Chapter 24 – Dry Land

“Hey! Get up!”

Arian was rudely awoken by a grumpy voice and a rough shake.

“Wh-Wha—” he mumbled as he opened his eyes sleepily. Through bleary vision, he saw an irate Gabite looking at him.

“Finally, he’s awake,” Enfys scoffed. “Lazy mutt.”

“Urrrgh…” Arian groaned sleepily. His thoughts had kept him awake for most of the night, and he’d fallen to sleep long after everyone else had, but he noticed that as he adjusted to his surroundings, it was still dark out.

“…It’s not morning,” he said, tired.

“Of course it isn’t. You wanna get burned by the sun? Be my guest,” Enfys spat.

“Lay off him, En,” Yannick’s voice cut in. “It won’t do any good, harassing him like that.”

“I don’t respect weaklings,” the Gabite fired back.

“Look, En.” Yannick’s voice became stern. “If you keep this up, then this journey back to Teamhair’s only going to be awkward.”

“And who’s fault’s that? I still think it’s best to kick them back over the border where weaklings like them belong.”

“Even though a Selenian beat you?”

“…Shut up.” Enfys gave up the argument, and looked over at where Elvira and Yuliya were also in the process of waking up. “Right, you three. What’s your plan?”

Yuliya, being the most awake of the three Selenians, chose to answer. “We are heading to Breifne, your nation’s capital, where His Highness Prince Leonid is said to be residing at the moment. That information was said to be corroborated by Archdruid Cathbad, the leader of the Church in Alba.”

“Cathbad? Them?” Enfys didn’t sound impressed. “So what? Probably more airy fairy shit about ‘Fate’ and ‘destiny’ and whatever crap comes out of their mouth.”

“You’re lucky you’re not in Breifne right now,” Yannick criticised. “That would earn you an earful, given how well respected they are and how highly our Chief values their insight.”

“Whatever. I’ll take their words with a grain of salt. And anyway, you’re all wasting time.” The Gabite addressed everyone, her partner included. “We need to get back to Teamhair before the sun rises. Especially you Sels. If the heat of the day’s too hot for us, then gods forbid you lot are going to melt.”

“We understand,” Elvira said. “We’ll get moving.”

The five began their trek. A vast savannah lay before them, with the moon still shining brightly overhead. It was closer to the horizon, though, meaning that dawn would come soon.

In the meantime, the five had to contend with the cold of the night. The Selenians, and Team Elpis in particular, found it especially frigid.

“My God.” Arian shivered. “It’s like the dead of winter.”

“You can say that again,” Elvira seconded. “I don’t like the winter at all, and this cold reminds me of it.” She shivered again. “Brrr…”

“Hmph.” Enfys wasn’t impressed by their actions. “Are these really the people we’re inviting into our country?”

“I wouldn’t count them out, En,” Yannick said, from where he was leading with a lantern lit by his partner’s dragonfire. “They’d be better than some of our folks.”

“Yeah, the weaker ones, alright.”

“You never know where talent’s going to come from, En. That’s the beauty of our system. Anyone can have a shot at the powerful positions, provided they’re good enough.”

“I’m intrigued by this,” Yuliya said. “Is that really true? Anyone can rise in the ranks, no matter their backgrounds?”

“Oh, it’s true, alright.” Enfys sounded almost smug. “Doesn’t matter if you’re a slumdog or from some backwater like Oiriall. We don’t lock people out of positions. If you’re strong enough to win in the tournaments…then our land’s your Omanyte.”

“That’s certainly true. Many ríthe have come from the dregs or fairly ordinary backgrounds,” Yannick went on. “Our current rí’s a bit of an exception—his granddad was the Chief of Annwyn—but our tánaiste’s a prime example of that. She grew up very poor, but swore she’d rise up and earn a better living for her family. She did just that, fighting in tournaments, and now that she’s second from the top, both she and her family are living quite a good life. “

“Yep. Better than living as a peasant your whole life serving some amadán who was born with that role,” the Gabite boasted. “In our country, you have to prove you’re worthy of being called Chief.”

“But being strong doesn’t necessarily equate to being a good leader,” Yuliya pointed out. “One could be an excellent combatant but not know the first thing about leadership.”

“Well, of course,” Yannick said. “That’s why some of our tíorthahave tests beyond just raw strength. We’re not as uncivilised as the Dressies would make you think.”

“…I see.” The Furret sounded slightly annoyed. But she chose not to pursue that point further.

Meanwhile, at the back of the group, Arian heard every word. It’s like the argument with Isaac again, he thought, thinking back to the similar discussion he’d had with the Espeon in Kitesh. He was at least glad the Albans seemed to be in line with his point back then. But given his low mood, he didn’t want to revisit that debate.

A strength-based society…I’d probably be bottom in that. We were completely trounced.

Looking over at his partner, he saw Elvira just as downcast. Normally he’d try and cheer her up, but he wasn’t even in the mood to do that. Partners should always look out for each other. But we weren’t strong enough in that last fight, he moped. Should we really be the ones doing this? How can we win over Alba if we’re this weak? Yuliya can’t carry us all the time…

Arian let out a long sigh as he peered around at the scenery. One thing he had gotten accustomed to was his species’ night vision, which was certainly a plus.A savannah landscape surrounded him, with sparse vegetation and dry grassland to his left. To his right, low, undulating slopes stood, and the dominating Empyrean Mountains loomed behind them.

As he looked to the hills, a strange feeling crept upon him. He would’ve registered it as a shiver down his spine if he wasn’t shivering from the cold already.

What is this? Unconsciously, the tassels on his head raised slightly, as he tried to find a meaning for this strange sensation.

“Um, Arian?” Elvira’s voice drew his attention. “Is something the matter?”

“I don’t know.” The Riolu looked towards the hill again. “I think…” He closed his eyes and tried to use his senses to discern what was going on. “I think there’s someone up there.”

“Is there?” Elvira looked concerned. “Are they an enemy?”

“I don’t know.” Arian couldn’t shake off his worry, though. “They could just be a hermit living in this part of the country or something. A scavenger, maybe? Or—”

“Hey!” Enfys’ yell cut him off. “Stop dawdling, you two! We’ve a schedule to keep to!”

