Date: 15th June 1989
Fehahra was beautiful in the summer. It was so peaceful before the incident at Marsten Hall. The wind was always blowing through the greenery. It waved to the trees as it blew past. Soon the answer to the half-moon on the night of the Marsten Hall massacre would reveal itself. As soon as the full-moon rose in fact. Henceforth it would reveal a solution to the problem of the erupted tensions between the two regions of the North and South. It would take much longer however, for the seeds of the solution to grow into a flower and blossom into a thing of beauty. The berries on the trees were starting to ripen. They were plump and looked so delicious it was impossible not to pick one. As the boys creeped past the bushes by the lake Lioa couldn't help but take a few.
The creamy full-moon was only four days away. There were very few street Lampent. They would hover above the ground at two metres up. Their black body was smooth. Their oval face was clear with their beady yellow eyes with no pupils inside. A purple flame which danced ran through their oval face. So soon Fehahra would buzz with the vibrant moonlight. The cobble paving in Fehahra was old and dusty. It was a grey sandy colour and it looked cold.
The houses they hovered by were small for the most part like most of the houses in Fehahra. They were stone bricked and rather claustrophobic. The town was pretty flat. There were a few ways into Fehahra, the first was the wooden bridge over the waterfall which was connected to the river that flowed through the town. The wooden bridge was tied together using rope. The drop was sheer and sickly. The water was a green murky colour. Following the river east would lead towards the second way into Fehahra. On the eastern side of Fehahra a cobblestone-dirt mixed route led further east. The final way into Fehahra was lost in the midst of time. It was buried under the ground. The first Elite Lord of the North was said to have been born in Fehahra and he had a tunnel constructed which only a few of his Lord Elite Guards knew about. No one speaks of it anymore, most probably because no one knows where it is. How can I claim to have seen such things? My dear off-islanders, I can see everything with my aura. Please don't be alarmed.
Andrew squinted his eyes to see the spire of the house of worship for those who follow Cresselia and Darkrai alike. It was situated near the northern edge of Fehahra at the top of the one hill. It stood as a grand building. It had four long twisty pillars cut out of Wailord bones. They were engraved with glorious patterns and painted a quartz-white. They stood holding the balcony with its white stone floor and curvy fences. The brick was also pained a quartz white. It looked like powdered snow from far away. The bricks were smooth and comforting on the outside. Only when you pushed past the light wooden doors could you see the true beauty of the building. The walls were painted in colours of old. Their patterns were intrinsic to those of either household. They swirled and darted into each colour.
The left side of the building was dedicated to those who followed Cresselia, and the right to those who followed Darkrai. In the middle of it all stood a solid silver statue of what Giratina was rumoured to look like. It had a face with a sharp beak and four stumpy legs. Upon its stumpy legs its bug like body rested before it strained up in the form of a neck to hold its large head. The floor on which the statue stood was a cream concrete. It looked as inviting as whipped cream on a hot summer's day. The glass window was the only window. It was large and circular. Its stained glass colours reflected the light in such a manner that anyone who walked into the building couldn't help but feel as if the tides of fate were looking down on them and smiling.
The pillars on the inside were silver and reached up to the arched celling where the Chandelure of orange colour only floated. When leaving the building there was a single path to follow. It was cobble and twisted left and right back towards the town. At the end of the path stood the town hall. Its sandy brick walls were dented with sword marks and scratches from attacks of Pokémon from days of old. It had a clock in the centre of the four sandy brick pillars that guarded the arch way. Charizard heads were carved into the walls as a way of frightening off intruders. Inside the building was a sloped set of seats.
The covers on the seats were a woven fabric. They were a deep Northern green. Those with the poorest of backgrounds would sit at the back to avoid contact with those who were richer. The richest would sit closest to the stage. The stage was made from a carved wood. Spirals and carved images of the fiercest Pokémon battles lay on the edges. Every plank of wood was cut into a jigsaw shape and joined in perfect harmony with one another to illustrate the importance of unity in the North. The walls were covered by plain wooden planks to symbolise the simplicity of the average life of a Northern citizen.
Opposite the town hall stood a building of three floors. It reached over the pavement and created a bridge between itself and another building. The building on the right was new. Its windows were straight and consistent. Inside there were offices and a medical room underground and below that a jail with closed wall cells and rooms dedicated to solitary confinement. A place which was all too familiar to James, Lioa and Andrew. The building on the left was the town library. Every floor was coated in bookshelves for both fiction and non-fiction. By the exit the librarian's desk was set up. All the shelves were packed.
The literacy rate in the North was as small as fifteen percent compared to the South where it was a much higher eighty percent. The library floor was wooden with a red patterned rug in each room on each floor. Each book was registered electronically through a Metagross numerical system. Due to the intelligence of Metagross and Metang most technology was advanced beyond your world's technology at this point in time, however, it was only really accessible to the Elites. Most normal citizens were not allowed access to this technology as the Elites feared it may enable them to plot and plan to overthrow them.
