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loose end in reach - Penumbra. What secrets does he hold?\n\nAnd who exactly is \"the Beginning\"?\n\nThis is Chapter 9 of my ongoing series, in which news of Chairman Kane's fate spreads, and a certain Raichu steps in to ensure that the Academy stays its course.\n\nWritten by fa!CrimsonFlowers with their best work yet!", "description_bbcode_parsed": "A new piece joins the others on the chessboard.
Mayhem is on the horizon.
Both the Board and Rubrum's posse move towards the one loose end in reach - Penumbra. What secrets does he hold?

And who exactly is "the Beginning"?

This is Chapter 9 of my ongoing series, in which news of Chairman Kane's fate spreads, and a certain Raichu steps in to ensure that the Academy stays its course.

Written by \n\t\t\t\t\tCrimsonFlowers with their best work yet!", "writing": "Shadow of a Doubt\n\n\tSomething happened on February 13th. Two days later, the bureaucrats would discover it. No less than two investigators would vomit. The rest used ammonia ampoules. \n\nDeep in the Ghona prefect of Augusta, nestled within a derelict records hall, lounging in its back warehouse, bathed by a single spotlight, caked with dust and ash and grime, was a crumpled headless corpse. It once belonged to a man of scant empathy and great importance; in other words, a politician. His head had been evaporated.\n\n\tKane the Ghimmigoul, former Chairman of Bookkeeping, lauded member of the Board of Directors, was dead. His body laid slumped over an empty chest of coins, hugging the rim like a lifeboat. The noon bells gonged in his absence. Three big chimes lit up the sky. He never heard them.\n\n\tThe night prior, several guards had accompanied the Ghimmigoul to that same warehouse. All were knocked unconscious by the assailant; all of them awoke in the morning; and all of them abandoned Kane’s body. Failure to protect their superior would be swiftly punished, after all, and it takes an exceptionally stupid Pokémon to inflict such a punishment upon themselves. So the chairman rotted alone. By the time of his discovery, he was unrecognizable. \n\nThe news ran from patrolman to telephone operator; from operator to operator; and finally to Chairman Maximus’s secretary, who passed the imposing Alakazam a plain sealed envelope. He read the note in silence, then was silent for a few minutes more. Chairman Kane was dead. The nation would soon mourn. The job of those remaining aristocrats would become much harder.\n\n\tAnd unbeknownst to him, an interloper would soon worsen things: a tall, stout, and unassuming Raichu. An aurum gear hung loosely from his neck, supplemented only by an unmarked brown cap. Strangely, he carried himself with dignity and confidence unbefitting such a plain individual; he crossed the city border in record time, then strolled along the streets, admiring the crusted collapsed brickwork of the main thoroughfare. Chipper and smiling. Always smiling. \n\n\tIn the afternoon, the mouse stopped into a local pizza shop; then a jeweler, where he bought an agate ring. A distended reflection stared back from the center stone, his mouth dripping with pizza grease. During his three weeks of travel, he had been bereft of such simple pleasures. He owed it to himself to indulge. \n\n\tAnd as the Raichu stopped there in the busy street, cradling that bundle of cheese and tomato and grease, sitting atop a wooden bench, he thought: This city has gotten worse. He wiped his little mousy nose. Truly, truly… this past century has not been kind, he thought. \n\n\tOnce he finished, the Raichu then trudged toward the grand hall. He climbed the fifty steps gracefully, one little foot after another, raising his chubby body nearer. Lawmakers and aristocrats passed by him on both sides. And yet, no one spared him a second glance. \n\n\tHaving entered the hall, the Raichu removed his cap, stowed it in his pack; he then approached the secretary with a welcoming smile, reaching from red cheek to red cheek, and asked for Chairman Maximus. \n\n\tThe secretary asked, “Do you have an appointment?” \n\n\tThe Raichu shook his head. He admitted, “No, I don’t.” \n\n\t“Oh,” the Skitty said. She preened her fur with her tail, frowned in frustration. “I’m sorry, sir, but Maximus is full-up today. He’s not accepting any visitors. Unless you’d like to schedule something?” \n\n\tStill, the Raichu betrayed no signs of distress. Unfazed by the ceaseless bureaucracy, as if steeped in it, he replied: “I’d like you to call Chairman Maximus and tell him Alvin is here to see him.” He paused. “We’re personal friends, you see.” \n\n\tThe Skitty gave him a skewed stare. “Alvin?” she asked. Her lips trembled. “Is there a last name?” \n\n\tAlvin was still. The slight movements of his jaw unnerved the poor receptionist. He said: “No, there is no last name.” \n\n\t“Okay,” the Skitty replied. She choked on her words. “I’ll leave a message, then–” \n\n\t“No.” Alvin nodded, smiled, as if talking to a close friend. “You’re going to call him now. This matter cannot wait.”\n\nThe Skitty furrowed her brow. “Sir–”\n\n“Please,” Alvin said. He tilted his head, unblinking. “It is very important that you place this call.”\n\nSilence ensued. The tiny Skitty shrunk under Alvin’s imposing frame; fear stirred in her chest, even though she didn’t know what she was afraid of. As if meaning to speak, her jaw yammered silently; and having gathered the strength, she finally said: “Okay. Okay, I’ll place the call.” \n\nShe then brought the receiver to her ear gently; and, having dialed the number, she spoke. “Alvin is here to see you,” she said. No more words passed her lips. Her eyes widened. The line dropped. And she said, “You’re free to go up. Would you like a guide?” \n\nThe Raichu raised a paw, gave a bashful expression. “No, no,” he cooed. “That won’t be necessary. But thank you.” He licked his lips, met the Skitty’s uncomfortable gaze. “Have a nice day,” he said. He then passed by the desk, entered the stairwell, and began his ascent. \n\nEven one century later, he thought, the grand hall smells the same. It had always had a dust problem; Alvin chuckled imagining that entire generations of Pokémon had choked on it. \n\nMaximus’s office door was open when he arrived. The Raichu didn’t bother to knock; he appeared in the doorway like a spectre. Maximus awaited him, hunched over his desk, hands clasped in front of him. His moustache drooped down onto his thin bony arms. And he said: “Please close the door.” \n\n“Of course,” the Raichu replied, and did as told. He then turned to Maximus, situated himself centrally in the office, and announced: “Maximus, let’s be clear, politics aside… it’s very nice to see you.” He then puckered his lips and observed the room – coated with thick red wallpaper, adorned with Arcean trinkets of all shapes and sizes and hues, sliced in half by a tangible ray of sunlight. Alvin had always liked it. He continued: “I just wish I were here under better circumstances.” \n\nMaximus was duly sullen. He replied with an exhausted sigh. “I didn’t hear you were coming.” \n\n“This was intentional,” Alvin explained. “I believe He wanted to ascertain how well you’d function given a bit more time. But…” He swept his arm across the room. All smiles. “Well, dare I say you’re barely holding it together.” \n\n\tThe Alakazam winced. “We all have done our due diligence in maintaining order,” he contended. “Certain difficulties notwithstanding, I would consider our response to Cassius’s death to be more than adequate.”\n\n \t“Well,” Alvin sniped, “I’d consider the murder of one of our highest officials to be inadequate in itself. But that’s neither here nor there.” \n\n\tThe barb pierced Maximus’s heart. His stomach fell, tugging the edges of his lips along with it. “Stewardship is a messy business,” he contended. “Pitfalls are inevitable, but our plans are secure. I would hope He’d still know that.” \n\n\tThere was a moment of silence. Seemingly disinterested, Alvin stared out the window, watching a flag fly in the distance, situated atop a spiraling grey roof. It flapped manically in the wind, each ripple a nostalgia-tinged kiss. He yearned to see that flag raised again for the first time, just once… \n\n\tAlvin’s voice, near-disembodied, then fell from his lips: “Ultimately, He trusts you. Hence your continued reign. But you must know that His patience is wearing thin. Mine too, obviously.” He smirked, still not meeting the man’s eyes. “Losing Cassius at this phase is… well, it betrays your hasty decision making. Both in your handling of him, and in his appointment.” \n\n\t“I–”\n\n\t“We’re not going to argue.” Alvin raised a finger, beckoned the monster into silence. “There is nothing more to be said about it.”\n\n\tMaximus nodded. His gaze remained downtrodden, glazed across a cask of wine beneath his desk. The liquid called for his cold lips. And he mumbled: “I assume you’re not just here to berate me?” \n\n\tThe Raichu nodded. He looked down on the old man, revealed: “He’s decided I’m to be stationed here until the Spear is complete. I’m to help you manage your assignment.” \n\n\tSpoons bent to and fro in Maximus’s anxious grip. Shame choked the Alakazam’s throat. His voice emerged as a squeak: “Okay.” He then pinched his nose, wiped the sleep from his eyes. “Okay. Thank you, then.”\n\n\tMaximus looked askance. His eyes narrowed, as if he were about to cry; his body was deathly still. His mouth was uncomfortably dry. Seldom did the giant allow panic to overcome his faculties, but now was one of those rare instances. Alvin took joy in it. He always took joy in it. \n\n\tThe Raichu stepped closer. His buck teeth shone yellow in the morning sun. “I sense you have something to tell me,” he prodded. Like a schoolteacher chastising a child, he twisted his face into an empathetic smile. “It would be best if you told me now.” \n\n\tIf Maximus were foolish, he would’ve attempted to hide the truth; but the news had arrived to him just that morning, and it left him numb. His whole body felt like it was floating. Like nothing was real. \n\n\tBefore he spoke, Maximus reached into his satchel, removed two white round pills. They were bitter against his tongue, but he swallowed them anyway, squeezing his sleep-deprived eyes shut. And he admitted:\n\n\t“I have some news about Chairman Kane.”\n\n\n\n\t\nAkiva’s head hurt. It seemed to always hurt nowadays. The pills quelled that pressure, sure, but for only a few moments; then back she was, cradling her forehead, listening, listening, listening. \t\n\n\tToday, she sat in the meeting room. She’d been here a lot lately, and it was always uncomfortably cold. Papers were strewn loosely along the grand conference table: permission slips, legal filings, news briefs. Words were often crossed off along them, arrows darting forward and back. Switch a word here, scrap a headline there. The Gardevoir’s hands were blackened with ink. A Ninetails sat next to her, intently focused on a daily report. \n\n\t“...since recent court rulings are favorable,” Iris continued. “We’ll need you to make a press statement about this. Preferably tomorrow, in the evening, and we’ll start printing announcements the next morning.” \n\n\t“Mhm.” Akiva nodded, cleared her throat. “That’s fine. I’ll push back my meeting with Colm, then. He should be free the next day sometime, no problem…” \n\n\tThe fox nodded, too. “Right.” She then looked over at Akiva, traced her gaze along the young Gardevoir’s sharp cheekbones, her defined collar. She’d been looking thinner lately. Her face was a little more gaunt, her wrinkles a little more prominent. Iris frowned. \n\n\t“Akiva, I don’t mean to pry, but… would you mind if we talked a minute?” \n\n\tThe Gardevoir was nonplussed by the suggestion. “I thought we were already talking,” she replied. \n\n\tIris tilted her head. She clarified: “I’m talking about you. I want to make sure you’re alright, Akiva.” \n\n\tThe Gardevoir scoffed. “What?” she asked. “Do I look that bad? Am I unfit to work?” \n\n\t“No,” Iris replied. Pain flashed on her maw; she buried it. “I’m not criticizing you, Akiva. I think you’re performing well. I just…” She looked around, shooting a glance toward the double doors, making sure they were closed. “You’ve been under a lot of pressure. And I wanted to let you know that you’re not alone. I’m your ally.” \n\n\tAkiva shifted in her seat. Her facial muscles fought each other, alternating between a smile and a scowl, as her fists clenched. And turning, she said: “I have no doubt you see yourself that way.”\n\n\t“I do,” Iris affirmed.\n\n\tAkiva shot back: “And yet you’re mandated to report my activities to Maximus. And for thirty years, you’ve taken that responsibility seriously.” \n\n\tThe two were silent. Indeed, what she said was true. Since Akiva’s ascension to the Board, it’d been Iris’s duty to shepherd her in Maximus’s absence. If that imposing man were Akiva’s surrogate father, surely Iris would’ve been her mother. The weight of this responsibility was not lost on either of them.\n\n\t“When I’ve spoken about you to Maximus, it’s always been for your benefit,” Iris contended. Her voice was stern, breathy. “I know you don’t believe me, but I want what’s best for your position. I want what’s best for you.” \n\n\tAkiva pursed her lips, nodded. She didn’t look Iris in the face. Instead, she stared down at the paper under her hand. And she said: “I’m more than my position.” \n\n\t“Of course,” Iris chirped. “I didn’t mean to imply…” She trailed off. A collection of wrinkles scrunched under her eyes. Laugh lines crossed her cheeks, angled downward, making her skin sag. Golden-red fur hid the blemishes and acne which dotted her flesh. \n\n\tIris began again. Softly, she admitted: “I’m sorry that things have been difficult for you. And I’m sorry that Maximus is putting the Faith Festival on you, because you don’t deserve it. The truth is, no one could have predicted Fey’s little stunt. And I know you did your best, given the circumstances.” She was quiet for a moment, then continued: “I care about you. I know that sometimes I disagree with your decisions, and in the past I… I failed to protect you. And I’m sorry for that. I could only imagine–” \n\n\t“--It’s okay.” Akiva exhaled from her nose. Seldom had anyone apologized to her. Her face softened; she struggled. “It’s okay,” she echoed, and moved her hand to grasp Iris’s. Her grip was firm. Her head pounded. “I appreciate you saying that,” she said. And truthfully, she meant it. \n\n\tBut just as Iris was about to respond, those ornate double doors flung open. And in walked Chairman Maximus himself, ducking his head beneath the door frame, his thin joints popping. He regarded the two at the table with consummate professionalism; a clear of his throat, a wave of his bony hand. “Hello, you two,” he said. He sounded more tired than usual.\n\n\tInstinctively, Akiva stood. She asked: “Should we clear the room?” \n\n\t“No,” Maximus replied. He sat at the head of the table, scooted his chair inward. “I’ve called for an emergency meeting. Everyone will be here soon enough.” \n\n\tIris raised an eyebrow. Whenever an emergency meeting had taken place, she’d always been informed. Her heart began to race. “Maximus?” she asked. “What’s going on?” \n\n\tAlas, Maximus didn’t answer. He simply stared down at the table, tracing one long nail along its surface. Iris had seldom seen him so distressed; it made her hackles raise. She then exchanged looks with Akiva, whose expression betrayed the same terrified confusion. \n\n\tGradually, the rest of the Board then filed in. First came Hermes the Simipour, head bent eternally downward, his tail dragging across the carpet; he didn’t say a word, only took his seat. Then came Chairman Colm the Kecleon, slinking along the side of the room, his eyes darting. He greeted the room with a cautious smile, a chipper hello, then took his seat next to Iris. Cassius and Kane’s seats remained empty. \n\n\tOnce everyone had found their places, Maximus called the meeting to order; and just as he was about to order the doors closed, an unexpected visitor poked his head in: Alvin, the Raichu. He sauntered in as if the occasion were normal, then approached Maximus’s chair. The room was shocked into silence; none of them had seen this man before, and yet Maximus didn’t even react to his entrance. \n\n\t“Maximus?” Iris asked. Her brow narrowed now, her lips curling into a defensive snarl. “Who is this?” \n\n\tThe Alakazam, however, didn’t reply. He simply gnashed his jaw, staring at the errant Raichu. Alvin hovered next to Maximus’s chair, smiling. \n\n\t“I would like this chair,” Alvin said. His expression, pleasant and carefree, didn’t change as he pointed toward Maximus’s throne. “Seeing as I am now the most senior ranking official in the room, I believe it would only be fitting. Don’t you agree?” \n\n\tDespite the Raichu’s light tone, the room sensed hostility in his words. Maximus met his gaze for only a moment; there burned a kernel of anger, resentment, and shame. Seeing it, Akiva instinctively shrunk into her seat; her breathing hastened, her posture curled. Iris squeezed her hand; and, bending forward, she barked: “I’ll ask again. What the hell is going on here? Who is this?” \n\n\tMaximus swallowed the urge to yell. As calmly as he could, betraying uttermost tension in his clenched fists, he lifted himself from his chair; and having done so, he stood to the side. Alvin was overjoyed. \n\n\t“Thank you,” the Raichu chirped. Like an eager child, he then sat himself where Maximus once was; he kicked his little feet forward and back, scooching the chair inward. Having done so, he then folded his paws on the table, leaning eagerly over it, surveying the rest of the Board. His gaze shifted from Maximus to Hermes to Colm to Akiva to Iris, then back again. The tension was palpable. The mouse relished in it. \n\n\tAnd once the monster had his fill, he finally spoke. “You all must be curious as to why I am here, and who I am,” he said. He was calm, but Akiva sensed a sort of childlike intrigue beneath the facade.\n\n\tThe Raichu then continued: “My name is Alvin, and I am your Chairman of Rebirth. It is a pleasure to meet all of you. Truly, a pleasure.” \n\n\tAlvin had hoped for a warm welcome; instead, he was met with confused stares. Hermes’s head hung, trying hard not to garner any attention; Colm sat upright, his hands neatly folded, as he tossed his prehensile tongue around in his mouth. Akiva stared at the usurper with wide-eyed horror; Iris was furious.\n\n\t“Maximus,” the Ninetails barked. She snapped her fangs at the air, speaking in his direction, ignoring the man-child at the room’s front. “What the hell is going on?” \n\n\tThe Alakazam was quiet for a moment. A fire burned in his stomach, choked up his throat, made him frightened and small. As if his head were in a vice, he felt himself squeezed between two unfathomable forces; and, attempting to hide his dire embarrassment, he straightened himself, mustered a resolute expression.\n\n\t“What Alvin said is correct,” Maximus explained. The room hung on each word. “He is our Chairman of Rebirth, and as such he deserves a spot at this table. He’s been our Chairman of Rebirth for over a century, and was appointed in secret by our savior Himself over one hundred years ago.” \n\n\tThe table was stunned; more than that, they were betrayed. No one quite knew how to approach Maximus’s words. They were so outlandish, after all; a secret Board member, hidden for over a century? \n\n\t“This can’t be true,” Iris contended. She turned herself to face Alvin, paws on the table, bent over the edge in desperation. Contrastingly, Alvin reclined; his limbs were loose, his rosy cheeks uplifted, his eyes friendly. His demeanor infuriated her. \n\n \tColm, too, greeted the intruder with apprehension. “Alvin,” he said, “I’m pleased to meet you. I’m sure you don’t need to be introduced to us?”