“O-Oh, sorry!” apologised Arian, before he and Elvira hurriedly catching up the distance between them and the other three. Yannick and Yuliya gave them questioning looks, but said nothing, continuing to march onwards.

Enfys’ scorn, though, had gotten to Arian. And that only made him feel worse about things.

There’s only going to be more people like her. …How am I going to win them over?

 

 

---

 

 

A few hours later…

 

The five trudged through the dry savannah in the dark for some time. It wasn’t long, however, before the sun began to rise. And with it, the chilling cold was gone…

And replaced by sweltering heat.

But calling the heat ‘sweltering’ didn’t do it justice. At least not in Arian’s eyes.

“Hah…Hah…Why is it so hot?” he moaned. His throat felt as dry as the lands around him. “How can it go from being so cold to…being this hot?”

“I’ve…never felt heat this intense.” Elvira put her hand to her head. “This is worse than anything we had all summer in Selenia…”

“I’ll say,” Yuliya panted. “This is stifling…”

“…Can’t argue with you there.” To their surprise, Enfys seemed to agree for once. “This summer’s been rough for Alba. Even us desert ‘mons have had a tough time.”

“You can say that again,” Yannick seconded. “The Istwyth’s weathered all kinds of drought over the centuries, but even this summer’s taken its toll on it. You’ll see when we get into town.”

“When’ll that be?” Arian asked. He was all but ready for a rest, and escape from this stifling heat.

“In a moment. We’re not too far from Teamhair. Just hold on tight.”

It took a few more minutes of walking and Arian moaning about the heat before finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they arrived at their destination.

It was a relatively small town, at first glance, though it was major enough to have an archway at its entrance. The words ‘TEAMHAIR’ were inscribed upon it, and two guards, a Donphan and an Espathra, stood guard on either side of it. They stood to attention when they saw the five approaching.

“Halt!” ordered the Espathra, before seeing who it was. “Ah, Team Scalebreaker. You’ve returned.” They relaxed.

“We sure have. And with Lady Sorcha’s torc in tow,” Yannick replied. “It was these three who found it first. They’re Selenians, actually.”

“Selenians?” The Donphan frowned.

“Yes. We’d like to take them to the Chief. They have business in Breifne, they say.”

“Supposedly,” Enfys huffed.

“Hmm…” The two guards eyed Team Elpis and Yuliya with suspicion. “…They don’t look the strongest. Our Chief will be able to handle them if they get any ideas.”

Arian and Elvira flinched at their words. Yuliya breathed in, trying to hide her chagrin.

“You can enter.” The Espathra gestured to inside the town. “But no funny business. We don’t want Sels spreading their bad influence into our country. Clear?”

“Crystal,” Arian murmured, as he and his partners followed Enfys and Yannick into town.

The path before them was a bricklaid one, marking a clear path through the town. A public square stood ahead of them, and lining the streets on either side of them were buildings of a variety of different colours. Green, pink, yellow, blue—it was admittedly something of a surprise to Arian as he looked around.

“So many colours,” he murmured.

“I know, right? It looks good,” Yannick said. “If it was all just old dull sandstone, things would get boring pretty quickly. Other Alban towns do this as well.”

“Feh. Looks like a child’s playroom with how gaudy it is.” Enfys wasn’t quite as complimentary.

“Come on, En. They put effort into painting those houses…”

“A wasted effort. The sandstorms will get them anyway and throw all of that work away. “

“…Whatever. Let’s just find the Chief’s house.” Yannick’s eyes then drifted to a shopfront of a pink building with a striped awning above it, and he stopped. “Actually, wait. Let’s go there first.”

“A tailor’s?” Yuliya noted, looking at the sign outside.

“Yes. As it stands, go around like you are now, and you’re at a high risk of being burned by the sun,” warned Yannick.

“You said it, Yann. The Alban sun is harsh at the best of times. For Sels like you, it could be deadly,” Enfys lectured.

“…We should have thought of that.” Yuliya visibly flinched at her mistake. “My apologies, you two. I should’ve planned better in advance.”

“Well, better late than never to right that mistake.” Yannick marched up to the door and opened it, a bell chiming as the group went. The Selenians were grateful for the shade once they were inside.

“Ah, customers!” a bubbly voice greeted, and the five caught sight of a middle-aged Squawkabilly smiling at them warmly. “What can I get for you, dears?”

“Three rawst scarves, please,” Yannick requested. “They’re for our travelling friends.”

“Ah, of course. I’ll get them.” The Squawkabilly went to the back room, returning with three headscarves. “There you go!”

“Thank you very much.” The Hakamo-o handed her the money, before taking the scarves in hand. “Put these on, you three. You’re going to need them. They’ll keep sunburns off you.”

“Thanks.” Arian took the fabric from Yannick, and unfolded it. He did realise one thing as he went to put it on, though. “We might have to lose the scarves Zenobia gave us.”

“We will, won’t we…” Elvira wasn’t happy to hear that.

“Our health comes first,” Yuliya said, wrapping the scarf around her neck and tying it. “It wouldn’t do if we succumbed to the Alban sun before we found His Highness.”

“I understand.” Elvira untied her scarf, filing it away in her bag, and donned the rawst one. It was the same colour as hers, albeit a lighter shade of blue. Arian followed suit.

“That looks the part. That’ll do them,” Enfys remarked. “Now then. Let’s get to the Chief’s.”

They went outside, and instantly, Team Elpis and Yuliya felt the difference. Now that the rawst scarves were around their necks, the sun didn’t feel as deadly to them. It was still blazing, and the heat was still there, but they were that slight bit cooler thanks to the scarves.

They went through the town, following Enfys and Yannick as they navigated their way to the Chief’s residence. They passed through the square on which a stone monument stood, and turned right.

Ahead of them, a path to a large house stood. But before that was a stone bridge with small columns stylised on either side of the bridge’s rail.

As they approached the bridge, Arian noticed a change in Yannick’s emotions. For whatever reason, the scaly dragon seemed to get anxious and worried. Hm? What’s this about? Is he…worried about meeting the Chief of this place?

“Arian! Look!”

Elvira’s call drew his attention. Once again, strange emotions—a note of shock and mild horror. He saw his partner pointing at the river that ran under the bridge.

