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The ball was proceeding surprisingly well.
Against all odds, the servants had managed to pull it together. The table was set, every utensil in perfect symmetry and alignment, every wineglass sparkling, every napkin artistically folded. Bread and berries filled the dishes up and down the table. The centerpiece of the feast, the giant Embroar, smelled delicious and looked seared to perfection. Coronus knew that Amadeus would be pleased.
In the hours before dinner was to be served, the musicians played, the choirs sang, and all the noblest of Amaranthine's figures promptly filled the dining hall. The castle was as it always should be, noted Coronus: filled with good company and jubilant spirits. In fact, as far as he could tell, there were no absentees among the invited Pokémon; every single one of them stood in attendance, dancing and socializing and happily jabbering their theories as to the occasion of the celebration.
Every Pokémon, that is, except for one.
"Now if only Calamar would show up," said a salivating Charizard, leaning toward the prince's ear. "Then perhaps we can begin with dinner a bit earlier than scheduled, aye, Your Highness? No reason to wait if all the guests are here."
"Calamar, sadly, will not be attending tonight," Coronus told him.
Amadeus blinked. "How come? He's never missed a ball before. He would adore this food."
"He's received word that his father is still alive," Coronus explained without skipping a beat. "He's left for the west, and has not given notice of his return. I suppose we will not be seeing him again for a while, but I trust that he will take care of himself."
"I see," Amadeus said strangely. "And yet you still do not trust me?"
"Trust you? With what?"
"To take care of myself in the west."
Coronus bit his tongue before it could hurl a profanity at his friend. "It is not a matter of trust, good Amadeus," he forced out. "It is simply that… were you to leave, you would take too large of a piece of my soul with you."
The Charizard responded with a mysterious smile. "So you favor my friendship over his, is that it? Is that what you are telling me? Is there an unseen hierarchy to the brunch table that I haven't been informed of?"
"That is not what I mean to say at all," snarled the Nidoking in a fit of exasperation. But a suitable rebuttal did not come to him.
Amadeus batted a wing at him, smiling wider. "I only jest, Your Highness. Have some more wine and relax a bit, will you?"
And relax, he did. Deciding to forgive the Charizard's distasteful remarks, Coronus reminded himself of all the good in the world that deserved to be celebrated. There would be a time and a place to mourn over the loss of Calamar, but now was not that time. This was a time to show all of Amaranthine how happy he was, and to spread that happiness to all who would listen.
At the request of Amadeus, the banquet began ahead of schedule. All the aristocrats took their places at their assigned seats, with Coronus taking his place at the head of the table upon a throne-like chair. Ah, how perfect, thought he, staring down the lengthy, hundred-seat banquet table, expertly set and dressed with delicious food and woven placemats, lined on either side with the most dignified and polite of Pokémon. Every seat was filled, except for the one at his left-hand side, which he knew would remain vacant for the remainder of the night. Beside the empty place sat Adron and Aether, the Absol upon a particular cushioned platform designed to accommodate a quadruped and allow them to eat with their mouths if necessary. At his right hand sat a very eager-looking Amadeus, and beside him, Saura and Raikouun.
This was the moment that Coronus had waited for.
He stood from his seat, calling for silence. The hush was immediate, as all the Pokémon in the room pinned their rapt attention to the prince.
"My loyal subjects, I welcome you to this very special banquet," he projected, smiling proudly. "Certainly, we've had many banquets lately, at least four in the past two months alone!" – he paused to let a strained and awkward laugh pass through the audience. "But even so, I assure you that today is more momentous, still, than all the rest of them. For today, I would like to report to you all, a piece of news I've received from overseas – from none other than our warmongering king and my father, His Majesty, Cepheus the Brutal."
Now there passed a wave of gasps and delighted murmurs through the room. He made certain he drank in all of the delicious anticipation before proceeding.
"My father, the puppet of the Master that he has chosen to be, has spent many of his years absent from the very kingdom he rules," spoke the Starborn prince with a hint of rebuke. "And while he is away lopping off heads of the Amberan terrorists, it seems, at times, that the very head of Amaranthine is itself lopped off, as he has paid little mind to this kingdom, opting instead to install our high council as the temporary heads of state, with I as the head of that verysame council. And while certainly, at times, I've expressed my pointed disapproval of his governing methods, or lack thereof, let it never be said that his absence has been without merit. For today, it has been reported that my father has infiltrated a notable terrorist base upon the west continent-side, cleansing it of tens of thousands of rebels who foolishly thought to defy the Master."
There was a louder murmuring, one which did not cool down as easily. That Cepheus had struck such a massive blow to the notorious Amberan resistance movement came as a great surprise, especially to those who saw his misadventures as nothing more than a hobby.
"And with such a monumental accomplishment shall come monumental rewards! For it was signed in his contract of fealty to the Master, in blood I imagine, that he is paid in proportion to his deeds. And so, I announce to all of you, thou treasured Amaranthinian nobility: that by the wise judgments of my father and your king, we have struck windfall! Prepare yourselves, for we are to soon be showered in gold and riches! Gone shall be the famine! Gone shall be the days of a dwindling navy! Gild the bricks upon the streets, stock the granaries, and let the choirs sing!"
He swept a goblet into his claw and held it high.
"To the spoils of war!" he shouted.
"To the spoils of war!" cheered the attendees, most raising their wineglasses in toast.
The door slammed open at the far end of the banquet hall.
"To the spoils of war."
The singular booming voice set the room into complete and haunting silence. It was a voice that none could ever hope to forget, least of all the Starborn prince who headed the table. Coronus felt a terrified chill and promptly lowered his goblet, nearly dropping it in the process.