\n\n\tAlvin nodded emphatically. “Chairman Colm,” he replied. His tone cut through the air like a knife, unsettlingly familiar. “No, no need for introductions. I’m aware of you, and of your progress as a legislator. I’m also aware that you’ve stepped into Cassius’s shoes in lieu of his absence. That’s quite commendable.” \n\n\tThe Kecleon was caught off-guard by the sudden compliment. He swiveled his head right, left, attempting to gauge the others’ reactions; but each was just as perplexed. So Colm simply replied, “Thank you, Alvin.”\n\n\t“You’re welcome.” Alvin then took a shallow breath, his grin wide. Words tickled the edges of his lips, making them quiver and dance. “Now, I’m sure there is some measure of confusion and concern about my recent arrival. I intend to put those fears to rest, and to reassure you of my legitimacy.” \n\n\tAlvin’s arm then extended toward Maximus; old, tall, disheveled Maximus; and he explained: “I work directly under the Beginning, hence the need for secrecy. I also perform my duty from Lookout Island, hence my prolonged absence from Augusta. My role in our organization has been to ensure the construction of the Spear in a timely manner; and moreover, to remotely monitor the progress of my fellow Board members…”\n\n\tIris fell back, her eyes near-glazed in disbelief. She asked: “You’ve been watching us?” \n\n\t“I have eyes and ears,” Alvin assured. “And through this century, Maximus has been a most loyal confidant.” He turned toward the disgraced giant, tilted his head, then cooed: “Thank you, Maximus. For everything.” But Maximus didn’t reply.\n\n\tAkiva eyed the Alakazam with increasing disdain. She was struck with a profound disappointment. Time and time again, that man had hidden himself away. She should not have expected anything better from him. She had never even truly known him.\n\nMaximus, of course, did not return anyone’s stare. His head remained downturned in deference. Alvin took great pleasure in it. \n\n\tThe Raichu then continued, “You may be wondering why I would appear now. The truth is, we’re entering a new era in Augustan leadership. The Spear is finally reaching completion. And yet, we are still stomping out the embers of insurgence.” He frowned. “This state of affairs is regrettable, and should have been avoided. But now that we are here, I find it pertinent to take account.” \n\n\tAkiva spoke next. She said, “So you’re here to clean up our mess.” \n\n\tAlvin was amused. “In crass terms, yes,” he said. “Chairman Cassius’s death was truly regrettable. And…” He then paused a moment, clearly thinking how to broach the next subject. It was quite delicate, after all. The others would definitely grieve; not Alvin, of course, since he had never once grieved. But those other, frailer people… well, they always demanded such patience from him.\n\n\tSo the Raichu announced, “As you’re all aware, Chairman Kane has recently taken two days of paid administrative leave. On his application for paid leave, he described the purpose of this excursion as an ‘in-depth audit of the Department of Labor.’ This audit request even managed to garner Chairman Hermes’s signature of consent.” \n\n\tThose words caught Hermes’s attention. He had yet to speak for fear of degradation; and yet, he could stay silent no longer. “Excuse me,” he said, “but I’ve never heard of this. There was never any mention of an audit to me.” \n\n\t“I know,” Alvin reassured. “Upon further investigation, it was discovered that this signature was forged; and furthermore, that no audit had ever taken place. Which left us, naturally, stunned. What left us even more stunned is that, on the night of the 13th, immediately after signing this document, Chairman Kane disappeared. That was two days ago.” \n\n\tThe room was spiraling now. Chairwoman Iris could feel her eyes widening, her chest heaving. She’d talked to Kane only three days prior; the pair shared a cigarette under a cloudy sky, just as they’d done countless times before. And just as Kane had done again and again, he promised not to do anything stupid. Iris had believed him. \n\n\t“Is Kane alright?” Iris asked. Her thoughts raced, her paw squeezed by Akiva’s firm hand. “Where is he?” \n\n\tAlvin manually lowered his facial muscles; it was very difficult for him not to smile. After all, he thought this was all very amusing. He then revealed: “This morning, Kane’s corpse was discovered within an abandoned records hall in Ghona. His head was gone.” \n\n\tThose words made Iris crumple. Her neck suddenly failed to support her head, dipping it low, her teeth grinding. Dread coalesced within her chest, outweighed by her fading disbelief. It was unreal. Completely unreal. \n\n\t“No,” she contended. Her wet eyes begged Maximus for reassurance. “Please, Maximus, tell me this isn’t true. Please.” \n\n\tBut Maximus was solemn in his reply. “Chairman Kane is dead,” he announced. Stress made him curt and breathless. “Injuries indicate he was killed by a Fire type… likely Asher, one of Professor Rubrum’s former students.”\n\n\t“Furthermore, there is evidence to suggest Kane attempted to entrap our insurgents of his own accord,” Alvin chimed in. “Alone, and without official Board support. No subordinates have come forward to corroborate this theory, but… well, the scene speaks for itself. Not to mention the recent publication of a strange news story, which was seemingly written by Kane in order to lure the perpetrators to the records hall.” \n\n\tColm fumbled his fat tongue, anxiously ping-ponging it from one cheek to another. “I see,” he replied. His tone was neutral; but internally, he was abuzz with self-indulgent what-ifs. “I take it we are going to publish his death tomorrow?” \n\n\tAlvin replied as if it were business as usual. “Of course. We are going to position his death as a politically motivated assassination… likely performed by a mysterious group of homeless ferals who were seen wandering the area.” He smiled. “It should tie up nicely. I trust you can help us with that, Chairman.” \n\n\tThe Kecleon nodded dutifully. “Of course,” he assented. “Let’s coordinate this afternoon, then.” \n\n\tDespite his amicable tone, however, Colm was deeply uneasy. There was something about the way Alvin handled himself which disconcerted him; as if the actions of government were a game, and the resultant suffering was frivolous. Kane’s death was equal measures amusing and laborious for Alvin. There remained no time to wallow; only time to laugh, and to execute. \n\n\tGranted, Colm could not wholly criticize such a straightforward and sadistic approach to politics. He, too, harbored scant care for his subordinates. The suffering of others hardly concerned him. And yet, he always maintained an air of plausible deniability; endless condolences, endless apologies, endless rebrandings. Good optics gave rise to Colm’s political career. And yet before him sat a Pokémon wholly unconcerned with the fine details of public discourse. It was worrying. \n\n\tWithout warning, Iris’s voice then boomed over their soft-spoken negotiations. “Are you kidding me?” she barked. “That’s it? After one hundred years of stewardship, he’s been reduced to a news story?” \n\n\tAlvin gave her a dismissive glance. He asked: “Do you want to talk about your feelings?” \n\n\t“This isn’t about feelings,” Iris spat. She looked around the room, pleading for support. “Despite our differences, Chairman Kane was our friend. How many friends can we say stuck with us for a century, hm? Are we not going to take any time to mourn? Nothing?”\n\n\tAlvin was nonplussed. “We’re obviously going to hold a celebration of life,” he contended. \n\n\t“This isn’t about a damn celebration of life!” The Ninetails banged her paw on the table. Her breath was uncomfortably hot. “We serve Arceus. Doesn’t He instruct us to value the lives of all Pokémon?” \n\n\tThe Raichu raised an eyebrow. “Chairwoman Iris,” he began, “if I’m not mistaken, you and Kane often disagreed in the Board room. And furthermore, you yourself have never converted to Arceanism.” He smirked, tilted his head mockingly. “Bearing all this in mind, I am surprised to hear you so passionate about his passing.” \n\n\t“I can advocate for Arcean values without being an Arcean,” Iris contended. “And Kane was a founding member of this Board, alongside Maximus and I. Even in death, he deserves some deference.” \n\n\tAlvin didn’t move. “I was a founding member, too,” he said, “even if you didn’t know it.” He then pledged his paw against his heart, his eyes blank. “Chairman Kane was loyal to our cause, to the bitter end. And having lived a long and fruitful life, we must ensure his death is not in vain. It’s what he’d want.” \n\n\t“You wouldn’t know that,” Iris said. Her eyes were welling now. “You never met him. You never–” \n\n\tHer frenzied glances, however, garnered no sympathy. Colm regarded her with cold indifference, his hands still neatly folded. Hermes refused to make eye contact, his knee bouncing manically under the table; Maximus, too, remained quiet. Only Akiva shared in her pain – subtly, she squeezed Iris’s paw. The two shared a pained glance; and all at once, the futility of Iris’s grief crashed down around her. The Board would not entertain such sadness. Not anymore. \n\n\tA wet lump traveled down Iris’s throat. Hackles lowering, she then fell back into her seat, her anger quelled. Akiva ran her soft hand along Iris’s back. The two did not speak any further. Alvin preferred it that way. \n\n\tAnd, having settled that bit of business, Alvin spoke once more:\n\n\t“Now, before we settle the matter of Kane’s mourning, it’s come to my attention that a certain asset has run his course. Akiva, Iris, if I could see you two alone.” \n\t\n\t\n\n\n\n\tOn the night of the 15th, Hermes was afraid. Unfortunately, this was not uncommon.\n\nEver since Cassius’s demise, death haunted him like a spectre. Whether he was gathering mail, or going to meetings, or drinking bad coffee, the prospect of his upcoming assassination filled him with shame. He avoided showing his face in public now. \n\nAs such, Hermes was alone tonight. He cradled a glass of cold beer in his paw, reclining backward on a malformed armchair; in front of him, a tattered fiction novel. He’d began it five times now, but he could never bring himself to finish the third chapter. Even in his cramped apartment, he always found a way to become distracted.\n\nThe Simipour then rubbed his dark-ringed eyes. Suffice it to say, the day had not been kind to him. Alvin’s arrival had further swept him under the rug; every day, the papers piled high on his desk, each requiring meticulous approval. Even as he slept, they accumulated. The thought made his head hurt. Hermes brought the beer to his lips. \n\nUnwashed dishes piled high in the sink behind him, covered in a thin glaze of grime. A ceiling fan, too, swirled endlessly overhead; and to the side, two full trash bags burgeoned from the carpet like pustules. Their contents spilled loosely over the carpet, filling the little beige box with decaying fumes. Hermes stared at the mess for only a moment; and then, back to his book. He’d read the same passage four times now. \n\nJust then, a knock rang out from the front door. The Simipour quickly froze up; he had installed three separate locks on that door, and their jingling created a dreadful cacophony. Tonight, he would welcome his first visitors in months.\n\nThey’re here to kill me, Hermes thought. And yet, the thought hardly roused him from his chair. Sluggishly, as if attending a rote chore, he lifted himself onto weary feet. He then made his way to the door, that incessant knocking beckoning him. His heart raced. His mouth dried up. The doorhandle rattled.\n\n“Who is it?” Hermes croaked.\n\nAnd upon hearing him, the knocking stopped. It was supplanted by a familiar voice; someone Hermes knew, but he couldn’t put a finger on. \n\n“Open the door,” the voice called. “We have business to discuss.” \n\nHermes scrunched his face, gave an uneasy exhale. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied. And with a quiver in his voice, he asked: “Who– ahem, who is this?”\n\nThere was a moment of silence. Hermes could hear quiet whispers from his apartment’s hallway. Then, the voice replied: “I think you know who it is.” \n\nAnd indeed, just then, it clicked. Hermes’s expression morphed into abject horror. “Then get the fuck out,” he spat, shrinking from the thick wooden door. “Why can’t you people just leave me alone?” \n\nMore whispering. Intense now. Two shadows danced under the doorway. Hermes watched them intently. He heard a sigh. And the voice announced joylessly: “If you don’t open the door, we’ll be forced to burn it down.”\n\n\tThe threat made Hermes’s breath catch. His thoughts meandered to Kane, that poor man’s flesh smoldering, his head evaporated into a superheated crimson mist. If I died, Hermes thought, I wonder how long it’d take for anyone to find my body.\n\n\tDespite that fear, however, Hermes had no choice but to open the door. He swallowed sour, scant saliva, then reached a trembling hand toward the knob; it was hot to the touch. The myriad locks then unclasped with metallic ka-chunks. And inward the door swung; dim torchlight flooded the doorway, two silhouettes visible against it. Hermes stood in deference. \n\n\t“Are you going to kill me?” Hermes asked. His knees trembled as he waited for those figures to attack. But alas, they didn’t; instead, they simply entered the apartment, then closed the door. One stood tall; the other was shorter. \n\n\t“This apartment is a sty,” the taller one said. This was Asher – the Cinderace, clad in a set of leather swatches. He appeared unwashed; miscellaneous dirt and grime caked his forearms and his shins. His face, too, was wrinkled and stone-set. A stern frown tugged his cheeks downward. \n\n\tHermes shrunk at the petty insult. “Well, my work is very time-consuming,” he said. He then looked around awkwardly, attempting to identify Asher’s confidante; and yet, he’d never seen this Pokémon before. A Gengar, heavy-set and meek, stood behind the imposing rabbit. The Simipour couldn’t make out his face amidst the dark. \n\n\tHuffing hot air, Asher then announced: “We need something from you.” \n\n\tHermes raised a tired eyebrow. “Another favor?” he asked. “Was what Rubrum did to me not enough? Was it not humiliating enough for me?” \n\n\tAsher shook his head, stomped his foot on the floor. “You’re not the victim here,” he spat. “You’re complicit in a genocide. Stop pretending like we owe you pity.” \n\n\tPain flashed across Hermes’s pathetic mien – downtrodden, tired, depressive. Through gritted teeth, the Simipour then contended: “If he needed something, couldn’t Rubrum at least come here himself? Or is he too good for that now?” \n\n\t“He’s preoccupied.” \n\n\t“You know, it’s a small miracle no one suspected me for the information I gave you last time.” Hermes cupped his head in his hands, swept his palms over his wrinkled cheeks. “I helped you once, and what did you do? You went and killed…” Warding off that dreadful thought, he trailed off. His back heaved, his voice shrill. “I just don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know what you want from me.” \n\n\tAsher looked down on him. He said: “We just want one more piece of information. And then we’ll leave you alone for good.” \n\n\t“Or what?” Hermes barked. “Or you’ll expose me? You’ll tell them about my fucking spending? Right? Is that it?” \n\n\tThe Cinderace was tempted to simply agree; but instead, the Gengar – Grimm – stepped forward. Placing one pudgy little foot in front of the other, he waddled into the light; and he said: “Hermes, we need to know about the Beginning.” \n\n\tHermes’s demeanor shifted at His mention. His anger faded, replaced with anxious tip-toeing, a slow methodical stutter. “H–he…” Hermes shook his head, looked to the side. “Fuck, okay, so, the Beginning is… I don’t even know very much about Him.” \n\n\tAsher leaned forward, hands on his hips. The revelation made his stomach stir. “The Beginning is a Him?” he asked. \n\n\tDamn it, Hermes thought. That was careless.\n\n\t“Yeah, but… again, I don’t know very much about Him,” the Simipour lied. “I don’t… I’ve never even spoken to Him.”\n\n\t“But He’s your boss?”\n\n\tHermes nodded. “Y–yeah. He’s my boss, technically,” he admitted. “But none of us can talk to him. Only Maximus. They write letters to each other, and that’s how he issues orders to the rest of us.” \n\n\tOff to the side, the Gengar picked thoughtfully at his teeth. Inspecting Hermes’s face, Grimm couldn’t tell whether the crafty Simipour was lying; he could, however, tell how much stress the poor Pokémon had endured. Hermes’s body was crushed, wrinkled, and bent. His legs bowed unconfidently toward the floor, as if ready to kneel at any moment. His, head, too, never quite stood straight; it gave his face a perpetually crestfallen expression.\n\n\tGrimm asked: “Has anyone else on the Board ever spoken to the Beginning?” \n\n\t“The founding members did,” Hermes explained. “So that would be… Maximus, Iris, and–” He stuttered. “--and Kane.”\n\n\tAsher listened with bated breath; he stomped his big feet on the floor, nodded along, as he attempted to contain his intrigue. He asked: “And where is the Beginning now? And what kind of Pokémon is He?” \n\n\tHermes raised his hands in deference. “I–I don’t know that,” he lied. “Maximus keeps that information from us.” \n\n\t“Bullshit,” Asher called. His posture was suddenly tense, his eyes locked onto Hermes’s wet stare. “There’s no way you could run this country without even knowing who your boss is.”\n\nThe Simipour let out a frustrated moan. In a fit of frustration, he cupped his head in his hands, wailed: “Look, I don’t fucking know!” He then took his paws from his face, revealing scant tears. A sniffle tickled the back of his throat. “I don’t know where the Beginning is. I don’t know who he is. I swear to Arceus, Maximus doesn’t trust anyone. Not even me. I know it sounds like bullshit, but it’s the truth.” \n\nAsher stared intently at the tiny man; his palms warmed eagerly against his sides. Hermes is a weak man, Asher thought; it wouldn’t take very much pain to extract the truth from him. Two warm hands against his exposed stomach would be enough. Perhaps he’d go a little further, though. Hermes would surely be more inclined to talk if his intestines boiled…\n\nThese morbid urges danced in the Cinderace’s head as he asked: “Hermes… can I level with you?” \n\n“Yes,” Hermes replied. His voice was a futile squeak. \n\nClearing his throat, Asher then began: “In the past six months, I have lost everything.” He nodded his head as he spoke, staring at the dirty carpet, processing his words carefully. “During this time, I’ve learned that absolutely no one in the Academy has my best interests in mind. None. That includes you.” \n\nHis finger pointed at Hermes; the monkey shrank from it. Asher then continued: “I know Rubrum may have been your friend in the past, but that doesn’t mean I won’t hurt you. I never wanted to hurt anyone.” And indeed, the suffering was plain on Asher’s face. “But… if you hold out on us, I won’t have any choice. So: Who is the Beginning, and why does he want to target humans with the Spear?” \n\nHermes was indignant. “C–come on. It should be obvious. Humans are evil!” he sputtered. “They’re fucking parasites! They take our resources, infiltrate our cities, and… a–and we’re not allowed to fight back? That’s bullshit!”