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[PKMN FULL] Crimson Dawn: A Tale of Conquest (IC)

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The Eagle Has Landed Except Not The Eagle But All Of The Gold Tribe People Did
Featuring Zack, Pendro, Cassandra, Beryl, Punisher, Isak and Tavhir
​


They were falling, slowly but surely, thanks to Pendro's Magnet Rise; also thanks to Pendro himself, who carried Cassandra and Zack. The Electabuzz leaned above the Metang's head, risking a look into the abyss below. Tavhir and Isak were nowhere to be found, swallowed in the chasm. They had not been able to save them in time.

Noise was rising from below. Zack recognized the familiar and sweet sound of a machine running; it had to be huge. That was what they were hearing in quakes from the surface. But they could also hear the sounds of battle. "There is a bottom," Zack shouted out loud, "and I really hope what I'm hearing is Tavhir and Isak kicking ass and not getting theirs kicked!"

"Haha!" Punisher laughed out, "I'll just fall on someone then! The ground can kiss itself later!" He put his four hands together, "Oh, they'll feel the force of my punches alright!" His lower arms began to move a bit as he tried to push himself down more, "I just have to speed up, that's all!"

"Punisher, be careful!" Cassandra called out, before turning to Beryl as they fell. "Beryl, come over to us!" As they fell, the Lilligant could see what looked like short bursts of light coming from down below. It looked like blasts of fire, and she could feel a small wave of heat with each one. Definitely fire, she thought.

"You better concentrate your magnetism on me, Pendro," Beryl spoke loudly. "I do not want to hit that floor at this speed." Beryl was worried since, as a Ground Pokemon, she was naturally resistant to electric and magnetic forces but not long falls.

"As we get closer to the ground, our descent should slow naturally," Pendro explained, waving his arms in Beryl's direction and in turn slowing her fall. "Although I'll be sure to keep an eye out in case we're moving a little too fast, if my calculations are correct then there shouldn't even be enough velocity to cause bruising. Magnet Rise really is a wonderful thing - even for me, and I'm used to floating naturally..." He paused for a moment. "In fact, if anything it's a problem that we aren't descending quickly enough; whatever is happening down there, I'd certainly like to be down to assist sooner rather than later. I do hope they're all right..."

Zack figured the floor wasn't much too far away; they could already see a faint light that had nothing to do with the aurora's light that was coming from the hole way above their heads. "Hey, Pendro," he said, "isn't there any way to dive? To get there more quickly..."


***​


Tavhir kneeled down, placing a hand to Atris' neck, enough to threaten but still allowing her to speak. His expression was devoid of any emotion other than malice. "Remember Stoneyard? You said you knew. You're going to tell me."

"You'll have to be more specific," Atris said haughtily. Even on her deathbed, she remained as arrogant as ever.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about," Tavhir said, ignoring the burns that pained his hands. He would tend to them later. "You said you knew who killed my family. You're going to tell me. Now."

"Oh, are you sure you really want to know?" Atris replied, a smug smile on her face.

"Tell me," Tavhir demanded, tightening his grip on her neck. Atris gasped once, bringing her hands to her throat in a vain effort to ease the pressure.

"You a-already know them," Atris mocked.

"Do not play games with me!" Tavhir replied through grit teeth.

When Tavhir said that, figures descended from the darkness above slowly into the engine room of the Sky Pinnacle. They were quite far, yet very close too, close enough to be seen in the light: the Gold Tribe. Zack had jumped off Pendro's head for the last few feet and was staring at the Bisharp, the Braixen and Isak. At first, he thought the Bisharp was just another mercenary, but he and Isak seemed to have cornered the Braixen, so that meant they were in the same team, so that meant... "Tavhir?!" Zack shouted from afar, without being able to notice their brother was hurt. "Cool! That's so cool, man!" He glanced to the others and waved, "let's go, let's go!"

Pendro lowered himself to the ground so that the others could step off of him easily, though it did mean that he couldn't see so well.

"There's Tavhir? And Isak? Are they ok? I have berries, if they're hurt - is everyone down ok?" It didn't take long for Isak to notice and sidle up to Pendro and graciously take him up on his offer.

Cassandra hopped off of Pendro, feeling relieved to finally be on the ground. She looked over to where the others were, a Bisharp, and... Atris...

"Oh no," she thought. She could only guess that the Bisharp was Tavhir, and she knew all too well what he was asking of the Braixen. "Tavhir, wait!"

The Bisharp ignored her, nearly choking the Braixen right then and there. "I'm waiting," he said. "Who is it and where can I find them?"

Atris smirked, shakily removing one hand from her throat and pointing it towards the Gold Tribe that landed... directly at the Lilligant. "She's right there," she said softly, almost managing a laugh. "A-ask her yourself."

Tavhir looked up, seeing Atris pointing at his sister. He raised an eyebrow in confusion, narrowing his eyes at Cassandra before turning back to Atris. "You're lying!" he cried, further increasing his grip. "Tell me the truth!"

"Tavhir, please, I can explain," Cassandra said weakly, but the Bisharp wasn't listening. Atris simply smiled, knowing she was at least going to have this moment before she died.

"She knows," the Braixen replied. "Just ask her." Tavhir grew enraged, finally clasping his hands with his full force, suffocating the Braixen as she struggled for air. A moment later, and her eyes rolled back, body going limp as she gave up. In that instant, Atris was no more...

Tavhir stood up, glancing down victoriously at Atris for only a moment, before his gaze turned to Cassandra. "What was she talking about?" His voice was nearly raised; it wasn't a question, it was a demand. "What do you know?"

Cassandra couldn't speak, her eyes welling up with tears as she looked Tavhir in the eyes. "T-Tavhir... I..."

"Cassandra... what are you saying?" he said, his voice almost disbelieving. "She's lying! She has to be! Mother and Father told me that the person was never caught..."

"She wasn't..." Cassandra replied faintly, her voice almost inaudible, quivering. She closed her eyes, unable to look her brother in the face.

"Cassandra... n-no..." Tavhir managed. It seemed as if time had frozen in that moment, his mind trying to process the things that were said. The computer from earlier, the chronicler's quiz... it suddenly made sense.

"I'm sorry..." Cassandra whispered.

Zack was confused by this turn of events. "What...?" he muttered. "What's going on?"

Tavhir was about to speak, when suddenly they heard more footsteps from the side.

"What's going on is we're going to kill the whole lot of you," a voice mocked, coming from an all-too-familiar Toxicroak. Behind him were his remaining mercenaries, ready to finish the job they started.

How is that guy still alive? And how'd they get here so quickly?! Zack thought momentarily, but in the end, it didn't matter. It was all or nothing now. Punch first, then figure things out later.

Rax looked down at Atris' body, seeing her dead, before turning back to the Gold Tribe. You couldn't see it in his smug smile, but behind those haughty eyes was a rage that wiped nearly all reason from the mercenary's mind. Rax raised a hand, pointing at the Gold Tribe. "Annihilate them," he said simply.

Zack raised his fists. "You can try," he taunted, although he wasn't as brave as he sounded. The mercenaries hadn't surrounded them this time; they were coming from one side, meaning there should have been a path from the bridge to down here, and they had no time to close in around on the Gold Tribe. There was only one way to attack now, and Zack liked that. He let the first wave of mercenaries come, standing near his allies instead of charging in.

Tavhir had no time to dwell on current events, turning to face the mercenaries head on. He stood defiantly, clenching his fists and preparing himself for combat. He was too angry to notice the burns now on his arms; all that was on his mind was the desire to take his anger out on the nearest targets.

Cassandra likewise regathered her composure. The siblings would have to deal with things afterwards. She shook her head, readying herself to fight, eyeing the mercenaries with anger; time to finally put an end to the Imperatorium.

"GOLD TRIBE! STRIKE BACK!" Punisher shouted out as he raced right at the mercenaries, yelling as his fists flew out to slam into the first few targets he encountered. "HAHA! Just my style!" He boomed out.

Following Punisher's lead, Beryl lept into her Rollout and launched herself at the enemies. This time would be different - that bastard Toxicroak would not escape this time. She would ensure it... as she rolled, her grey hide began to become rockier and rockier until what lunged at the mercenaries resembled a small cylindrical boulder, her mastery of Rock having temporarily encased her in stone. Those mercenaries that did not evade her were met with the force of a rampaging Donphan in their chest before being treated like a speed bump.

Pendro, now unburdened, floated over. "What's happening? Are we-? Oh, for goodness' sake, not these guys again..." The Metang prepared an Iron Defense before following up from the rear of the Gold Tribe.

The mercenaries charged. They had the strength in numbers against a weakened Gold Tribe, each of them picking a Tribesman and attacking.

Punisher smirked as he ran forth and first came upon a Charmeleon who shot out a massive burst of flame at him. The Machamp ran right through the warm attack, the flames not affecting him that badly, and formed a fist with his hand. One powerful punch slammed into the reptile's stomach and cancelled the Flamethrower. The winded fire type staggered back and was pummeled again and again by the Machamp's other arms, with the final swing launching him back into the crowd of mercenaries. "HAH! TAKE THAT!" Punisher shouted.

A Mankey and an Arbok rushed next at the Machamp, letting out their own battle cries. The Arbok leaped out and attempted to dig his fangs into Punisher's wrist, only for the Machamp's lower arm to grab the snake before it could latch on. The Mankey, however, managed to get in a Low Kick in an attempt to bring the fighter down. Punisher grit his teeth as his leg trembled for a bit, but he managed to remain standing as another arm reached out to grab the ape. He threw both mercenaries against each other, a loud, and satisfying, cracking of their skulls echoing out. Using the two as improvised weapons, the Machamp began to swing his body around, letting out a loud cry as he threw both Pokémon out with a Seismic Toss. They flew against other mercs and the rocky terrain as Punisher let out booming laughter while flexing his muscles, "Who's next!?" He asked eagerly.

His call for action was met by a roar of others who charged forth. Okay... that might be a bit much. Thankfully, he knew what to do. He pulled one arm back and began to slowly wind it up. Faster and faster his arm spun until he punched forward. His Vacuum Wave shot out with fierce winds and managed to blow some of the mercs back. Those who dodged it got in close and began hitting the Machamp with all they had. Punisher grunted and took the blows and kicks as one hand grabbed an Eletabuzz's arm and began to swing him around with a Seismic Toss to force the other mercs back. He threw the electric type to the side and chuckled, "That's all you got?"

Rax watched as the Machamp immediately began to pummel his men. Gold Tribe were supposed to be tough, he knew as much, but it was clear the Machamp was exceptionally powerful in combat. He whirled around, turning to a group of psychics behind him.

"You scrobs!" he insulted, pointing frantically at Punisher. "Get the bloody Machamp!"

Punisher was busy punching a Swellow's underside as he looked over, frowning as he saw several psychics now starting to surround him. "This is the best you have?" He asked with a sly smirk. He knew psychics could be resistant to any fighting type attacks he would send at them, but they weren't the most durable of mon either. He just needed to smack their heads hard and that would even his odds. He took in a deep breath and flexed his four arms, the muscles slightly expanding as he Bulked Up. "Well, at the least it'll be a fun two minute fight!" He exclaimed as he rushed at one of the psychics, a Grumpig.

The Grumpig quickly threw up a Protect, shielding the attack as the rest of his group - a Drowzee, Beheeyem, Mr. Mime, and Sigilyph - mobilized at his sides. The psychics each readied themselves, their eyes glowing brightly and auras surrounding their hands as they focused on the Machamp.