A tall, ironclad figure filled the doorframe.
"Mmm, your father is home early," noted the Charizard at his right-hand side. "Veryquite unexpected."
Coronus's heart was buried deep in his stomach for the eternal moments that his father approached the banquet table. The sounds of the king's steps echoed through the room, accompanied only by the rattling of his armor and the guttural growl of his breath. This cannot be, thought the prince. He was not meant to return yet! His work is unfinished… what will he do now, take the crown back from me and reverse all of my progress?
King Cepheus trudged closer, step after step, with a displeased and faraway look to his eyes. His armor was bent and damaged, decorated with many colors of bloodstain. He eyed the throne-chair upon which Coronus sat, as though it were the bed he wished to collapse upon at the end of a tiring day. Coronus sheepishly sidled himself into Calamar's seat.
After nearing the table, the Starborn king rudely shoved his hand between a well-dressed Gallade and a stately Flygon, and with a loud and messy snap, broke off a drumstick from the Embroar. He then proceeded to his rightful seat, biting off a barbaric chunk of the meat every several steps and conspicuously eyeing everyone pretending to ignore him.
"What you have heard is true," Cepheus announced, taking his rightful place before his subjects. "The Master has been very pleased with my recent work, and our kingdom is soon to receive... a significant largesse for our troubles. What remains to be seen is how much of it my son has already spent on parties and new robes."
This got some obliged laughter from the crowd. Coronus only wanted to sink under the table and die.
"So, is that it, then?" Amadeus inquired. "Finished with your crusades? Will you be our king again?"
Cepheus tore a stringy bite from his drumstick. "I will not be here for long. I've returned on dragonback to convene with the council for some… advice… before Enigma expects me to begin the next phase of the campaign. I will be here for no more than nine days. But I can assure you..."
He plunked the half-eaten leg on his son's plate. "It will be more than enough time to give your future king some... advice of my own."
With some difficulty, Coronus resisted the urge to dig his claws into his own forehead in mortification, and politely waited for every distinguished aristocrat in Amaranthine to quit laughing at his expense. But while he did, he glanced by utter chance to his side, and noticed Adron eyeing him. There was important meaning in his gaze, some message he wished to secretly convey. Their eyes met for only a moment as Coronus tried to decipher what was on the Scyther's mind.
Adron made the subtlest gesture toward the king.
Something is wrong, said his expression. But fear not; I will find out what he is hiding from us.
Coronus could not think of a more difficult task in the world than to spy on his father, but also could not think of anyone more capable of succeeding than his ever-vigilant personal bodyguard. He quickly returned his own subtle nod, one which said, Thank you, and you have my blessing to try.
And like a good friend, Amadeus promptly snatched the meaty bone from Coronus's plate, sparing him the indignity. "I'm sorry, but are we eating or not? I'm starved as a Munchlax!" he bemoaned, chomping down what was left of it.
Ah yes, the prince thought with a happy smile, to have friends who have my back, and not the other way around for once… is there anything more wonderful in the world?
Coronus knew it was going to be a long nine days.
Nine days of watching every step, dutifully obeying every decree. Nine days of pleasing his father, no extraneous spending, no neglecting his royal duties. Nine days of no fun. And what good was being royalty if he could not have any fun?
The king's punishments were immediate. On the first day, Coronus was confined to his room and forced to fill out an expense ledger, estimating the cost of the balls he'd thrown.
It is unfair, thought he. Father gets to romp around in the west, swinging his sword and avoiding all his kingly responsibilities. What's wrong with following in his example? Why couldn't we have gotten one of the fifty Gardevoir in this place to do this? Why cannot we use the accountants we already have?
"Because you are in dire need of some perspective," said his father when he finally spoke his thoughts out loud. "I would like for you to stop for a moment and take a look at what you have done. Our royal privileges are not without cost. You are held accountable for everything you do, Coronus. Even I, when I am performing my duties for the Master, am under his scrutinizing eye at all times. If you fail to judiciously manage your reputation, you will bring dishonor upon yourself, and me, and the entire Starborn line. Your people obey you out of trust, and they trust you because you are their servant just as much as they are yours. If you do not understand this, you will not last nine days as Amaranthine's king. You will only be their tyrant, and you will stand helpless as the throne is taken from you by someone who is better willing to be the servant of their people."
Insufferable nonsense, thought Coronus to himself, scribbling down numbers. Do not speak to me about perspective. I've seen Ambera's history play out a hundred times over with my own eyes. I have more perspective than you can ever imagine.
And I refuse to call myself a servant to any of you soulless husks.
But Cepheus locked him the room until he sufficiently accounted for his spending for the past month. It was, indeed, far higher than he would have estimated. When he'd laid bare all his hedonistic splurges (even leaving out those of which nobody could possibly have any proof), it came to over fifty million crowns.
"Actions have consequences," said Cepheus, looking very displeased as he reviewed the net loss. "How many laborers could this have fed?"
"Several thousand…" grumbled Coronus.
"Specifically?"
"Specifically… With the average minimum rations… about seven thousand, for a year."
"And those laborers, when fed, could have provided how many labor-hours?"
"Ugh… at fourteen hours a day, three hundred seventy days a year… So I suppose… Over twenty-five million…"
"And twenty-five million labor hours could have raised the gross domestic product by…?"
"Oh, I don't know…" Coronus growled, digging his claws into the desk.
"The serf class was how much at last census?" Cepheus pressed.
"Eleven million, or thereabouts?"
"And seven thousand, divided by eleven million, multiplied by last year's profits?"