\n\nAsher sighed. “So now you want to blow their entire nation off the map? Your solution to petty border disputes is to… kill them all?” He was clearly unimpressed. “That doesn’t make sense. There must be a deeper plan.” \n\nHermes shook. His mouth was agape now, gasping at air, struggling to form coherent thought. “I–I don’t know,” he said. It took all the courage he had to lie. “I don’t know. Maximus treats us all like animals. H–he doesn’t tell me anything. He tells us fucking nothing, I swear to Arceus.” \n\n“Really?” Asher asked. Heat rippled from his palms, now outstretched in front of him; the air around them distorted and shook. A sickening grimace grew across his face. And he said: “So if I put my paws against you, you wouldn’t change your story? Not at all?” \n\n“Of course not!” Hermes snapped. Terror made his voice shrill. “I don’t know what Kane told you, but I swear, I swear! I don’t know anything! H–he thinks I’m expendable!” Gasps made his voice quiver. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m so fucking sorry for everything, but I don’t have any choice. I know too much to just quit. They’d kill me. I–I can’t escape. I don’t have any choice. Okay?” \n\n\tAsher chuckled exhaustedly. “You have a choice,” he said. “You’ve always had a choice. You’re just too much of a coward to realize it.” The rabbit’s paws were white-hot now. He took a step toward the Simipour, hovering them in front, his face screwy. “Last chance,” he said. “It’s your last chance to tell me the truth, Hermes.” \n\n\tWatching on, Grimm felt his body tense. His breaths were stunted; and for just a moment, he was back in the warehouse, watching on. He remembered the smell of Kane’s burning flesh, his desperate screams, the gurgling of his half-melted throat. And yet, Grimm had done nothing to stop it. The memory made his stomach curdle.\n\nTonight, however, Grimm took a stance. It took every bit of his strength. And he said: “A–Asher, I think he might be telling the truth.” \n\n\t“What?” Asher spat. He looked over his shoulder, clearly annoyed. “Don’t tell me you believe this piece of shit.” \n\n\tGrimm swallowed. “Not entirely,” he admitted. “But… Kane told us the same thing, remember? He said Maximus treated the rest of the Board like children.” Tilting his head, gritting his teeth, the Gengar contended: “So… it might not be implausible that he’d keep the Beginning’s identity a secret.” \n\n\tAsher was still. The Gengar watched as his demeanor shifted – from furious, to contemplative, to inquisitive. And so Asher reared back on his hind leg, crossed his arms, and asked: “Okay… so, assuming you’re telling the truth, there must be someone else who can tell us about the Beginning.”\n\n\tHermes swallowed, hovered his big hands before his chest. “I–I don’t know,” he sputtered. “I don’t know. There are… I don’t really know–” \n\n\t“Stop,” Asher interrupted. The Cinderace was getting sick of his endless prattling. He pinched his nose, tapped his foot impatiently. “Stop. Just stop talking. I hate your voice.” \n\n\tThe Simipour, however, ignored the instruction. “But I know one thing,” Hermes contended. “I know… maybe one Pokémon who can help you. B–but I hardly know anything about them. So…” \n\n\tAsher flashed a dumbfounded wince. His patience clearly wore thin. “Then spit it out,” he barked. “You’re wasting our time.” \n\n\tSo Hermes admitted: “Their name is Penumbra. They live south of Augusta, near Renasca.” He was clearly unconfident in his assertion – as if he didn’t fully trust himself. “I don’t think they live in Renasca, but they live… nearby. Somewhere nearby.” \n\n\tGrimm snarled at that place’s mention – Renasca. The name was horrid on his tongue. So with a huff, he said: “I’ve been there.” \n\n\tAsher glanced backward, raised his brow. “Yeah?” he asked. “What’s it like?” \n\n\t“Dark.” Grimm didn’t seem too pleased to remember, but spoke nonetheless. “Back when I was first expelled, I took some work in Caligen. But once that dried up, I tried going south to Renasca.” His expression hardened. “It was a big mistake. That forest is cursed. There’s only, like, three hours of daylight. The rest is night, so getting to Renasca is tough, even for Ghost types.” \n\n\t“Cursed?” Asher echoed. He rolled his eyes, each petty gesture deepening Hermes’s humiliation. “Great. So we’re supposed to venture into cursed lands and just… look around? Try and find a mysterious log cabin?” \n\n\tThe Simipour was effusive. His heart skipped. And he said: “I don’t know what kind of Pokémon Penumbra is, but… when Maximus first inaugurated me, he, um…” The memory was certainly uncomfortable. Hermes shuffled. “He got drunk and told me that, if he ever died unexpectedly, I should check with Penumbra near Renasca.”\n\n\tGrimm narrowed his eyes. “Why?” \n\n\t“I don’t know,” Hermes replied. His tone was earnest. “Maximus implied that, um… Penumbra would have something to tell me. Something important. He seemed really sad, and mentioned something about a memento, but… you know, he was really drunk. It was sort of hard to understand. And this was years ago.” He paused, then added: “But whoever Penumbra is, they know about the Spear. I think they’re involved with it, somehow.” \n\n\t“Somehow.” \n\n\t“Yeah, somehow.” Hermes wracked his brain for further detail, but was stymied by the discomfort of that night. \n\n\tThat night, of course, was the night of Hermes’s inauguration – fresh off the stage, the entire Board attended a private lounge behind the grand auditorium. There, legislators and high-level donors traded endless verbal barbs; pretty girls adorned their arms, holding thin glasses of champagne, looking bored. It was all quite lively. \n\nMaximus, however, sat in the corner; he’d polished off three bottles of wine all by himself. Worse yet, Hermes somehow found himself keeping the man company. And so the giant hung uncomfortably on the monkey’s arm, those lanky gnarled claws closed around his bicep. \n\n\t“I’ve done things I regret,” Maximus uttered. The smell of booze rolled off his tongue, invaded Hermes’s nostrils. “And once I am dead, there is something crucial you must retrieve – something which must remain in our possession.” Of course, none of the partygoers noticed Maximus’s erratic behavior. The shaking, the serious tone, the unending spew of psychobabble. Hermes’s panicked glances betrayed no empathy. Everyone simply passed by. \n\n\tYears later, Hermes could still feel Maximus’s cold grip. Those soft, pliable fingertips, prying against his mind like a tin can. A drunk man with a scalpel, just barely grazing the Simipour’s flesh, savoring that delicious temptation… \n\n\t“I can’t defy Maximus,” Hermes blurted. He was back in his apartment now, his eyes begging for mercy, glinting golden with torch light. His voice was shrill. “H–he’s a walking lie detector, and if I give you too much information, he’ll know. But…” He paused. “If you find Penumbra, they could tell you everything you need to know. Please, just find him. That’s all the information I have.” \n\n\tDisdain was clear on Asher’s face. He gazed down on the puny monkey as if Hermes were a pest; and yet, the Cinderace stilled his claws. He then asked: “Do you know what type Penumbra is?” \n\n\tHermes stumbled over his words. “I mean, I… judging by the name? Probably a Dark or Ghost type.” \n\n\tThen, there was silence; this information gave the intruders pause. Asher and Grimm shared a knowing glance; and with only a nod, the Gengar begged for clemency. Grimm’s gaze then shifted to Asher’s paws. He watched in trepidation as they opened and closed, one finger trampling madly over another. \n\n\tInternally, Asher contemplated the stupidity of Maximus’s administration. Was the eradication of mankind enough reason to develop a superweapon? If so, would Augusta really seek to rule over a crater? And furthermore, would Maximus really hide such crucial details from his top-ranking members? The assertion was laughable. And yet, if Hermes were telling the truth, then there would be no further reason to pursue the Board directly; rather, the answers they seeked would lay beyond the city’s borders.\n\n\t“Hermes,” Asher breathed. His thoughts raced. “Are you lying to me? About anything?” \n\n\tThe monkey flapped his paws. Hermes exclaimed: “Of course not!”\n\n\t“Good,” Asher replied. His tone was grave. “Because if I found out you were lying, I’d be forced to kill you.” \n\n\tThe Simipour puckered his lips. His eyes went wide. And in his most neutral tone, he muttered: “I know. I know.” \n\n\tAsher nodded. He then sucked in a deep breath, then exhaled. His eyes wandered around the squalor-ridden apartment. Wallpaper peeled in the room’s corners. A big yellow stain blotched one of the walls, no doubt the result of a horrifically spilled dinner. Even the air festered with the smell of sour milk. \n\n\tMuch to Hermes’s relief, Asher then slowly turned toward the door. Over his shoulder, the Cinderace tepidly announced: “I’ve decided to trust you for now, Hermes. Provided your information is reliable, I’ll be back in less than a month.” \n\n\t“Of course,” Hermes replied. His limbs melted as he felt the adrenaline spike wearing off. A weight was lifted from his chest. “Th–thank you. I’ll keep this meeting discreet, of course.” \n\n\tAsher scoffed, then spat: “And clean up this damn apartment. It’s a sty.”\n\nThe three didn’t share any more words that night. They didn’t need to. Within only a few more moments, Asher and Grimm had gathered themselves and disappeared into the dark hallway, as if they had never been there at all. \n\nHermes hurriedly shut the door, locked it, then grabbed another drink.\n\n\n\n\tFootpaths stretched through the forest like veins. Thin black boughs reached over the spindling tunnels, drenched the dirt in shadow, and yet remained unsatisfied. Stray rocks and roots threatened to trip unaware travelers; and what little sunlight broke through the tree cover during the day was soon snuffed, subsumed by the long night. Only the pale warm glow of torches expanded the travelers’ view. \n\nIris was selected to depart on this expedition; and by her side, the intrepid Akiva. This pair walked in lockstep, each carrying a small pack, navigating carefully through the underbrush. To their front, there was a Sneasel, carrying an outstretched map, her claws dancing gracefully over the detritus; and to their back was a parade of ten Pokémon, carrying packs and supplies of all kinds, talking quietly amidst each other. Thirteen mouths, all panting, all breathing. \n\nIn truth, Iris was quite unfit for the occasion; very rarely was she sent beyond central Augusta. This mission, however, was apparently quite important. Alvin himself had directed it. A certain loose end required tightening, apparently, lest he become a thorn in the Board’s side. His name was Penumbra, and he was quite the recluse. \n\nAlvin’s instructions were clear: either to secure Penumbra’s co-operation, or otherwise to deliver to him a hand-written letter. Strangely, the Raichu was unflinchingly joyous at the occasion to deliver it; whatever was contained within must have been particularly damning. And yet, Iris did not savor the opportunity to carry it. The bearer of bad news, she thought, is not always treated kindly. \n\n“Do you think he wanted us out?” Akiva asked. Her eyes were glued to the forest floor, galloping across the stray rocks; and yet, Iris knew the question was addressed to her. \n\nThe Ninetails replied, “Perhaps.” A sigh escaped her. “I’m unsure what Maximus is thinking.” \n\n“But wouldn’t this task be better suited to the Chairman of Peace?” Akiva’s face was burdened with uncertainty. Her jaw clenched. “Do you think they’re trying to… replace us?” \n\nIris had a good laugh at that. “Replace us?” she asked. “Tell me. Who in this entire nation has the abilities we do?” \n\n“You know what I mean,” Akiva contended. Her shoulders were hunched, her arms tucked beneath her armpits, like a lowly insect. “I worry that… I worry that our lack of enthusiasm with Alvin might… you know, they might be trying to…” She didn’t want to say it. The moment she spoke it out loud, it was real. She couldn’t let it be real. \n\n“You think they’re trying to edge us out?” Iris asked. “Stick us to some menial job so that the big boys can play king back home?” \n\nAkiva shot a pointed glance toward Iris. “We are the only women,” she contended. “It wouldn’t be so far-off to assume…” \n\nThe fox, however, was dismissive of the notion. “No, no,” she said. Her voice hardly faltered. “Maximus is many things, but he’s not a misogynist… he would not allow us to be subjugated like that.” \n\n“Well, do we know how much power Maximus still has?” Akiva asked. “Because in my absence, Alvin has decided to host my sermons. I won’t lie when I say, it makes me uncomfortable.” She shook her head, as if dispeling the thought. “I don’t like the thought of our duties being so suddenly reassigned. Especially when Alvin himself has been held secret for so long.”\n\nThere was silence for a while. Ahead of them, the Sneasel talked eagerly to herself; she flipped from page to page to page, drawing the map taut, then folding it once more into itself. Intently, she’d draw her claw along the page from one spot to the next, then check the path; and once she’d had her fill, she’d bury her nose once more. The impulsivity of her body language made Iris uneasy. \n\n“We must trust in Maximus,” Iris finally said. Her tails whipped in frustrated little circles. “He must have kept Alvin secret for good reason, even if he cannot properly explain it.” \n\nShe then glanced at Akiva; but Akiva didn’t look back. Her mien was downtrodden, a dark frown drooping unceremoniously toward the forest floor. Her arms swayed mindlessly against her sides like flags in the wind, her footfalls lazy and uncoordinated.\n\n“Do you want to take a break?” Iris asked. “I’m… concerned about you.” \n\nAkiva still didn’t look. “I’m fine,” she replied. Iris waited for further explanation, but didn’t receive any.\n\nSo the Ninetails said: “I know your encounter with Fey scared you.” \n\nThe Gardevoir took pain in that. A deep breath penetrated her lungs, then spewed out. Akiva then looked backward, gauging the distance between herself and the party. Having ensured the pair were beyond hearing distance, she then replied: “That was the first time I ever felt my faith falter.” \n\nIris’s eyes went wide. Never once had she heard Akiva doubt the faith; indeed, she was the faith. Ever-clad in pure white, the woman’s figure reflected her immaculate spirit. And while Iris had long suspected ripples beneath the surface, such an outright challenge was unexpected. No, no… it was troubling. \n\n“How so?” Iris asked. She attempted to hide the intrigue in her voice, then added: “If you’re comfortable talking about it, that is.” \n\nAnd expectedly, Akiva was quite hesitant. Once more, she glanced back, then forward; and she admitted, “He humiliated me.” \n\n“Because of the–” \n\n“Because he almost killed me.” Akiva swallowed; she was clearly unsettled. “I’ve never… I’ve never seen them struggle before.”\n\nIris thought for a moment, then replied: “I’m unsure what you mean.” \n\nWith much hesitation, Akiva then admitted: “I’ve only eaten the dreams of sleeping Pokémon. And they just… drift off. They don’t move, or talk, or…” She puckered her lips tight. “It’s almost like they wanted it. To sleep. But now, I don’t think…” Her voice stopped. She couldn’t find the words.\n\nThe Ninetails frowned. She said, “I didn’t know Maximus ordered you to do that.”\n\n“Yeah,” Akiva said. “He did.” \n\nIris was silent. Regret made her heart heavy. She had known, of course, that Maximus was not a merciful man; but she hoped he would be a better father. And until now, she had held that supposition closely. In fact, she often felt reassured by it. \n\n“I’m sorry,” Iris breathed. “I had no clue.” \n\nThe Gardevoir hummed. She, too, didn’t know what to say. It was horribly awkward admitting such things, after all. A seed of remorse gnawed at her insides; but more than that, she felt empty. Even weeks after the festival, she felt aimless and despondent. Like her life had been ripped out from under her. \n\nTruthfully, Fey had exhibited a clarity of purpose which Akiva envied. It was doubly embarrassing, then, that this puny boy would escape her grasp. She remembered how his face contorted and grimaced as she ate at his mind; faintly, she could still remember devouring the memories of his first kiss, his graduation. Overwhelmingly, his memories were happy. It made Akiva self-conscious. No, no… it made her angry.\n\nSuddenly, Akiva then snapped her head toward Iris, barked: “What?” \n\nIris was taken by surprise. She replied: “What?” \n\n“You were whispering.” \n\nThe Ninetails lifted her brow. She replied, “No, I wasn’t.” \n\n“Well, someone was.” Akiva swiveled her head around the thick boughs, her eyes adjusting to the tar-black darkness. Ahead, that Sneasel was silent; and behind them, faint chatter. No one had spoken, and yet… \n\nWithout hesitation, Akiva then fumbled those slim fingers around her satchel; and from the burlap she pulled two white pills. She popped them into her mouth and drowned them with her canteen. They took time to kick in, of course; and amidst the crackle of torches, she could still hear it. Disparate incomprehensible whisperings, several voices acting as one… \n\n“Is Renasca populated?” Akiva asked. \n\nIris cleared her throat. Attempting to put aside her discomfort, she replied: “Middling. It’s the least populated Augustan affiliate… I believe it beat out Peace of Mind a few years ago.” She paused, and then: “Why? Are you hearing their voices?” \n\nAkiva tilted her head. “I… thought I was. But I usually don’t hear them so intensely around the middle of nowhere.” She tapped her head. “Augusta is one thing, but… I’m sorry. I must just be paranoid.” \n\n“No, no.” The fox’s tails thumped along the ground. Anxiety made her tense. Eventually, she asked: “Akiva, how much do you know about Penumbra?” \n\nThe Gardevoir managed a glib reply: “Do you really think Maximus tells me anything?” \n\nAnd with a solemn nod, Iris explained: “I suppose I’m the only one besides him who met Penumbra. But… it was brief.” Words danced on her tongue, but fumbled on their way out. She attempted to speak once, twice, but couldn’t quite manage to find the words. So finally, she simply said: “He’s… like a fog. He gets in your mind.” \n\nAkiva recoiled. She asked: “What, is he a Psychic type?” \n\nIris seemed troubled by the assertion. “No,” she said, “he’s something else. I’m not quite sure. I only saw him once, toward the conclusion of things… after Ceres had come and gone, Maximus and I established diplomatic relations with him. We ceded local governance of Renasca, but on paper we still control the land.” \n\n“And yet you saw fit not to tell me,” Akiva sniped. Her face scrunched in disgust, her voice like venom. “Arceus, you two really are similar.”\n\nThe Ninetails took the blow in stride. She replied: “You need to understand that this is a sensitive matter. Knowledge of Penumbra’s existence would only complicate our trade relationship with Renasca.”