"Once your allies, now no more," the Grumpig chanted, waving his hands and swaying slightly in place, as if possessed by some spirit. His eyes shone a brilliant blue light, exerting their combined powers like tendrils, wrapping around Punisher's mind to control him. "Turn the tide, even the score..."

Punisher blinked in surprise, staggering back as his upper two hands gripped his head as he felt that power piercing his head, "N-No... stop..." He groaned out. He squeezed his eyes tightly and shuddered, shaking his head back and forth, yet it was a losing battle. Perhaps against one or two psychics he wouldn't be that badly affected. Against a group? It was a losing battle as the chant drilled deep into his mind, and soon the Machamp's eyes opened again, this time the same blue glow in the Grumpig's eyes duplicated in Punisher's.

The psychics formed a defensive shield around the Grumpig as he continued his dance, before assuming total control over the Machamp. "Now..." the Grumpig said with a giggle. "Attack."

Punisher said nothing as he turned and moved through the crowd of mercs, not bothering to attack them. Instead, he crossed his four arms and managed to get behind a certain Bisharp. At once, his four arms released two Cross Chops aiming to bring the Gold Tribe warrior down.

Tavhir turned just in time to see a Machamp looming directly over him. He didn't have a chance to question, narrowly dodging the attacks levied at him. "Punisher! The hell-" he looked to the side, seeing the Grumpig dancing, mimicking the Machamp's movements, his eyes reflecting the same glow as Punisher's.

The Bisharp looked back at Punisher, realizing what had happened. If Punisher even landed a single attack on him, Tavhir would be done for in no time. In a panic he called out to his comrades. "The Grumpig!" he cried out, his voice faltering slightly. "Get the Grumpig!"

Pendro could see two of the mercenaries approaching him - a Combusken and a Mismagius - but he could also see Punisher's plight, and that seemed the more pressing issue right now. The problem here was that the psychics were further back, with the mercenaries blocking his way. Pendro had a plan for that, however; the problem wasn't so much getting to the psychics - that should be possible if his calculations were correct - the problem was the amount of combat he'd be landed in once he arrived.

Overall, it was unimportant, the Metang decided, though he couldn't help but gulp in fear before he began charging at the two mercs approaching him. As Pendro drew closer the Mismagius threw a Shadow Ball hurtling towards him, but with a Bullet Punch angled upwards and the effects of Magnet Rise still lifting him, the Metang soared upwards and over the ghostly projectile - then further, over the Mismagius, and over the Combusken who tried in vain to Scratch at the Metang's underside. Without the menace of variable wind conditions, there was no doubt in Pendro's mind where he was headed - right on top of the shield the psychics had made. Being about to land actually on top of the barrier, the Metang figured he should be somewhat protected from the surrounding mercenaries. With that in mind, he began to spin as he crashed on top of the Protect, the Gyro Ball technique beginning to chip away at the shield.

The crash angered another nearby mercenary, a Houndoom, whose muzzle began to swirl with flames as it prepared a Flamethrower to melt face off of the over-extended Metang. Pendro turned to react, but was unable to react before... the Houndoom fell face-forward onto the floor, the Buneary Isak falling top of it, his Power-Up Punch fading from the impact to the back of the Houndoom's skull. The juice of the Sitrus Berry from Pendro still staining the fur near his mouth, Isak darted off into the darkness, in search of a more specific target.

Cassandra stood back, using her distance to hurl a volley of ranged attacks at the enemy. At once she noticed the psychics' attack on Punisher, immediately turning her attention to the Grumpig. The psychics around him were shielding any attacks that would interrupt his dance. With a flick of her wrist, she threw a razor leaf directly at the Beheeyem. The psychic type turned, blocking the attack effortless and sneering at the Lilligant.

As soon as he looked, though, he was met with the most peculiar of dances being performed by the tribeswoman. She swayed slightly to and fro, and his concentration dropped for only a second, when Cassandra threw her hands outward, casting her Teeter Dance at the Beheeyem. The cerebral pokemon immediately went cross-eyed, dazed in confusion and breaking formation around the Grumpig.

As the psychics' concentration broke, so did the protective shield formed above them. Pendro stopped spinning at once as he began to fall, crashing down upon an unfortunate Kirlia who crumpled to the ground under the force of the Metang's Iron Head. Reaching Mind quickly picked another target, spotting a Mr. Mime who would be susceptible to his Steel type attacks. Dashing over with a Bullet Punch, he hit the psychic on the shoulder, but soon paused as he took in the rest of his surroundings.

As the Beeheeyem fell out of line the other psychics around the pig began to worry a bit more. They could see their comrades falling around them. The fear in their hearts caused them to start backing away, and then start running away as fast as they could. The Grumpig could only grunt as the Beheeyem ended up falling back and hitting into the dancing mon. The psychic fell over with a light thud, not out of it yet, but with his concentration broken. Just as Punisher had been ready to slam a fist into Tavhir's head, the Machamp couldn't help but stagger back and grip his head in pain. He fell onto a knee as the control over his mind was rapidly lifted.

But he remembered.

In a flash, the bulky fighter rose and glared over at where the Grumpig was. The psychic couldn't help but let out a yelp as the Machamp leaped over and threw a string of punches at the now vulnerable psychic. Despite the screams the mercenary cried out, Punisher didn't stop. That was, until the swine was bruised all over. He staggered back and sat down, panting a bit.

Zack was on the defense against a Poliwrath's flurry of punches that didn't seem to end. With his arms up, he blocked what was coming to him, until he jumped backwards to gain some space, and to avoid being encircled by other mercenaries. He let the Poliwrath come to him and fired a Thunder Punch that clashed with the mon's own punch. Sparks were thrown and the pools around them shimmered. The immense water-type didn't seem to flinch. Zack cursed under his breath, sending his right tightened fist against his opponent, as the left one was almost broken by the force of the mercenary's last Dynamicpunch. Sheesh, doesn't he know any other moves?!

On the same line of thought, Zack figured he ought to use his other moves to bring down the behemoth, and quickly, because his allies were busy with more than just one mercenary, so the strain was greater on them. The Electabuzz, in an unusual moment of grace, slipped past the next Dynamicpunch that tore the air audibly and he swirled his body around in a rolling kick to the vulnerable ribs of the water-type, who groaned and at last flinched. Zack felt his left arm go numb, so he used his right one for his next attack: Thunder. He opened his fist and lightning was shot off from his fingers with a loud bang, striking the Poliwrath between the eyes and shocking him in place. Zack used the same arm in a finishing ThunderPunch-uppercut that launched the mercenary off his feet.

The mercenaries around him were failing their formation as they were being pushed unexpectedly; the Gold Tribe was fierce, dedicated; fighting for their lives, and for honor, while the mercenaries fought for the stink of the gold that was promised. As such, their resolve was weaker, lesser, and they fought like thieves on top of that. They were many, but ill prepared for such a battle. The Poliwrath Zack had just finished off was one of the last few enormous ones who could cause some damage, and the rest were falling quickly. Dozens already lay dead or unconscious on the ground. The outcome had been decided already; the Gold Tribe had won, it was only a matter of time now. The one never to be seen was their leader, Rax, the shady Toxicroak with the strange accent and smug face. Zack's eyes looked for him, as his blood ran hot with the heat of battle, and his fear had completely vanished. He could take that dirty lowlife on.

And just as he thought he could, he saw something in the distant dark of the chamber; a light that appeared after a door was opened. Time had slowed down and Zack drew a breath that felt like forever. He saw the slimy form of the Toxicroak on the doorstep, glancing behind him at his last few men who were falling very quickly or surrendering.

The Toxicroak bore an expression that hadn't been seen before, that of fear. He gave one last glance to his men, seeing that the battle was lost, before slamming the controls of the elevator, shutting the door behind him and abandoning the last of the mercenaries to the tribe.
 
Suffer in Truth.
|Tavhir "Restless" and Cassandra "Peacekeeper" Eldren.|​

Tavhir gave one final swipe, cutting down a Flaaffy mercenary, the electric type gasping and falling lifeless to the floor. The Bisharp looked around the room, seeing nothing but corpses and the battered bodies of his comrades and the mercenaries who surrendered. He grunted once, still feeling a sting in his arms from the burns, before turning to the elevator.

To the side, a Raticate mercenary was trembling, trying to keep composure in the face of certain defeat. His allies were dead or surrendered, and there was no telling what fate waited for them. Tavhir suddenly walked towards him, grabbing the normal type by the neck and strangling him.

"Mercenary filth!" he spat, tightening his grip. The Raticate gasped for air, struggling to breathe. "This is what you get!"

With that, his hands began to envelope in a dark aura, his anger building in a dark pulse, before tossing the Raticate away, smashing him against the wall. The Raticate fell then and there, killed, as the other mercenaries cowered in fear. Tavhir turned to them next. "Who's next?!"

Zack stepped in front of Tavhir, blocking his way. He had a slightly perplexed, but sad expression on as he eyed the Bisharp. "No," he said, "no one. They surrendered. It's over."

"They would do the same to us!" Tavhir snapped back, eyeing the mercenaries angrily. "Why should I care about some mercenary scum?"

Now Zack, who could feel Tavhir's anguish but could not identify the underlying reason, said half-angrily, half-sadly, "it's not up to you or me to decide their fate."

Tavhir glanced at Zack, then the mercenaries, before growling lightly under his breath. "Fine. Leave them here. Arrest them. Do what you want, I don't care!" he said loudly.

"Tavhir, please," Cassandra said weakly.

"Do not speak!" Tavhir commanded her. "As if I should have to listen to you any longer."

Zack glanced at the two of them briefly and shook his head. He dusted off his hands from dirt and blood, unusually quiet, and stepped behind each mercenary, grabbing them from the back of their neck or a vulnerable spot and shocking them with Thunder Wave. "Pendro," he said wearily, "I don't have the strength to give chase to that Toxicroak... could you teleport us and these thieves out of here?"

"Don't need to tell me twice; where to?" The Metang asked cautiously, eyeing Tavhir with concern. "Back to Union City?"

"Back to the White Citadel," Zack agreed. "Good job, everyone," he spoke more loudly, as he glanced around. But the dead didn't seem to agree. "I guess," he muttered.


***


When the group returned to the White Citadel, the prisoners were sent to the Vaults and they were escorted straight to the War Room, where Garland, Ambrose, the Generals and Emperor Cyrus were waiting for them. Medics tended to their wounds as they gave their report. Two hours later, all information about the stages of their mission was relayed, except what they had discovered inside the memory that was found on the supercomputer. Zack and company did their best, and through everyone's individual memory, they recalled every bit that King Tsulong had recorded. By the time they had finished, another two hours had passed, and the Exathian leaders were glancing at each other, at times with hope and at times with doubt.

In the end, they sent them all away to their rooms, to get well rested, while they would process the new intelligence they had gained. Their mission had not delayed the time when they marched: morning. Only the sun was apparently not dawning at the normal hour in this strange land; the night was longer. It was still dark outside the Gold Tribe's dorms.

Tavhir sat alone, quietly, his eyes closed as he attempted to sort his mind. A gargantuan task for the Bisharp, increasingly growing frustrated at the task. Even during they debriefing, the tribesman couldn't focus, nor could he concentrate on the given task. How could he? For the entirety of their enlistment, Tavhir had resolved to reconcile his own personal problems on his own time, when matters were less dire, but that opportunity had been robbed from him. He had it dropped onto him so suddenly, like a great wave crashing over him, sweeping him away in it's current and away from his path. His mind raced - fervently, frantically - for answers that were not there, and the search was quickly wearing on his patience.

