Prologue - Two Years Prior
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Chapter List
Prologue
Chapter 1 - The Scars of Marsten Hall
Chapter 2 - The News
Chapter 3 - Hero in Akrat
Chapter 4 - The Festival
Chapter 5 - The Battles Commence
Chapter 6 - The Finals
Chapter 7 - The Captain
Chapter 8 - What has Come to be
Chapter 9 - A Steep Curve
Chapter 10 - Lioa
Chapter 11 - The Plan
Chapter 12 - Threat
Chapter 13 - Frozen Night
Chapter 14 - School
Chapter 1 - The Scars of Marsten Hall
Chapter 2 - The News
Chapter 3 - Hero in Akrat
Chapter 4 - The Festival
Chapter 5 - The Battles Commence
Chapter 6 - The Finals
Chapter 7 - The Captain
Chapter 8 - What has Come to be
Chapter 9 - A Steep Curve
Chapter 10 - Lioa
Chapter 11 - The Plan
Chapter 12 - Threat
Chapter 13 - Frozen Night
Chapter 14 - School
Warning: This story rates as M. There are scenes of gore, violence, addiction to smoking, cursing some potential slurs or self hate, discussions about mental illness and abuse in multiple chapters.
Prologue
When my great-great-grandfather was a boy, the world was a dangerous place. The great Coltese Union didn't exist back then. In fact, it was a broken land filled with hate and fear. The North, South and Kilgor were the only places in Coltar back then. Each had its own ruler and its own rules and laws.
On the eve of the 24th of April 1988, the world was about to change for the worst. The date of the Marsten ball had come around quicker than the Lords of the North and South wanted as tensions were higher than they had been for decades. The half-moon was a darker shade of yellow than it usually would be. Its light glowed over the fields behind Marsten Hall, overwhelming the town surrounding it.
Back then, the people of Coltar weren't aware of the far-off lands from which their ancestors came. The half-moon represented half hopes, half jobs and most cynically, the half-truths they were told.
Some people had tried to escape the island, explore, or break free of their crimes and lives. However, escape had proven impossible. Those attempting to flee were often caught up in storms caused by powerful Pokémon and drowned. Those who didn't drown and tried to fly were caught up in whirlwinds, which ripped feathers from flying Pokémon's skin, leaving them flightless. That was assuming they weren't shot down by members of the Elite Guard or the armies which inhabited the land. Even attempting to leave was a capital offence.
Most importantly, though, the outside world was unknown to these people – they were told of great monsters and the abyss which would swallow them whole. Most were too afraid to leave.
My great-great-grandfather James watched as the crowds joined the celebrations from afar, as the Northern Lords shook hands with Southern Lords. The Northern Elite Guard green clashed with the Southern blue. While their handshakes seemed friendly, James could see discontent in their eyes.
"Hey, James. Where is Kitiku?" a boy in uniform, with long black hair and grey eyes, said, nudging James's shoulder.
"I don't know, Pierre," James responded, half-heartedly, staring back at the crowd.
"Well, you two better hurry – Lord Madison is giving a speech soon. But… things aren't looking too good. Lord Piscar isn't negotiating from what I understand, and Lord Madison plans on not giving way the status of Akrat and the other things," Pierre said, muttering. "James, I'll talk to Hanson when we get home. I promise."
"He won't stop …" James whispered, shuffling his feet.
"No, he will. I will make sure of it." Pierre raised his arm up, closing his fist.
James moved his arm up to meet it in the middle. "If you promise… I trust you."
"Now I have to go. Be good," Pierre said, walking away.
A little sick to his stomach, James turned back to watching the Guardsmen and women talking uneasily. Although, he did feel a little relieved at the peacefulness of the situation. He knew no one would dare fight in Marsten, the town of negotiations and peace treaties alike. After all, Marsten was the first town founded in Coltar, followed by Quigk, the Northern Capital. This year, the sheer increase in people attending the Marsten ball coincided with the ongoing negotiations.
While it was clear the negotiations were between Lord Madison of the North and Lord Piscar of the South, the presence of the Master Guard didn't escape his notice. Master Elite Lord Gere Filktas (the ruler of the whole island) had little interest in the politics between Lord Piscar and Lord Madison. Their constant bickering was something that allowed him to sit upon his throne unchallenged by either of them. However, James strongly believed that Lord Madison could easily defeat Master Filktas.