Or rather, the river that should’ve ran under the bridge. But…

“What the heck?” Arian couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “It’s all dried up…”

At best, a pitiful trickle ran through the river. But looking at either bank of what the riverbank should’ve straddled, the river had evidently been much wider than this.

“Yep.” Yannick came over to look at it. “That’s it. Our beautiful Istwyth, reduced to that…That’s what months of drought has done to our mighty river.”

“The River Istwyth…The main river that runs through Alba, all dried up.” Elvira didn’t want to believe what she was seeing. “How horrible…” She looked away, not wanting to look for much longer.

“This must cause a lot of hardship for your people,” Yuliya added. “If the main artery of Alba is dry, then that’s many people without water. In a country known for its harsh desert, no less…”

“Eh. There’s bound to be an oasis nearby that they collect water from,” Enfys said. “Other towns have found ways to get by. The Chief here’s probably worked something out. At least I hope he has.” She beckoned to the house. One thing Arian noted was the bite in her voice had lessened a tad. She must be affected by this too. Even if she tries to hide it…

With the bone-dry river firm in their memory, the group of five marched to the Chief’s residence. It was a larger house than normal, painted a bright green, and with a bell outside to ring for visitors. Yannick sounded it, waiting for a reply.

Not a moment later, he received it when a Bombirdier appeared before them.

“Greetings, Team Scalebreaker,” they said. “Chief Mac Mánais is home right now. I will let him know of your arrival.”

“Thank you very much.” Yannick replied.

“It is no problem.” The Bombirdier bowed to him respectfully, before heading back into the house. They returned later, and led the group of five into the house.

The interior looked to be clean and well-kept. Furnishings were also not in short supply, and a red rug ran through the foyer where the group of five entered. The Bombirdier butler requested they waited while he fetched the Chief. Before long he returned, with the man himself appeared.

“Hello, hello, hello!” a Scrafty decked out with fancy garments greeted. “Team Scalebreaker, welcome back! I see ye’ve returned. And I see ye brought some visitors with ye.” He glanced over at the three Selenians, who were quick to stand to attention. Yuliya even bowed in respect to him.

“Hah!” That incited a laugh out of him. “Don’t ye be so formal! I’m not the rí now. I’m just Féilim Cochaill Mac Mánais, the Chief of this wee tír.” The Chief’s down to earth reply did wonders to relax the two.

“You’re still highly respectable, Chief Mac Mánais,” Yannick said to him. “Don’t play it down.”

“Yer as kind as they say, Scaleshield Yannick.” the Scrafty sounded flattered. “Kind enough to help a ‘mon like me in need. …Now then. Do ye have Sorcha’s torc?”

“We do indeed.” Yannick produced the item in question. “Here it is.” He handed the item to the chieftain.

“Ah! Thank ye so much,” Féilim said gratefully.

“But you should know one thing. These three found it before we did.” Yannick gestured to the three Selenians. “We had a duel against them, and they won.”

“What?” The Scrafty was shocked. “Ye…won against Team Scalebreaker? Ye beat Cutthroat Enfys and Scaleshield Yannick?”

“One of them did.” Enfys’ remark proved she was still unhappy with the brawl’s result back at the border.

“But they still won, En, and that’s what matters. …So Chief Mac Mánais. I’d like to request that you give the money to them instead.”

“What?!” Arian and Elvira were taken aback.

“Ah, I couldn’t say no to strong ones like ye lot!” Féilim went over and handed the money to Elvira, who was still mesmerised by the offer. And even more so when she saw how much it was.

“500P? That’s more than usual,” she remarked, stunned. “Are you sure, Yannick?”

“I am. You won fair and square. And you did find the torc first,” the Hakamo-o reasoned. “So you should have it.”

“I…” Elvira didn’t know what to say. “Thank you so much, Yannick.” She filed the money away for safekeeping.

“Oh, and stay for lunch too!” Féilim wasn’t finished. “Sorcha, the hubby and I were just about to sit down to eat. We’d be thrilled to have guests!”

Despite some mild protests from Yuliya about imposing on them, the Scrafty chief was insistent. And so, they sat down for lunch in the dining room, with a Darmanitan and a Scraggy. The Darmanitan humbly introduced himself as Eoghan, Féilim’s husband, and the Scraggy introduced herself as Sorcha. Various dishes, most of them berry-based, were wheeled out and served to the five guests.

Arian couldn’t help but notice Yannick’s eyes light up at the sight of food. Next to the Hakamo-o, he saw Enfys give her partner a deadpan look.

Once they were all seated, the Selenians regaled them with their tale of brushing against Mitrofan and his supporters, and their task of finding Prince Leonid in Breifne. That drew the interest of the chieftain and his husband—and the mockery of their daughter.

“Your prince? Here?” Sorcha wasn’t having it. “A Sel prince wouldn’t last five minutes in our country!”

“…Forgive me, but His Highness is a capable fighter.” Yuliya bristled, but kept her composure. “He was trained by our own knights in the art of combat. He knows the meaning of the word, I assure you.”

“Pfft. So? He’d be no match for a true Alban warrior!” boasted the Scraggy. “I bet even I could beat him!”

“Now, Sorcha,” Féilim chided. “You don’t want to be makin’ challenges you can’t live up to.”

“Yeah, whatever, Dad.” She stuck out her tongue at him. “You know me. I’m the best of the best out of my friends. And when I win that competition tonight, everyone’ll respect me, just like they respect you!”

“Can you win, though?” Eoghan didn’t sound confident. “I haven’t seen you training as much in the last while as I have some other kids.”

“I-I have!” she blurted defensively.

“She hasn’t,” Enfys whispered scathingly to Yannick. Her partner, however, was too engrossed with chowing down food to reply.

“Mmm. I guess we’ll see this evening,” muttered the Darmanitan, returning to his meal. Everyone else did too, and silence reigned for the next few minutes until the meal was finished.

“Welp, guess I’ll go train. That’ll be proof, won’t it, other Dad?” Sorcha said, as she hopped down from her chair. She walked past them, but quickened her pace once she passed the Selenians. Arian sensed feelings of contempt for them.

What have we ever done to her? he wondered, feeling irked. By just existing?

“Didn’t even thank us for the torc.” Enfys was quietly seething.

“I’ll have a talk with her later. You’ll get your thanks soon.” Féilim’s sigh sounded as though this was familiar. “I’ll make sure she says it to ye before that taxi takes ya to Breifne tomorrow.”