That day long past replayed over and over in his head. He didn't remember much... he was hidden away during the worst of it. The cool breeze of the Pyrgos deserts flowing over him, the creaking of the wheels of his caravan... the face of his mother - a Bisharp -, still so vivid after so long. She told him to hide, to keep safe in the back. Tavhir had covered his ears in fear, and the events were lost to his memory, yet he knew what had happened.

Tavhir clenched his hands into fists. He had wanted to find the attacker, make them pay for what had happened. To attack an innocent caravan, - his caravan - without provocation, to take the lives of those he held most dear... he would have done the same to them. If only he'd known whom it was....

The door behind Tavhir creaked open, just as soon closing, the familiar footsteps of the Lilligant heard in the room. "Tavhir..." Cassandra said, almost whispering. Her voice faltered slightly, her emotions already beginning to well up and overflow. "Please... can we talk?"

"All this time, I've been wondering..." Tavhir suddenly said, his voice much more calm than that of his sister. "Everything that's happened to me thus far... being taken from my home, my friends, my family. Having my entire life practically ripped from me and destroyed... and now I've finally found someone to blame..." He suddenly clenched his fists, trembling slightly in place. "And it's you... why?"

Cassandra could hardly speak. What should she say? What could she say? As if words could undo what she had done. "Tavhir..." she started slowly, thinking carefully on her words. "You're angry with me... and you should be. I... I can't ask you to forgive me, nor do I expect you too..." She paused, holding back her emotions just enough to speak, though unable to stop her tears. "I'm sorry..."

Tavhir turned his head, holding back tears of his own. He hated to see his sister in such a state, and under any other circumstances, he would be there, at her side to comfort her. And yet, now, knowing what she had done, he had no idea how to react. "L-leave me..." Tavhir said suddenly, never once turning to look back at Cassandra.

The Lilligant's head fell low, sobbing quietly for a moment, before doing as she was told. With her hand at the door, she turned one last time to her brother. "W-we still have a mission..." she said quietly. "Can we at least put this aside... until afterwards?"

Tavhir nodded once, shakily, resigning himself to her request. He'd have to if they hoped to get out of this alive. "Just go..." he said solemnly. Cassandra quickly left, closing the door behind her and finding her own quarters.

As soon as she left, Tavhir began to shake, his emotions too strong. He wept silently, wishing for things to end, for some magical force to just remove him from existence. Yet alone he sat still, sobbing, still attached to the land of the living.
 
Punisher and Cassandra : It's cold out here!​

He knew that things had gone slightly down here just in a few minutes, but Punisher still knew that he had to try and help. He awkwardly made his way to where Cass was staying and lightly knocked on the door with one hand, "Um... Cass?" He asked. "Can I come in?"

Cassandra jumped lightly at the knocking. Once she heard whom it was, she shook her head, trying her best to regain her composure. "Y-yes, it's open," she said quickly.

Punisher slipped on in and smiled weakly at her, "Um... so... how'd the talk go with Tav?" He asked her. "I mean, I saw you two go off... and all." He awkwardly shuffled his feet.

Cassandra remained quiet, hanging her head and looking as if she were going to cry again. She couldn't say anything about it, trying to hide her face from the Machamp.

Punisher stared at her, and silently walked forward, "Um..." He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, "If you want to talk... I can. I mean, I have all the time in the world." He offered a weak smile.

"What am I supposed to do?" she suddenly blurted out, talking more to herself than anybody. "I've done everything I can to try and mend the mistakes I've made... through everything, no matter what, I did whatever I could to be the best sister to him, and yet..." she faltered, beginning to sob again. "It's worthless! Nothing I do now can fix what I did then!"

Punisher looked on at her, then reached down to gently pick her up, "Hey..." he said softly as he hugged her softly with his four arms, "It's going to be okay. It can't be THAT bad." He patted her back, "Look, you two are brother and sister, through and through. He'll come around. Because you're a good person."

Cassandra hugged Punisher back, grateful for the comfort the Machamp afforded her. She calmed down considerably, simply closing her eyes and breathing heavily. "It is that bad..." she said finally. "There's nothing I can do to fix it..."

He frowned, thinking for a moment. "How about we go outside?" He asked her, "It's a bit cold, but maybe you need a breath of fresh air?" He already was walking along the hall. "Just, it isn't AS bad. I mean, you two are close. Well, you were, but you still could be!"

"Not anymore..." Cassandra said weakly, leaning herself into Punisher body as he carried her outside. "He won't forgive me... he can't."

Punisher, again, wasn't quite sure on what to say, "So... someone is saying he can't?" He asked her as he pushed open a door. The chilly wind hit them both as he stepped outside just a bit, "Or do you think he can't? Cause that doesn't make sense to me." He gave just a weak shrug.

"I don't know..." Cassandra said, uncertain herself. "Would you forgive someone who took away everything from you?"

He thought again for a moment, "Maybe. If they really were nice afterwards." He shrugged again, "Then again, I don't have much stuff. So I guess I would forgive them, because they wouldn't have taken a lot from me."

Cassandra sighed, shivering just slightly from the cold as they walked in the gardens of the Citadel. "Would you really?" she asked. "Even if they did something truly horrible?"

He nodded again. "I mean... if they were nice to me before, like you were to him, then yeah! Definitely." He gave an enthusiastic nod.

"I don't know..." Cassandra said solemnly. She looked across the snow-covered gardens, at the plants that were now wilting from the cold and ice, a reflection of her current state. "I've done everything I can... I can only hope he can forgive me..."

"He will." He smiled, "And if he doesn't... then you shouldn't cry, because I'm here. And everyone else is here. And we're all family too, you know?"

Ironically enough, it was Punisher telling her not to cry that made her want to cry again. She trembled lightly in his arms, obviously trying to keep her composure. "Th-thank you..." she muttered, clutching to him tightly.

Punisher held her tight as well, "Hey... no matter what, I'll be here. And we're going to get through this, okay?" He said with a weak smile. "And we'll just get over this."

"Y-you're right," she said weakly, shivering from the cold. "I suppose we should focus on the mission... personal problems can come later," she admitted.

He frowned at her, "Well... if we don't want to die anytime soon, sure. But we will talk about it, okay? How about tonight? Just you and I. We'll talk and keep on talking all through the night."

"I'd like that," she said, giving a small smile and wiping her eyes. "It's cold out here..." she said suddenly, now beginning to feel the chill in full force.

He chuckled and began to make his way back, still shielding her as best as he could with his four arms, "Then, we'll warm up by the fire." He said with a firm nod, "And... we'll make this right again. I like it when you smile more."

Cassandra wanted to laugh at the comment, but couldn't find the breath to do so. She simply sighed, resting her head against Punisher as he brought them back inside. She only hoped that, assuming they could survive this event, she'd be able to smile like she used to.
 
Tea and Crumpets
Featuring Pendro 'Reaching Mind' Malis and Tavhir 'Restless' Eldren
​


Pendro was particularly anxious this evening. Cassandra and Tavhir's discontent was quite obvious, and somewhat uncharacteristic of the two - that was worrisome in and of itself, though even more so for the Metang because reassurance wasn't anything he had personally had to deal with before. Punisher seemed to already have some kind of plan involving Cassandra - Pendro silently hoped that would go well - which conveniently narrowed his choices to Tavhir, the newly-Bisharp. As much as the growing fear that he would only further worsen the problem was paining him, he felt he owed it to the two. And to himself; if he couldn't be there for the people he cared about, what kind of 'mon would he be?

Trying to clear the nervousness from his mind, Pendro approached and lightly knocked on Tavhir's door. In his mind, he had formulated what he saw as the perfect strategy: bring tea, then hope for the best from there.

"It's open," Tavhir said curtly from the other side.

Having to hold two cups of tea, Pendro glared at the door with apprehension. Already an oversight in his plan! How could things be going so wrong already? He wasn't even in the room yet! The Metang stopped himself, cautiously taking a deep breath and letting it out. Very gently, he levitated forwards and pushed the door open with the tip of his nose. As Pendro rounded the corner, parallel to the door he was opening, he gave the Bisharp a weak smile.

"Hello!" He said with a hint of panic. Balancing tea was apparently a skill of his.

"Hello," Tavhir replied, still sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking out at the heavy snowfall outside. He briefly glanced at Pendro, noticing the hot tea he had brought. He turned back towards he window, exhaling heavily. "Hot tea would do us well on a cold day as this."

"Hot tea does me pretty well just about any day," Pendro replied, floating over and glancing at the floor. NO COASTERS! He screamed internally, before realising that it mattered not and handing the warm mug directly to Tavhir. The Metang floated down next to him, taking a glance outside too. "I brought tea," Pendro offered, resisting the urge to smash the mug against himself for saying such an obvious thing.

Tavhir wordlessly took the mug, breathing in the steam and letting the aroma cover his senses. He nodded once to thank the Metang, sipping once, keeping his gaze fixed on the window. "You know, I've been meaning to ask you..." he started. "For the longest time, since we've started this whole ordeal, I've had the strangest feeling that I know you from somewhere, yet I can't remember from where."

"Case F3, Shelf 4, eighteenth from the left," Reaching Mind muttered absent-mindedly. "Library in Skyhaven, some kind of report for school, you were there with your friend Irene- I never got them to pay me for doing that, Arceus alive..."

"Ah!" Tavhir exclaimed, as if he had finally solved some great riddle. "I knew it. You'll forgive me, then... it's been a while since those days. A few years, at least."

"Quite a few, yes," Pendro murmured. "And I wouldn't dream of holding you to it, don't worry; my memory of those libraries was practically encyclopaedic. Still is, if I'm not mistaken, it's..." The Metang paused and sighed, gazing out of the window into the chill storms. He glanced back at Tavhir, smiling lightly. "That was a long time ago, wasn't it...? And just look at us now. Especially you, Tavhir, you big old Bisharp, you. You're as big as me!"

Tavhir gave a weak laugh, looking down at his mug. "Yes... a Bisharp now..." he said to himself, sighing lightly. "Somehow I imagined this event to be a bit happier."

Pendro frowned at Tavhir, concern etching his features. "I... alright. I... I don't think there's any mystery as to why I've come here, Tavhir, and I don't... well, I don't know what happened, really, but I do want to help, so..." The Metang shrugged and sighed. "Here I am, helping, I guess- I know it's not really- I mean, I'll be honest... I didn't really have a plan for this, and you know I'd probably want to avoid something like this by any means possible, if you weren't... well, if it didn't seem really important. And it does, so..." The Metang paused to cough into his hand, placing his tea on the floor without fear for lack of coasters. "Not that I wouldn't- never mind, it's... I'm here, just please, let me help. Whatever it is."

Tavhir sighed once. "I appreciate you coming to try and help, but..." he idly glanced at the tea, watching the liquid shake subtly in the cup. "I don't think there's anything that can be done," he said bluntly. "We should focus on the mission, anyways. That's more important," he added, clearly trying to avoid the subject entirely.

"And you think you'll be able to focus on the mission with this in the back of your mind? You think I will? Cassandra? Any of us?" Pendro tried as best he could to make and keep eye contact with the Bisharp. "I'm serious, Tavhir. This is important, very much so, for everyone here. Don't... please don't ignore this."