Crouched by the door of one of the shops in the dark fourteen year old James Spitz was planning another one of his hair-brained schemes. Thirteen year old Kitiku Bryson was next to him. His ice-white shirt was glowing softly in the moonlight.
"James... why did I let you talk me into this?" He whispered. His left hand was resting against the sandy brick wall by the window. He feared the worst. Breaking the rules, to him, was obviously never going to end well. "If we get caught we will be hauled up in front of Charleston. That would be so... so bad... I mean I don't want to be arrested or thrown in jail or given a warning and have a mark against my name in my file... or executed or thrown in jail", he was sweating. The tropical heat wasn't the reason for it. He was so nervous. "It is okay for you to sneak around undetected. You are a normal height."
"Can you just shut up? Seriously, you can't stop complaining about jail or getting arrested or being executed. You can't even shut up for a few minutes while I am thinking!" James whisper-shouted. He tugged down on his brown blazer. "You know what? Why don't we just hand ourselves in? I have Sutton's number... we just have to shout "hey moron" and he will come running. Handing ourselves is the right thing to do, right? It isn't as if these people are monsters who have invaded our home and set a wild Charizard loose at Marsten Hall that killed my mother and ate your brother and then caused this entire conflict in which Mr Takui died fighting for us!" James hissed.
James had also grown, but not just in height. He had a massive emotional swelling which was building up, like a balloon that was being pumped with air and no one knew when it would burst. His heart was aching and waiting to breakdown into a waterfall of tears and a puff of smoke and rage. His friends looked at him.
He had let his mask slip. Usually he would conceal his feelings of sadness to appear strong in the eyes of others. He decided to let his anger guide his mission tonight. He pulled his chocolate brown blazer tight in order to hide his white button up shirt. Kitiku was shuffling a little and was looking down. "Okay, so here is the plan... Kitiku, you and Rusto will open the electronic door which those Southern soldiers supplied. Lioa and Ruskuo you will break open the ration crates. We are going to need all the strength of that Gurdurr of yours tonight! Andrew and Nutkio will be keeping watch. Any sign of anyone we beat them in battle and then run away as soon as possible. Okta and I will be ready to deal with any trouble." He smirked at the thought of being victorious.
"James? Aren't you scared? I am not scared. We are on our last warning though. Charleston, she cannot execute us. She doesn't have the power to... but the Elite Guards can. I am not scared. I just don't know if we should keep doing this. I miss my father just like you miss your mother and how Kitiku misses his brother... but honestly, can we really afford to risk being caught again?" Lioa was huddled behind Andrew and Kitiku. His shirt was torn at the top and his trousers were muddy. He brushed the hair from his face and then spoke, "How do you even plan on stopping us getting caught again?"
"I told you we will battle." A determined look crossed James' face. His teeth were gritted together. "This time it will be different. This time we will win." James, Andrew and Lioa were often unsuccessful in their mischief-making endeavours. "Besides, we won't get caught and after the festival I'll break into the offices and replace our records of so called bad behaviour with blank sheets." James had already had to do this thrice already. Charleston was starting to get suspicious, but her poor memory and high stress levels contributed to her ignoring the nagging thoughts in the back of her mind telling her she had done this before.
The first offence for minors, which in Coltar was anyone under the age of twenty-five (according to Southern law), was a simple talk. It was a straight forward solution. The objective was to scare offenders then and then and deter them from any further actions. This worked in around eighty percent of the cases. Warnings made getting jobs harder and resulted in rations being cut in half. The second offence usually resulted in a permanent mark being held against the rule breaker's name and more often than not, the offender would receive up to a week in jail or Southern service (in which the offender and their Pokémon would be forced to assist a member of the Southern forces in the town as well as have their rations permanently cut in half. The third offence – the final warning resulted in jail time and Southern service, a permanent cut of rations to a quarter and the Southern Guard would be alerted to your actions.
"I never get in these situations. I don't get in these situations because I don't break the rules... I don't even know why I am here. My father will kill me if he ever finds out. He will do worse to you James." Kitiku tried to back himself up. "I am going home. I am not getting arrested because of you." His voice was squeaking in places as he spoke. "I really don't want to die." Lioa shunted his friend forward. His eyes narrowed until his green eyes were black in the darkness. "I am just scared..." He sighed. "I will open the door and then I'm sneaking home before my father finds out." James nodded, somewhat disappointed with his friend's reaction.
"After you get home you better cover for me." James sighed. After losing his mother and step-father at Marsten Hall, Tak Bryson had offered sanctuary to him. James quickly learned that living under the Bryson household was hard. They were dirt poor. Tak Bryson, once a glorified and well decorated member of the Northern Elite Guard was now a simple labourer. His ocean blue eyes seemed tired and full of sorrow. His hair was smooth and combed flat. Its colour was jet black. It was obvious Kitiku had inherited his hair colour from his father.