\n\n“So your solution was to hide this from everyone.” \n\nIris scoffed. “It’s never been relevant to you before now. Penumbra keeps to himself–” \n\n“Stop!” Akiva barked. Her arms flew out before her chest, clenched, her voice shaking. Up front, the Sneasel turned; one pointed glance from Akiva was enough to steer her gaze back to the map once more. \n\n“I’m sick of being lied to,” Akiva said. Her voice was hushed, yet each pointed insult poked holes in Iris’s ego. “I’ve been on this board for over a decade, and yet I’m just now learning about a mysterious dark cloud that rules over our southern territories? And what about Alvin, hm? Am I supposed to just roll over and accept his coup?” \n\nIris gritted her teeth. She replied: “I didn’t know about Alvin, either.” \n\n“Let me guess, Maximus didn’t tell you?” Akiva could feel pressure building behind her eyes; she squeezed her eyes shut, taking only tiny steps forward. “Everything comes back to him. It’s unfair. It’s so unfair.”\n\nVitriol coalesced within Iris’s throat, threatened to leak from her tongue. So desperately, she desired to chastise the petulant child. Akiva’s position was prominent, but it demanded no special privilege; she, like anyone else, would only be allotted the information she was required to know. Such was the basis of high governance. Truthfully, Iris had expected Akiva to wizen to that fact by now. \n\nBut, looking over at that sulking giant, Iris was given pause. Sorrow clearly curdled on Akiva’s face, rotted her core, made her turn over herself. In truth, the Board was the only family Akiva had ever known. These political decisions which Iris so easily disregarded were made personal. And despite the Gardevoir’s egregious tone, Iris could empathize with that feeling. She, too, had been burned. \n\n“I’m sorry,” Iris said. “I’m sorry that… everything has been kept hidden from you. I can only imagine how horrifying that is.” \n\nAkiva did not expect such a mild response; nonetheless, she let loose a frustrated whimper. And mustering her breath, she admitted: “I’ve killed Pokémon for this cause, and now I’m learning that I barely know anything about it.” \n\n“That’s not true,” Iris contended. Her tone was soft. “We’re building this Spear for all Pokémon, dear. We’re going to take our rightful place in creation.”\n\nAkiva shook her head. “But in the meantime, who are we harming most? Pokémon. Not humans. Pokémon. Pokémon like us.” \n\n“Every social movement has its detractors, you know that,” Iris replied. She was stern now. “What harm we cause now will be nothing compared to the carnage we’re preventing. On the main continent, humans outnumber us five-to-one… if given the chance, they would decimate us.”\n\n\t“I…” Akiva couldn’t find the right words. She checked again behind her, then in front, to ensure no one was listening. Then she muttered: “Are we sure Arceus wants this?” \n\n\tAnger flashed in Iris’s eyes, but was supplanted by annoyance. Iridescent embers dripped from the tips of her tails. She growled: “You must’ve lost your mind, child. We are in a position unlike any other in history. What more must be presented in order to dispel your doubts?” \n\n\t“I’d like to talk to Him directly,” Akiva contended. “Maybe if I could talk to the Beginning, we could arrange a meeting–” \n\n\t“Your ingratitude is appalling.” Iris’s fur shone a thin sheen of flame; should she aggravate herself anymore, her body might catch the detritus on fire. “The Beginning has given us everything we own, and yet you ask for more? His proximity to Arceus has ensured us a century of prosperity. A century of peace. You cannot lose faith now.” A pause, and then: “You are the faith.” \n\nAkiva replied: “I don’t know if I want to be the faith.” \n\n“And will you tell that to Maximus?” \n\n\tThe Gardevoir then hung her head low. Her answer, of course, was no. Even the thought of publicly questioning her faith made her stomach churn. Her palms were sweaty, her breaths stalled, only an anxious wheeze passing through her parched lips. She couldn’t even believe she had even spoken so candidly to Iris. Never once had she acknowledged such outright subversive thoughts; and now, they were in the air. They were real.\n\n\tIris then muttered: “That’s what I thought.” \n\n\tThe two then trudged along the path in tense silence. Behind them, the rest of the party made merry. They roughhoused, playfully pushing one another aside, yelping as they chased each other up and down the path. For a moment, Akiva imagined a life in which she could join them. A time free of responsibility, or crisis, or rote political maneuvering. She yearned to sleep in, to spend the day curled up with a good book… \n\nIris, however, did now allow her to dwell on those daydreams. In as soft a tone as she could muster, she then leaned toward the Gardevoir and cooed: “Akiva, you and I have received very difficult lives, but that doesn’t mean they’re not worth living. We must make the best of things. In any way we can. Do you understand?” \n\n“Of course,” Akiva said. Her voice was choked with sadness. “We’ll… make the best of things.”\n\n\n\n\tUnder that same tree cover, nestled within the same overwhelming darkness, traveled another band of Pokémon. These Pokémon, of course, did not travel along the spacious main paths, but rather weaved through the myriad smaller tunnels, turning and zig-zagging manically as they delved further and further into the forest’s belly. \n\n\tSix Pokémon traveled there. The first, marching toward the group’s front, was a Lucario – Professor Rubrum, the scholar. Alongside him was Maestro the Meowscarada, his foremost student. A scar just barely peeked out from under the feline’s mask, trailing along his cheek like a tear. Rubrum thought it was quite attractive.\n\n\tMaestro asked: “How big is Renasca?” His demeanor was carefree, confident, as his hips swayed amidst the wood. “Compared to Haliford, I mean.”\n\n“It’s smaller than Haliford,” Rubrum replied. His eyes were fixated on his outstretched map; although sometimes, he’d allow them to meander toward Maestro’s lithe figure. During one of these moments, he noticed Maestro was hobbling. So he asked: “Are you sure you’re alright? Do you need your crutches?”\n\n\tMaestro, of course, was too proud to accept them. With a smirk, he replied: “I’m fine. I just have to get used to walking on both legs again.” \n\n\t“Are you sure?” Rubrum asked. His tone was tender. “You’re quite important to me, you know. I can’t have you tripping and hitting your head on a rock.” \n\n\tThe Meowscarada had a good laugh at that. “Yeah,” he said, “imagine if we came this far just to die to a stray rock.”\n\n“It’d certainly be a shame. Do you think the Board would still give me the bounty?” \n\nMaestro shook his head. “No way,” he joked. “With how stingy they are, you’d be lucky to receive a single coin.” The two shared a troubled chuckle; then, Rubrum buried himself once more in his map. \n\nSilently, the smile then fell from Maestro’s cheeks. The mention of a bounty reminded him of Chairman Kane; he and Rubrum had heard the news of his death less than a day prior, after all. \n\nAt first, the couple refused to believe it. Asher just wasn’t the type to kill someone, they thought; he had always been quite mild-mannered at his core. A bit headstrong, sure, but never short-tempered. But the more the Cinderace spoke, the more Maestro realized this was real. Very, very real.\n\nBehind Maestro, Asher and Fey marched. Their chatter was sparing. The Cinderace trudged along the dim, damp path with little enthusiasm; but nonetheless, the Sylveon remained by his side, his ribbons loosely clasping Asher’s paw. Such a small gesture meant a great deal to Asher, even if he didn’t acknowledge it. \n\n“Are you keeping up alright?” Asher asked. As they walked, he listened intently to Fey’s breaths; occasionally, he would hear a stray rasp, a slight cough. It worried him. \n\nBut Fey replied with an easy smile, a squeeze of his ribbons. The gesture was perforated with the pitter-patter of his little paws. And in a scratchy voice, the Sylveon replied: “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” \n\n“All I do is worry about you,” Asher admitted; and he meant it. “I can still carry you, if you need it.”\n\nThe Sylveon huffed. “No, no,” he said. “I’ll be fine, but thank you.”\n\nFey then snuck a glance toward Asher’s face; and predictably, what he saw disheartened him. Ever since that night in the records hall, the Cinderace had been acting differently. His usual cocky demeanor was perforated by a persistent sadness. His movements were slower, his conversation sparse and grim. It pained Fey to witness.\n\nFey, of course, was acutely aware of the trauma Asher had suffered. He watched as the Fire type closed the distance between himself and Kane. And even as the little man screamed, Fey remained frozen; against his better judgment, he assumed Asher would’ve stopped. But by the time the Sylveon realized the severity of Kane’s wounds, it was far too late. The air smelled of burnt flesh and mildew. \n\n“I did it for you,” Asher cried. His eyes welled with salty tears, his mouth contorted into a panicked grimace upon the cold warehouse floor. The words rang through Fey’s head again and again. That night, he had cradled Asher’s head upon his lap, rubbing his pristine mint-green paws through the Cinderace’s blood-soaked fur. Even as Asher’s tears ran dry, he still cried. “I did it for you, I did it for you.”\n\n\tAnd while Fey didn’t doubt his words, the depths of Asher’s devotion proved terrifying. There was something uncomfortable about it. As if Asher wasn’t living for himself, but rather for Fey’s comfort; or moreover, for the Board’s destruction. \n\n\t“How are you feeling today?” Fey asked. He managed his tone carefully, flicking his torch-lit eyes toward the Cinderace’s imposing frame; and with anticipation, he watched for Asher’s reaction.\n\n\tAsher, however, replied with an apathetic shrug. “Same as yesterday,” he replied. Clearly, there was nothing more to be said about it. \n\n\t“I see.” Fey sighed. “I’m sorry.” \n\n\tThe rabbit shook his head. Ignoring the leaden ball in his stomach, he replied: “There’s no need to apologize.” A pause, and then: “I should be the one apologizing. I’m sorry you had to see that. I… didn’t want you to see that.” \n\n\tFey simply nodded, squeezed tighter. “It’s okay,” he cooed, even though it was clearly not okay. But nonetheless, a kernel of hope remained within his sullen demeanor. So he said: “I’m here for you. Now and always.” \n\n\t“I’m here for you, too,” Asher replied. But he did not meet Fey’s eyes; instead, he stared straight ahead, boring holes in the back of Maestro’s head. Futile words tugged at his lips; for the past few minutes, he’d been deliberating the best course of action. Anxiety made his palms sweat; his heat then made it dissipate. Spindles of vapor rose from his hands. \n\n\tThis heat quickly made Fey uncomfortable. He unhanded the rabbit with a flick of his ribbons, his face screwy, then said: “Asher? You’re getting hot.”\n\n \t“I–I know. I’m alright,” Asher mumbled. Fear was getting the better of him; even in this diminished state, he managed to overthink everything. Frustrated with himself, the Cinderace then cleared his throat, shook out his hands, and said: “Actually Fey, I think I need to talk to Maestro for a minute. If that’s alright.” \n\n\t“Oh,” Fey said. His expression quickly became crestfallen; clearly, he thought, he hadn’t done a good enough job comforting Asher. But instead of announcing these feelings, he said: “Sure. Go ahead.” \n\n\t“Thank you.” Asher then broke free from Fey’s stride, lightly jogging to the front of the line; there, he caught Rubrum and Maestro engaged in a petty argument about bird calls. The two gazed at one another in a disgustingly saccharine display. \n\n\tAsher interrupted their conversation with a light tap on Maestro’s shoulder. The feline snapped his head backward, then greeted Asher with a trepidatious smile. “Asher,” he cooed. “What’s up?” \n\n\tThe Cinderace attempted to smile, but only mustered an awkward half-grin. “I need to talk to you,” he said. A quiet frenzy dripped from his words; clearly, this matter was urgent. The Meowscarada’s demeanor perked. \n\n\t“Of course,” Maestro replied. He then looked at Rubrum, his brows raised, and asked: “Professor, if you could?” \n\n\tRubrum nodded hastily. “Of course,” he said. “I wanted to discuss a matter with Fey, anyhow.” And so the Lucario trudged backward, beyond hearing distance, as he caught up with the little Sylveon. Asher and Maestro were left in silence. \n\n\t“So,” Maestro began. He didn’t quite know how to approach Asher, given the recent news; but nonetheless, he attempted to be friendly. “What do you need?” \n\n\tAsher replied: “I just need to talk to you about something.” That much, however, was obvious; the Cinderace simply couldn’t find the words. For a moment more, he stumbled over himself, beginning again and again, until finally he managed: “How do you… feel… about it?” \n\n\tMaestro frowned, his brow narrowed. “It?” he asked. “I’m not sure what you mean.”\n\n\t“Cassius,” Asher explained. He glanced backward, suddenly paranoid someone was listening. “With… everything that happened. I was wondering… how do you deal?”\n\nA small exhale puffed from Maestro’s mouth. His shoulders lowered. And he said: “Oh. You’re asking me how I cope.” \n\n“Yes.” Asher’s eyes pleaded for an answer; despite being taller than Maestro, he felt terribly small asking for so much. Even before that night in the records hall, Asher had seldom been one to talk about his emotions; to pry so deeply into his friend’s thoughts felt wrong. \n\nBut nonetheless, Maestro greeted the question with earnesty. He thought for a moment, staring down the pitch-black road, and then flatly replied: “I don’t know. I guess I try not to think about it too hard.”\n\nAsher was taken aback. He asked: “You just… don’t think about it? That’s it?” \n\n“Of course not,” Maestro explained. His voice took on a somber quality, methodical and slow. “I just… I saw Cassius kill Pokémon in front of me. I…” He thought for a moment more. “I guess I feel better about my decision because I didn’t really have a choice. He was trying to kill children, Asher… like, real children. He wanted to kill the entire village. What else could I have done? Run away?”\n\nAsher nodded intently. “Of course,” he said. “I’m not criticizing you. I’m just… I’m trying to understand how…” \n\n“How to be okay?”\n\n“Yeah,” Asher breathed. “Yeah, that’s a good way to put it.” \n\nMaestro sneered at the thought. An exhausted chuckle rattled in his throat. And he simply replied: “I don’t know. I don’t know how to be okay. I don’t think any of us are okay.” \n\nThat response left Asher crestfallen; he surely hadn’t expected a straightforward answer, but such an agnostic one was disheartening. “I see,” he whispered. “I should’ve known it was… I should’ve known you were still struggling. I’m sorry.” \n\nThe feline hummed. He sighed, then added: “In the past, I never once anticipated I’d kill anyone. Hell, I never thought someone would try and kill me… but now that I’m here, I realize that life is a privilege I never really appreciated.” He swallowed, nodded. “So long as these Pokémon live, they’re going to try and kill other Pokémon. We have to beat them to it. We have to win, even if that means… even if it means we have to hurt them.” \n\nA flame kindled within Asher’s belly. White-hot resentment made his heart race. “That’s right,” he said. Vitriol dripped from his maw. “The Board has to die. That’s how it has to be. It’s the only way to protect Pokémon.” \n\nMaestro shot an inquisitive glance toward Asher; and tentatively, he said: “R–right. Obviously I’d prefer for them to surrender, but… well, obviously I’m not one to scold you for use of violence.” He then cleared his throat, stood straight, his paws still marching over twigs and stones. “I just hope this all stops. I don’t want anyone else to die. If we can… if we can find the Spear and disable it, then maybe we can avoid any more bloodshed.” Alas, the feline didn’t seem very confident in his own assertion. Asher, too, was unconvinced. \n\n“It’s not going to be that simple,” he contended. He didn’t look at Maestro; his gaze remained glued to the ground, as if ashamed of his own words. “Somehow, we need to kill Maximus. Iris, too. They’re the old guard… so they’re the ones who will follow the Beginning no matter what.” Asher exhaled hot air. “And once we’re done with them, we’ll find the Beginning. We can’t allow any trace of them to remain.” \n\nPredictably, Maestro was quite worried by this proposition. Placing a hand on the rabbit’s shoulder, he said: “Asher…” \n\n“We just need to find Penumbra first,” Asher continued. “If we can find Penumbra, they’ll tell us where the Spear is… and from there, we’ll make our move.” \n\nThe Meowscarada simply nodded, puckered his lips. “Right,” he said. “We’ll… we’ll find them. And once we hear what they have to say, we’ll make our next move. Okay?” \n\nDespite Maestro’s assurances, however, Asher didn’t calm down. His paws fidgeted uncomfortably against his sides, his own words foreign in his mouth. He struggled to verbalize his thoughts; Maestro awaited them with bated breath. Eventually, Asher simply said: “I–I have to tell you something.” \n\n“And what is it?”\n\n“I…” Asher shook his head, sighed. “Kane told me something. And it probably isn’t true… but I thought I should still tell you. Just in case it… I don’t know.” He shrugged, scratched uncomfortably at his elbow. “Just in case it’s important.” \n\n\tMaestro’s breath caught in his throat. He said: “Just tell me. It’s okay.” \n\n\tAnd so Asher took a deep breath, then revealed: “That night at the records hall, I spoke with Kane. And Kane said that Cassius survived your battle. He said they carted him back to the capital somehow.” \n\n\tThose words made the feline’s stomach sink. His face cycled through emotions – fear, anger, sadness, happiness, searching for an appropriate response. He found none. So instead, he asked: “What does that mean? Is he still…?”\n\n\t“No, he’s not.” Asher shook his head, explained: “Kane told me that Maximus killed Cassius in his sick bed. But I… I don’t know why Maximus would do that.” He cleared his throat, his chest fluttering. “I’m sorry. It’s probably bullshit… Kane was just trying to fuck with me. I shouldn’t have said anything.” \n\n\tMaestro raised a paw, shook his head. Quietly, his thoughts raced. The ramifications of this claim made his body heavy. “It’s okay,” he reassured. “Even if this is untrue, it’s… interesting that he’d say that.” He paused, and then: “Did he say this under duress?”\n\n\tAsher shook his head. “No. He gave this information freely.” \n\n\t“Then why…?” Maestro pondered the question for a moment more, then stowed it away. He simply looked into the distance, dumbfounded. “Okay. This is… this is a lot to take in. Thank you for telling me.” \n\n\tThe Cinderace nodded blankly. “Of course,” he breathed. “I just thought you should know. I don’t really know what it means, but…” His jaw yammered on, and yet he said nothing. “...Yeah.”\n\n\tMaestro bit his lip. “What it means is that the Board is turning on each other,” he said. “I wonder if we could exploit that.” \n\n\t“Maybe,” Asher replied. “Maybe we–”\n\n\tAlas, their conversation was interrupted. Like an excited pup, Rubrum bounded toward the front of the group, brandishing his map like a knife. His paws slapped messily against the forest floor, his smiling face a beacon in the darkness.\n\n“I’m sorry to barge in,” the pup announced, “but we’re close. One more turn, and we’ll basically be there.” \n\n\tMaestro caught his breath. “Ah,” he said. “Good. Let’s group up then. We’ll all need to stay close.” He then stopped in his tracks, motioned toward Asher, and said: “We’ll talk about this later, alright?” \n\n\t“Yeah,” Asher replied. For the first time in days, he smiled. The barest glint of hope made his toes curl. “Later.” \n\t", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Shadow of a Doubt