Tavhir stared down at the floor. He didn't get angry; from his expression it was hard to tell exactly what he was feeling. "And what would you do, then?" Tavhir said, almost accusingly. "How do you think you can help?"

"In any way I can," Pendro said assuredly. "But I don't... I just feel like there's a lot I don't know. I can try, then, at the very least."

"I'm not a Hesperian," Tavhir said suddenly. "I'm sure you already know that. That's no surprise. Though you might have wondered why I was living in Skyhaven, then. It wasn't always my home, though. I used to live in Ascanfell... amongst the Eshir."

"Go on," Reaching mind said softly, nodding once.

"Well, my family were traders. Traveled to the Stygian countries to deliver goods, as well as receive them. Most of the time, I went with them. Got to see a lot of different places. Meet different kinds of people."

The Bisharp took a sip from his tea. He sighed lightly. He didn't exactly want to talk about this now. "Anyways, long story short, my parents died and now I'm a loner. Glad we had this talk," he said in a rushed tone.

"Woah woah woah, hold up!" Pendro cried. "Don't you 'long story short' me. I want to help you so I need to hear the whole thing, Tavhir. It's-" Pendro coughed and almost smiled. "I read just about every book in those libraries, even the bad ones- aghem, so don't bother shortening it for me. Just... take your time, I won't rush you."

Tavhir suddenly put his mug on the ground, standing up as if brushing Pendro aside. "Well, what else do you want me to say?" he said angrily, taking heavy footsteps towards the window. "I can tell you all about how we were attacked, our lowly little merchant wagon raided, and everybody left for dead! I can tell you about how I hid away, praying to any deity that would listen for it all to be a dream and that I'd wake up! I can tell you about how I was thrust away from my old life, my old friends, my entire family, and dumped into a new place that was so alien it might as well have been a different planet!"

He placed his hands down on the windowsill, glaring at the falling snowflake. For a moment, he wondered what it might feel like to simply cast himself out the window, but he knew that wasn't the answer. He suddenly turned back to Pendro, looking the Metang in the eyes for the first time, an exasperated expression on his face. "I can tell you all these things, but what does it matter? Will it change anything? Will it bring back the ones I've lost? Will it change the fact that my sister, who I've always thought of as an actual blood-relative, is the one responsible for everything that ever went wrong in my life?"

He turned back to the window, leaning forward and hanging his head low, exhausted. "No, it won't," he said quietly, much more calm this time. "I couldn't go back to Ascanfell. I was practically an alien to them. I knew I didn't belong in Skyhaven, and I couldn't go back home. I joined the Gold Tribe so that maybe I could find where I belong. Have a purpose for my life. Instead, I'm fighting crazy rebels waking up death gods because they have nothing better to do than destroy the world they live in."

"I... oh, Arceus, Tavhir, I'm..." Pendro paused to gulp, somewhat shocked at the outbust and saddened at its content. "I can only... imagine... and I'm not saying that anything I can do will reverse what happened, but I... well, I hope I can maybe help you to, erm... you know, understand it, accept it, move on from it. And to help with, well... do you not belong here? With your friends, still here, now? And I know that, well... I don't know what it is that Cassandra has done, but it's clear enough she cares about you deeply..."

Unless he has some other sister, Pendro thought to himself. In which case this may have reached some whole new level of awkward.

"And now you see my dilemma," Tavhir replied. "All my life she's been nothing but kind to me. But now? Knowing that she's the one responsible for everything? Knowing that, if not for her, I'd probably be back home, living the life I was supposed to live?"

He sighed. "I don't feel like this is where I'm supposed to be," he said. "I'm just a soldier fighting other people's battles."

"Tavhir, this is... this is a destruction deity we're talking about. I'm quite sure this is everyone's battle, we're just the ones lucky, or unlucky, enough to be fighting it... bit of both, really..." The Metang trailed off for a moment. "Tavhir, do you... do you actually, erm... know, what Cassandra did?"

"She didn't deny it," Tavhir said. "She killed them, plain and simple."

"She didn't- deny- Tavhir, did you listen to what you just said?"

"What about it?"

"You just said she didn't deny it, not that she, well... did erm... it," Pendro took a short float towards the Bisharp. "Look, I'm not saying she didn't do it, but... well, it just seems like whatever happened, she wouldn't be giving herself an easy time over it. If it's not- well, if we don't... actually know what happened, if we don't actually know the full story, I mean..."

"So what am I supposed to do?" Tavhir asked rhetorically. "Just walk on up and ask her what happened? That's not the point. The point is, she knew this the whole time. She knew what had happened, and she never told me. Not once. What, did she just think that she would keep it a secret from me forever? Let me wander the world looking for the answer, and she's got it in her pocket the whole time?"

"I don't know what she thought, Tavhir, but that... goodness, keeping a secret that whole time - would anyone have done any different? There are clear patterns in secret keeping that the longer one waits to tell, the harder it becomes, and it would naturally be harder to tell a child - especially as a child oneself - and even moreso when-" Pendro coughed, stopping his rambling. "I, well... It's not clear what she thought, what her choices were, but even besides that... all those years of kindness, they can't just be gone, can they? I can see with my own eyes, and I'm sure you could even more so, just how distraught she is now. I just hope Punisher can... well, I... perhaps you do need to talk, I'm not sure. But in any case it isn't best to assume, well... anything, much less the worst."

Tavhir crossed his arms, turning to the window again. "Maybe. Maybe not," he said simply. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath from the cold winter air. "Perhaps you should go now. I appreciate you trying to help..."

"I... I'm sorry," Pendro sighed, a metallic clink sounding as he placed a hand on the Bisharp's arm. "Just... think on it, ok? We're your friends, here, we'll be there if you need us. Or, well- I mean I will. Can't, you know, speak with authority on the actions of other people, but still..."

The Bisharp looked down at the Metang's arm, seeing the golden bracers he wore, symbolizing the Gold Tribe. Tavhir glanced at his own scarf, and the insignia it bore, letting out a sigh. "Thanks," he said simply.

"Just, do me a favour please, Tavhir... don't run from this. Problems have a habit of catching up, I think... I think Cass is proof of that enough. This will be sorted out, maybe not now, but sometime and somehow, and I can be there every step of the way. If you- if that's fine with everyone else, of course."

Tavhir nodded, turning his attention to the floor, where he left his mug of tea. "... maybe we can stay and... just talk. There's still some tea left."

Pendro shifted awkwardly before quickly withdrawing his arm and coughing. "Erm, yeah, tea, talk, good. All good! Heh..."

"Indeed," Tavhir said, sitting once again on the ground and taking his mug in his hands. "I guess it's cool to have hands now," he joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

Pendro laughed lightly, joining the Bisharp on the floor and picking up his tea. "I'm with you there... I mean, hey, back before I evolved, I didn't even have sword limbs. I was a stump! Evolve again and I'll have even more limbs to get used to... I think I can still float as a Metagross, right? I'll have to ask. What's walking like, anyway?"

"Umm..." Tavhir thought for a moment. How did one explain something that was as natural to him as breathing? "It's like... you put one foot... in front of the other? Hope you don't fall over?" He chuckled slightly, taking a sip of his tea. "What's floating like?"

"Floating? Oh, it's easy," Pendro said with a wave of his hand, "see, you just need to magnet one way, and then you go. It's pretty comfortable most of the time- don't your feet hurt, walking everywhere?"

Tavhir looked down at his feet. Even as a Pawniard, he had metal feet, so foot pain was not something that he was familiar. "Not really, isn't it exhausting floating everywhere?"

"Don't be silly!" Pendro said with a sidelong glance, taking a sip of his tea. "Floating is naught but effortless, my good man! Like continuously supporting oneself on the sponge-y base of a nice, round crumpet as all gentlemen should be familiar with-" Pendro coughed once loudly before clearing his throat. "Erm, forgot that tea did that. My bad."

Tavhir couldn't help but smirk at Pendro's sudden breaking out into posh, taking another sip from his own drink. For the moment, Tavhir figured he could use a nice, light conversation to ease tensions. They both could, in all honesty. They sat together for a good time afterwards, simply chatting and getting to know each other, something they'd hardly had time to do recently. After fighting continuously for as long as they were, it felt good to simply enjoy the company of another over a cup of tea.
 
The Hunt Begins
Featuring MurkMire and The Prince of Sweet Sorrow​



Luthor walked in to the Gold Tribe dorm, after practicing his Dragon Claw repeatedly. He sat, with a disgruntled sigh. Sitting, thinking, contemplating... he lost himself to his thoughts. He thought back on his life, how he was able to survive the challenges presented to him. He reflected on his thoughts for some time, examining his sharp, silver claws.

There was a knock on his door.

"Grnnn..." With a deep groan, he rose, and stepped towards the door. With a swing, he opened it harder and quicker than he meant to. "Yes? What is it?"

A Noctowl, fellow member of the Gold Tribe evidently from the golden band around his neck, was standing on the doorstep. "Hello, Silver Claw, I was hoping you would be awake..." he said wearily as he reached into his pouch with his beak. Once he took out a letter and held it between his wings, he presented it to him. "Strange time to receive mail, any mails at all, yet... this is for you, coming from Achilles Proudmoore; apparently, it is very important."

He took the letter with a silent nod and gazed at the name of the recipient. "Achilles." Luthor wasn't sure why he'd receive a letter from the Trade Prince at this moment, but began reading the letter, without thinking further on it.

The handwriting was extremely clear and simple.

Greetings, Silver Claw

I hope this does not reach you at a time when you would regrettably be unavailable. I shall start with saying that the contents of this letter should be classified. I sincirely hope they are not opening the mail, as that would be quite contradictory to what your noble Tribe stands for, but admittedly, times have changed.

I have been informed of the mission that was assigned to you; that is, to slay the traitor Romulus "Earthquake" Errias. I would like to present you with an opportunity. The opportunity to complete your quest, very soon; you see, I have gained knowledge of his location. I am certain you would see it done as quick as possible. But I would like to speak with you privately on that matter.


Come to my house.

- Achilles Proudmoore


Luthor's eyes widened more and more as he read the letter. He crumpled it in his claws, slipped on his cloak, and stormed out of the dorm without hesitation, rushing past the Noctowl. "I must make haste. If Achilles truly has knowledge on him, I wouldn't take any of his letters lightly."

The Feraligatr rushed down the halls, the adrenaline from his workout returned to him, giving him the motivation he needed to reach Achilles at his house. His footsteps gave a loud thud as he made his way through the halls, the grounds and the streets.


***


Achilles's house was very simple, for a Trade Prince. It was one of the houses in the medium class districts of Union City; it had two floors and a small garden, buried in snow. When Luthor arrived, Achilles was on the roof with a garden tool that looked very much like a shovel, shoving the snow off his roof. He would have easily passed for a simple gardener if his figure as a Medicham wasn't so easily recognized.

Looking up, Luthor yelled up at him, "Achilles! I need a word with you!" The Feraligatr loosened his grip on the letter, the paper slightly unfolding itself.

Achilles perked up from his work and let the shovel float next to him as he looked down upon his visitor. At first, he scowled at the Feraligatr, but when he realized who he is, he dropped it. "Welcome," he said plainly. The outer door flung open, driven by the phantom force of the psychic's touch, and Luthor was allowed in.

