve a point there,” accepted the Nidoking. “Not every parent wants their kid to follow in their footsteps. I mean…not even four years ago, I was a bricklayer struggling to make ends meet. And my boy Lex was learning all of what I’d learned and gaining all of my skills. I’ll be honest, I didn’t want him to become a bricklayer like me. The pay’s awful, and I didn’t want him going hungry once he became an adult ‘mon. So imagine my surprise when Lex showed up at the front door one day after being missing for a while and said, ‘I wanna be a mercenary!’ I was surprised, but…I accepted it. Being a merc’s far better than being a bricklayer. And Lex can hold himself in a fight, so he’s fit to be one.”

“I sure can!” The Cranidos smiled proudly. “We’ve beaten a load of outlaws already. And yeah, I’m not a thinker…But Ise can do that for me!”

“…I can’t do all the thinking,” Isaac returned. “In a scenario where we’re separated from one another – which may well happen – you’re going to have to fend for yourself on the strategy side of things.”

“But strategy’s hard…” whined Lex.

“Find a way to get around your aversion to it,” Isaac replied. “At least your muscle memory’s proving to be quite good. Try to use that to your advantage to overcome your…problems with strategy.”

“…I guess I’ll try that when we train next…” Alas, the Cranidos didn’t sound that confident.

“…Moving on from that.” Isaac turned his attention to Team Elpis. “You said you needed supplies? We’ll help you with that.”

“Yeah! Anything for friends.” Lex perked up a bit after the strategy conversation. “We know where everything is in Kitesh.”

“Well, off you go, then.” Shura waved his hand toward the door. “I won’t keep you boys. Go and help Arian and Elvira get ready for their trip across Alba.”

As the four mercenaries got up to head out, they heard the front door open.

“Ah, that’ll be Irma,” the Nidoking said. His hunch was confirmed when the Rampardos walked in. “Hello, dear.”

He looked at what she held. In one hand, she held a bag of items. But what was in her other hand caught his attention.

“A letter?”

“Yes. The Tropius mailmon gave it to me,” Irma informed.

“Oh!” Lex seemed happy. “It’s a letter from Sis! She hasn’t written to us in a while!”

“That’s true. She hasn’t done it for a while,” Shura acknowledged.

“Your sister?” Arian tilted his head. “You never told us you had a sister, Lex.”

“Well, I do,” the Cranidos revealed. “But, well…”

“There’s a good reason we never mentioned it,” Isaac immediately took over. “Lex’s sister is a knight.”

“A knight?!” Neither member of Team Elpis were prepared for this revelation.

“Yeah, she’s a knight,” Lex confirmed. “I don’t really bring it up in the Guild much, because, you know…”

“It would cast unwarranted suspicion towards Lex,” Isaac explained. “But you don’t need to worry about loyalties with him. Lex is committed to our cause. And should he think otherwise…I’ll bring him back in line.”

“Yeah,” Lex reassured. “I mean, I love my sis and all. But…I’d never turn away from being a merc.”

“…Does it worry you, though?” Elvira queried. “Your sister being a knight. Being on the opposite side of us. If the two of you meet…what’s going to happen?”

“Well…hopefully that doesn’t happen,” Lex replied. “But if we did…maybe we could talk it out? I mean, I’m not good with words, but…I could try and tell her to stand down. …Maybe I could even get her to join up with us!”

“…I wouldn’t get your hopes up for that, Lex,” Isaac advised. “But all the same…given your bond, it may be worth a shot.”

“Yeah. …But enough about my sis. We got supplies to get,” the Cranidos said. “Mom, Dad. I’ll read the letter when I get home.”

“Of course, Lex,” Irma permitted. “Now go and help Arian and Elvira.”

The two teams left the house, leaving Lex’s parents alone, gazing at the letter that Irma had placed on the table.

“I do hope those two don’t meet each other and end up fighting,” the Rampardos said with concern. While she spoke, Shura got a small knife from one of the drawers and slit open the envelope.