James spotted a tall figure with blond hair and glasses march through the crowd out of the corner of his eye. His poise was enough for James to recognise him immediately as Head of the Master Guard, Felix Mainstenhill – a prodigy trainer, born in the Capital of Quigk. He checked people for their invites to the event. Those without invite and the poor were thrown out of the ballroom and onto the streets. Something that made James turn his nose up a little.
A little jealousy burned inside of him as he wondered at what age Master Guardsman Mainstenhill was taken away from his family to be trained. Was it three years old, maybe four? Many young children were taken away from their parents to be prepared to serve their ruler. James wished it had happened to him, but now he couldn't change that. All he wanted to do was see Lord Madison now.
He waited for a break in the crowds before scuttling past the old columns and ruins. All inscribed with Kilgorese, a language spoken by none but a few. The columns were made of sandy bricks, which were starting to fall apart in some places. Instinctively, James believed the two Lords would discuss matters in Marsten Hall's courtroom. He couldn't go through the main entrance, as he lacked an invite. If caught, he would hang from blood-stained chains. The chains were from the metal of an Aggron, a strong steel type Pokémon. The carpet underneath matched the national Coltese colour of purple. However, it was just as vile to look at as the chains which hung on the wall.
He crept around the outside of the ballroom until he reached the back of the building. The courtroom was on the upper floor of the hall. He looked at the sandy, crumbling bricks and took a deep breath before taking his Poké ball out of his pocket.
"Come out, Okta, let's see Lord Madison," James whispered to the Poké ball. He pressed the button in the middle and released the Pokémon within. A red beam streamed out of the ball, and a smaller than average Onix appeared. Her rocky body wasn't the pure grey of a regular Onix but rather a dirty golden colour. "Hey, Okta. Give me a lift, will you?"
James watched her growl happily before bending down to pick him up. He felt himself being raised up onto the window sill, looking in on the courtroom. He looked through his reflection. Touching his red hair and moving it out of his face, revealing his red eyes and Caucasian complexion in the window, before looking at the highly decorated room.
Behind the judge's seat was the grand portrait of Igor Rett, the first man to unite Coltar. His pale white face was war-torn. His Pokémon was one that no one had claimed to have seen in many years – an older form of Lucario, with sharp horns atop its head. Like Igor, its face was stern and paternal, but its colours made it seem surreal as if it was a myth.
James took a step back off the window sill, a little disappointed, and tumbled. Okta grabbed him in her mouth, so he could see through the ballroom window where the orchestra inside was playing the anthem of the island of Coltar.
Many of the band members were playing the Ukuru. An Ukuru was an instrument only affordable to the middle class or higher. It was crafted from the bones of a Lairon, cut and curved into a hypnotic spiral. The mouthpiece was created from the melted coat of an Aron. The band members who played the Ukuru had to blow into the spiralled metal mouthpiece and bend the bone of the mainframe to change the notes being played. Other instruments played in the band were mainly variants of the banjo, a poor man's musical instrument in Coltar. The music that filled the room was so beautiful it made the tensions between the North and South seem so far away.
James could see the back of the composer of the band and his Gastrodon. His hair was snow-white, short and braided. He was blocking the view of nearly everything inside. The rest of the ballroom was obstructed by his yellow Gastrodon, who was happily squelching along to the music.
However, in the ballroom, he could see the Chandelure floating by. Amongst the purple ghosts, an orange one floated around. Its smile was wider than any of the other Pokémon and people in the room. For an orange Chandelure to even be allowed to light the hall was a miracle in itself. James didn't understand the prejudice against the orange Chandelure that are found. All he knew was they were relatively uncommon.
Just like Okta, they were special.
"Halt!" a voice behind him bellowed.
James jumped out of his skin and turned around.
"Bow down to me and explain why you are here? Why are you here?" a tall Southern man asked, making James feel uncomfortable. The man pressed the button on his Poké ball. The Machamp that had resided inside was now behind him. Its large hands gripped James's shoulders. He couldn't escape. The member of the Elite Guard on the right was still a giant to James. He peered down. His hat was in his left hand. He drew his long sword with his right as James tremored with fear.
James raised his left hand before turning his right hand up, so the palm faced upwards, the universal signal for Northern.
"Orag!" the man called out, placing his hand on his sword.
James watched as a second man came over, his skin was a darker complexion than the first, and he was shorter, with dark brown hair and soft brown eyes.
"Hello," the man said as the two of them locked eyes. "What are you doing back here? You know you shouldn't be back here. Are you lost?"