“She’d better,” the Gabite grumbled, before getting up. “Gonna train for a bit. Yann, you up for a few rounds?”

“Not right away. There’s something I wanna do first,” Yannick said.

His eyes then fell on Arian. “Can we talk for a bit? Alone?”

“Uh, sure.” The Riolu couldn’t hide the apprehension in his voice. “Guess we’ll meet in a bit, Elvira and Yuliya.”

“I’d like to rest after that journey,” Elvira said. “That was quite a trek.”

“At least we’re safe from Mitrofan’s forces here.” Yuliya was relieved. “I doubt he’d chase us into Alban territory.”

“And if he did, I’d get that Silver Armour fecker to bugger off meself!” Féilim was saying. “If that heap of rust comes knockin’…”

His voice faded out as Arian left the room with Yannick.

“I’m not gonna pummel you to bits, don’t you worry,” Yannick said. “Just wanna talk.”

“Talking? You could’ve surprised me,” Arian muttered. “I thought Albans were all about fists over words.”

“Hey, we’re more diplomatic than that!” the Hakamo-o objected. “Well, some of us are. Anyway,” he said, surveying the lounge room they’d ended up in. “This should be good enough.” He sat down on a nearby chair, Arian following suit.

“So,” he began. “You and your partner are both glum as anything. Something got you down?”

“Well…” Arian was reluctant to divulge.

“Come on. You can trust me,” Yannick assured. “I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

There was a soft tenderness from the dragon that Arian hadn’t been expecting. It prompted him to give an answer.

“I don’t know if Elvira and I are cut out for this,” he said. “Just feels like we’ve been on a losing streak lately…”

“Oh, loser’s blues. I’ve seen that plenty of times. I wouldn’t worry too much,” Yannick assured. “You’ll bounce back before long.”

“But it’s always been this way,” Arian moped. “Ever since Elvira and I formed a team, it’s always felt like we’ve needed somebody else’s help to win. Like with Yuliya back there. And that’s when we do win. Other times we’ve barely escaped with our lives.” He shuddered, thinking back to the confrontation at Rusalka. “We shouldn’t be here. We’re not strong enough. Our Alban friends are much stronger than us.”

“Alban friends?” Yannick’s attention was piqued.

“Yeah. They’re a team of three. Ishmael, Axel and Lillian of Team Sandstream. I know Axel’s dad objected, but they’d be much better at this job than us. But they can’t come up.” Arian was despondent. “Because Mitrofan’s forces nearly drowned them.”

“What?” The dragon immediately stiffened.

“Yeah. Elvira and I would’ve drowned ourselves if not for the help of someone else.” The Riolu shivered, thinking back. “We really cut it close, and Team Sandstream cut it even closer than we did.”

“Team Sandstream, huh? …What tír were they from?”

“Oh, er…” Arian thought back. “Oiriall, I think it was.”

“Oiriall?” A frown crossed Yannick’s face. “Hmmm…”

“What is it, Yannick?” Arian asked. Admittedly, he was a tad curious about this place that Team Sandstream were said to hail from.

“Nothing. Don’t worry your head about it.” Yannick looked away slightly. “Let’s just say Oiriall hasn’t had the best reputation in recent years.”

“Huh, really?” That doesn’t sound good…

“Yes. But we’re getting off-topic a bit,” Yannick said. “You’re moping because you’re not strong enough? You’re up against a ruthlessly powerful dictator and his men. Honestly, you should be counting yourself lucky that you’re still alive. I’d say that’s a victory in itself. As for losing against En and me, we’re Platinum Rank. And you’re…what, exactly?”

“Bronze.”

“See? Big difference. And En and I train a ton. If we lost to rookies like you, no offence, that would be quite embarrassing for us. It would certainly damage our reputation among our peers back in Breifne. Though…we still lost to Yuliya.” He looked at his curled right fist. “I see I still have a ways to go.

“But whatever. Know this, Arian. I’m on your side. All that stuff you’ve been going on about in Selenia, with Silver Armour Mitrofan going after Guild mercs…I don’t agree with that at all. I stand for us mercenaries, and so does En. She might be grumpy, but she’ll warm up to you, don’t worry. And I’m sure once we tell our rí and tánaiste, they’ll be on your side too.”

“Rí and tánaiste…” Weird names these guys have for their leaders.

“Anyway, I think that’s everything. I’m your ally: I’m not gonna punch you in the back.” Yannick went to leave, but stopped before opening the door. “You’re too interesting for that.”

“Interesting?” That intrigued Arian. “How am I interesting?”

“Just something about you. I bet most Albans would be excited at your partner being Fernblade Kallias’s kid. But they’d probably overlook you. If you want my honest opinion…I reckon you’re the jewel on your team.”

“Am I?” Somehow, the Riolu couldn’t bring himself to believe that.

“Yeah. There’s some untapped potential in you that could come out with a bit of training. And hey, as a fellow fistfighter, I’d be happy to help there.” Yannick gave a toothy smile. “You want a training session, give me a shout.”

“…I’ll consider it,” Arian replied. That might be worth a shot. “Thanks, Yannick.”

“Anytime.” And with that, Yannick left the room.

 

 

---

 

 

The dragon made his way to the training area. He’d kept Enfys waiting for too long, and he didn’t want to slack on training on his own end. Besides, it’s a great excuse for food afterwards. Even if I did just eat…

“Scaleshield Yannick, ya there?”

“Hm?” Yannick was snapped out of his thoughts, and looked ahead. Féilim was standing in front of him. “Oh, hello, Chief Mac Mánais. Did you need something?”

“I do need a wee favour from ya,” the Scrafty said. “That wean with ye. The Riolu. Arian, was it?”

“Yeah, that’s his name. What about him?”

“Well…”

The Chief of Mumhain beckoned him closer and whispered something to him.

Once he’d whispered his plan and went away, Yannick blinked in surprise at the Scrafty’s request.

Huh…Guess I’m not the only one who saw something in him.

 

 

---

 

 

The afternoon went on, and with it, the blazing heat intensified. Enfys and Yannick weren’t bothered enough by the heat to not train. But it was far too hot to train for the Selenians, so they sojourned in the Chief’s residence, trying to beat the heat. Unfortunately, the taxi wasn’t due to arrive until the next day, so that left them with little to do but read the books in Féilim’s study.