The Medicham jumped down from his roof, right onto the rocks of the main path, and motioned the Feraligatr to follow him inside. The inside was not warmer than the outside, despite the fire in the small fireplace. Achilles offered the Feraligatr a chair in the oaken kitchen table. "Sit," he said commandingly, and he did the same. Their chairs were opposite to one another. "Let us talk."

Luthor sat, and held the letter up. He stated, "You say you have knowledge of Romulus' whereabouts. Is this true, Achilles?" He asked, as he placed the crumpled letter onto the table, and withdrew his claws into his cloak.

The Medicham sat quietly with both hands on the table, measuring the Feraligatr with his look. "It is true," the Trade Prince confirmed with no joy or anger.

"Well, if so, what can you tell me? Where can I find Romulus?" Luthor's eyes were trained on Achilles, waiting for his response.

"Here, in Union City," Achilles said, and waited for his reaction.

Luthor's eyes sharpened, he wasn't amused. "Here? Where? How could he get in here?" Luthor's heart beat began to quicken, feeling as if Achilles merely jested with him. "Why on Exathor would a traitor be back in these walls?" He clenched his right fist, not sure what to make of the Trade Prince's reply.

The Medicham's eyebrows shifted. He seemed troubled, too. "I do not know," he said in a serious manner, "but I saw him with my own eyes. A tall Haxorus with scars on his legs and his side. There was no mistaking him. He was stealing food from the loads I had provided for starved citizens, last night."

"I see... where is he? I'll find him, and see that justice is served." Luthor calmed himself, but still was a bit sharp with his speech. The fact that Romulus would return to hide out in Union City and steal made his blood boil.

"I wish I had that information," Achilles replied, his voice barely audible. "If you wish to find him, then you must think like him."

"Think like him... well, I'd surmise he's hiding out in a lower class district of the city. Somewhere where the cold and snow can't reach quite as easily," Luthor stated.

"So he would not be easily recognized, and so he would protect himself," Achilles reflected, his mouth becoming a firm line that resembled a cold, dry smile of approval. "You know where to start, now," he spoke in a low tone.
 

Gerrick and Romulus - Beyond


The Old Mines of Union City were the last place anyone would look for a traitor. Long since drained from the gold that could be extracted, they were abandoned now, home to Galvantulas and Golbats and their children. Vellas, one of the leaders of the Gold Tribe during Union City's birth, made it his personal business to make use of that mountain that was lodged on the eastern part of the city; gold was found in it, and that gold served to make Union City rich, especially the district around the mine, as its residents were the miners with the highest and obscenely generous salary. Their houses near the entrance were like palaces in their prime, but once the mine was drained, they withered in time.

This district was now in a perpetual state of misery. Drowned in a haze that hung like a jinx over it, those who lived there were cursed to never look up. The houses were ancient but broken and in desperate need for renovation, as some lacked parts of their walls or roofs, letting the cold sweep right through them. Moss had grown from their snow-covered gardens. There were corpses on the side of the street; the cold or the hunger had reaped them. No one dared to look at a stranger, as strangers had no good to offer. No one dared to look at a brawny Haxorus who looked brutish enough to bring more bad things to the residents of this district.

It was exactly why Romulus had chosen this place for a hideout. These people were struggling with their every day lives, to make ends meet; they would not know or care who has abandoned the Gold Tribe and who has killed far more people than their soul could handle.

The Old Mines were warm, too.

The front entrance was collapsed long ago, but there was another way in; the way that was dug by Gerrick. The disconcerting thought that Romulus was depending on Gerrick's abilities to survive in this weather came often to him, but he always put off thinking of a way out of it... the Haxorus knocked off the barricade he'd placed at the small entrance Gerrick had created and slithered inside, where the sharp cold couldn't bite through his scales as badly. That entrance was simply a shortcut to bypass the collapse on the front entrance, so Romulus ended up inside the mines very quickly. He grabbed one of the torches that were burning on the walls and made his way through the caverns, to the small cave where he had his brother chained with a tristanite ball that the taskmasters of the mines used to fix in place prisoners who mined out their sentence in gold by strapping it onto their foot.

A few hundreds of meters into the cave, the torches wore out and eventually, and then there was only darkness. Romulus hadn't lit the rest of the way in case any wiseguy thought to enter the mines.

An hour later, the Haxorus entered the small cavern where his brother was in. The place seemed to be an interchange between many caverns the miners had dug in all directions; but all the separate caves had collapsed and half of the wooden supports that held the ceiling had turned to dust. The train-track that was used to push the cart with gold out of the mine was almost buried.

Romulus threw his small bag on the ground, between the train tracks, and sat on the bit of cold steel that protruded from the ground. "Eat up," he said to his brother who was near, without looking at him.

Gerrick glanced down at the pile of food in front of him, if you could call it that. Mushed up fat that was passed off as meat, along with some sort of grass that acted as a side. He was certain he could find better in the garbage. But at this point, 'food' was food, even if it... well, wasn't.

"Arceus, what I'd give for some ale to wash this down," Gerrick whined and scooped up the discolored meal and placed it into his mouth. "I don't think I even remember how ale looks like at this point! Or tastes like... "

Romulus on the other hand didn't care much about what he was eating, or what he would wash it down with. Food had lost its taste long ago. He looked at the Krookodile, chewing on his meat soup without much excitement. "No ale today," he said.

Gerrick scoffed, both at the combination of the horrid taste of the food and his brother's answer. "No ale today, no ale anyday. Arceus, look at where I'm at. What the hell am I doing here? Hiding like a frail Caterpie! Escapin' this damn cold is the highlight of my day! What the hell are we doin', Rom? What the hell am I still doin' here? Exathor... this fuckin' wasteland... " He shook his head and sighed. "I think I overstayed my welcome here."

The Haxorus picked up a piece of meat and brought it to his mouth, still staring at his brother. "Where else do you want to be?"

Gerrick offered the Haxorus a meek shrug. "Somewhere else, anywhere else. This land ain't what it used to be. Maybe somewhere south. Somewhere warm," The Krookodile shivered. "Somewhere where I can feel my toes. Yeah, there's somethin' like that out there. That's where I'm goin'. There are stories, ya know."

Romulus smirked. "Stories? What stories?"

Gerrick grinned as he rubbed his shoulders to warm them. "Stories beyond. The world don't end with Exathor. I heard tale of many lands. Lands where the 'mon live in a sunny paradise on small islands. Lands of fire scaled so high, no foreigners ever get in. Lands of buildings higher than any in our nations, so high that Arceus touches them from the sky. Lands where the 'mon live in forests, and another where they live deep in caves. And lands with harsh cold, and even harsher 'mon. You can be sure I'd avoid that land," Gerrick stated. He then shrugged again. "If a place like that is actually around. They're only stories. But it's a nice thought."

Romulus threw him a harsh look of disbelief. "I've never heard of these things," he scowled, but then gave it some thought. If there was truly new land to the south, then perhaps there was a chance he could... "We're already on the land harsh with cold," he grunted. "You can be trapped in a fantasy for all you want. Even if these lands do exist, they're lifetimes away from our reach." Romulus would choose to simply do what he would do best... here.

Gerrick snorted. "I've got a lifetime to go lookin'," He retorted and filled himself with what remained of the horrid food on his plate. "There ain't anythin' for me here anymore... I'm done with this land..." He paused for a moment, and looked over his brother. "You should come with me. It'll be like old times. The three of us together. Remember those times? There's nothing left for us here."

The Haxorus dropped his stiff expression for once and stopped eating. His heart ached and he looked at the Krookodile like a child about. In this moment of weakness, he looked at a pouch that he kept next to him; a pouch that contained a heavy stone disk...
 

Luthor "Silver Claw" vs Romulus "Earthquake"
​


After Luthor spoke with Achilles about the discovery of Romulus in the city, it was made clear there was no knowledge on where he was hiding. He had left, in search of the traitor. After wandering the streets of Union City, Luthor had realized the one place Romulus would actually go. The Mining District.

Luthor observed the surroundings, the abandonment, the misery and utter despair. It vaguely reminded the Feraligatr of his childhood. The starvation, the struggle, the very air... he felt like he was breathing the very same air he took when he was but a Totodile. Shaking it off, he scanned the surrounding area. It is quite abandoned, but those unfortunate souls in poverty usually end up here. A Croagunk appeared in his vision, walking across the road. Luthor inhaled deeply, and shouted at him, "You there! I need to speak with you." The Croagunk froze in place, not a muscle even twitched when he saw the large, lumbering figure in a black cloak. "U-Uh... y-yeah?" The Croagunk shoke, obviously hiding something he didn't want to share with Gold Tribe. "Have you seen any new... 'residents' around this area? I'm looking for a Haxorus."

The Feraligatr's eyes pierced into the Croagunk. "O-oh... yeah, yeah. In the mines. I think somethin' like that was trudging in those mines, fella," the Croagunk explained. Not thinking further on what that Croagunk was really hiding, he thanked him, and stormed off to the mines. After that, the Croagunk sped off in the opposite direction, not wanting to meet up with that lumbering nightmare again.

When Luthor approached, he could see the main entrance was blocked off. No sign of any recent tampering to it. That's when he looked around, and saw a 'mon-made hole. He bellowed lowly, angrily. He knew at that moment, Romulus had to be hiding in those mines.

Luthor steeled himself, and crawled into the hole. He crawled and crawled, deeper and deeper until he found himself in the mine tunnels, torches already lit. Luthor snatched a torch from the wall, and held it in front of him as he traversed through the emptiness.

It was faint, but Luthor could sense other 'mon besides him in these lifeless tunnels. He descended further, relighting his torch with nearby stationary torches. Eventually, after a restless search, he came across a growing light. A light separate from the torches along the wall. This is it. This is where Romulus was hiding.


***


Romulus and Gerrick had stopped their dining and stood completely still the moment they heard sounds from the cave. Romulus rolled his eyes and exhaled half-wearily, half-angrily as he first assumed some homeless 'mon had found their way in. He placed his bowl down quietly and pushed himself up, ready to call out, but he stopped suddenly and perked up his ears. What he was hearing was the footsteps of a heavy Pokemon. It occurred to him that whoever it was, perhaps he wasn't the regular citizens. It occurred to him, that he could have been followed.

He didn't call out. He pointed at his brother with one claw, ordering him to be silent as the 'mon was stepping closer. There was no time nor place to run; Romulus was facing the entrance of the dimly lit cave when the mon showed up. It was a hulking Feraligatr, tall enough for his head to be grazing the ceiling of the caves; as tall as Romulus, in fact. The Haxorus didn't instantly recognize the Feraligatr in the poor lighting, but he remembered that face, he had seen that face among other faces of the Gold Tribe, and had even heard the title: Silver Claw. Colossus, the former leader of the Gold Tribe and also mentor of Romulus, spoke of Silver Claw fondly.

Romulus looked at him intensely, as if he wanted to melt him with his stare; he bent his legs slightly and spread his arms low, ready to ignite them with dragonfire. Blood was going to be shed. Gerrick had already lumped in the shadows, gone into hiding away from sight.

Luthor's eyes met in full fury with the Haxorus. Even now, he could think back to all the talk about before Romulus was first admitted to the Gold Tribe. A real bully in the ECUL. A merciless fighter. "Romulus... if there was ever a member of the Gold Tribe throughout the years I would've enjoyed taking down...." Luthor's eyes gleamed as he spoke, his right claw seeming to glow a brilliant dragonflame. "I would've taken great pleasure putting you in your place. In the name of the Emperor Cyrus Aurelius, Ruler of All Exathian Nations... I shall finally deliver justice onto you."