James looked away, a little unsure.
"What is your name?" he asked softly.
"James."
"Well, James, I am Aaron Orag. It is nice to meet you. Who is this?" Lord Orag asked, pointing to the Onix.
"She isn't the right colour. She should be either cleaned or destroyed. She isn't normal," the other guard said in Colrat, looking at James with a smirk.
"Now, James, you know being back here is illegal, right?" Lord Orag asked.
James, clenching his fists, shouted at the Lord, "Why do you Southerners ruin everything! I just wanted to see Lord Madison." Attempting to squirm free from the Machamp's grip, making the four-armed Pokémon squeeze tighter, he started to kick.
"Machamp. Get out of here, kid, return your Onix. If I see you again, I will take your Onix away, do you understand?" the other Guardsman asked.
James scrunched his face up as he struggled to understand the man through his thick accent.
"Yes, my Lord", James mumbled as the Machamp released him from his grip. He turned to run back down the hill and was gently prodded by the shorter man's sword. There was a grass strip there, and a tree was at the end of it. To James's surprise, his friends were sitting there waiting for him. Andrew Takui, the youngest of the group, was sitting furthest away. He fed his Deino, Nutkio, a nice round and plump Oran berry. He noticed James approaching and stood up with a spring in his step. He pulled his long cyan-grey shaded hair back enough so he could see. As he stepped forward to greet James, he looked down into the boy's red eyes with his green ones.
Lioa, sitting to Andrew's left, smirked at James's somewhat speedy arrival. His Timburr, Ruskuo, was tossing a small log in the air for amusement. Lioa had only just turned thirteen, and he was proud of that fact. He firmly believed soon, he could join his father and fight the South. His light beige skin was ever so slightly darker than that of his brother and clashed with the moonlight, making his smirk look darker than he had intended. His shorter cyan hair was no use at hiding his green eyes, which were filled with mischief. He shunted James over onto his back playfully.
Kitiku Bryson jumped out of his skin at the sound of his best friend colliding with the ground. His Klink called Rusto whizzed around him while he thought. His skin was the fairest and burnt easily in the Northern tropical heat. His hair was almost jet black. It was long enough to cover his eyes but not quite as long as James's shoulder-length hair. His eyes were an ash-grey. When looking into his eyes, James always saw his hopelessness. Kitiku didn't trust the world around him. His father was constantly disappointed in him for being "defective" due to his massive height and dislike of fighting. In the North, his size made many consider him a freak.
James felt belittled due to his run-in with the Lords. However, he was glad his friends were pleased to see him back from his excursion.
"What was it like up there? Did you see Lord Elite Madison?" Lioa looked quizzical. His mouth turned into a slight smile. "What was he like? I bet he was amazing to watch. I bet he put the fear of Darkrai into those Southern Lords."
Slumping next to Kitiku as Lioa copied, James said, "Before I could investigate, a few Guards caught me and tried to intimidate me. Those stupid members of the Southern Elite Guard. I showed them."
"Did not. I bet you came back out of fear!" Lioa accused, making him gulp.
"They aren't all bad. You can't class all Southern Elite Guards as bad people just because they protect a Lord you don't like," Kitiku whispered.
"They are merciless. What I did was technically illegal," James interrupted, smiling. "Don't worry, Lioa, we will see Lord Madison defeat the South. He would never sign such a weak negotiation. Okta and I are counting on it. Besides, she and I will be the greatest team to grace this world one day. We will win every tournament we compete in!"
To James, Okta was special. Her horn on the top of her head was cut so perfectly. She was his Onix, and he wanted the whole world to know it.
"Besides," James went to finish his speech, "Cresselia will bless my household so that--"
"Please, Cresselia isn't real," Lioa snapped back at him. "Besides, Darkrai will bless my household. I will be better than you. Darkrai, after all, is real."
"No, it isn't. Cresselia is real," James shouted.
"Darkrai!" Lioa shunted James forcefully. James was nearly knocked over but caught himself.
"Cresselia!" James shouted back, making Lioa spit at him.
Lioa angrily pushed James over onto his back and then shouted even louder, "Darkrai!"
Suddenly James noticed, Kitiku shuffling and looking stressed by the fighting. His household was under the grouping that believed in Cresselia. He didn't want to be cursed to nothingness forever after his time was over.
"The last one on the roof has to ask a Southern Elite Guard for a bedtime kiss!" Lioa laughed, breaking the silence.