Coronus begrudgingly looked at last year's records, and whatever billions-of-crowns worth of goods the country had produced, and did the math.
"Over five hundred million crowns," he finally said, spitting out his answer like a Miltank's cud.
Cepheus slammed the ledger down in front of Coronus. "Or, in terms you would understand: you could have thrown ten more balls next year, just by sacrificing one of them this year. You must learn to see the kingdom in terms of input and output. You will never be an effective king unless you learn to see the bigger picture. And never stop viewing everything analytically, even if you are certain your instincts are perfect."
Inside, Coronus was enraged. I CANNOT BELIEVE my father is lecturing me on ripple effects, he roared in the silence of his mind. Try this one, father: how many minutes of my time have you wasted locking me in this room, that I could have spent in the company of Amadeus and my friends? And how many units of happiness have I lost as a result? Puzzle that one out, Your Pompous, Needle-brained Majesty!
Coronus then began fantasizing about what it would be like to see Cepheus's body torn apart by a five-dimensional time vortex.
And that was only the first day.
On the second day, his father sent him back to Delegate Street with orders to visit twelve specific offices, three errands of which were to undo his allocation of funds to the warships he'd ordered the previous day. It took every fiber of his being to keep from burning down all twelve of the offices with his various fireball spells.
On the third day, his father made him write a speech to be delivered to the house of Northtail. The purpose of the speech was to raise favor with the duke and his family by reassuring them the Starborn dynasty was deeply interested in the developmental progress of agricultural magic and technology. Even after adequately including the appropriate buzzwords, Cepheus made him rewrite the speech four times.
On the fourth day, Coronus was made to wear a horrendous set of robes, attend the party the duke was throwing for his son's hatchingday (a party far below Coronus's acceptable standards), and deliver the speech. It went horribly, because Coronus simply didn't care, and he was fairly certain that he lost more favor than he gained.
On the fifth day, he was told to visit the Cobalion Academy, Amaranthine's upper-class schoolhouse, to audit the ledgers in response to a suspected money-laundering scheme. Upon wasting the day there and returning, Cepheus admitted that he had lied about the suspected corruption, but he just wanted to give the school board and students a healthy scare. That, and he thought Coronus was looking a little chubby and could use the exercise.
On the sixth day, Coronus was forced to attend a wedding. The wedding lasted for seven hours, during which Coronus was forbidden from saying anything, offering only the privilege of his audience as a blessing upon the union – a tremendously ugly Incineroar to a vapid-minded Medicham. By the end of the third hour, he'd already mentally drafted a decree that weddings should be forbidden from lasting longer than fifteen minutes.
And on the seventh day, there was silence.
Shocked that the Starborn Tyrant hadn't once more woken him at the crack of dawn, Coronus was finally able to enjoy, for the first time that week, an audience with the brunch table and his favorite Pokémon in the world.
Except, he couldn't exactly enjoy it.
He idly swirled his foreclaw in his bowl of oatmeal, saying nothing. The uncomfortable silence spread to the Absol, the Charizard, the Ivysaur, and the Raichu who sat with him.
"I see you've had quite your share of tough love this week," Amadeus said, offering his sympathy between slurps of his melon.
"I've had my share of tough love for a lifetime," grumbled the Starborn prince. "…Several hundred lifetimes, in fact. Why does being king take so much inane work? Why can't everyone just do whatever I say and figure out the rest on their own? I will decree that all responsibility should be banned from affecting the king!"
"Well, I decree that once your father leaves, we all take a retreat!" Rautzen offered. "Let's put the council in charge and escape to the mountains! That'll get us all back in the right spirits."
"It'd be something to do, I suppose," said Saura. "As long as we could stay warm, I wouldn't mind camping. It's getting cold."
"Oh, if only you had a dragon friend who was made of fire and had enough to spare for all five of us," sighed the Charizard. "Such a pity you have nothing of the sort, isn't it?"
"Or a mouse with the power to move stormclouds around so we don't get rained on!" added the Raichu, laughing along. "Would be nice to have one of those, wouldn't you say?"
Coronus cracked a smile. Yes, as awful as the week was, it was merely that – a week. He still had a lifetime ahead of him, a lifetime spent in the company of these wonderful friends. His father's methods of torture would all be soon forgotten. And he thought that a camping trip sounded like just the thing to wash the king's poison from his mouth.
And then Adron showed up to the table, unusually tardy. He did not seem interested in eating.
"Coronus, I think you should come and see this," he said, making urgent gestures with his blades. "Quickly."
"What, what is it?!" Coronus cried, already standing from his seat.
"It's your father," the Scyther reported. "He's speaking privately to one of his advisors. We can listen in. I feel that you have a right to know what he's discussing."
Cepheus was not an easy Pokémon to sneak up on – Coronus knew this from having spent a childhood trying to escape grounding. But now he had Adron, the only Pokémon able to scheme up anything within the range of his father's all-knowing ears. It's why Coronus didn't ask questions when the Scyther led him up to the castle's roof.
"He's taken precaution against eavesdropping," Adron hissed. "This is the only angle I could get, and still I can't quite hear things. I need you."
Coronus crouched and put one of his ears to the bricks below – ears which were nearly just as big as his father's.
"I know not the timeframe," he heard the king say. "But it could take as long as two more years."
A pause. There were subtle vibrations as the hulking Nidoking paced about the room.
"Would a mind-reader be of any assistance, perhaps?" asked a different voice.
Coronus knew this voice. It was Hildolfr, the favorite of all his father's Gardevoir servants, one who was often privileged enough to hear more of the king's secrets than even his own son. But again, that's why he kept Adron around these days – Adron could get him any information he wanted. Sometimes too much information.