Romulus scowled harshly. "You're using pretty words," he commented with iron in his voice, although he was tired. Through Romulus's dark eyes, there was a weight growing heavier with each kill, and it was visible now. Yet, his hands erupted with red and blue flames, giving the dark cave a different light. Luthor would use the same attack as he: Dragon Claw. It made the Feraligatr's hands hot with the same dragonfire that Romulus possessed, gone up in flames at the same time.

Luthor matched Romulus, and swiped first with a Dragon Claw of his own, shining blue and red flames as his claws raked the Haxorus. Romulus roared, feeling the scales of the side of his arm licked by the destructive, consuming dragonfire; his own slash came across the Feraligatr's chest at the same time.

The wounds were left scorched with blue and red embers, on the side of Romulus's arm and on Luthor's chest. Luthor bellowed, and attacked with a Crunch attack, lunging forward with jaws wide open. Romulus made no attempt to dodge; the Feraligatr locked his jaws around his side, his teeth piercing through the Haxorus's hard scales. The dragon grunted, already harmed from the cauterized by dragonfire gash on his arm, and responded with an Assurance that grabbed the Feraligatr from the neck. Normally, if this was any lesser opponent, Romulus's weight behind the Assurance would have flipped them off their feet and on their back, and that would be the end of them. But Luthor was heavy, and the Assurance only managed to push off his Crunch attack.

Romulus bared his teeth, exhaling audibly, upset. "You're making a mistake," he spat, "did you come down here to die?"

Luthor simply bellowed at him again. He ignored his own cauterized wound, and heatedly replied, "You're pathetic. You think you can kill me, Romulus?!" Luthor tightened his left fist, aiming Rock Smash attack at Romulus' gut. The attack connected as the dragon was preparing his next attack; Dragon Pulse. As the Feraligatr was so close, he was showered by dragonfire that burned hot like an anvil. Embers of dragonfire lingered on the ground after Romulus had spat out the attack from his mouth. The darkest corners of the cave were lit in a flash.

Luthor stumbled backwards, but roared, and sprayed a vicious Scald attack, a powerful stream of searing water aimed towards the Romulus' face. The dragon screeched when the attack struck him and flinched; he could feel his tough skin burn. He wanted this to be over quickly, now.

"Time to take your punishment. The consequences of all your actions to this point... the betrayal of the Gold Tribe Oath. Aiding the enemy, and slaying your own brethren. The only punishment for you is death. Face justice, traitor!" Luthor inhaled deeply, and released a Hydro Pump, again, with great force.

Romulus's face was drawn with madness, burned from the scald, lit in the dark by his own dragonfire. More dragonfire burst in front of his spread arms, creating a huge fireball just as the Hydro Pump was shot at him. He fired it at the stream of water and the dragonfire bit through the water in an explosion of steam. The Draco Meteor was one of Romulus's most powerful moves; he had hoped it would finish off the Feraligatr, but the Hydro Pump hindered its advance and diminished its strength. But it connected with Luthor, and the stream of water ceased. Luthor fumbled to the groud, wreathed on dragonflame, burning most of his body, and his cloak. He bellowed and groaned loudly from the pain, but clenched his fangs.

The Haxorus was heavily breathing, his scalded face stung and the wound on his arm ached him, but it wasn't time to let up. The brief pause gave him room to leap in front of the Feraligatr who was dazed by his Meteor; now he would give it his all. "Let us finish this!" his roar boomed in the cave, "feel my might!"

His whole body burst in dragonfire. It came out of his eyes and mouth and engulfed his scales, swirling around him wildly. He exhaled, feeling his whole body burn. The Haxorus let out a different roar rock the cave this time: a roar coming from hell. The Outrage made him wild with pure rage. He swung his head around, burying the axe-blades on dragonfire inside the Feraligatr's shoulder. His fiery claws came slashing up and down, pushing the Gold Tribesman back,

Luthor fell again, with a swift rake of Romulus' attack, Luthor was deeply wounded. Searing and burning, Luthor laid there recoiling in pain. He spattered blood, coughing and wrenching. But... despite the agony, he slammed his right claw to the ground and clumsily rose. Those yellow eyes continued to gleam with rage at the Haxorus. "I can see you desperately cling to winning this fight. Whatever the case may be... I will still kill you... I WILL kill you, Romulus!" Luthor bellowed once more, water engulfing his very being, a raging Waterfall attack was being formed. He raised his silver claws above his head, and again, the blue and red flames covered his claws.

He lunged, he shot towards Romulus with all of his might, his unbridled wrath. He slashed into the Haxorus with a Dragon Claw, and crashed into him with a furious Waterfall attack.

The water came washing up on Romulus like a rising wave, although it was consumed by the hellish dragonfire that surrounded the dragon. The strike, though, that came with the water, connected to Romulus's gut, and the Dragon Claw slash followed, tearing his scales apart. Pain blinded the dragon whose dragonfire was extinguished with the powerful strike Luthor's counter attack had delivered.

The cave became dark again as the dragonfire died out. Romulus was left standing a few meters away from his opponent. Blood dripped down from his nose onto his mouse as he drew breath, giving Luthor a deadly stare. His face was burned from the scalding water that had splashed on it, and the wounds on his arm and gut had turned purple and black between crushed scales.

A dragon on the brink of death, barely alive. With his jaws ground and his eyes full of something that resembled cold fury and weariness, he licked his lips, and slowly, he turned his head to his brother Gerrick. He couldn't see him in the dark, but he could smell him. The look he gave his brother should have been enough to get a message across.

His misty, weary gaze returned to the opponent that was standing in his way. He bent his legs as he would normally do before casting his signature move, Earthquake. "This is your last chance, Silver Claw. Get out of here, or you will be buried. I'll bring down the entire cave if I have to," he roared, but part of him knew it would not work. Silver Claw was too bent on his quest to give up now; he would have to be slain.

Luthor, heavily breathing and desperately clinging to life, huffed at the Haxorus. "You won't be able to pull it off, you wretch...." The Feraligatr lumbered towards Romulus, each step a great thud. Luthor was greatly feeling the blood loss and the deep wounds that covered his body. Still... his sharp, yellow eyes never let go of Romulus' eyes. "You're finished, Romulus," Luthor stated as he stepped closer and closer, his thudding footsteps causing his own quake. "Any last words, before I deliver unto you your punishment?" Luthor questioned the broken, worn down dragon, just in claw's length.

Romulus's mouth trembled. His resolve was crumbling. Yet, he raised one foot for the Earthquake, but the battle worn dragon did not finish the move correctly. What was set off was a small quake, and the Haxorus fell over. However, the quake rocked the cave violently and rocks cracked from the ceiling, and parts of it started to collapse into the cave below. A cloud of dust rose and the light of the torches was extinguished, leaving everything into darkness.
 
After the Battle​

The quake and rumbling from Romulus's failed attack still made quite the scene within the mine tunnels. Both Romulus and Luthor were buried underneath debris, but after some time, the Feraligatr shook free from his rocky tomb. He coughed and spattered more blood, groaning from the intense fight that took place. The mine was collapsing. Despite a failed Earthquake, Romulus still had enough power to make the entire mine collapse.

It took him a few moments to realize he was surrounded in darkness, though he could still barely see. Squinting, his vision became clear enough to somewhat navigate his surroundings. And, where his opponent was previously. In his place, were the rocks that fell on top of him. Though he knew he had to inspect the body, the collapsing mine was a more important matter. He himself would die in there as well if he didn't get out quickly enough. However... something caught Luthor's eye, and attention. Not only the bloodied bag that lay some feet away from him, but the fact that the Krookodile with Romulus was nowhere to be found.

He picked up both his back and his tattered cloak, shrouded himself and strapped the bag to his person. He looked around, but appeared to have no escape. "I'll have to find water... my only chance of survival. Again." Luthor thought this to himself as he got on all fours, lowering his head to the ground, he trained his very being to the environment. He laid there, training his ears to anything at all. Finally, he caught it. It was faint, but it was there. Running water. It seemed to run somewhere, so Luthor had no choice. Looking at his claws, he readied himself to tunnel through the earth once more.

"Grnnghh!" The Feraligatr bellowed, as he raked, clawed and dug through the earth, all of his training paying off once more, as he once again dug through pure rock and dirt. As his clawed his way, the room caved in, and became a tomb if it's own.


***


Back in the White Citadel, inside the War Room, Emperor Cyrus was seated in his place in the round table with the map that depicted Exathor, and all the pawns that symbolized the armies on it. Garland was standing by his side, pointing to the north where most of the Crimson Crusade's army had gathered in Telmor. They were discussing how they would move next, when a Doublade from the Emperor's Shield appeared in the door.

"Your Highness," the blades spoke quickly, "apologies for the curt interruption, but it appears Silver Claw has returned. He claims to have completed his quest."

The Beartic and the Floatzel paused for a few seconds.

Garland grunted with his hands on his hips, "so soon? Is this some kind of joke?"

As Garland finished, the door swung open, Luthor, in his tattered black cloak covered in blood, slowly lumbered into the War Room. He limped slowly, even a bit of his blood smeared onto the floor as he made his way. "Y-Your Highness... Brother...." Luthor groaned, trying to speak without coughing terribly.

Emperor Cyrus stood up in a hurry, nearly knocking his chair back. Luthor was just limping right past the lower table that was used for lunch when the Beartic made him sit down on a low, wide chair made for 'mon of his size. He barked to the Doublades, "get a healer, go."

Garland stood near the Emperor as he examined Luthor's wounds. The gash across the Feraligatr's chest was blackened, cauterized, as was the deep cut in his shoulder. Cyrus placed the tip of his claw on them and brought it to his nose. "Dragonfire," he said to Garland, whose face darkened.

"Romulus?" he asked, his voice strange, as if he was choked up.

"Yes..." Luthor answered tiredly. "I found h-him... in the mines... Achilles informed me of Romulus' presence in the city. I found him... in the abandoned mines. We fought, and near death, Romulus had set off a quake in the mines, making the place collapse... we were both buried, but I managed to escape. I wasn't able to be certain of his condition, but... I found this." Luthor held up a bloodied bag. The bag he swiped before leaving, as proof of his encounter with the Haxorus.

"What is this?" Garland inquired, his eyes darting to the bloodied bag Silver Claw was holding.

At that moment, a Chansey and her Happiny helpers walked in, waddling quickly to the Feraligatr's side. They took out potions and bandages out of the Chansey's pouch and got to work.

"Sir," the Chansey said to Garland, "we will have to sedate him to sew up his wounds."

"So be it," the Floatzel said, "take him to the infirmary. Make sure he survives."

The Doublades helped the Chansey and the Happiny get Luthor outside the War Room. Once that was done, Cyrus took the bloodied bag to his hands and examined it. Out of it he took a small but heavy disk made of stone. It had streaks through which a white liquid passed through, giving it its own slight illumination. This was one of the vessels used in the Vaults to store thoughts and memories.

Garland was upset as Cyrus spun the disk to show its contents, but he said nothing. A vision captured their eyes.
 

Earthquake
​


It was dark as the curtains were drawn over the window, but a single ray of the sun was enough to give color to the room. A very simple and tidy room, without much furniture or finery or even personal items. On the wall above the feather bed, there was the schedule of the summer activities for the Gold Tribe. And next to it was a mirror, more than six feet tall.