Arian was admittedly surprised at the Mumhain chief’s collection. But then he reminded himself that being a battle-hardened warrior didn’t mean they couldn’t appreciate literature.

And so they passed the day by reading. Arian and Elvira engrossed themselves in books about Ardalion’s history, while Yuliya delved into a book of fiction. The hours ticked by as the trio flicked through pages, new information gleaned by each of them.

This was especially so for Arian, and he was voicing his findings to Elvira when they had a moment alone.

“That was quite interesting what we were reading,” he said. “Five heroes, and a Tyrant King, who was backed by an evil dragon. What was its name again?”

“Giratina the Renegade,” Elvira said.

“Yes, that was his name.” Arian recalled that name, as well as the illustration in the book. It was a grey, black and red serpentine dragon with tendrils. He recalled it being depicted in Iria Cathedral as well.

“So five hundred years ago, this evil tyrant ruled over all of Ardalion with an iron fist. He was a Tyranitar, and worshipped Giratina the Renegade, bringing his chaotic influence into our world and threatening its very existence. But five heroes, backed by Arceus’s power, rose up against him and overthrew him, sealing away Giratina in the process. Then each hero formed their own country out of the lands that the Tyrant King once controlled. Is that right?”

“Yes,” Elvira said. “That’s correct.”

“And then there were the Five Heroes. There were Ruslan, Riagán, Padavona, Metaxas and Aesir. Each became the leader of each of the countries they founded. And those are the countries that make up Ardalion today.”

“Yes. And our leaders are directly descended from the heroes. Prince Leonid, who we’re looking for, is a descendant of the hero Ruslan. The house he founded is named in his honour.”

“…So it must be quite something for someone to overthrow that dynasty, huh?”

“…It is. Mitrofan disrupted a long-standing order that kept Selenia together by killing Tsar Kliment. Now that bloodline is left only in one person.”

“It’s still alive, though. That’s the most important thing,” Arian reminded.

“Of course.”

Elvira was about to continue, but the door knocked before she could get her words across. She got up and answered the door, where Yuliya stood.

“Elvira. Arian,” she greeted. “Chief Mac Mánais wants us to go to the town’s training grounds.”

“Training grounds?” Arian cocked his head. “Why there?”

“I do not know. But Enfys and Yannick are headed there too,” Yuliya went on. “I think we should too. Now that evening’s beginning, it is cooler out.”

“Thank God,” murmured Arian. “I’d burn up if I spent a minute more out there.”

“We should go, then.” Elvira went to fetch her scarf, Arian and Yuliya doing the same. Once they were all prepared, they began to head out of the building.

“So what was that book you were reading, Yuliya?” Arian wondered, as they walked down the hallway.

“It was an adventure romance novel about a Dewott and a Quilava,” Yuliya replied. “They form a team together and attempt to avoid manipulation by greater powers. It’s really quite sweet at times, and I’m enjoying it so far! I wonder if I can find it elsewhere so I can keep reading.”

“Oh, I know that one. We have it at home,” Elvira said. “Yeah, I liked it a lot too when I read it. You should read it sometime, Arian. Actually, hmm…” She looked as if she was considering something.

“Hm? Elvira?” Arian tilted his head, as they headed out of the residence and into the rays of the sun again.

“…Oh, it’s nothing. I’ll tell you some other time.” Elvira cast a glance over at the entrance, where Team Scalebreaker were waiting for them. “We have places to be right now.” She turned her attention to the dragons. “Good evening, you two.”

“Evening, Elvira,” Yannick returned. “And you too, Arian and Yuliya.”

“Hmph. Didn’t see any of you training,” Enfys said, unimpressed. “Gotta keep vigilant if you want to stay on top of us Albans.”

“Let them be, En,” Yannick said. “They can rest if they want. They’re not our responsibility, anyway. It’s up to them what they do here.”

“Tch. They can laze around for all I care. But if you all are serious about overthrowing your cruel leader, then you gotta get better. You two especially.” She pointed to Team Elpis. “If you can’t defeat us, then what hope do you have of defeating that hunk of rust?”

“B-But…” Arian’s excuse died at his lips, realising full well the Gabite had a point. He looked away glumly, Elvira doing the same.

“Never mind about that,” Yannick said. “What’s say we go watch some fighting in the town’s training grounds?”

“Wait…But doesn’t the Chief want to meet us there?” Arian said, confused.

“He does. To watch the matches. Sorcha’s participating in them.”

“Ohh.” Arian understood.

“Anyway, let’s not keep the Chief waiting.” The dragons started down the path, with Team Elpis and Yuliya trailing behind.

They headed back into town, crossing the bridge over the parched Istwyth. All tried to avert their eyes, but it was too grim not to look. The stream that grew into the nation’s mighty river was now nothing more than a trickle. That hit it home for them, that whatever hot weather Selenia experienced, it was nothing compared to what Alba had to deal with.

Moreover, though cooler now that evening was beginning to settle, the sweltering heat persisted, much to Arian’s disapproval.

“Urgh…” He wiped his brow. “It’s still so hot…”

“It’s not as bad now, at least,” Yuliya said. “Even so…it is far from pleasant.”

“Better get used to it,” Enfys sneered. “Breifne’s not much cooler. You have a bit of a sea breeze there, but that’s about it.”

“Hmm…Strange.” Yannick peered down at Arian. “You’re not panting like most other canine ‘mons do in this kind of heat.”

“…What?” Arian was puzzled, until it occurred to him. It’s normal for dogs to pant when they’re hot. Oh…Oh no.

“That is true,” Yuliya noted. “That is odd that you don’t pant, Arian.”

“Er…” The Riolu scrambled for an excuse. Crap! Can’t let them know I’m human, can’t let them know I’m human! “Um, I-I wasn’t raised by Riolu!” he blurted. “I mean Lucario!”

Team Scalebreaker looked at him strangely.

“Why so jumpy?” Yannick wondered. “It’s not like orphans don’t exist in this world.”

“Y-Yeah, that’s it,” Arian said. “I’m an orphan. My parents aren’t here anymore…” He looked down, emulating sadness.

“You didn’t have parents?” Yuliya was surprised. “This is news to me.”