"A mind-reader would be of no help," Cepheus grumbled. "Not against Enigma. I believe the only security I have against her are dark-types; she has difficulty countering them. But if I were to bring dark-types…"
"…She would be alerted to your suspicions," said the Gardevoir.
"Yes, and I have already shown too many indications of bad faith. And you know how it is with her. She likes to punch you and then take offense when you cry in pain."
More silence. Coronus couldn't tell what was being discussed, but it already unsettled him.
"The fact remains that Enigma does not seem to be upholding her end of the bargain," sighed Cepheus, pacing the room. "I am worried. But I have more than enough time to... assess the situation. Things shouldn't come to a head until the completion of my next assignment. I have until the Emerald Division falls to perfect my plan."
"As long as you keep her out of your head," said the servant. "But you seem to have that down to a science already, my Lord."
"It's become more of a challenge as of late. But I have my means and methods. I do know, however, that I've already secured my cut of the profits from the crusade. She's routing out the valuables from the caves and she will send us a tenth, split into monthly shipments beginning later this month, once they've had the chance to account for everything."
"A ray of light amidst the darkening sky, my Lord."
This cannot be happening…!
Enigma and Father at odds with one another?
This has never happened before. Enigma and Father have always gotten along… what in the blazing suns is going on with this timeline?! Why so many stupid detours? Why can't it just stay stable already?
Coronus raised his head and stared blankly at the Scyther who'd guided him there. He only then noticed the uncomfortable mid-morning chill against his hide. Too much information. The bane of his life.
"What have you heard?" Adron asked.
"Enough," responded Coronus.
In a stubborn fury, the Starborn prince stomped back through the castle halls, forcing all passersby out of his way, and busted down the door to the study where his father sought to have his private conversation.
His father's red-eyed glare fell upon him, the glare which had always preceded the worst of his displeasure and the most brutal of his punishments. But Coronus swallowed his hesitance; his father could do little to hurt him now. This time, he was the displeased.
"Son – "
"What bargain?!" Coronus shouted, pointing an accusatory claw. "What bargain with Enigma?"
Before his very next breath, the mighty Starborn king swept a claw in his direction, loosing a wind-energy spell forceful enough to send his son to the floor and leave him crumpled in the corner. He'd feared this; Cepheus was never one to hesitate to assert his dominance, not to his enemies, his subjects, or even his own heir.
"This does not concern you," spoke the king.
"Oh, but it does concern me," shot the prince, leaping defiantly to his feet. "I am the heir to your throne," he said, approaching his father aggressively. "Our state of affairs concerns me, especially those regarding the stability of our alliances."
"Perhaps you did not hear me," Cepheus grunted.
Cepheus attacked again with a flamethrowing spell, but Coronus was prepared, and rose a shield of protection to counter it.
"Perhaps you did not hear me," returned Coronus. "Will you teach me to run this kingdom, or will you not?"
Though it lasted only a moment, the prince glimpsed fear in his father. True intimidation. He was intimidated by his own son, stunned by the burning embers of a thousand wasted lives that shined in his eyes.
"May I ask, then, why you've waited until now to become concerned with your kingly duties?" said his masterful politician of a father, quickly hiding this weakness. "Shouldn't you be off galivanting around the garden and picking berries with your Ivysaur friend? Or planning your seventeenth ball of the year for the day that I am to leave?"
"I've always been concerned with responsibility, father," his son countered. "Just not in the way you've intended to teach me. I have every interest in making sure Amaranthine does not burn to the ground under the dark skies of war. And what could be so dire, that you would lock yourself in your innermost study with no one but your closest Gardevoir, unless it concerns the threat of war?"
To his surprise, it brought his father to a loss of words, and they shared a tense standoff. It was the first time, at least in many timelines, that Coronus remembered standing up to his father.
"I… should excuse myself, my Lords," said the Gardevoir, inching for the door.
"No," said Cepheus. "Stay. I think… I am willing to compromise with my son about this. What do you think?"
"Oh, I… it is a risk, but ultimately up to your discretion, Your Majesty…" Hildolfr rambled. "Do you think he is prepared?"
Cepheus turned, casting Coronus a suspicious eye. "I believe he is more prepared than he lets us believe," he said. "I believe he has always been prepared."
Coronus scowled. What… is that supposed to mean? He wanted to ask, suddenly terrified.
The Starborn king meandered over to one of his several desks. "I think I am willing to tell you what I know, son," he said. "But on a condition. You will have to tell me something in return."
"Tell you what?" Coronus challenged.
The king rifled through many drawers and cabinets, one after another. "I am going to ask you a question, and you have one chance to tell me the truth. One chance. Lie, and our bargain is off. Tell the truth, or at least something I am willing to accept as the truth, and I will honor your… request for information."
After searching through at least twenty separate compartments, Cepheus produced a small book. From the book's pages, he produced a small, handwritten note.
"This is something I once confiscated from your room," he said. "This is something you wrote. I want you to tell me how you learned of these names before I did."
He handed the paper to his son. Coronus was already frozen in desperation, knowing exactly what was written there. He crumpled the edges of the sheet as he held it, failing to hide any of his nervousness from his knowing father's eyes. He almost didn't want to look at what he'd written so long ago.
Lifeblood Adrel Centauri Aster Downfall Enigma
It was an old note he'd left laying around, near the forking point of this timeline… something he'd carelessly forgotten to burn. Between the names, there were lines and paths scribbled in ink, numbers and sigils, all representing possible courses of causality. Of course, Cepheus could not understand what the scribbles all meant, but he knew the significance of those six names.