The Haxorus was staring inside the mirror, searching deep in his own grey eyes. His breathing was quickened and his heart raced. His face had been molded into an expression that had never touched it before: that of pain, and that of fear. But only briefly. The pain and fear faded, and iron was left behind when he started talking.

"I am Romulus Errias," he stated in front of the mirror in a deadpan, lifeless tone. "Brother of Second-in-Command, Alonsus 'Shadowrend' Errias, and mentored by Raphael 'Colossus'. Titled, 'Earthquake.' The date is seventeen of August, year a thousand and fifty nine After the Prophet. This is the start of my memoir; this is all I will have left once this is over. It will be updated... every chance I get, in the following months. I don't know if it will serve a good purpose or it will be a pointless exercise; but I know that it'll help me a lot."

He drew a deep breath, staring at the mirror as if it was his enemy. He was frustrated.

The vision shifted, the room faded.

"Sixteen of August," Romulus was heard saying as the scenery changed into mountains. "Yesterday."

A Haxorus and a Krookodile were standing on the edge of a cliff, in Montajo range, central Exathor. There were no snows, and the heat of the summer made it comfortable for the two reptiles. But there was tension between them; they never loved each other much, even though they were brothers in the Gold Tribe for years now.

The Krookodile always had a black cape and dark eyes to match it, and his golden insignia on his lapel gave him a certain degree of... authority. He was unsmiling, always unhappy, always unsatisfied, dutiful to a fault. Very unlike their brother, Gerrick.

"Romulus," Alonsus Errias said, "there's no time."

"Get on with it, then," Romulus prompted him. Indeed there wasn't time. Romulus was in the service of Lord Chantalai of the Vanir, and he had been pulled away secretly for this conversation.

"Are you still loyal to the Gold Tribe?" his older brother asked him back in the same curt manner. Alonsus, of course, would flay him on the spot if he said no, but he had to ask. War was right around the corner.

Romulus scowled, putting his hands on his hips. He said, "of course. I will be loyal till my death, and afterwards if I can."

"Swear to me that you are loyal. Say your oaths again."

Romulus rolled his eyes and exhaled. "I swear to honor the customs and traditions of the Gold Tribe. I swear to respect my fellow Pokemon. I swear on my honor, on my life, on my heart to protect those who can't be protected and those who asked to be protected. I swear to defend the freedom and liberty of the Pokemon of this Realm and its leader, the First Man of Union and Alliance, Emperor Dareon Aurelius. The true Emperor."

Alonsus "Shadowrend" stared at him, with his dark eyes piercing through his. He did not detect lies, Romulus observed. Alonsus was the one who had taught him how to lie; Alonsus knew how Romulus lied, and Alonsus hadn't been lied to by his little brother forever.

The Krookodile shut his mouth and inhaled through his nostrils. "As the Second-in-Command, I discussed your position with our leader. Your spot is rather favorable for us. The bodyguard of the Lord of the Vanir, the supposed chieftain of the rebel lords, and you've the reputation of a brute on top of that. Someone who respects no law, only force."

Romulus was used to his brother belittling him for his reputation. He shrugged. He didn't give a damn about his reputation. "People like to talk."

Alonsus ground his jaws. "Indeed," he said between his teeth.

"So what's this about, brother? Did you drag me all the way out here to make me say my vows again? Has Dareon started to sweat on his throne about every brother and sister's loyalty?" He snickered.

Alonsus was unamused. "As I said, your position has been discussed. And Garland and I have agreed that we shall be giving a quest to you. You cannot tell anyone about this."

"And what will that quest be?" Romulus asked.

Alonsus looked at him with dark pity in his otherwise cold eyes. "To betray your oaths on purpose. To go back on our principles as member of the Gold Tribe; to be branded a rogue, a betrayer, a traitor. All that to gain the trust of the enemy. Stay close to them. Do what they bid you to do. Slay your brothers if you must, but remain to their side at all costs; none of the laws that applied to you so far do so now. Blend in with the evil. Find out about their plans, study them; learn who incites them and why. And help us, when you can, from the shadows, undetected. You will be chased." Alonsus shrugged, his mouth forming a passive line downwards. "You might be slain," he added, "for the greater good. Why you?" Alonsus questioned. "The reason is obvious. No one will question it. No one will think otherwise. You're one of the best fighters in the Realm. Your strength has made you a symbol to many Stygians. You're already a monster to the eyes of the rest, and you can play the part well, you know how. You're an actor Romulus. We taught ourselves to be actors in front of our father. We joined evil, so evil would not destroy us."

What was he to say? The Haxorus looked at his brother sadly for a time, and then glanced off to the side, where the mountain valley opened up before them beyond the cliff. A gentle wind brought the summer scent to his nose, and the birds cried out as they flew above the mountains of the sky island. The river of the valley shone under the sun. Would that all feel different... if he accepted? Would his life be forsaken forever?

"What if I say no?" Romulus said, his throat very dry suddenly. This was not a choice anyone should be given.

"Then," Alonsus said, his eyes suddenly widening in rage, "I'll slay you right here," he bellowed, spitting saliva his way, "you miserable, useless wretch! The Gold Tribe needs you, and you dare say no?! You deny the very people who took you in and called you brother?! You were nothing but a violent, nearly uncivilized baby before I made sure you got into the college, always bringing nothing but trouble! You led a dangerous, risky life, and you survived, because you were good at it. That's all you're good for. Maybe I should've sent you to the fighting pits instead; it seems you lack the courage to do right by the brotherhood."

"Enough," Romulus spat, and they stared each other hatefully. "I'll do your quest."

The Krookodile let out a slight grunt of acknowledgement, grinding his jaws; if he was satisfied, there was no sign of it. There never was any sign of happiness in Alonsus, only bitter grimness.

"But tell me the reason," Romulus continued, "I can just fight for the Emperor as well as I can for the enemy. Why should I forsake my oaths, and risk my honor forever?"

"Garland suspects someone is inciting the rebellion. That it isn't simply the doing of the ambitious little fucks half of the lords of Stygia are. Someone with the power to move so many people in such way is dangerous to the Realm and must be identified."

The Haxorus laughed dryly, "so, I'm risking my life and my honor for a suspicion?"

"Don't question it," Alonsus spat, "even if Garland is wrong, the Stygians are powerful. And we lack men on the inside."

Romulus grinned joylessly, bitterly. "I see how it is," he said. "I'll be going now."

"Don't fail us," Alonsus said.

"Don't worry," Romulus retorted. "I won't risk everything just to fail."



***


​

Now it was night, and Romulus was in a small cave, alone. He lay down on the tough rock floor, staring at the wall.

"I watched my brother die today," Romulus's voice was heard, though the dragon did not move his mouth. "It was an ambush. I would have warned him, but there was no time, no opportunity. Or, maybe there was, but I missed it. Lord Chantalai watches me closely, as if he suspects. He did not allow me to be present while they butchered the Gold Tribe party that was sent just to talk with him; maybe he was too afraid I would do something. Only afterwards, he brought me to the room and showed me what had been done; Alonsus was still alive and writhing on the ground, when Vendra plunged a dagger through his eye. I did not move a muscle. I did not feel a thing. I hated my brother. My brother was just a hunk of meat with a zeal that made him a tool for the tribe. But he didn't deserve to die like that. Nobody from the Tribe deserved to die like that."

The Haxorus ground his teeth together, a knot stuck in his throat, choking him up with hatred and bitterness. "Shadowrend and the rest of them ought've died in battle, with their honor intact."



#***#



Night, again, and in a similar cave, Romulus lay on the ground. This time, his scales were damaged and bloodied from war. He was trying to sleep, but it just wouldn't come.

"I have dipped my claws into Gold Tribe blood," he reflected, "no going back." He remembered vividly the Gold Tribe that had fallen in the Battle of the Deathbringer's Mark. Had they fallen to his Earthquake? He was not sure... he was checking their bodies to see if that was the case. Some of them were broken indeed, in many places, very likely from the powerful shock-wave one of his Earthquakes caused. The quake had killed them instantly. Some survived. He found as many as he could and granted them mercy; but he wasn't quick enough, and those he could not finish off were captured and sent off to Arceus's knows where, to be tortured, no doubt.

"Lord Chantalai asked me to deliver him Garland's head. To prove that my oaths to him as his guardian wouldn't break as easily as the oaths I gave to the Gold Tribe. The brothers and sisters I slew on the Mark weren't enough. What do I do? If he will not trust me completely, their deaths will have been for nothing."

But suddenly, he was angry. He pounded his fist on the wall, causing it to crack. "They're dead, for nothing! I should've never taken this quest." His rage focused on one person: Garland Fordring. "That fool would have me slay people of our own for nothing! I shouldtake his head!"

He pounded the wall again. His blood was boiling. He craved battle more than ever now. And he knew where he would find it next. He would confront Garland.


​

#***#


The caves in the Grey Waste Romulus would dig up looked the same. He lay on the ground, but this time, he wasn't alone in the cave; the witch Vendra, a Meloetta with a childish face was sleeping quietly near him, like a baby, as if the greatest siege the Realm had known for centuries hadn't happened in the last few days.

Romulus had picked Vendra up, saved her from the heat of the battle. Vendra was dangerous, despite her appearance. She was important, perhaps one of the chief minds behind the rebellion.

He had saved her purely because he had nothing else to show for in the siege. He had failed to cut off Garland's head; he had only managed to talk to him. They played catch up, that's all they did, and they fought, for appearances, in case anyone was watching; and indeed, Vendra had seen them.

Sleep would not return. Romulus was consumed by rage.


***


He was alone again in a room in the monasteries of Stoneyard. Standing in the middle of the room, his eyes would not close. They remained wide open.

"They have the Prince," Romulus thought. "The rest of the Gold Tribe are trapped down in the caves. I tortured them. I have no way of contacting Garland or the Tribe... they'll never find them here..."

"The enemy is acting strange. They pretend that the Caretaker is in fact the Emperor. I wonder why that is."

The memory was fast-forwarded a few days. The sun rose and dark fell multiple times, with Romulus going in and out of his room often.

"The priests have noticed our presence in the Spirit Summit. Their voices travel up to the mesas, so when I'm standing outside, I can hear them..."

"So that's what they were doing, down in the caves. Taunting Dareon, not only with his son, but challenging his axiom. I don't think the Caretaker is interested in becoming the Emperor. They just wanted to lure Dareon straight into a trap. The Prince can't stay here any longer. I'm going to free him."
​


***



So many things had happened since the last time he had recorded his memories into the disk. He'd released the Prince, but he hadn't anticipated that high a level in the security of the other Mesas of Stoneyard, and the Prince must have never truly escaped. But that damage was miniscule to what had taken place in Stoneyard. The Deathbringer awakened. The Nexus of Stoneyard rose from the Midnight Shrine, and then it had fallen, and he had failed to retrieve the crystal that energized it. Inside the tower of the Nexus, Lord Chantalai had been slain, by his own brother Gerrick. Romulus was glad that his lord was dead; the Haxorus had plans of his own to slay his master if by chance he survived the foolish duel he started against Emperor Dareon. He would have covered it up as collateral damage to the Nexus collapsing. But Gerrick saved him of the trouble.

"Gerrick, who pretends to be someone he's not... he has no idea what kind of person wore that black cloak. Krookodile, yes, but very unlike him... if he's not a spy for the enemy, he's there to steal. Either way... he must die. Family is everything. You don't dishonor them that way. Not the Errias family, and neither the Gold Tribe family."