“It’s understandable if you don’t want to talk about it,” Yannick said. “That can be tough.”

“…Yeah,” Arian murmured.

“I gotcha.” The Hakamo-o nodded. Arian then noticed what seemed to be a hint of familiarity in his eyes, coupled with…sadness?

Hm? What’s this about? Is this about ‘me not having parents’? Does…Does he not have any?

And as they marched on, Arian couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. Like there should have been something in that last conversation that wasn’t there.

Hold a minute… Looking over at Yannick’s partner, he noticed Enfys hadn’t spoken during that exchange. What was more, he could detect similar notes of despondence from her.

These two…Their emotions aren’t too different from each other. Did they both have rough childhoods or something?

His attention drifted away from that plight upon hearing the sounds of cheering and yelling.

“That sounds like a crowd,” he noted.

“It is,” Yannick confirmed. “Fight nights in Alban towns are popular. There’s always a big turnout for them. One of the best ways to build friendships are at these. Plus, some of them even serve food. Mmm…” He licked his lips. “I wonder if they’ll have anything this evening?”

“No guarantee of that, Yann,” Enfys reminded, rolling her eyes at her partner’s food fantasies.

They came to the training grounds entrance. Féilim and Eoghan were waiting for him there.

“There ye are!” the Scrafty exclaimed with delight. “I was gettin’ a wee bit worried ye’d lost yer way.”

“It’s not a big town,” Enfys snarked. “How could you get lost here?”

“Mm, it’s happened to some folks. ‘Specially the lot not from here. But anyhoo.” Féilim beckoned his hand. “Come in! We got seats for ye.”

The Mumhain chief and his husband walked the five through the crowd, past the outer reaches of the crowd. Luckily, they were quick to give away in recognition of their chieftain, which Arian was quite surprised to see. They really do respect him. Is this what Alban respect for strength is like?

As they walked past, some passersby began to murmur. Team Elpis quickly realised they were the subject of some of the whispering.

“Who are those guys?”

“I’ve never seen them around town before.”

“But I have seen them! Look, it’s Team Scalebreaker!”

“It is them! Scaleshield Yannick and Cutthroat Enfys! That’s them in the flesh!”

“Eeee! Look how handsome Scaleshield Yannick is!”

“I wanna be lifted up in those arms…”

What? Arian blinked at that last one. And was all the more shocked when the Hakamo-o winked back at the one who’d said it—a Charmeleon. Is Yannick flirting with them?

“We’re here to watch the games going on in here,” Yannick said to the crowd. “We want to see what rising stars are making waves. Who knows? If there’s some good ones, we might even recommend them for the Rí’s Guild in Breifne.”

That got the crowd excited, and they were full of chatter as the group of eight sat at where the Chief was sitting. A line of chairs were on a special dais, demarking his high status and one worthy to sit there with his specially invited guests.

“Team Scalebreaker have entered the audience!” an MC, a Crocalor, announced. “Hopefully that’ll make our matches more exciting for tonight! Our next entrants—be sharp! Victory on your part could mean an admission right to the Rí’s Guild itself!

“Now let’s meet our entrants! Sorcha versus Mainchín!”

A Scraggy and a Carkol took to the field. Both looked ready and prepared to fight. Anticipation took hold of the audience as the next match began with the announcer’s yell.

“Begin!”

Both Pokémon leapt at each other. Sorcha wasted no time getting into the thick of it, leaping at her opponent with a flying kick. Mainchín the Carkol tried to roll out of the way, but was too slow, and he received the brunt of the attack, to cheers from the audience. Quickly, Arian could discern the favourite of the crowd.

And as the match carried on, it became apparent who had the greater skill level. Sorcha ran rings around Mainchín, deftly dodging shards of stone and blasts of fire and countering with her own kicks and punches. Not long after the match had begun, it had ended, with the lump of coal laying on his back in defeat.

Sorcha smirked. “What’s the matter? Fallen and can’t get up?” she teased. “While you’re down, let me just make sure that victory’s mine…” She went over and gave him another kick for good measure.

The crowd cheered once again, except for where the Chief was sitting. All observers there watched grimly.

“W-Wait! What’s she doing?” Arian said.

“She shouldn’t do that!” Elvira was appalled. “Kicking someone while they’re down…”

“It’s most unchivalrous.” Yuliya looked upon the scene with contempt.

“Got that right,” Enfys growled. “No offence, Chief, but your daughter’s a piece of work.”

“En!” Yannick pleaded. “Sorry, Chief, she didn’t mean—”

“No, Cutthroat Enfys is right,” Eoghan interjected. “I’m sorry, my love, but I have to put my foot down here.”

“I hear you.” Féilim sighed. “…I suppose we’ll enact the plan now, will we, Yannick?”

“I guess so,” Yannick said. He looked back to the field, where Mainchín was carted off to be treated.

“And the winner of that round is our rising paragon, Sorcha!” the announcer cheered, putting his claws in Sorcha’s and holding their arms up high.

“Aw yeah!” the Scraggy cheered. “At this rate, the Guild’s a shoe-in!” She turned to where her father was sitting. “That good enough for you, Team Scalebreaker?!”

The audacity of this girl… Arian thought.

“Hmmm…Maybe.” Yannick put his claw to his chin thoughtfully. “Takes a bit more than that though, usually.”

“What?! Come on!” she cried. “I’ve been busting arses here all night long! Ain’t that true, Dad?”

“…I don’t deny you that, m’iníon,” Féilim said. “But how about a wee wager? Team Scalebreaker and I have got one more challenge for you.”

“Yeah? What?”

“Beat another challenger in battle. One that’s been specially nominated by them and me.”

“Name them. I can beat ’em no problem.”

Arian had been watching all of this tensely, wondering where this was going. He was half expecting another strong fighter from the town to take to the field, or perhaps Team Scalebreaker themselves.

He was completely unprepared for Yannick grabbing his arm and raising it in the air.

“We nominated Arian of Team Elpis to be your opponent!”

Shocked gasps carried across most of the crowd. But loudest of all…

“Me?!” Arian looked to the Hakamo-o, demanding an explanation.

“I know a fair amount of us have doubts about Selenians and their strength. So why not see that truth for our own eyes and nominate one of theirs?”

“Come off it!” Sorcha yelled. “I’m not challenging a Sel! They’re weak as shit!”