Two things were in it – a letter, and a cheque.

“…There it is,” muttered the Nidoking, taking hold of the latter object. “What keeps us out of the slums. What keeps us from going hungry. I’ll cash it later.”

“I’m glad she was able to get a good job like a knight. And rise to such a high rank, too,” Irma commented. “But…I can’t help but wonder. Is she doing the right thing, serving under Mitrofan? And worse still…now that Lex works as a mercenary…she might well be the one assigned to hunt him and the other Guild members down. If they cross paths and end up fighting…” She shut her eyes. “I don’t want to imagine it.”

“They’re both adults who made their own decisions,” Shura replied. “We did warn Lex what he was getting into, but he was dead set on becoming a merc. At the end of the day, we can’t stop him if that’s what he wants to do. We’d be bad parents if we stifled him.”

“Even so…I don’t want the two of them to have to fight each other,” Irma expressed worriedly

“They’ll sort it out between themselves. Maybe Lex is right – they might not even meet each other to even have that conversation. …Of course, I do hope things work out. They were very close as children. It would be a great shame if they ended up having to fight one another.”

“…Let’s just see what she has to say.” Shura unfolded the letter. Irma came around to his side of the table and read the letter with him.

Hi Mom and Dad,

I hope you’re in good spirits. I know it’s been a while since I last wrote to you, but I’ve been quite busy in Iria lately, tending to my duties in keeping the city free of criminals. Master Mitrofan’s been saying I’ve been doing an excellent job and that I’m an asset to him. I’m flattered to receive praise like that from him. I sure wouldn’t have heard praise like that before five years ago.

I hope to visit Kitesh sometime soon, whenever I can. Maybe if there’s a mission that takes me up that way, I might see if I can pay you a visit. Unfortunately, the way things are, I think Master Mitrofan would prefer I was stationed in Iria. And I think that would be for the best, too. Maybe you could come and visit me in Iria? I’d be willing to send over more money to make that happen.

“Go over to Iria?” Shura considered that. “Perhaps. We haven’t been there in a while.” He and Irma continued reading.

Recently, we’ve had a bit of a ruckus in Iria. You might have heard the news that Hinnerk’s been defeated in Ozerograd. I’m glad about that, and so is Master Mitrofan. No one liked that underhanded thief. But the problem is that the pair that defeated him call themselves Team Elpis and are beholden to the Irian Guild, who are bent on taking down Master Mitrofan. They actually appeared in Iria, and I nearly caught them, with the help of Master Mitrofan and Metody. But the Church took them into sanctuary. And you may not believe this, but the Pontifex of all people was there. And of all the things to do, he mocked Master Mitrofan like he was a nobody! Stuck-up Dressie priests – they’re all the same. How dare he come into our country and tell us what to do!

“The pontifex?” Shura hadn’t been expecting to read that. “Now that’s a surprise. He was in Iria?”

“Seemingly. But look, Shura.” Irma pointed to the name Team Elpis. “Team Elpis…that was what Arian and Elvira called their team, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” the Nidoking recalled. “Oh dear…so she’s already after Lex’s friends…”

There’s also those rumours about whether Prince Leonid is still kicking. I hope they aren’t true, but somehow, I feel like they might well be. I won’t lie, Mom and Dad. I’m worried about what will happen if it is true. If Leonid manages to regain control of Selenia, then we risk returning to Kliment’s days, where just about everyone with some kind of authority hated my guts and nobles could buy their way to powerful positions.

That won’t happen, though. If it ever comes to that, then I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep him off the throne. I won’t fail in my duty as a knight of Master Mitrofan, and I’ll strike down any enemy that crosses my path.

That’s all the news I have to tell you for now. Hopefully I’ll be able to write to you more frequently if business in Iria doesn’t keep me from the parchment.

Your loving daughter,

Ludmila.