Chapter 7, in which I have tea with the Emolga

I was… flooded with thoughts, to say the least. It was an odd turn of events, and once more, everything seemed contradictory. I was certain this was some form of human fiction at the very beginning — the thought of one being brought to another world in another body was a rather ridiculous idea, and made it very clearly fiction. Arceus’ presence in this journal could then be explained by the fact that there had never been a Pokémonless center of humanity, and the god was merely included because fiction exploring divinity could be fascinating. Even the mention of the Exploration Guild gave me little pause, as they were merely common words — and coincidences do happen. Everything seemed to line up.

It was by the entry on the 3^rd of April that this explanation began to break down again. Mention of Brilliant Town and of Mystery Dungeons were beginning to be rather specific — a little too similar to modern times. Even though these were still all plain words, it was a bit unsettling — especially given Brilliant Town was closest to Verdant Town.

To some extent, I was inclined to disbelieve the journal due to the passive reactions — I would have expected much stronger disbelief, fear, and the like from one who had experienced such a change as in the journal. However, the more I thought on this, the more the muted reactions made sense — the journal was not a live recording of her mental state, and all that made its way in had already been mulled over and thought out. A live reaction just simply couldn’t find its way into a journal.

In any case, I found myself at the door, and I opened it to find yesterday’s Emolga once more.

“Oh, well met!” I greeted.

“…uh… hi,” she replied. “I… just wanted to thank you for saving my life earlier. I, uh, don’t think I did that before. So thanks.”

“I try my best to be a good person.” I moved sideways from the doorway to show her in. “Do come in for a cup of tea.”

I was in no rush, and it is always nice to get to know a new face in town. The Emolga seemed to be caught a little aback by my suggestion. After a little, she finally answered.

“…uh, yeah, sure, I guess. I don’t have a lot of time, though.”

“Of course, make yourself comfortable.”

While she strode in, and found her way to a couch I had in my living room, I headed just outside the door and plucked some mint leaves from a plant just there. I returned within, mint in hand, to make my way to the kitchen, just opposite the couch where the Emolga had sat.

As I searched for my flint to prepare a fire for the tea, she chose to make conversation.

“I, uhhh… forgot your name, sorry. What was it?”

“I don’t think I told you. It’s Ida. And you?”

“Anna,” she replied, as she took up a more comfortable posture.

I must admit, it is much harder to face reality than speculation. It is rather intimidating to realise you’ve met someone who might be able to explain history as it truly was, and much worse to realise they might be needed to save the world.

My mind was racing. Surely this could not be the same Anna — Pokémon names were, now and then, derived from human names. They were rarer, without being ridiculous — such names were of some interest to parents. Clearly, that was what had happened, and her amnesia explained all her other oddities. Surely.

Because if Anna was truly a human in the flesh… well, to put it lightly, I did not want to consider the implications at the time.

And with wilful ignorance in tow, I’d set up a little wood and some kindling, and after a few strikes with the steel, a spark had finally caught. As I put a pot of water to boil, I returned to Anna to speak with her a little more.

“So, how have you been in recent times?”

“Bad. …very bad.” She leaned her head into her arms in a dejected manner.

“Unfortunate to hear. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“…no, no, it’s just… something I lost. Someone… else… is helping me find it.”

“What is it?” I asked. “Perhaps I might look for it too — the more eyes the better.”

“No, it’s private…” She then added, as though remembering a fact she’d nearly forgotten — “It’s going to, uhhh, help with my… amnesia.”

This was so painfully obviously a lie that the only reason I hesitated to call it out was the Emolga’s unease and downcast mannerisms — it was clear she was far out of her element, as it were.

“Well, I won’t pry. Hopefully, your item is recovered.”

“Thanks.” Her relief was immediately visible, and it only made me all the more curious as to what she was hiding from me.

I did, however, choose to pull up a new conversation topic.

“What happened to you after Arc brought you to the Guild? They were helpful, I presume?”

“…uhh, they tried, I guess. They gave me a room to sleep in and they’re giving me food, but…” She trailed off, and with a sigh, she dropped her head into her arms.

“…but?”

“They can’t just let me live there so I have to find a job.”

“Surely that shouldn’t be too hard?”

Another sigh — “It’s not… but…”

She was taking a moment to ponder how best to answer. In the meantime, the water had begun boiling, so I tossed in the mint. Its overpowering scent was quick to take over the room.

“…it’s just, they need me to fly? And I’ve… forgotten… how to do that.” She relaxed a little, as she reached the end of the sentence, before remembering — “Because of the amnesia, right, that’s why I forgot.”

“Will they not teach you?”

“They said they’re already doing a lot for me, but if I can’t figure anything out, they’ll have to kick me out,” she answered, her exasperation at the prospect evident. “God, I hate bureaucracy.”

“Well, I say you shouldn’t worry too much. There are a lot of good people in Verdant Town, and I’m certain they wouldn’t be the type to leave you homeless and hopeless,” I stated.