“If they’re weak as shit, you’d be able to take them on, no problem!” taunted Enfys. “What’s the matter? Can’t beat even one of them?”

“O-Of course I can!”

“Then duel him! A true Alban never backs down!”

“Wise words, Cutthroat Enfys.” Féilim’s voice was loud and clear. “I permit this to go ahead. Arian shall duel my daughter.”

“W-Wait!” Arian cried, before Yannick began to drag him towards the field. “Don’t I get a say in this?!”

“What Enfys said goes for you too, Arian,” Yannick said. “If you can’t beat Sorcha, you’ll have no hope of taking down your enemies at home.” He continued to drag the human towards the field. As Arian tried to wrestle free, he heard murmuring from the crowd.

“That Riolu’s a Sel?”

“Must be. He sure doesn’t look like one of us…”

“Look at him! He doesn’t wanna do this, does he?”

“Coward. He’s no Alban. A true Alban would be running up there and duking it out with Sorcha!”

Damn…I gotta go through with this, don’t I? Arian resigned himself to the fight as he was brought to the field.

“Hah! Do you really think you can beat me?” Sorcha’s snark drew him towards her.

“Not really like I have a choice,” Arian said.

“Coward!” Sorcha taunted. “Come on, let me fight someone who actually wants to do this!”

“Fight her!” a voice in the crowd demanded.

“Fight!” another voice joined in.

“Fight!”

“Fight!”

“Fight!”

A chorus soon developed. Arian looked around him, and was shocked. Just about everyone in the crowd was yelling for a fight to go down. Enough that it made him weigh it up.

Backing down would be suicide. If I do that in front of all these people, I can kiss any hope of winning them over goodbye. But…I’m not strong enough…

“You can do it, Arian!”

That voice…Elvira?

He saw his partner, shooting a determined look his way as encouragement. Yuliya, next to her, did much the same.

They want me to win…But can I?

“Hey! Eyes over here, Sel!” Sorcha’s yelling turned his attention back to her. “You gonna fight me or what, you coward?”

“…You calling me a coward?” He’d ignored her previous comments, but now it was getting personal.

“Sure am!” Sorcha stuck her tongue out at him. “Sels are as pathetic as they come!”

This was an opinion shared by others in the audience.

“Yeah! Sels are a bunch of pushovers!”

“This’ll be open and shut. No way a Sel’s gonna beat one of our own.”

“My gran could beat a Sel to a pulp and that lady’s old with arthritis!”

Arian’s heart sank at all the jeering and derision from the audience. Wh-Why is it like this? Why do they hate us? Why do they hate me?

“Why do they hate me? What did I ever do to them?”

Arian wasn’t sure, but something about that phrase sounded familiar. Like he’d said it a million times before.

“I’m not weak!” he cried out.

“Then prove it, you wimp!”

And straight away, she leapt at him. Arian had no time to react before she kicked him square in the gut.

“Oof!” He was knocked flat. “H-Hey, the match hasn’t started yet!”

“You dawdled! So I’m starting it now!” fumed Sorcha. “Come on! Get up!” She kicked him in the side.

“Agh!” Pain filled the Riolu’s side. At that moment, he felt something welling up within him, like an emotion he couldn’t suppress.

I’m fed up with this. I’m not weak, and I’ll prove it to them!

He blocked Sorcha’s incoming kick and socked her in the stomach.

“Agh!” the Scraggy cried.

He got back to his feet while she reeled from his blow. Balling his fists, he got into a battle stance. Loose and fleet-footed, just like Galen taught me.

“You got a lucky hit,” Sorcha said. “But let’s see you dodge this!” She rushed towards Arian, a dark energy coating her fist. The Riolu saw her come closer…

…And just before she struck, he feinted to the right, and punched her in the side.

“Urgh! Screw you!” Sorcha hit back with a kick, to cheers from the audience.

“Gh!” Arian gritted his teeth. He ran towards her, and readied a fist flurry.

But as he got close, Sorcha suddenly dived at him. Before Arian even realised what was happening, she’d grabbed his right foot, which made him lose his footing and fall to the ground.

“Agh!” he cried. But before he could get back up, the Scraggy kicked him hard in the stomach.

“Hah! Take that, Sel!” she taunted. “I’ll kick your spineless ass back home!” She emphasised this by kicking him again and again, and again, much to her supporters’ delight.

“Go get ‘im, girl!”

“That’s our Sorcha!”

“Go home, mutt! We don’t need weakling Sels in here!”

Arian heard the disparagement of some of the crowd. That contempt and disdain for him…he felt it come out more prevalently. He was an interloper in a foreign land, showing this pride of village what was what.

Strength earns respect…Well, I’ll just have to win this then, won’t I?

He blocked an incoming kick from the Scraggy. Then he grabbed it, and shoved her away. He dashed forward and slammed his trademark Force Palm at her.

“Ergh! Ow, that hurt!” whined Sorcha.

“Have some more, then!” Arian punched her again, twice, before kicking her in her midsection. Sorcha jumped out of the way, but he chased her down.

He had to admit, there was something cathartic to it all. Maybe I can win! Encouraged, he leapt at her and kicked her in the side.

“Grr! Take this!” Dark energy coated Sorcha’s fist and she punched Arian hard with it.

“Urgh!” Arian was thrown backward, forcing him to cease his assault. He knew that dark energy; he’d seen it with Galen before. Payback…Guess I got too greedy. Ow, that smarts…

At least he’d worn her down some more. But victory wasn’t assured yet.

I can win this. I can. I just gotta persist!

“Fate is on your side. Believe in yourself, first and foremost.”

Hm? That voice… It sounded like it was in his head. What was that? Who was that?

But he couldn’t answer those questions just yet, for Sorcha was coming in for more.

“Damn you, Sel!” Her fists coated with dark energy again. “Just give up!” She thrusted a punch at him, grazing his side.

“No way in hell!” Arian retaliated with a roundhouse kick, Yannick’s callout in the last fight coming back to him. Gotta mix it up. Can’t be the same all the time.

Sorcha was on the back foot now. But she was far from giving up. She leapt at Arian, who was expecting a punch or kick.

He wasn’t expecting the sudden blow to his head as she headbutted him hard.