"This has bothered me for decades," said Cepheus. "There is no possible way you could have known these names. I did not myself learn of the Eternal Truths until I was granted personal audience with Enigma. I remembered hearing them somewhere before, and realized that I'd seen them written in your diaries. Since then… you've given me an impossible riddle. Every theory I've posed to myself has proven impossible. So tell me, son: what manner of divine inspiration has granted you this knowledge? You have one chance."
Coronus was trembling. He could no longer feign innocence from his father. He could no longer pretend to be naïve. His father knew that somehow, he'd played a hand in the threads of fate.
But what kind of lie would he believe?
"I…" he started. "I…"
"I learned these names… on my trip to the west continent… when I met Saura, and Amadeus, and Adron – "
Cepheus snapped the paper from his son's claws. "Liar," he said. "I gave you one chance, and you've lied."
"Lie? But it wasn't…"
"You wrote these names before ever having left Amaranthine in your life," said his father, with a disappointed shake of his head. "I don't know how you did it, my son. Perhaps you've received a prophecy. Perhaps you've found something buried in the old castle. Perhaps you're a time-traveler. Although, I suppose I can rule that out; if you were a time-traveler, you could have reversed time until you found a lie that I would believe. And in a way, I am disappointed. Had you revealed a supernatural power of some kind, I'd have taken you west to help me in my endeavors. I could have used you. But whatever your secret is, Coronus, you've chosen to keep it from me, and I will need to respect it. In fact…"
Cepheus crumpled the note and tossed it on the ground, walking away.
"It proves to me that you understand the necessity of withholding information, even from a fellow Starborn. Come, Hildolfr. I need to prepare for my next campaign."
Soon, the king and his servant left Coronus standing in an empty room and staring at the wall. The dread crept up on him faster than he wanted to admit, and in a moment of panic he reached down at his belt to reassure himself that the time gear was still on his person. It was not.
Soon enough, Cepheus departed on dragonback to resume his nonsense in the west, and Coronus was once again free to do whatever he wanted. And he wanted nothing more than to distract himself from all of the foreboding thoughts which plagued him as of late. Wars and enigmas and the tragic loss of Calamar... it was becoming too much.
He knew there shouldn't be anything to worry about. Nobody was better than his father at having things their way – his smooth tongue and sharp attention to detail had always kept him on the good side of that blasted Mismagius. There would be no war, not until much later. Until then, Coronus decided to trust his father that where would not be a war unless it was Cepheus himself who wanted one.
No, it was time to do as his Raichu companion suggested and take a long, pleasant retreat and enjoy the last of the crisp autumn weather before the winter arrived in earnest. So Coronus issued decrees to the high council, gathered his five favorite Pokémon in the world, and crossed the Pleasant Grounds to the forests beyond.
Now, Coronus hated camping. Hated the wild elements, hated fishing, hated the dirt, the reliance on firewood, the sounds of chirping insects and boisterous frogs and squealing birds. And though there were no Watchers in Amaranthine, he hated, hated sleeping beneath a starry sky. So on these occasions where his friends would wish to go camping with him in the Pleasant Woods, he'd stay the nights in a small one-room villa that he ordered from the woodworkers' guild. Sure, the others would poke fun at him, especially Amadeus (who, on one occasion, said, "For being a Starborn, you certainly do not have an affinity for the stars..."), but he didn't care. Conquering the wild meant taking comfort with him, complete with heated blankets, an ample wardrobe, a fully-functioning kitchen, and an icebox stocked with his favorite berries.
One thing he did love, though, were the campfire sessions. On the nights it did not rain... and was not overly humid or unbearably cold... (And he wasn't particularly exhausted... or engaged in a book too deeply...) Coronus would knock down trees with his spells, Adron would slash them into logs, and Amadeus would light them all ablaze in a big pile. The Pokémon would spend the night gathered around the bonfire, sharing mirth and stories. This was another sacred humanlike tradition – to tell stories around the fire, especially "ghost stories," tales of mischievous ghost-type Pokémon and their endeavors to torment the innocent. Coronus never quite understood why humans gave ghost-types so much attention – why wasn't there such a thing as a "poison story" or a "ground story"? – But they were a perfectly enjoyable way to bond with his friends and forget about the outside world altogether.
When the bonfire was alight, there was no Amaranthine... no Cepheus, no Master... No slaves, no delegates, no war... no Redeemer, no time-travel... Just life and togetherness, the way he always wanted it, the way it always should have been.
On the third evening of the retreat, it was Ray's turn to tell the story.
"So this Eevee, his name was Clover, as the legends go," said the Raichu. "He'd kind of always wanted to be a Jolteon. So he trained and trained until he was sure that he was ready to evolve. But when he went to go buy his thunderstone, the evolution trader wasn't there. Instead, there was a weeeeird shadowy creature running the store, a Pokémon he didn't know! So he went inside and told the creature that he wanted a thunderstone and he had five thousand Poké to pay for it. The strange trader said, 'Are you sure you want to be a Jolteon? This is a very, very important decision… one that you can't undo.' And Clover said, 'Yes, I'm sure! I've made up my mind!' so the weird creature takes his money and gives him a small sack with the stone in it."
"Ah this story," Amadeus said with his tail curled forward, its tip resting in the fire. He grinned knowingly. "It's a good one. I don't think any of us will get sleep tonight…"
"I don't see what could be wrong," Coronus interjected. "What does it matter who the merchant is, if the Eevee gets the merchandise it wants?"