\tSomething happened on February 13th. Two days later, the bureaucrats would discover it. No less than two investigators would vomit. The rest used ammonia ampoules.

Deep in the Ghona prefect of Augusta, nestled within a derelict records hall, lounging in its back warehouse, bathed by a single spotlight, caked with dust and ash and grime, was a crumpled headless corpse. It once belonged to a man of scant empathy and great importance; in other words, a politician. His head had been evaporated.

\tKane the Ghimmigoul, former Chairman of Bookkeeping, lauded member of the Board of Directors, was dead. His body laid slumped over an empty chest of coins, hugging the rim like a lifeboat. The noon bells gonged in his absence. Three big chimes lit up the sky. He never heard them.

\tThe night prior, several guards had accompanied the Ghimmigoul to that same warehouse. All were knocked unconscious by the assailant; all of them awoke in the morning; and all of them abandoned Kane’s body. Failure to protect their superior would be swiftly punished, after all, and it takes an exceptionally stupid Pokémon to inflict such a punishment upon themselves. So the chairman rotted alone. By the time of his discovery, he was unrecognizable.

The news ran from patrolman to telephone operator; from operator to operator; and finally to Chairman Maximus’s secretary, who passed the imposing Alakazam a plain sealed envelope. He read the note in silence, then was silent for a few minutes more. Chairman Kane was dead. The nation would soon mourn. The job of those remaining aristocrats would become much harder.

\tAnd unbeknownst to him, an interloper would soon worsen things: a tall, stout, and unassuming Raichu. An aurum gear hung loosely from his neck, supplemented only by an unmarked brown cap. Strangely, he carried himself with dignity and confidence unbefitting such a plain individual; he crossed the city border in record time, then strolled along the streets, admiring the crusted collapsed brickwork of the main thoroughfare. Chipper and smiling. Always smiling.

\tIn the afternoon, the mouse stopped into a local pizza shop; then a jeweler, where he bought an agate ring. A distended reflection stared back from the center stone, his mouth dripping with pizza grease. During his three weeks of travel, he had been bereft of such simple pleasures. He owed it to himself to indulge.

\tAnd as the Raichu stopped there in the busy street, cradling that bundle of cheese and tomato and grease, sitting atop a wooden bench, he thought: This city has gotten worse. He wiped his little mousy nose. Truly, truly… this past century has not been kind, he thought.

\tOnce he finished, the Raichu then trudged toward the grand hall. He climbed the fifty steps gracefully, one little foot after another, raising his chubby body nearer. Lawmakers and aristocrats passed by him on both sides. And yet, no one spared him a second glance.

\tHaving entered the hall, the Raichu removed his cap, stowed it in his pack; he then approached the secretary with a welcoming smile, reaching from red cheek to red cheek, and asked for Chairman Maximus.

\tThe secretary asked, “Do you have an appointment?”

\tThe Raichu shook his head. He admitted, “No, I don’t.”