“Gaaaah!” he cried. That one hurt more than normal, and he couldn’t resist a small wave of nausea and dizziness at the blow. He dived to his left, dodging Sorcha’s follow-up palm thrust.

I can’t lose! Not here. Not while victory’s in reach…!

“In extremis, your power is at its greatest. You must tap into it.”

That voice made him stop for a moment. But a moment was enough for Sorcha to slam a punch into his gut.

“Gh!” That blow took the air out of him. “N-No…!”

“You’ll never win, Sel!” Sorcha taunted. “Watch, everyone! I’m gonna finish his sorry ass off!”

“Do it!”

“Finish him!”

“Fate is on your side. Victory will be yours if you believe in the power within you.”

Power…? I need that power right now. I can’t lose!

Sorcha dashed forward, intent to finish her opponent off. As she approached, Arian felt a sudden surge of energy within his paws. The power was coming to him.

“Hi-yah!”

Arian thrusted his paws forward. To the shock of him and everyone else watching, a wave of blue fire shot out of his paws. Sorcha took the full brunt of the attack, and screamed as she was knocked back into a Lickilicky spectator.

That power! It came back! Looking down, he could see that his paws were aglow with that same energy back in Rusalka. Right when I needed it, too.

By the looks of his opponent, he wouldn’t need it either. Sorcha had been completely knocked flat by his attack. She was trying hard to get up, and the MC was gauging her to see if she would get up.

“…It looks as though Sorcha Nic Mhánais, our Chief’s daughter, has fallen to her Selenian opponent.” he eventually proclaimed, as stunned as everyone else. “The winner for this match is…Arian from Selenia!”

The crowd went wild with disbelief.

“That Sel beat Sorcha?!”

“No! It can’t be! He cheated! He had to have!”

“Look at his arms, the way they’re glowing! That’s not normal!”

“That some Sel magic or what?”

“Rematch! This time, fair and square!”

“I’ll beat that Sel myself if I gotta!”

Remarks like this were yelled by a portion of the spectators. Those demanding a duel with the Riolu probably would’ve done so themselves, were it not for the intervention of another.

Their chieftain, specifically. He got up from his dais in the midst of this furore, and silenced the crowd with one word.

“Ciúnas!”

That quietened the spectators, who looked at Féilim nervously.

“A fair duel was had today. And Arian from Selenia was the victor. I, as Sorcha Nic Mhánais’s father, decree this. You will hear no bias from me.” He walked over to where his daughter had gotten to her feet.

“D-Dad? Why are you saying that? You’re saying I lost to him?” She pointed at Arian. “A Sel like him?”

“Yes, Sorcha. Arian was simply the more powerful one. You were slackin’.” Féilim shook his head. “Don’t lie to me again, m’iníon. Ya didn’t train at all, didja?”

The Scraggy looked away, not answering her father. The silence told him the answer.

“…We’ll talk later.” Féilim turned back to Arian. “Congratulations on winnin’, Arian.”

“I knew you could do it!” Elvira had come down from the chief’s dais, followed by Yuliya and Team Scalebreaker.

“You certainly proved yourself well there,” Yuliya complimented. “I can see why Guildmaster Melchior puts faith in you.”

“I had a feeling you’d pull through.” Yannick looked down at him. “Knew there was something more about you.” He pointed to Arian’s arms, which were still glowing, albeit less so.

“Hey!” Enfys, however, didn’t address him, but the crowd. “Call yourselves Albans? We respect victors in this country! So shut up with your cheating talk! That was fair and square, and you know it!”

Arian blinked in surprise. Did Enfys just defend me? Th-That is the same Gabite, right?

“Told you she’d come around,” Yannick said. “She’s grumpy, but she recognises strength when she sees it.”

“I heard that, Yann.” Enfys walked over and lightly jabbed his arm scales. “Don’t talk shit about me again.”

“Sorry, sorry. Anyway, Chief. Looks like that gamble of yours paid off, eh?”

“It did.” Féilim nodded. “It was interestin’. Been a while since we saw a Selenian fighting here in town.”

“Gamble?”

“Chief Mac Mánais said if you fought in here and won, then the ride home to Breifne in the morning would be on the house,” Yannick elaborated. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Hold on.” Elvira frowned. “Were you betting on Arian winning?”

“Yes. And it paid off. You get a ride to Breifne, we get that ride for free, and Sorcha got a lesson the true Alban way – through losing a duel. Everyone wins!”

“Speaking of which.” Eoghan looked at his daughter. “There’s something you have to say to the Selenians, isn’t there, Sorcha?”

Sorcha looked over at the Selenians, and to Arian in particular. She breathed in, with a slight huff, and…

“Thanks for finding my torc. And…I accept defeat, Arian of Team Elpis.” The last part, she sounded reluctant to admit.

But at least she said it, and that was a good first step.

“You’re welcome,” Arian said.

“Come on, Sorcha. Eoghan. Let’s get back to the house. It’s gettin’ late,” Féilim said, before turning to the other five. “That goes for ye, too. That taxi’ll be early.”

“Understood, Chief.” Yannick nodded. “Come on, gang. Let’s get some rest.”

The five followed the Mumhain chief out of the training grounds, onto the quiet streets. Night had set in, and with it, the desert chill returned.

The Selenians shivered. At least, they’d be inside for tonight.

 

 

---

 

 

“Did ya see that? The Chief really just done accepted him as the winner…”

“Well, if the Chief says it, it’s to be respected. Besides, I don’t think that Riolu engaged in foul play at all.”

“What was that kid’s name?

“Arian, I think. He’s got some strength in him, that boy.”

Chatter like this persisted among the spectators in the aftermath of the duel between Arian and Sorcha. As they milled out of the training grounds to pubs or their houses, what had gone down in the duel stuck in their minds.

Particularly so, in the eyes of one cloaked quadruped who’d watched the whole match.

They didn’t seem to be affiliated with any of the townsfolk. Some gave them odd looks, but no one thought any more of them.

The cloaked figure dispersed from the rest of them after the match. They headed along the path to the Chief’s residence, and ducked into an alleyway just before the Istwyth bridge.

They peered over at the group of eight walking down the path.

Of the eight, their focus was directed on Arian.

Their eyes glowed a golden colour once again.

“…He is beginning to grasp his power. Now he is one step closer towards realising what lies within…”