James knew the drainpipes couldn't support more than one person at a time, so it really was everyone for themselves. He ran towards the pipes. However, Lioa had already started to scramble up the drainpipe first. Kitiku's height was going to work in his favour, pulling himself up towards the roof much faster than Lioa. That left the last drainpipe. Andrew and James ran towards the same drainpipe. As James reached for it, Ruskuo threw a small rock at him from the roof, which pelted him in the stomach. He was knocked over into the mud.
Lioa laughed louder, "James guess what? You lose!"
"Yeah, yeah…" James muttered, getting up off the ground.
"Where is that little runt?" a voice called out into the street.
James scrambled into the narrow pathway between two of the houses. A shiver crept down his spine. Every rough click of that voice caused a memory to rearise from the deepest darkest depths of his mind. The aggressive sound was out to get him.
"James was lurking around the entrance earlier. He is probably already inside," James's mother replied.
"Then let's enjoy the party," James's stepfather responded.
James could see them from where he was standing. His mother had combed her golden hair into a cute bun. Her fair skin was smooth. She would always give James a hug when he cried or felt lonely, or at least he had convinced himself that.
Hanson, on the other hand, was a different story. He failed to adopt James into the family once he married Carla, nor did he throw James out of the household-which was common in Coltese culture. James wished Hanson would throw him out onto the streets. Still, he knew the sadistic man would instead make him suffer for being the son of some noble dead Guardsman that his mother had often talked about.
"James, you lost. You have to do the loser's thing. Once you have done it, we will let you on the roof to watch the show, too," Lioa teased.
"Yeah, James!" Andrew echoed irritatingly.
James clenched his fist angrily. "Fine. Just fine." Taking Okta out of his pocket and cuddling her Poké Ball, he blurted out, "That's the last time we ever lose to anyone, Okta! We will be the greatest, I promise! Then no one will make fun of you for your golden colour. You are perfect. Hey, maybe one day we could go explore beyond Coltar! The Elite Lords always say we can't leave the island… why would they do that if we are the only people in this world?"
However, before he could carry out the dare, a loud roar came from inside the hall. The once-grand Marsten Hall was on fire. He saw a Charizard with hot red wings fly up through the ceiling. James shook his head, believing that Lord Piscar had started this fire with Charizard to kill Elite Lord Madison. He spun around, looking for Pierre amidst the chaos.
He saw the Elite Guards were desperate to rescue those individuals inside, primarily because Lord Madison wasn't inside. James knew this to be true. Lord Madison stood five metres in front of him in a face-off with Lord Piscar. He couldn't see them very well through the smoke, only making out their silhouettes and hearing their voices.
"This is a new low, even for you," the first said without an accent, and his voice was smooth and rather deep. To James, this was almost proof this was Lord Madison speaking. "You are nothing more than a mass-murdering psychopath."
"You think I am responsible for this? You are a disgrace to your people and to mine," the second voice responded. It was coarse and higher than the previous one.
James paused. This voice had no accent either. Perhaps this was his Captain of the Elite Guard. No, it was impossible, James thought. One of these had to be Madison. The other had to be the sworn enemy of the North and mass murderer Lord Piscar. The wind was starting to pick up. The tensions were high, James could tell.
"Negotiations are over. You brought this upon yourself." A silhouette of a Pokémon James had never seen before appeared amongst the smoke. A second Pokémon, Aggron, emerged as another silhouette. The rain started to fall and became a storm faster than James had ever seen before.
A sudden dizzying flash followed!
James was blinded by the light and then consumed by darkness. He felt as if death was creeping up on him and was ready to take his soul… but if he was dead, how come he could still feel the squelchy mud with his hands? How could he feel the vibrations of the earth from the battle raging between the two Elite Lords not five metres away?
A hand seized his arm and pulled him up.
"James!" the voice said. "James, get up and run. Find my brother and the others, and I want you to find my father and go home. Do you understand me?"
"Pierre?" James muttered.
"I have to go… I have to help save these people…."
James froze as Pierre sprinted towards the hall, drawing his dagger, but James couldn't move. His body felt like it was being sat on by a thousand Snorlax.
The Charizard was now flying away into the distance. He was unsure what he just had witnessed, but he knew one thing for sure: Hanson Rei and Carla Spitz were almost certainly inside when that fire was started. The worst-case scenario was his stepfather had survived, but his mother had not.
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