\t“Oh,” the Skitty said. She preened her fur with her tail, frowned in frustration. “I’m sorry, sir, but Maximus is full-up today. He’s not accepting any visitors. Unless you’d like to schedule something?”

\tStill, the Raichu betrayed no signs of distress. Unfazed by the ceaseless bureaucracy, as if steeped in it, he replied: “I’d like you to call Chairman Maximus and tell him Alvin is here to see him.” He paused. “We’re personal friends, you see.”

\tThe Skitty gave him a skewed stare. “Alvin?” she asked. Her lips trembled. “Is there a last name?”

\tAlvin was still. The slight movements of his jaw unnerved the poor receptionist. He said: “No, there is no last name.”

\t“Okay,” the Skitty replied. She choked on her words. “I’ll leave a message, then–”

\t“No.” Alvin nodded, smiled, as if talking to a close friend. “You’re going to call him now. This matter cannot wait.”

The Skitty furrowed her brow. “Sir–”

“Please,” Alvin said. He tilted his head, unblinking. “It is very important that you place this call.”

Silence ensued. The tiny Skitty shrunk under Alvin’s imposing frame; fear stirred in her chest, even though she didn’t know what she was afraid of. As if meaning to speak, her jaw yammered silently; and having gathered the strength, she finally said: “Okay. Okay, I’ll place the call.”

She then brought the receiver to her ear gently; and, having dialed the number, she spoke. “Alvin is here to see you,” she said. No more words passed her lips. Her eyes widened. The line dropped. And she said, “You’re free to go up. Would you like a guide?”

The Raichu raised a paw, gave a bashful expression. “No, no,” he cooed. “That won’t be necessary. But thank you.” He licked his lips, met the Skitty’s uncomfortable gaze. “Have a nice day,” he said. He then passed by the desk, entered the stairwell, and began his ascent.

Even one century later, he thought, the grand hall smells the same. It had always had a dust problem; Alvin chuckled imagining that entire generations of Pokémon had choked on it.

Maximus’s office door was open when he arrived. The Raichu didn’t bother to knock; he appeared in the doorway like a spectre. Maximus awaited him, hunched over his desk, hands clasped in front of him. His moustache drooped down onto his thin bony arms. And he said: “Please close the door.”

“Of course,” the Raichu replied, and did as told. He then turned to Maximus, situated himself centrally in the office, and announced: “Maximus, let’s be clear, politics aside… it’s very nice to see you.” He then puckered his lips and observed the room – coated with thick red wallpaper, adorned with Arcean trinkets of all shapes and sizes and hues, sliced in half by a tangible ray of sunlight. Alvin had always liked it. He continued: “I just wish I were here under better circumstances.”

Maximus was duly sullen. He replied with an exhausted sigh. “I didn’t hear you were coming.”

“This was intentional,” Alvin explained. “I believe He wanted to ascertain how well you’d function given a bit more time. But…” He swept his arm across the room. All smiles. “Well, dare I say you’re barely holding it together.”

\tThe Alakazam winced. “We all have done our due diligence in maintaining order,” he contended. “Certain difficulties notwithstanding, I would consider our response to Cassius’s death to be more than adequate.”

 \t“Well,” Alvin sniped, “I’d consider the murder of one of our highest officials to be inadequate in itself. But that’s neither here nor there.”

\tThe barb pierced Maximus’s heart. His stomach fell, tugging the edges of his lips along with it. “Stewardship is a messy business,” he contended. “Pitfalls are inevitable, but our plans are secure. I would hope He’d still know that.”

\tThere was a moment of silence. Seemingly disinterested, Alvin stared out the window, watching a flag fly in the distance, situated atop a spiraling grey roof. It flapped manically in the wind, each ripple a nostalgia-tinged kiss. He yearned to see that flag raised again for the first time, just once…

\tAlvin’s voice, near-disembodied, then fell from his lips: “Ultimately, He trusts you. Hence your continued reign. But you must know that His patience is wearing thin. Mine too, obviously.” He smirked, still not meeting the man’s eyes. “Losing Cassius at this phase is… well, it betrays your hasty decision making. Both in your handling of him, and in his appointment.”

\t“I–”

\t“We’re not going to argue.” Alvin raised a finger, beckoned the monster into silence. “There is nothing more to be said about it.”

\tMaximus nodded. His gaze remained downtrodden, glazed across a cask of wine beneath his desk. The liquid called for his cold lips. And he mumbled: “I assume you’re not just here to berate me?”

\tThe Raichu nodded. He looked down on the old man, revealed: “He’s decided I’m to be stationed here until the Spear is complete. I’m to help you manage your assignment.”

\tSpoons bent to and fro in Maximus’s anxious grip. Shame choked the Alakazam’s throat. His voice emerged as a squeak: “Okay.” He then pinched his nose, wiped the sleep from his eyes. “Okay. Thank you, then.”

\tMaximus looked askance. His eyes narrowed, as if he were about to cry; his body was deathly still. His mouth was uncomfortably dry. Seldom did the giant allow panic to overcome his faculties, but now was one of those rare instances. Alvin took joy in it. He always took joy in it.

\tThe Raichu stepped closer. His buck teeth shone yellow in the morning sun. “I sense you have something to tell me,” he prodded. Like a schoolteacher chastising a child, he twisted his face into an empathetic smile. “It would be best if you told me now.”

\tIf Maximus were foolish, he would’ve attempted to hide the truth; but the news had arrived to him just that morning, and it left him numb. His whole body felt like it was floating. Like nothing was real.

\tBefore he spoke, Maximus reached into his satchel, removed two white round pills. They were bitter against his tongue, but he swallowed them anyway, squeezing his sleep-deprived eyes shut. And he admitted:

\t“I have some news about Chairman Kane.”



\t
Akiva’s head hurt. It seemed to always hurt nowadays. The pills quelled that pressure, sure, but for only a few moments; then back she was, cradling her forehead, listening, listening, listening. \t

\tToday, she sat in the meeting room. She’d been here a lot lately, and it was always uncomfortably cold. Papers were strewn loosely along the grand conference table: permission slips, legal filings, news briefs. Words were often crossed off along them, arrows darting forward and back. Switch a word here, scrap a headline there. The Gardevoir’s hands were blackened with ink. A Ninetails sat next to her, intently focused on a daily report.

\t“...since recent court rulings are favorable,” Iris continued. “We’ll need you to make a press statement about this. Preferably tomorrow, in the evening, and we’ll start printing announcements the next morning.”

\t“Mhm.” Akiva nodded, cleared her throat. “That’s fine. I’ll push back my meeting with Colm, then. He should be free the next day sometime, no problem…”

\tThe fox nodded, too. “Right.” She then looked over at Akiva, traced her gaze along the young Gardevoir’s sharp cheekbones, her defined collar. She’d been looking thinner lately. Her face was a little more gaunt, her wrinkles a little more prominent. Iris frowned.

\t“Akiva, I don’t mean to pry, but… would you mind if we talked a minute?”

\tThe Gardevoir was nonplussed by the suggestion. “I thought we were already talking,” she replied.

\tIris tilted her head. She clarified: “I’m talking about you. I want to make sure you’re alright, Akiva.”

\tThe Gardevoir scoffed. “What?” she asked. “Do I look that bad? Am I unfit to work?”

\t“No,” Iris replied. Pain flashed on her maw; she buried it. “I’m not criticizing you, Akiva. I think you’re performing well. I just…” She looked around, shooting a glance toward the double doors, making sure they were closed. “You’ve been under a lot of pressure. And I wanted to let you know that you’re not alone. I’m your ally.”

\tAkiva shifted in her seat. Her facial muscles fought each other, alternating between a smile and a scowl, as her fists clenched. And turning, she said: “I have no doubt you see yourself that way.”

\t“I do,” Iris affirmed.

\tAkiva shot back: “And yet you’re mandated to report my activities to Maximus. And for thirty years, you’ve taken that responsibility seriously.”

\tThe two were silent. Indeed, what she said was true. Since Akiva’s ascension to the Board, it’d been Iris’s duty to shepherd her in Maximus’s absence. If that imposing man were Akiva’s surrogate father, surely Iris would’ve been her mother. The weight of this responsibility was not lost on either of them.

\t“When I’ve spoken about you to Maximus, it’s always been for your benefit,” Iris contended. Her voice was stern, breathy. “I know you don’t believe me, but I want what’s best for your position. I want what’s best for you.”

\tAkiva pursed her lips, nodded. She didn’t look Iris in the face. Instead, she stared down at the paper under her hand. And she said: “I’m more than my position.”

\t“Of course,” Iris chirped. “I didn’t mean to imply…” She trailed off. A collection of wrinkles scrunched under her eyes. Laugh lines crossed her cheeks, angled downward, making her skin sag. Golden-red fur hid the blemishes and acne which dotted her flesh.

\tIris began again. Softly, she admitted: “I’m sorry that things have been difficult for you. And I’m sorry that Maximus is putting the Faith Festival on you, because you don’t deserve it. The truth is, no one could have predicted Fey’s little stunt. And I know you did your best, given the circumstances.” She was quiet for a moment, then continued: “I care about you. I know that sometimes I disagree with your decisions, and in the past I… I failed to protect you. And I’m sorry for that. I could only imagine–”

\t“--It’s okay.” Akiva exhaled from her nose. Seldom had anyone apologized to her. Her face softened; she struggled. “It’s okay,” she echoed, and moved her hand to grasp Iris’s. Her grip was firm. Her head pounded. “I appreciate you saying that,” she said. And truthfully, she meant it.

\tBut just as Iris was about to respond, those ornate double doors flung open. And in walked Chairman Maximus himself, ducking his head beneath the door frame, his thin joints popping. He regarded the two at the table with consummate professionalism; a clear of his throat, a wave of his bony hand. “Hello, you two,” he said. He sounded more tired than usual.

\tInstinctively, Akiva stood. She asked: “Should we clear the room?”

\t“No,” Maximus replied. He sat at the head of the table, scooted his chair inward. “I’ve called for an emergency meeting. Everyone will be here soon enough.”

\tIris raised an eyebrow. Whenever an emergency meeting had taken place, she’d always been informed. Her heart began to race. “Maximus?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

\tAlas, Maximus didn’t answer. He simply stared down at the table, tracing one long nail along its surface. Iris had seldom seen him so distressed; it made her hackles raise. She then exchanged looks with Akiva, whose expression betrayed the same terrified confusion.

\tGradually, the rest of the Board then filed in. First came Hermes the Simipour, head bent eternally downward, his tail dragging across the carpet; he didn’t say a word, only took his seat. Then came Chairman Colm the Kecleon, slinking along the side of the room, his eyes darting. He greeted the room with a cautious smile, a chipper hello, then took his seat next to Iris. Cassius and Kane’s seats remained empty.

\tOnce everyone had found their places, Maximus called the meeting to order; and just as he was about to order the doors closed, an unexpected visitor poked his head in: Alvin, the Raichu. He sauntered in as if the occasion were normal, then approached Maximus’s chair. The room was shocked into silence; none of them had seen this man before, and yet Maximus didn’t even react to his entrance.

\t“Maximus?” Iris asked. Her brow narrowed now, her lips curling into a defensive snarl. “Who is this?”

\tThe Alakazam, however, didn’t reply. He simply gnashed his jaw, staring at the errant Raichu. Alvin hovered next to Maximus’s chair, smiling.

\t“I would like this chair,” Alvin said. His expression, pleasant and carefree, didn’t change as he pointed toward Maximus’s throne. “Seeing as I am now the most senior ranking official in the room, I believe it would only be fitting. Don’t you agree?”

\tDespite the Raichu’s light tone, the room sensed hostility in his words. Maximus met his gaze for only a moment; there burned a kernel of anger, resentment, and shame. Seeing it, Akiva instinctively shrunk into her seat; her breathing hastened, her posture curled. Iris squeezed her hand; and, bending forward, she barked: “I’ll ask again. What the hell is going on here? Who is this?”

\tMaximus swallowed the urge to yell. As calmly as he could, betraying uttermost tension in his clenched fists, he lifted himself from his chair; and having done so, he stood to the side. Alvin was overjoyed.

\t“Thank you,” the Raichu chirped. Like an eager child, he then sat himself where Maximus once was; he kicked his little feet forward and back, scooching the chair inward. Having done so, he then folded his paws on the table, leaning eagerly over it, surveying the rest of the Board. His gaze shifted from Maximus to Hermes to Colm to Akiva to Iris, then back again. The tension was palpable. The mouse relished in it.

\tAnd once the monster had his fill, he finally spoke. “You all must be curious as to why I am here, and who I am,” he said. He was calm, but Akiva sensed a sort of childlike intrigue beneath the facade.

\tThe Raichu then continued: “My name is Alvin, and I am your Chairman of Rebirth. It is a pleasure to meet all of you. Truly, a pleasure.”

\tAlvin had hoped for a warm welcome; instead, he was met with confused stares. Hermes’s head hung, trying hard not to garner any attention; Colm sat upright, his hands neatly folded, as he tossed his prehensile tongue around in his mouth. Akiva stared at the usurper with wide-eyed horror; Iris was furious.

\t“Maximus,” the Ninetails barked. She snapped her fangs at the air, speaking in his direction, ignoring the man-child at the room’s front. “What the hell is going on?”

\tThe Alakazam was quiet for a moment. A fire burned in his stomach, choked up his throat, made him frightened and small. As if his head were in a vice, he felt himself squeezed between two unfathomable forces; and, attempting to hide his dire embarrassment, he straightened himself, mustered a resolute expression.

\t“What Alvin said is correct,” Maximus explained. The room hung on each word. “He is our Chairman of Rebirth, and as such he deserves a spot at this table. He’s been our Chairman of Rebirth for over a century, and was appointed in secret by our savior Himself over one hundred years ago.”

\tThe table was stunned; more than that, they were betrayed. No one quite knew how to approach Maximus’s words. They were so outlandish, after all; a secret Board member, hidden for over a century?

\t“This can’t be true,” Iris contended. She turned herself to face Alvin, paws on the table, bent over the edge in desperation. Contrastingly, Alvin reclined; his limbs were loose, his rosy cheeks uplifted, his eyes friendly. His demeanor infuriated her.

 \tColm, too, greeted the intruder with apprehension. “Alvin,” he said, “I’m pleased to meet you. I’m sure you don’t need to be introduced to us?”

\tAlvin nodded emphatically. “Chairman Colm,” he replied. His tone cut through the air like a knife, unsettlingly familiar. “No, no need for introductions. I’m aware of you, and of your progress as a legislator. I’m also aware that you’ve stepped into Cassius’s shoes in lieu of his absence. That’s quite commendable.”

\tThe Kecleon was caught off-guard by the sudden compliment. He swiveled his head right, left, attempting to gauge the others’ reactions; but each was just as perplexed. So Colm simply replied, “Thank you, Alvin.”

\t“You’re welcome.” Alvin then took a shallow breath, his grin wide. Words tickled the edges of his lips, making them quiver and dance. “Now, I’m sure there is some measure of confusion and concern about my recent arrival. I intend to put those fears to rest, and to reassure you of my legitimacy.”

\tAlvin’s arm then extended toward Maximus; old, tall, disheveled Maximus; and he explained: “I work directly under the Beginning, hence the need for secrecy. I also perform my duty from Lookout Island, hence my prolonged absence from Augusta. My role in our organization has been to ensure the construction of the Spear in a timely manner; and moreover, to remotely monitor the progress of my fellow Board members…”

\tIris fell back, her eyes near-glazed in disbelief. She asked: “You’ve been watching us?”