Sleep avoided him for many days now. His eyes were red as he stood in the middle of the cave, with Vendra sleeping peacefully like a bird on the cold floor. He had abducted her, saved her again; now that Lord Chantalai was dead, he would use her to stay close to that being of destruction and death that was called Thrace. "Vendra likes her a lot. And that vision the witch showed me, of that King long dead and her, it confirms that Vendra and Thrace knew each other centuries, maybe millennia ago, allegedly ageless as they are."

The Haxorus was left staring at the exit of the cave. In his face were mixed hatred, rage and disgust. The face of a certain Primeape came to mind; Thrasher, of the Gold Tribe, former Stygian assassin. Thrasher had stood in his way when he descended the tower. Romulus's will had broken then; he had failed to kill Thrasher. He had grabbed the battle-worn Primeape, and instead of breaking all the bones in his round body and wrenching out his heart, he only tossed him to a wall. It was better this way. Thrasher did not stand in his way any longer, he got to live afterwards, and there was no one to tell of the event to the leaders of the Crusade, except Vendra, but he would bully her well into silence.

He glanced at her. There was nothing more he hated than having to band with his enemy in this way. He wanted to strangle her while she was awake, to see the shock of his betrayal in her eyes. He wanted to plunge his claws through her little body and cut her in half, twist her head off and burn her to ashes. And little Vendra had no idea why he acted like this. It didn't cross her child-like mind that Romulus detested her and that a minion of hers shouldn't be acting this way.

Romulus cracked his knuckles; he couldn't wait to rush through Montajo range tomorrow. Their next destination was Telmor, where the rebels gathered.


***
​


Romulus was crouching under a tree in the swamps of Telmor. The butchered carcass of a mon that couldn't be identified by that point lay beside him. His meal served as a warning to others who might approach and interrupt him. The only mon in sight was a Pidgey who was sitting on top of his arm willingly, who trembled and looked away from him, scared.

"Quiet," Romulus commanded the Pidgey, "I'm not gonna hurt you if you do as I say."

He was writing a letter to the Gold Tribe, describing the situation in Telmor. He'd seen Thrace with his own eyes, but he had best not include so much information, lest he give himself away. He merely listed the status of the armies of the newly formed Crimson Crusade. And, of course, he mentioned that Gerrick was impersonating Alonsus. He smirked with a joyless, dry grin as he scribbled the line that would behead his traitor of a brother.

"Now, be still," he whispered to the Pidgey standing on his arm as he tied the sealed letter to its foot. He grabbed the small mon with his other hand, lifted it and forced it to look at him. "You know how to speak?" he asked curtly.

The Pidgey cawed. Romulus nodded. "Good. If he's caught, he won't tell anyone."

"Remember," Romulus underlined his words, staring intensely into the bird's eyes, "fly around the mountains, outside of the edge of the land if you have to. The mountains are bad for you." The blockade of the Crimson Crusade was vicious; they shot down any birds in range, with or without letters tied to their feet. "If you can't continue, give the letter to another bird. Don't mess this up, or I will find you, and I will make you pay."

The Pidgey cried again and flapped its wings in a hurry to get away.

Romulus got up from his crouching position and leaned against the tree. He exhaled, staring at the ground. He was troubled by what he had heard in the meeting of the Sages. Thrace was not the only enemy that he ought to find out more about. Thrace herself was only a Sage. The rebellion was not even her idea. It belonged to the greater mind of a person hidden so far... a person who was most likely close to the Emperor, or at the very least, not within the Crusade's ranks. That was merely a suspicion, nothing worth mentioning in the letter, yet this suspicion Romulus could not simply leave unattended. He had to make sure that the Gold Tribe knew who they were fighting. He had outlived his usefulness besides Thrace; now it all came down to the strength of the two armies.

Romulus was on the wrong side precisely to identify their enemy, but the Caretaker was unidentifiable so far. He had not contacted the Crusade; he was only waiting at the other side for them to come and sweep everything. He did press Vendra to reveal what she knew about him, how the two supposedly communicated; apparently Sage Kagemusha could communicate with him as well, and Thrace, even, but neither of those people, not even Thrace, seemed so sure about it, from Romulus's perspective.

He snickered. "They're his tools, and they don't even realize it. They take pride in the one or two times he has graced them with his presence and words, and they parade as his heralds, but in reality, they know little more than they're telling us. But they do know his identity, so they do not wonder who he is. I need to find someone who does wonder, and maybe I've already found him..."


#***#


Out of the monsters the other Sages were, Romulus thought Lord Teneth was the only one who would make a good ruler. The Shukahen loved him; he was kind to them. He'd been alone with him in the Crystal Palace, and the thought to assassinate him did cross his mind, but the slippery Umbreon with the green neon rings unnerved him. When he was alone with him, he had a feeling Teneth would not let himself be vulnerable just like that. He seemed to have a trump card. So, Romulus did not risk compromising his position.

They would work together to find out about the Caretaker. But it was all blown to bits when Romulus learned that they kept Gerrick alive in a cell in Amoon village, instead of having him executed already.

And now he had end up in a cave in Montajo range with his brother snoring besides him. He stood in the middle of the cave as per habit, half asleep, half awake, with his eyes wide open.

"Gerrick has changed, and he hasn't. I don't ever remember him being good company." And this was a notion unspoken, hovering over his subconscious: this was the most fun he had had in years, and it was with his brother, a lowly criminal who'd impersonated his brother just to get some loot from a favorable position. It was pitiful.

"He tried to lure me with enticing propositions. Leave everything behind, lead a new life, let it all burn. It is not that easy."

Romulus's mouth trembled and his reddened eyes became watery.

"Especially now that I know you know of the Caretaker."



***


In a cold shack in Union City, Romulus was holding the small disk he was using to record his thoughts and memories. Gerrick was somewhere in the back, snoring.

"Gerrick spoke to the Caretaker, but I couldn't see. The voice was coming from behind the wall, near the ground, but no one was really there, even after I checked. Only snow and a pile of rocks. I'm left clueless... what do I do now? What is the next step?"

The thought to give himself in to the new Emperor crossed his mind. But that could not happen. The Caretaker was near, and if Romulus was caught, his brother Gerrick would be caught too and beheaded, and the only string he could hold on to to find the enemy would snap. If he would tell them that Gerrick knew of the Caretaker? They wouldn't believe either of them. Garland would look like a fool to trust them.

And the deaths he had inflicted were catching up to him. Innocents that had stood in his way during this insanity had died, others had been injured. Murders unordered. He could give himself in. That's what Alonsus would have suggested he do, at least, and hope that he would be pardoned with this memory disk. Of course he would be pardoned - the leader of the Gold Tribe, who was still alive even, had approved of this mission. Even if crimes were committed, and even if he had earned the hatred of the entire Tribe, he would not be executed.

But that would be the worst part. Romulus would be stigmatized forever. Even if his heinous crimes were forgiven and forgotten, he would not forget. And others would never understand how a person like Romulus would be haunted forever by the ghosts of all the people who could have lived longer if he was not there. He would not be allowed to fight besides the Gold Tribe, even if he returned; the blood of his brothers stained him, and if one from the Tribe thought that was unforgivable, and refused to have him, then the others would not question him.

In the cold shack, he was drenched in pain. His mouth trembled and a sob rocked his body.

He would continue his way down this route, and he would die fighting for it. For the greater good. For the Gold Tribe!

"Lord Chantalai said to me once that I have no title. That I am simply Romulus Errias. That's not true. I never forgot my title. Always, every morning with the sunrise, I would remind myself that above all else, I am Earthquake."​
 

Emperor


The Emperor bent beside his bed-ridden father who breathed very slowly, only every once in a while. The Mega Evolution had slipped off of Dareon. He now looked like a simple, sickly Ampharos. His blank stare was fixed on the window across his legs. A blue liquid was pumped into his blood by the six needles, three stucks on each arm.

Cyrus grabbed his hand and the Ampharos took his eyes from the window to his son. The poison had blinded him, but he was fiercely holding on to life.

But there wasn't much of the Dareon Cyrus knew in the eyes that had turned yellow. "Blinded and slain by an insect," his father let out a laugh that sounded more like a cough at the irony. His grasp over Cyrus's hand didn't have much strength.

"Not slain yet," Cyrus stated, perhaps to encourage him. "And don't speak. You still have life in you, don't waste it in such words."

Dareon gritted his teeth as he retracted his sightless stare from his son. He hissed in pain and closed his eyes.

The Beartic wasn't feeling anything. He just felt a sense of duty, to inform his father of what he was about to do, and perhaps he sought his advice. Without letting go of his hand, he said:

"I will be marching to that valley of ice with the biggest army Exathor has seen in the last five hundred years. We will fight for the Last Nexus."

Dareon grunted quietly, his features drawn from pain. "Destroy their leaders before anything else."

Cyrus remained still for a moment. "They're the ones who hold the Crusade together."

The Ampharos shook and coughed violently. "There is no room left for honor. Send daggers out for them... issue a bounty for their heads. Even their own soldiers will think of it."

The Beartic thought about Thrasher. "I will."

He was about to go, but his father tightened the grip on his hand, holding him in place. His yellow, blind eyes were sad and his tone was withered. "I wish I could fight for the Realm now."

Cyrus gripped his father's hand strongly and patted it with his other hand. "You are fighting now."

The Beartic got up to his feet and left his father's side.

For if my death comes before yours, you will carry on the rest of the Realm's fights.
​


***


Outside of the walls of Union City, on the iceberg, the army had assembled in hosts according to their nationality. The banners of Hesperian lords and the Otori hang limp for the lack of air, and the snow was perched on top of them. From Union City, those that had gathered on the walls to see them off couldn't tell which banner was which. The snow was already claiming all, stripping them of nationality, sweeping above their heads, impersonal like death.

Cyrus wasn't phazed by the cold himself, of course. Snow slid down from his armor of ice. The Thunder Crown was warm and wet above his head, melting any snow that stayed on it.

He had ordered massive torches to be lit and carried by Pokemon in the army and organized them so those who needed the heat the most would stay near the moving fires.

The Emperor leaned on Thresh's handle, who had the tip of his edge buried in the snow. In front of him, an army of many thousands, around him, the Emperor's Shield, and next to him, all the brothers and sisters of the Gold Tribe, a few dozens that were still alive. At his back, half of the dark castle that floated in the air was hidden in the fog above the valley.

"Here we are," Cyrus shouted his voice travelling amidst the grim ranks of his soldiers with the help of the psychics. "In this foreign land, our island, or should I say, our vessel, touched down on its own. I do not know what for. But it seems to be the doing of our enemy, Thrace and her loyal minions. Those who follow her out of fear should be forgiven, but do not hold back. We will find them somewhere in this valley, and we will end their lives. Or they may end ours. But we will have fought to see our nation safe from the terror and madness of that so called Goddess!"

Some soldiers shouted and cheered, but it wasn't well-heard through the snow.

"My father today," Cyrus continued, "told me he wished to fight with us, for the Realm. To protect us from the future of fear and death Thrace promises." His tone grew louder, and anger was poured into it. "Do you think they will not realize what they are fighting for, once they all see what she is? They will shake and crumble before us!" he roared, and the warriors roared as well. "And when they are in pieces, we shall give them our hand to help them up, because they will join us," he roared again, raising the blade high up in the air. "We are all Exathians! And we will fight the terror together. March onwards!"
​
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