He stood at 5ft 8 and was considered to be of average height and above average build. He had stubble but no beard and always attempted to look as presentable as possible. He worked ridiculously long hours. He worked every day without break 6:30 am until 8:30 pm. He claimed to only have one Pokémon, Oosho the Octillery. He feared his old profession would risk his family's safety, if ever the South should come. And come they did. He turned to the bottle. He was often sober despite the large quantities he would drink. His old injuries did not help his mood. He was convinced that if he was still a member of the Northern Elite Guard he could have defended Fehahra town. As it was, his injuries had forced his retirement. He had obtained them thirteen years before in a bloody battle with a Southern Guard. He and Oosho had fought bravely and were winning the battle. He never stated what caused the battle. Oosho was so precise with his hydro pump and the rain dance he would use would whip up a powerful storm. Whoever he had fought though was prepared for that.
In the end Tak did win the battle but at a cost. The Guard he had fought and driven a short-hand sword into his left shoulder and his Houndoom had chomped down on the wound as soon as the blade and been removed, just to reinforce the damage. The burn was agonising. Tak had cut the skin off where the burn was seeping through. The blade wound though was still prominent.
Tak often took his feeling of devastation out on his youngest and now only son. He was incredibly harsh when assessing Kitiku's performance. Often he referred to his shy, over-tall son as being broken or defective. James was aware of how it negatively affected Kitiku's confidence around people. Despite Tak's harshness he needed his son to be nothing more than an heir. He truly loved his son, even though his actions never seemed to carry a loving tone. He didn't believe in corporal punishment, unlike most families. After losing his eldest son – Pierre Tak Bryson – at Marsten Hall to the Charizard, he was even more sceptical about losing his second. Tak's image played in James' mind for a moment or so, and then he spoke. "Kitiku, do you trust me?"
"I think so..." He whispered. "Let's just get in, get out, get home and hope my father doesn't notice. Rusto can you shoot an electrical signal along the cables using charge? That was we can release the locking mechanism." His hands were shaking as he released his Klink, who whizzed around and made a sound similar to chirping. It had never been so excited at the prospect of being a rogue in the night. It wound up its small stubby body and started sparking small electric charges into the ends of the copper wires that were powering the door. The boys then waited patiently for the electric charge to pulse through the wires into the locking mechanism. Their hearts beating faster for every second they waited. The door clicked open. James shunted into it. The door budged just a little. It was enough to fit through. "I'm going home now. Let's just pray to Cresselia my father doesn't find out. I don't want to be caught. I certainly don't want to die." Kitiku slipped out of the queue that had formed and started to dart around. He was very conspicuous, a clear novice at being out after hours. Rusto was pretending to be some sort of super spy as he followed Kitiku. He whizzed around in a spectacular fashion. James squeezed his skinny body through the tiny gap he had created. Lioa, who had a slightly bigger build, had to give an additional shove to the door before being able to squeeze through. Andrew stood outside with Nutkio at his side. He was sweating because of the sweltering heat.
The Northern weather is for the most part skin burning temperatures during the spring and autumn. During the summer it is usually worse. During the winter, the temperature drops to snow cold. Of course, there were days of peculiarities in which the temperature would drop below freezing at any time of the year. No one knew why back then.
"Okay, we are in." James puffed a sigh of relief. The store opened up into one main room. The tenants were away for the week. The plain grey walls looked as if they were closing in. Lioa stepped heavily onto the wooden creaky floorboards. There was a product island in the middle. It was laced with all sorts of food goodies. However, the golden meats that were available on the shop floor were nothing in comparison to the crates.
James knew the crates were full of fresh berries which were perfectly ripe. His mouth watered just imagining their bitter taste. He also imagined the tender, full Qwilfish. Such a delicious dish. His stomach rumbled as he crept towards the window. He knelt down on the floor before giving a signal to Lioa. "Four-Seven-Two-Two-Seven!" He whispered. Lioa nodded. He released his Gurdurr from its poké ball. It bubbled out its battle cry as it thudded onto the floor. The shelves shook. The door wire cracked. The window shattered. Broken glass burst into all directions. James covered his face with his hands. He then looked around. He wasn't bleeding. The glass shimmered in its shards on the floor. "Did you have to do that?" James hissed. "Hurry up and break those crates!" Lioa nodded. He raised his left arm and pointed at the crates before giving a whispered command to Ruskuo. Ruskuo thumped across the floor. The glass shards were cracking under his feet. The floorboards squealed a creak in agony. Ruskuo swung angrily at the wooden crates. The wooden was ripped off. Inside the crate was nothing. James looked at Lioa. He had figured out what had just happened. He looked concerned. "This was a trap. That's not good. Sutton is probably on his way here right now. If we are lucky it will be Sutton... if we aren't it will be Charleston." Lioa looked worryingly back at James.
"Did you wipe our records?" Lioa asked in a hurry.
"I told you I would do it after the festival..."
"So no matter what happens... if we are caught that is... the Southern Guard will have us..." Lioa gulped. "Andrew! Any sign of Sutton?"
"Not yet." He answered. James started to creep upstairs. He steps were soft. The wooden stairs creaked and cracked with every step he took. He was nearly at the top of the stairs. The crooked banister on his left was starting to shake. He took the penultimate step. Crack. The step broke and he slipped.