\t“I have eyes and ears,” Alvin assured. “And through this century, Maximus has been a most loyal confidant.” He turned toward the disgraced giant, tilted his head, then cooed: “Thank you, Maximus. For everything.” But Maximus didn’t reply.

\tAkiva eyed the Alakazam with increasing disdain. She was struck with a profound disappointment. Time and time again, that man had hidden himself away. She should not have expected anything better from him. She had never even truly known him.

Maximus, of course, did not return anyone’s stare. His head remained downturned in deference. Alvin took great pleasure in it.

\tThe Raichu then continued, “You may be wondering why I would appear now. The truth is, we’re entering a new era in Augustan leadership. The Spear is finally reaching completion. And yet, we are still stomping out the embers of insurgence.” He frowned. “This state of affairs is regrettable, and should have been avoided. But now that we are here, I find it pertinent to take account.”

\tAkiva spoke next. She said, “So you’re here to clean up our mess.”

\tAlvin was amused. “In crass terms, yes,” he said. “Chairman Cassius’s death was truly regrettable. And…” He then paused a moment, clearly thinking how to broach the next subject. It was quite delicate, after all. The others would definitely grieve; not Alvin, of course, since he had never once grieved. But those other, frailer people… well, they always demanded such patience from him.

\tSo the Raichu announced, “As you’re all aware, Chairman Kane has recently taken two days of paid administrative leave. On his application for paid leave, he described the purpose of this excursion as an ‘in-depth audit of the Department of Labor.’ This audit request even managed to garner Chairman Hermes’s signature of consent.”

\tThose words caught Hermes’s attention. He had yet to speak for fear of degradation; and yet, he could stay silent no longer. “Excuse me,” he said, “but I’ve never heard of this. There was never any mention of an audit to me.”

\t“I know,” Alvin reassured. “Upon further investigation, it was discovered that this signature was forged; and furthermore, that no audit had ever taken place. Which left us, naturally, stunned. What left us even more stunned is that, on the night of the 13th, immediately after signing this document, Chairman Kane disappeared. That was two days ago.”

\tThe room was spiraling now. Chairwoman Iris could feel her eyes widening, her chest heaving. She’d talked to Kane only three days prior; the pair shared a cigarette under a cloudy sky, just as they’d done countless times before. And just as Kane had done again and again, he promised not to do anything stupid. Iris had believed him.

\t“Is Kane alright?” Iris asked. Her thoughts raced, her paw squeezed by Akiva’s firm hand. “Where is he?”

\tAlvin manually lowered his facial muscles; it was very difficult for him not to smile. After all, he thought this was all very amusing. He then revealed: “This morning, Kane’s corpse was discovered within an abandoned records hall in Ghona. His head was gone.”

\tThose words made Iris crumple. Her neck suddenly failed to support her head, dipping it low, her teeth grinding. Dread coalesced within her chest, outweighed by her fading disbelief. It was unreal. Completely unreal.

\t“No,” she contended. Her wet eyes begged Maximus for reassurance. “Please, Maximus, tell me this isn’t true. Please.”

\tBut Maximus was solemn in his reply. “Chairman Kane is dead,” he announced. Stress made him curt and breathless. “Injuries indicate he was killed by a Fire type… likely Asher, one of Professor Rubrum’s former students.”

\t“Furthermore, there is evidence to suggest Kane attempted to entrap our insurgents of his own accord,” Alvin chimed in. “Alone, and without official Board support. No subordinates have come forward to corroborate this theory, but… well, the scene speaks for itself. Not to mention the recent publication of a strange news story, which was seemingly written by Kane in order to lure the perpetrators to the records hall.”

\tColm fumbled his fat tongue, anxiously ping-ponging it from one cheek to another. “I see,” he replied. His tone was neutral; but internally, he was abuzz with self-indulgent what-ifs. “I take it we are going to publish his death tomorrow?”

\tAlvin replied as if it were business as usual. “Of course. We are going to position his death as a politically motivated assassination… likely performed by a mysterious group of homeless ferals who were seen wandering the area.” He smiled. “It should tie up nicely. I trust you can help us with that, Chairman.”

\tThe Kecleon nodded dutifully. “Of course,” he assented. “Let’s coordinate this afternoon, then.”

\tDespite his amicable tone, however, Colm was deeply uneasy. There was something about the way Alvin handled himself which disconcerted him; as if the actions of government were a game, and the resultant suffering was frivolous. Kane’s death was equal measures amusing and laborious for Alvin. There remained no time to wallow; only time to laugh, and to execute.

\tGranted, Colm could not wholly criticize such a straightforward and sadistic approach to politics. He, too, harbored scant care for his subordinates. The suffering of others hardly concerned him. And yet, he always maintained an air of plausible deniability; endless condolences, endless apologies, endless rebrandings. Good optics gave rise to Colm’s political career. And yet before him sat a Pokémon wholly unconcerned with the fine details of public discourse. It was worrying.

\tWithout warning, Iris’s voice then boomed over their soft-spoken negotiations. “Are you kidding me?” she barked. “That’s it? After one hundred years of stewardship, he’s been reduced to a news story?”

\tAlvin gave her a dismissive glance. He asked: “Do you want to talk about your feelings?”

\t“This isn’t about feelings,” Iris spat. She looked around the room, pleading for support. “Despite our differences, Chairman Kane was our friend. How many friends can we say stuck with us for a century, hm? Are we not going to take any time to mourn? Nothing?”

\tAlvin was nonplussed. “We’re obviously going to hold a celebration of life,” he contended.

\t“This isn’t about a damn celebration of life!” The Ninetails banged her paw on the table. Her breath was uncomfortably hot. “We serve Arceus. Doesn’t He instruct us to value the lives of all Pokémon?”

\tThe Raichu raised an eyebrow. “Chairwoman Iris,” he began, “if I’m not mistaken, you and Kane often disagreed in the Board room. And furthermore, you yourself have never converted to Arceanism.” He smirked, tilted his head mockingly. “Bearing all this in mind, I am surprised to hear you so passionate about his passing.”

\t“I can advocate for Arcean values without being an Arcean,” Iris contended. “And Kane was a founding member of this Board, alongside Maximus and I. Even in death, he deserves some deference.”

\tAlvin didn’t move. “I was a founding member, too,” he said, “even if you didn’t know it.” He then pledged his paw against his heart, his eyes blank. “Chairman Kane was loyal to our cause, to the bitter end. And having lived a long and fruitful life, we must ensure his death is not in vain. It’s what he’d want.”

\t“You wouldn’t know that,” Iris said. Her eyes were welling now. “You never met him. You never–”

\tHer frenzied glances, however, garnered no sympathy. Colm regarded her with cold indifference, his hands still neatly folded. Hermes refused to make eye contact, his knee bouncing manically under the table; Maximus, too, remained quiet. Only Akiva shared in her pain – subtly, she squeezed Iris’s paw. The two shared a pained glance; and all at once, the futility of Iris’s grief crashed down around her. The Board would not entertain such sadness. Not anymore.

\tA wet lump traveled down Iris’s throat. Hackles lowering, she then fell back into her seat, her anger quelled. Akiva ran her soft hand along Iris’s back. The two did not speak any further. Alvin preferred it that way.

\tAnd, having settled that bit of business, Alvin spoke once more:

\t“Now, before we settle the matter of Kane’s mourning, it’s come to my attention that a certain asset has run his course. Akiva, Iris, if I could see you two alone.”
\t
\t



\tOn the night of the 15th, Hermes was afraid. Unfortunately, this was not uncommon.

Ever since Cassius’s demise, death haunted him like a spectre. Whether he was gathering mail, or going to meetings, or drinking bad coffee, the prospect of his upcoming assassination filled him with shame. He avoided showing his face in public now.

As such, Hermes was alone tonight. He cradled a glass of cold beer in his paw, reclining backward on a malformed armchair; in front of him, a tattered fiction novel. He’d began it five times now, but he could never bring himself to finish the third chapter. Even in his cramped apartment, he always found a way to become distracted.

The Simipour then rubbed his dark-ringed eyes. Suffice it to say, the day had not been kind to him. Alvin’s arrival had further swept him under the rug; every day, the papers piled high on his desk, each requiring meticulous approval. Even as he slept, they accumulated. The thought made his head hurt. Hermes brought the beer to his lips.

Unwashed dishes piled high in the sink behind him, covered in a thin glaze of grime. A ceiling fan, too, swirled endlessly overhead; and to the side, two full trash bags burgeoned from the carpet like pustules. Their contents spilled loosely over the carpet, filling the little beige box with decaying fumes. Hermes stared at the mess for only a moment; and then, back to his book. He’d read the same passage four times now.

Just then, a knock rang out from the front door. The Simipour quickly froze up; he had installed three separate locks on that door, and their jingling created a dreadful cacophony. Tonight, he would welcome his first visitors in months.

They’re here to kill me, Hermes thought. And yet, the thought hardly roused him from his chair. Sluggishly, as if attending a rote chore, he lifted himself onto weary feet. He then made his way to the door, that incessant knocking beckoning him. His heart raced. His mouth dried up. The doorhandle rattled.

“Who is it?” Hermes croaked.

And upon hearing him, the knocking stopped. It was supplanted by a familiar voice; someone Hermes knew, but he couldn’t put a finger on.

“Open the door,” the voice called. “We have business to discuss.”

Hermes scrunched his face, gave an uneasy exhale. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied. And with a quiver in his voice, he asked: “Who– ahem, who is this?”

There was a moment of silence. Hermes could hear quiet whispers from his apartment’s hallway. Then, the voice replied: “I think you know who it is.”

And indeed, just then, it clicked. Hermes’s expression morphed into abject horror. “Then get the fuck out,” he spat, shrinking from the thick wooden door. “Why can’t you people just leave me alone?”

More whispering. Intense now. Two shadows danced under the doorway. Hermes watched them intently. He heard a sigh. And the voice announced joylessly: “If you don’t open the door, we’ll be forced to burn it down.”

\tThe threat made Hermes’s breath catch. His thoughts meandered to Kane, that poor man’s flesh smoldering, his head evaporated into a superheated crimson mist. If I died, Hermes thought, I wonder how long it’d take for anyone to find my body.

\tDespite that fear, however, Hermes had no choice but to open the door. He swallowed sour, scant saliva, then reached a trembling hand toward the knob; it was hot to the touch. The myriad locks then unclasped with metallic ka-chunks. And inward the door swung; dim torchlight  flooded the doorway, two silhouettes visible against it. Hermes stood in deference.

\t“Are you going to kill me?” Hermes asked. His knees trembled as he waited for those figures to attack. But alas, they didn’t; instead, they simply entered the apartment, then closed the door. One stood tall; the other was shorter.

\t“This apartment is a sty,” the taller one said. This was Asher – the Cinderace, clad in a set of leather swatches. He appeared unwashed; miscellaneous dirt and grime caked his forearms and his shins. His face, too, was wrinkled and stone-set. A stern frown tugged his cheeks downward.

\tHermes shrunk at the petty insult. “Well, my work is very time-consuming,” he said. He then looked around awkwardly, attempting to identify Asher’s confidante; and yet, he’d never seen this Pokémon before. A Gengar, heavy-set and meek, stood behind the imposing rabbit. The Simipour couldn’t make out his face amidst the dark.

\tHuffing hot air, Asher then announced: “We need something from you.”

\tHermes raised a tired eyebrow. “Another favor?” he asked. “Was what Rubrum did to me not enough? Was it not humiliating enough for me?”

\tAsher shook his head, stomped his foot on the floor. “You’re not the victim here,” he spat. “You’re complicit in a genocide. Stop pretending like we owe you pity.”

\tPain flashed across Hermes’s pathetic mien – downtrodden, tired, depressive. Through gritted teeth, the Simipour then contended: “If he needed something, couldn’t Rubrum at least come here himself? Or is he too good for that now?”

\t“He’s preoccupied.”

\t“You know, it’s a small miracle no one suspected me for the information I gave you last time.” Hermes cupped his head in his hands, swept his palms over his wrinkled cheeks. “I helped you once, and what did you do? You went and killed…” Warding off that dreadful thought, he trailed off. His back heaved, his voice shrill. “I just don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know what you want from me.”

\tAsher looked down on him. He said: “We just want one more piece of information. And then we’ll leave you alone for good.”

\t“Or what?” Hermes barked. “Or you’ll expose me? You’ll tell them about my fucking spending? Right? Is that it?”

\tThe Cinderace was tempted to simply agree; but instead, the Gengar – Grimm – stepped forward. Placing one pudgy little foot in front of the other, he waddled into the light; and he said: “Hermes, we need to know about the Beginning.”

\tHermes’s demeanor shifted at His mention. His anger faded, replaced with anxious tip-toeing, a slow methodical stutter. “H–he…” Hermes shook his head, looked to the side. “Fuck, okay, so, the Beginning is… I don’t even know very much about Him.”

\tAsher leaned forward, hands on his hips. The revelation made his stomach stir. “The Beginning is a Him?” he asked.

\tDamn it, Hermes thought. That was careless.

\t“Yeah, but… again, I don’t know very much about Him,” the Simipour lied. “I don’t… I’ve never even spoken to Him.”

\t“But He’s your boss?”

\tHermes nodded. “Y–yeah. He’s my boss, technically,” he admitted. “But none of us can talk to him. Only Maximus. They write letters to each other, and that’s how he issues orders to the rest of us.”

\tOff to the side, the Gengar picked thoughtfully at his teeth. Inspecting Hermes’s face, Grimm couldn’t tell whether the crafty Simipour was lying; he could, however, tell how much stress the poor Pokémon had endured. Hermes’s body was crushed, wrinkled, and bent. His legs bowed unconfidently toward the floor, as if ready to kneel at any moment. His, head, too, never quite stood straight; it gave his face a perpetually crestfallen expression.

\tGrimm asked: “Has anyone else on the Board ever spoken to the Beginning?”

\t“The founding members did,” Hermes explained. “So that would be… Maximus, Iris, and–” He stuttered. “--and Kane.”

\tAsher listened with bated breath; he stomped his big feet on the floor, nodded along, as he attempted to contain his intrigue. He asked: “And where is the Beginning now? And what kind of Pokémon is He?”

\tHermes raised his hands in deference. “I–I don’t know that,” he lied. “Maximus keeps that information from us.”

\t“Bullshit,” Asher called. His posture was suddenly tense, his eyes locked onto Hermes’s wet stare. “There’s no way you could run this country without even knowing who your boss is.”

The Simipour let out a frustrated moan. In a fit of frustration, he cupped his head in his hands, wailed: “Look, I don’t fucking know!” He then took his paws from his face, revealing scant tears. A sniffle tickled the back of his throat. “I don’t know where the Beginning is. I don’t know who he is. I swear to Arceus, Maximus doesn’t trust anyone. Not even me. I know it sounds like bullshit, but it’s the truth.”

Asher stared intently at the tiny man; his palms warmed eagerly against his sides. Hermes is a weak man, Asher thought; it wouldn’t take very much pain to extract the truth from him. Two warm hands against his exposed stomach would be enough. Perhaps he’d go a little further, though. Hermes would surely be more inclined to talk if his intestines boiled…

These morbid urges danced in the Cinderace’s head as he asked: “Hermes… can I level with you?”