"Well see, your Highness, that's the thing," the Raichu continued in an adorably dire tone. "…Clover took that sack and went into the woods to find a good place to evolve. But when he opened the case…"
"…There wasn't an evolution stone in it?" Saura guessed.
"Oh, there was one," Ray said, "but it wasn't a thunderstone. In fact… it was an evolution stone he'd never seen in his life. Something… that shouldn't have existed."
"Pathetic. I'd have returned it and demanded a refund," Coronus huffed.
The storyteller laughed. "Well, that's exactly what he was planning to do! But when he went to pick up the stone… it activated! He started evolving, but he had no idea what he would become…"
The audience dramatically gasped, even Amadeus, who was happy to play along.
"After the bright lights and the cramps and the dizziness… the evolution was done. Clover climbed to his feet and looked closely at them. Purple! Purple and wispy. So he panicked. See, he studied all the evolutions, as the Eons do, but he didn't know what kind of a Pokémon he now was, he didn't know of any evolution that turned you purple. So he rushed to the nearest lake and looked in… and…"
"He saw nothing."
More gasps. Coronus was especially confused; he hadn't heard this particular story before – and he knew quite a lot of stories.
"Turns out, he was invisible! So he didn't even know what he was… so he ran around, trying to find someone to tell him what he looked like! So he ran back into town, only to find that he couldn't talk to anyone. They all ignored him! None of them heard anything he said! And when he tried to jump in the way to stop someone, they walked right though him, like he didn't even exist! That's when he realized…"
"He was a ghost-type. A ghost-type Eon! A Spectreon!"
"Now I know it's not real," Saura groaned. "There's no such thing."
"Oh, but it is a true story!" Ray insisted. "He was a Spectreon. They exist, they're just very rare, because you need the stones that trigger them, but nobody knows where the stones come from. And when a Spectreon does happen, nobody can hear them or see them, so the Eon just disappears from the world!"
"Then how do we know about poor little Clover?" Coronus said skeptically. "If these Spectreon, as you call them, vanish as soon as they evolve, how was this story documented?"
"Well… they can appear again, but they have to learn how," he explained. "Clover ran around for a long time, until he found some ghost-types who could see and hear him. They taught him how to control his phasing powers, and he could finally become visible again!"
"Some scary story this is," Saura said with a roll of his eyes.
"Oh, but that's not the end of the story…" Ray said excitedly, standing up and making dramatic motions with his paws. "So, Clover, he found some ghost friends, like a Gastly and a Gengar and a Phantump and a Shuppet. You know, the usual hooligans! And they taught him all about how to be a real ghost-type Pokémon. And when he'd learned everything, they took him to this spooky old haunted castle, a place where Pokémon liked to explore at night, and taught Clover how to play tricks on other Pokémon!"
"So this is a ghost-story from the ghost's perspective," commented Aether. "I like it."
"So yeah, they waited until this group of explorers came to stay the night in the castle's basement. And so Clover and his friends began the scares! They locked them in a room together, pulled bricks out of the wall, lit torches out of nowhere… and the exploration team was so frightened, they hyperbeamed their way out, right out of the wall! Ahh, and the ghosts laughed and laughed, and Clover was having the time of his life."
"The time of his death, you mean," Adron interjected.
The Raichu shook his head. "No, no… that's a common misconception! Ghost-type Pokémon are living creatures. They have natural powers that let them interact with the death plane, but they're living things, just like all of us sitting here!"
All eyes were on Rautzen as he circled around the fire. He sulked slowly, his face turning a darker shade of serious.
"And once they were done celebrating their successful haunt, the ghosts all went to sleep. It was a very spooky castle, perfect for ghost-types, and Clover liked the idea of living there for the rest of his life. So he found a nice corner in the dungeon basement, settled in, and had a nice rest. He wasn't scared of anything… he was a ghost, after all. Ghosts are the ones who do the scaring… right?
"Well… in the middle of the night… sounds were coming from down the hall. Footsteps. Clover sprang up to his feet. Was someone else coming? Can't be. No explorers were crazy enough to come here this late at night, right? Well, he looked at his friends, he looked over at the Gengar, the Shuppet… all of them were fast asleep. So if there were intruders, it would be his job to scare them away this time."
"So he floated in the air and phased through the hall, turning his body invisible… he drifted all the way through the long dungeon corridor and to the stairs leading to the surface… but he didn't find anything. No intruders, no wild animals… nothing.
"Then there were footsteps coming from behind him. He spun around, and peered into the darkness… nothing. Nothing at all. But there were sounds, like claws tick-tacking against the bricks… murmurs and breaths… the rumble and creaking of the shifting walls…
"And Clover realized… it was possible for even a ghost-type to be scared. Because he was very scared. Something about this castle wasn't right.
"But as he drifted back to the room with his friends, he wondered… if there are other ghosts haunting this castle, I'd be able to see them, right? Ghosts can see other invisible ghosts… so why can't I see anyone?
"He felt like someone was chasing him, so he floated faster, phased back through the door into the safety of the room… and then something horrifying began to happen.
"Bricks were moving in the walls… shadows formed in pools on the floor… the torches flickered… and suddenly… BOOM!
The Pokémon around the campfire jumped a foot in the air as the Raichu punctuated his scare with a crackle of thunder.
"Something collapsed upstairs. The sound was loud enough that it woke all the ghosts. At first, they started accusing one another of playing tricks… but the five of them were all there, all accounted for… and they began to see the changes happening. The ceiling was bulging, as if to break. The floor was grinding. The walls were shifting. The shadows danced like fire. The five ghosts cowered together in the middle of the room…
"'What's going on?!' asked Clover. 'What's causing all this?'