I was rather surprised when Anna’s reaction to my statement was some mix of fear and bewilderment.

“No, no, I can’t!” she said, raised voice, in a panic. “I need to be with the Guild, I have to, it’s important! I just want to go ba—” She interrupted herself, realising she’d said more than she intended.

“It’s just an alternative,” I stated, raised hands, pretending to be oblivious to her outbreak.

And then, under her breath, I heard her say:

“I don’t want to die here…”

The tea was about ready, so I took the pot off the fire, and poured the tea into two cups. I put one down in front of Anna, and as I did so, I warned: “Be careful, it’s still hot.”

My curiosity of the strange Emolga was reaching its peak. Just what was she hiding? Her amnesia was awfully selective — she knew of towns and the Guild, but not of moves and berries. Her movements were odd — decidedly less pronounced than any other Pokémon of her proportions — and her exclamation of “God” was certainly off-putting. Most would call to a specific god, usually Arceus — that is, if they even did, abandoned as we were.

Of course, as I’d told myself many times before, she was clearly in distress. It would do me little good to break her trust in me, fragile as it was — I’d have a better chance of finding answers if I helped her. And deep down, I begged for my initial assumption of her humanity to be incorrect.

In any case, my warning to the Emolga was promptly ignored as she tried a sip of the tea, burnt herself, and said:

“It’s good. But… hot.”

“I did warn you.”

We sat a little in silence — I, lost in thought on the many new threads I’d found, from the journal, to what curiosities I’d noticed in Anna’s behaviour; Anna, awfully deep in some mental mire, trying to find a way out of her situation.

Eventually, she asked:

“What do you do? As a job, I mean.”

“I’m a historian.”

“There’s… history, here? Uh… never mind, of course there would be.”

Despite the odd offhanded remark, I immediately latched onto the opportunity to share my knowledge of history. I was impassioned by it, enamoured by it, and I would not let such an opportunity slide.

“Yes — in fact, why don’t I explain the Great War to you? Briefly, of course. It doesn’t do to forget our past.”

“Uh, ok.”

“See, over a millennium ago Pokémonkind was not united as it is now, but rather divided in two. There were two big countries, named Vie and Mors. Vie, before it took on the name of the continent as it does now, referred to the northern region — mostly lush, with much greenery, plants, and the like. Most Pokémon who lived there were of the typings who need such things — Grass types, Water types, so on and so forth.

“On the other hand, Mors was a much drier, much more arid region further south. They were mostly comprised of typings that could go longer times without food and water, such as Ground types and Rock types.

“Of course, when the Morites came to discover what was Vie, they were jealous, as they didn’t want to need to scrounge for berries and water, and in the year 13 ante finem belli, 756 years ago, the Great War started between the two countries.”

Anna, caught in my story, asked:

“Ante finem belli?”

“Yes, I believe it’s Latin for ‘before the end of the war.’ I’m sure you realise — this war was so important our entire date system is based on it.”

Anna was completely confused. However, I hadn’t noticed, because I was far too passionate about history to notice my surroundings.

“It came to last just about thirteen years, even with divine involvement. When it finally ended, it was not because of any treaty, or any peace, it was because Kyogre had gone too far and flooded Mors.”

“Kyogre?” she asked, once more. “Is that someone important?”

“God of the Oceans and of Water types. …that amnesia certainly struck you hard.”

“Yeah… I guess.” A small pause ensued, during which the Emolga looked down pensively. She then looked back up, and asked: “…what happened next?”

“Right — all of the Morites had to flee to Vie. The citizens of Vie, who had only been defending their homeland from Mors’ attack, were surprised at how far Kyogre had gone, and accepted their opponents — though, the merging of the two nations was still… strenuous, at best.

“It was at this time Cordelia City was founded, named after Cordelia Leafeon, who had been one of the more just heroes of the gods, named by Arceus himself.”

Anna went wide-eyed.

“Hero?”

“Yes, she was chosen by Arceus, and was lent a lot of divine aid — she had a lot of powers marked in history that were simply impossible otherwise. I believe Arceus’ stance on the war was to ensure peace as quickly as possible. Cordelia was tasked with raising a small mixed army of Vians and Morites to fight at some key locations — they tried to ensure no side ever got an advantage. Cordelia later died in Kyogre’s floo— are you all right?”

While I rattled off my incredibly summarised description of Cordelia, I noticed Anna had begun trembling.

“…I… I-I…” Incredibly quickly, she got up from her seat. “Thanks for the tea, I have to go—”

She looked on the verge of tears, but before I could comment on anything, or even react in the slightest, she had already run out the door, leaving behind her half-drank cup of tea.

The implications were clear — this was the same Anna. And yet, doubt still nagged at my mind — wilful ignorance is a powerful thing — so I did the only thing I could to relieve it. The journal still beckoned for me, and as I returned to its entrancing pages, I pulled up my translation notes once more, ready to crush the last of my doubts.