"And the Shuppet said… 'Oh no… I think this place is haunted!'
"And the Gengar said, 'Well no duh it's haunted! We're the ones haunting it!'
"But the Shuppet shook its head for a moment and said, 'No… no we aren't. I think this place is haunted by real ghosts!'
" 'Real ghosts?' asked Clover. 'What does that mean?'
" 'Clover, we're only Pokémon… we're living beings,' explained the Shuppet, his voice quaking in fear. 'Real ghosts are the spirits of Pokémon and humans who died, and stayed in the world with us, because they're not ready to go to Giratina's realm. And they… they're far more powerful than all of us.'
" 'We need to get out of here!' cried the Gastly.
"But it was too late… the ghosts came out of the walls, these silver, swirling spirits… they oozed like liquid metal, seeping through the bricks, forming the shapes of demon creatures… and then… they all lit on fire, turning the room into a furnace, cooking the ghosts alive…
"They were never seen again. Only the Gastly survived to tell the tale, and she's the only reason we know anything about… the legend of Clover the Spectreon."
When the story was done, there was a deep, stunned silence. The winter winds rustled the trees above, the sound of its breath accompanied by the steady roar of the bonfire.
"GOOD ONE, huh?" Cheered the Raichu, jumping back to his rock. "Amadeus told me that story! Hope I did it justice."
"You did, good Rautzen… you did." The Charizard immediately bit his tongue, casting an odd glance in the Nidoking's direction. "Ah, Raikouun, I mean. I apologize, it appears that the prince's name mix-ups have rubbed off on me."
When the Pokémon retired to their places to rest, Coronus shutting the door of his private cottage behind him… he couldn't stop thinking about how ridiculous and unbelievable Rautzen's story was.
Real ghosts. Pft, said Coronus, shaking his head sadly. If only they existed…
Coronus knew they did. He'd met them before.
But there were none left in this timeline. No ghosts. There were no ghosts… because there were no souls. As he settled into his bed, Coronus realized that the story of Clover, if true, must have taken place before the point of discontinuity.
And there was nothing in the universe which brought the Nidoking more nightmares than the discontinuity.
Late that night – it must have been three in the morning, by the human clocks – a strange sound snapped the Nidoking from his unpleasant dreams. The walls of the cottage were creaking… the most ghastly of sounds, like a Wailord opening its mouth to swallow an island… but Coronus knew that it was only the wind. The winter fronts were pushing in, buffeting the cottage walls under their weight. But Coronus did not let himself be frightened, and distracted himself by remembering how miserable his friends must have been outside while he wrapped himself in warmth and security.
The wind intensified. The roof clicked and clacked as beams wiggled and splintered. Coronus disregarded it. The building had survived many a storm before, there was no reason to believe the roof would suddenly blow off at the weakest of Articuno's sneezes.
Then floorboards thumped.
Several books rattled free from their shelves.
Coronus groaned, pulling the covers over his face.
An odd gust of air pulled it back away, throwing it into the air and leaving it to drift down into the kitchen.
He blinked and groaned, sitting himself up in bed. What in the name of…
A tongue of flame floated in the center of the room.
"Coronus… I've been searching for you…"
The flame was as a piercing red eye, hanging in the darkness, illuminating nothing around itself.
A second flame appeared.
"Redeemer… how you have fallen…"
Coronus frowned, swiping his claw at the side of his bed to collect his walking stick. He thrust it forward, ordering it to produce a white light of its own… light which carved away the shadows, revealing the silhouette of a particular ghost.
"Charon," the Nidoking grumbled. "Back to bother me? After all this time?"
The Chandelure drifted closer. "Oh, believe me," he said, "you've got more to bother you than a forgotten old caretaker."
The Nidoking disregarded the ghost, using his light to hunt for the lost blanket. "I'd like it if you would leave me be," he grumbled. "I've nothing more to say to you."
"…Nothing more to say?" said the ghost darkly. "Nothing more to say to the only other living soul still existing in this charade of a universe? The only other Pokémon in the world capable of giving you the company you so desperately crave from these… these projections?"
"I said leave. We will speak of this after my retreat is over. If ever at all."
"Oh, Starborn one…" hissed Charon. "I'm not here to tell you anything… except that Amadeus calls you back."
Coronus yanked a wooden bowl from a kitchen counter, whipped around, and hurled it at the Chandelure. It phased through him.
Charon laughed. It was a sad sort of laughter. "You don't understand… do you?" he moaned hauntingly. "You don't see the truth."
"There is no more truth!" Coronus roared. "I make the only truth!"
"Indeed you have… you have been the grand designer of all the truths which are soon to befall you."
"Shut it up with your prophecy," spat Coronus. "Leave me to sleep in peace."
A ring of fire appeared on the ground beneath the ghost, catching the floorboards. Coronus staggered at the sight.
"What you do not yet realize… poor old Redeemer… you do not realize that the last ember is fading, and the fire is dying."
"Says who?!" Coronus blasted, nearly breathing icy breath at his old companion. "How dare you threaten me with your self-righteous judgment? Who are you to judge me? Leave me alone! Let me live in peace, for all the gods' sakes!"
The fire spread. It caught the books upon the shelf, the quaint little table where he would often sit to read them. It caught the bed, roaring to life as it devoured the Unfezant feathers which stuffed the cushions. It spread across the floor and began creeping up the walls, its black smoke pooling amidst the upper rafters.
"If you want to enjoy your final moments… then by all means," hissed the ghost. "All power to you, mighty Redeemer. Enjoy them, and do not let me get in your way. But I have only wished to remind you of a truth you may have forgotten…"
The Nidoking threw his walking stick to the ground. It had caught fire, and the burn had spread to his claw. He further backed away, but the fire only chased him into the corner, giving him no escape…
"I am, and have always been, your ally," Charon said. "Have you forgotten? Have you forgotten that I've been your caretaker since you were a Nidoran? That I watched your egg hatch? Have you forgotten the games we would play in the forest as your father neglected you? Have you forgotten the nights I would protect you from the monsters that lurked in the dark? The magic lessons? Do you remember the puzzles that we did together… the family dinners we shared? Do you remember how I comforted your every stubbed toe, and stole berries for you when your father locked them away? Coronus… I was, and always have been, the only constant in your life, from your youngling playpens to your studies of royal law… to your rise, and fall, as the Redeemer."
"Fall…?" yelled Coronus, feeling his clothes peeling apart in the flames. "Was there only one?! I have fallen twelve hundred times!"
"Then I will be there when you decide to rise the twelve hundred and first time. For what is this but another mistake we might erase? Forget not, Starborn one… my fire burns only for thee."
The inferno roared, engulfing everything but its own crimson light.
"Never forget that, you foolish old rabbit."
The fire vanished at once, and Coronus snapped awake in bed, his blanket shredded to bits by his own claws.
The retreat came to an end, as must all good things. On the fourteenth day, Coronus awoke to a crusty layer of frost and snow covering the forest leaves and the Pleasant Grounds, and immediately declared the vacation over and done with. That afternoon, he retired to the warmth and safety of Amaranthine's castle, and all the wonderful heat-wards which encased it.
And for a while, all was well. Better than well, in fact; the high council wasn't bugging him, the winter pantries were all stocked, the bills were paid… and best of all, the first shipment of wealth was soon scheduled to arrive from the west, the fruits of his father's victory against the Gold Division.
On this special occasion, Coronus, his five confidants, and the entirety of the high council was gathered in the throne room.
It arrived in a giant treasure chest, the same kind which banks liked to store in their innermost vaults. It took a team of six Machamp and Cokledurr to carry it. The Starborn Prince could feel the sparkle in his own eyes as he watched the vessel of treasures brought to him. He imagined all the precious things which probably awaited him inside: golden coins, enchanted orbs, priceless books, and anything else the Gold Division might have kept locked away in its keep. It was now his, and it would be enough to throw balls for the next twenty years.
"Ah, to the spoils of war!" laughed Amadeus, sitting at his side. "And this is only the first of twelve. Where shall we put the rest of it? Are the treasuries large enough?"
One of the high council members, an Altaria, happened to hear the Charizard's remark. "We shall give it to the people, of course!" she cheered, waving her puffy wings at him. "Why hoard it when it can bring so much stability to our economy?"
Coronus frowned at her. "We shall see," he hummed. "We shall see how much we can…spare."
Rattle, rattle, rattle, went the chest. Ah, one of his favorite sounds in all the world – the unmistakable jangle of precious golden coins. How many could possibly fit in such a container? Five million, at least.
The chest made the most wonderful, satisfying tha-chunk! as the musclebound Pokémon set it before the prince. They unlatched the latches, one at an agonizingly slow time, and finally, they lifted the lid and revealed the generous tribute from Enigma.
Inside the chest was everything Coronus had hoped. Golden coins, millions of them. Amulets and jewels, all glistening with potent enchantments. Weapons, scrolls, diamonds… truly, wealth fit for the great kingdom of Amaranthine.
Coronus could hardly breathe as he stared at the contents. He slowly, disbelievingly rose from his throne. He descended the stairs with hesitant steps, drawn to the pile of riches by an unbreakable trance as the council members watched with held breaths and stopped hearts.
Blood covered golden mound, blood which trickled down from what sat atop it all: the decapitated body and severed head of his father.
His father's claw clutched a scroll. Coronus slid it out from his deadened grasp, unrolled it, and read its contents –
Thank you for letting me borrow your Nidoking! You can have him back now; I'm quite done with him. I'll let you know if I ever need another. The Starborns were always my favorite Nidokings, so reliable and smart. But perhaps the next would ask a few less questions?
Hope you enjoy your reward! Thanks and good wishes!
Love, Mother Enigma~
Coronus read the letter again, and again, and again. He held the scroll in front of his face, blocking his view of the gory mound which lay before him. His claws tore into the sides of the paper.
His body shook. Visions ran through his mind.
The Astral Throne
The slaughterings.
The failures upon failures.
The bloody corpse of Char. The hundreds of bloody corpses of Char.
The smashed eggs.
The roots of the Lifeblood Tree.
The mystery dungeon. The one, singular mystery dungeon.
The frozen time gear.
He felt a tooth crack from biting down too hard into his own tongue.
A voice spoke up from behind him. The Gardevoir his father knew. Hildolfr.
"T-the king is dead. Long live the king!"
He heard the high council members give their disjointed and breathless responses.
"The king is dead! Long live the king!"
Hildolfr was suddenly standing at his side.
"Your orders, Your Majesty?" he asked in a quiet, whimpering voice.
"Your Majesty?"
"Prince Coronus? Er. King? King Coronus?"
"Starborn One?"
Coronus crumpled the scroll in his claws until it was a wad of torn parchment and splinters.
His answer came out as a long, vengeful seethe.
"War."
"E-excuse me?" responded the Gardevoir at his side. "W-war?"
"War," Coronus said again. "I… I hereby declare war on the Master and his Solemn Fortress."
(Part 3 of 4)