“Yes,” Hermes replied. His voice was a futile squeak.

Clearing his throat, Asher then began: “In the past six months, I have lost everything.” He nodded his head as he spoke, staring at the dirty carpet, processing his words carefully. “During this time, I’ve learned that absolutely no one in the Academy has my best interests in mind. None. That includes you.”

His finger pointed at Hermes; the monkey shrank from it. Asher then continued: “I know Rubrum may have been your friend in the past, but that doesn’t mean I won’t hurt you. I never wanted to hurt anyone.” And indeed, the suffering was plain on Asher’s face. “But… if you hold out on us, I won’t have any choice. So: Who is the Beginning, and why does he want to target humans with the Spear?”

Hermes was indignant. “C–come on. It should be obvious. Humans are evil!” he sputtered. “They’re fucking parasites! They take our resources, infiltrate our cities, and… a–and we’re not allowed to fight back? That’s bullshit!”

Asher sighed. “So now you want to blow their entire nation off the map? Your solution to petty border disputes is to… kill them all?” He was clearly unimpressed. “That doesn’t make sense. There must be a deeper plan.”

Hermes shook. His mouth was agape now, gasping at air, struggling to form coherent thought. “I–I don’t know,” he said. It took all the courage he had to lie. “I don’t know. Maximus treats us all like animals. H–he doesn’t tell me anything. He tells us fucking nothing, I swear to Arceus.”

“Really?” Asher asked. Heat rippled from his palms, now outstretched in front of him; the air around them distorted and shook. A sickening grimace grew across his face. And he said: “So if I put my paws against you, you wouldn’t change your story? Not at all?”

“Of course not!” Hermes snapped. Terror made his voice shrill. “I don’t know what Kane told you, but I swear, I swear! I don’t know anything! H–he thinks I’m expendable!” Gasps made his voice quiver. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m so fucking sorry for everything, but I don’t have any choice. I know too much to just quit. They’d kill me. I–I can’t escape. I don’t have any choice. Okay?”

\tAsher chuckled exhaustedly. “You have a choice,” he said. “You’ve always had a choice. You’re just too much of a coward to realize it.” The rabbit’s paws were white-hot now. He took a step toward the Simipour, hovering them in front, his face screwy. “Last chance,” he said. “It’s your last chance to tell me the truth, Hermes.”

\tWatching on, Grimm felt his body tense. His breaths were stunted; and for just a moment, he was back in the warehouse, watching on. He remembered the smell of Kane’s burning flesh, his desperate screams, the gurgling of his half-melted throat. And yet, Grimm had done nothing to stop it. The memory made his stomach curdle.

Tonight, however, Grimm took a stance. It took every bit of his strength. And he said: “A–Asher, I think he might be telling the truth.”

\t“What?” Asher spat. He looked over his shoulder, clearly annoyed. “Don’t tell me you believe this piece of shit.”

\tGrimm swallowed. “Not entirely,” he admitted. “But… Kane told us the same thing, remember? He said Maximus treated the rest of the Board like children.” Tilting his head, gritting his teeth, the Gengar contended: “So… it might not be implausible that he’d keep the Beginning’s identity a secret.”

\tAsher was still. The Gengar watched as his demeanor shifted – from furious, to contemplative, to inquisitive. And so Asher reared back on his hind leg, crossed his arms, and asked: “Okay… so, assuming you’re telling the truth, there must be someone else who can tell us about the Beginning.”

\tHermes swallowed, hovered his big hands before his chest. “I–I don’t know,” he sputtered. “I don’t know. There are… I don’t really know–”

\t“Stop,” Asher interrupted. The Cinderace was getting sick of his endless prattling. He pinched his nose, tapped his foot impatiently. “Stop. Just stop talking. I hate your voice.”

\tThe Simipour, however, ignored the instruction. “But I know one thing,” Hermes contended. “I know… maybe one Pokémon who can help you. B–but I hardly know anything about them. So…”

\tAsher flashed a dumbfounded wince. His patience clearly wore thin. “Then spit it out,” he barked. “You’re wasting our time.”

\tSo Hermes admitted: “Their name is Penumbra. They live south of Augusta, near Renasca.” He was clearly unconfident in his assertion – as if he didn’t fully trust himself. “I don’t think they live in Renasca, but they live… nearby. Somewhere nearby.”

\tGrimm snarled at that place’s mention – Renasca. The name was horrid on his tongue. So with a huff, he said: “I’ve been there.”

\tAsher glanced backward, raised his brow. “Yeah?” he asked. “What’s it like?”

\t“Dark.” Grimm didn’t seem too pleased to remember, but spoke nonetheless. “Back when I was first expelled, I took some work in Caligen. But once that dried up, I tried going south to Renasca.” His expression hardened. “It was a big mistake. That forest is cursed. There’s only, like, three hours of daylight. The rest is night, so getting to Renasca is tough, even for Ghost types.”

\t“Cursed?” Asher echoed. He rolled his eyes, each petty gesture deepening Hermes’s humiliation. “Great. So we’re supposed to venture into cursed lands and just… look around? Try and find a mysterious log cabin?”

\tThe Simipour was effusive. His heart skipped. And he said: “I don’t know what kind of Pokémon Penumbra is, but… when Maximus first inaugurated me, he, um…” The memory was certainly uncomfortable. Hermes shuffled. “He got drunk and told me that, if he ever died unexpectedly, I should check with Penumbra near Renasca.”

\tGrimm narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

\t“I don’t know,” Hermes replied. His tone was earnest. “Maximus implied that, um… Penumbra would have something to tell me. Something important. He seemed really sad, and mentioned something about a memento, but… you know, he was really drunk. It was sort of hard to understand. And this was years ago.” He paused, then added: “But whoever Penumbra is, they know about the Spear. I think they’re involved with it, somehow.”

\t“Somehow.”

\t“Yeah, somehow.” Hermes wracked his brain for further detail, but was stymied by the discomfort of that night.

\tThat night, of course, was the night of Hermes’s inauguration – fresh off the stage, the entire Board attended a private lounge behind the grand auditorium. There, legislators and high-level donors traded endless verbal barbs; pretty girls adorned their arms, holding thin glasses of champagne, looking bored. It was all quite lively.  

Maximus, however, sat in the corner; he’d polished off three bottles of wine all by himself. Worse yet, Hermes somehow found himself keeping the man company. And so the giant hung uncomfortably on the monkey’s arm, those lanky gnarled claws closed around his bicep.

\t“I’ve done things I regret,” Maximus uttered. The smell of booze rolled off his tongue, invaded Hermes’s nostrils. “And once I am dead, there is something crucial you must retrieve – something which must remain in our possession.” Of course, none of the partygoers noticed Maximus’s erratic behavior. The shaking, the serious tone, the unending spew of psychobabble. Hermes’s panicked glances betrayed no empathy. Everyone simply passed by.

\tYears later, Hermes could still feel Maximus’s cold grip. Those soft, pliable fingertips, prying against his mind like a tin can. A drunk man with a scalpel, just barely grazing the Simipour’s flesh, savoring that delicious temptation…

\t“I can’t defy Maximus,” Hermes blurted. He was back in his apartment now, his eyes begging for mercy, glinting golden with torch light. His voice was shrill. “H–he’s a walking lie detector, and if I give you too much information, he’ll know. But…” He paused. “If you find Penumbra, they could tell you everything you need to know. Please, just find him. That’s all the information I have.”

\tDisdain was clear on Asher’s face. He gazed down on the puny monkey as if Hermes were a pest; and yet, the Cinderace stilled his claws. He then asked: “Do you know what type Penumbra is?”

\tHermes stumbled over his words. “I mean, I… judging by the name? Probably a Dark or Ghost type.”

\tThen, there was silence; this information gave the intruders pause. Asher and Grimm shared a knowing glance; and with only a nod, the Gengar begged for clemency. Grimm’s gaze then shifted to Asher’s paws. He watched in trepidation as they opened and closed, one finger trampling madly over another.

\tInternally, Asher contemplated the stupidity of Maximus’s administration. Was the eradication of mankind enough reason to develop a superweapon? If so, would Augusta really seek to rule over a crater? And furthermore, would Maximus really hide such crucial details from his top-ranking members? The assertion was laughable. And yet, if Hermes were telling the truth, then there would be no further reason to pursue the Board directly; rather, the answers they seeked would lay beyond the city’s borders.

\t“Hermes,” Asher breathed. His thoughts raced. “Are you lying to me? About anything?”

\tThe monkey flapped his paws. Hermes exclaimed: “Of course not!”

\t“Good,” Asher replied. His tone was grave. “Because if I found out you were lying, I’d be forced to kill you.”

\tThe Simipour puckered his lips. His eyes went wide. And in his most neutral tone, he muttered: “I know. I know.”

\tAsher nodded. He then sucked in a deep breath, then exhaled. His eyes wandered around the squalor-ridden apartment. Wallpaper peeled in the room’s corners. A big yellow stain blotched one of the walls, no doubt the result of a horrifically spilled dinner. Even the air festered with the smell of sour milk.

\tMuch to Hermes’s relief, Asher then slowly turned toward the door. Over his shoulder, the Cinderace tepidly announced: “I’ve decided to trust you for now, Hermes. Provided your information is reliable, I’ll be back in less than a month.”

\t“Of course,” Hermes replied. His limbs melted as he felt the adrenaline spike wearing off. A weight was lifted from his chest. “Th–thank you. I’ll keep this meeting discreet, of course.”

\tAsher scoffed, then spat: “And clean up this damn apartment. It’s a sty.”

The three didn’t share any more words that night. They didn’t need to. Within only a few more moments, Asher and Grimm had gathered themselves and disappeared into the dark hallway, as if they had never been there at all.

Hermes hurriedly shut the door, locked it, then grabbed another drink.



\tFootpaths stretched through the forest like veins. Thin black boughs reached over the spindling tunnels, drenched the dirt in shadow, and yet remained unsatisfied. Stray rocks and roots threatened to trip unaware travelers; and what little sunlight broke through the tree cover during the day was soon snuffed, subsumed by the long night. Only the pale warm glow of torches expanded the travelers’ view.

Iris was selected to depart on this expedition; and by her side, the intrepid Akiva.  This pair walked in lockstep, each carrying a small pack, navigating carefully through the underbrush. To their front, there was a Sneasel, carrying an outstretched map, her claws dancing gracefully over the detritus; and to their back was a parade of ten Pokémon, carrying packs and supplies of all kinds, talking quietly amidst each other. Thirteen mouths, all panting, all breathing.

In truth, Iris was quite unfit for the occasion; very rarely was she sent beyond central Augusta. This mission, however, was apparently quite important. Alvin himself had directed it. A certain loose end required tightening, apparently, lest he become a thorn in the Board’s side. His name was Penumbra, and he was quite the recluse.

Alvin’s instructions were clear: either to secure Penumbra’s co-operation, or otherwise to deliver to him a hand-written letter. Strangely, the Raichu was unflinchingly joyous at the occasion to deliver it; whatever was contained within must have been particularly damning. And yet, Iris did not savor the opportunity to carry it. The bearer of bad news, she thought, is not always treated kindly.

“Do you think he wanted us out?” Akiva asked. Her eyes were glued to the forest floor, galloping across the stray rocks; and yet, Iris knew the question was addressed to her.

The Ninetails replied, “Perhaps.” A sigh escaped her. “I’m unsure what Maximus is thinking.”

“But wouldn’t this task be better suited to the Chairman of Peace?” Akiva’s face was burdened with uncertainty. Her jaw clenched. “Do you think they’re trying to… replace us?”

Iris had a good laugh at that. “Replace us?” she asked. “Tell me. Who in this entire nation has the abilities we do?”

“You know what I mean,” Akiva contended. Her shoulders were hunched, her arms tucked beneath her armpits, like a lowly insect. “I worry that… I worry that our lack of enthusiasm with Alvin might… you know, they might be trying to…” She didn’t want to say it. The moment she spoke it out loud, it was real. She couldn’t let it be real.

“You think they’re trying to edge us out?” Iris asked. “Stick us to some menial job so that the big boys can play king back home?”

Akiva shot a pointed glance toward Iris. “We are the only women,” she contended. “It wouldn’t be so far-off to assume…”

The fox, however, was dismissive of the notion. “No, no,” she said. Her voice hardly faltered. “Maximus is many things, but he’s not a misogynist… he would not allow us to be subjugated like that.”

“Well, do we know how much power Maximus still has?” Akiva asked. “Because in my absence, Alvin has decided to host my sermons. I won’t lie when I say, it makes me uncomfortable.” She shook her head, as if dispeling the thought. “I don’t like the thought of our duties being so suddenly reassigned. Especially when Alvin himself has been held secret for so long.”

There was silence for a while. Ahead of them, the Sneasel talked eagerly to herself; she flipped from page to page to page, drawing the map taut, then folding it once more into itself. Intently, she’d draw her claw along the page from one spot to the next, then check the path; and once she’d had her fill, she’d bury her nose once more. The impulsivity of her body language made Iris uneasy.

“We must trust in Maximus,” Iris finally said. Her tails whipped in frustrated little circles. “He must have kept Alvin secret for good reason, even if he cannot properly explain it.”

She then glanced at Akiva; but Akiva didn’t look back. Her mien was downtrodden, a dark frown drooping unceremoniously toward the forest floor. Her arms swayed mindlessly against her sides like flags in the wind, her footfalls lazy and uncoordinated.

“Do you want to take a break?” Iris asked. “I’m… concerned about you.”

Akiva still didn’t look. “I’m fine,” she replied. Iris waited for further explanation, but didn’t receive any.

So the Ninetails said: “I know your encounter with Fey scared you.”

The Gardevoir took pain in that. A deep breath penetrated her lungs, then spewed out. Akiva then looked backward, gauging the distance between herself and the party. Having ensured the pair were beyond hearing distance, she then replied: “That was the first time I ever felt my faith falter.”

Iris’s eyes went wide. Never once had she heard Akiva doubt the faith; indeed, she was the faith. Ever-clad in pure white, the woman’s figure reflected her immaculate spirit. And while Iris had long suspected ripples beneath the surface, such an outright challenge was unexpected. No, no… it was troubling.

“How so?” Iris asked. She attempted to hide the intrigue in her voice, then added: “If you’re comfortable talking about it, that is.”

And expectedly, Akiva was quite hesitant. Once more, she glanced back, then forward; and she admitted, “He humiliated me.”

“Because of the–”

“Because he almost killed me.” Akiva swallowed; she was clearly unsettled. “I’ve never… I’ve never seen them struggle before.”

Iris thought for a moment, then replied: “I’m unsure what you mean.”

With much hesitation, Akiva then admitted: “I’ve only eaten the dreams of sleeping Pokémon. And they just… drift off. They don’t move, or talk, or…” She puckered her lips tight. “It’s almost like they wanted it. To sleep. But now, I don’t think…” Her voice stopped. She couldn’t find the words.

The Ninetails frowned. She said, “I didn’t know Maximus ordered you to do that.”

“Yeah,” Akiva said. “He did.”

Iris was silent. Regret made her heart heavy. She had known, of course, that Maximus was not a merciful man; but she hoped he would be a better father. And until now, she had held that supposition closely. In fact, she often felt reassured by it.

“I’m sorry,” Iris breathed. “I had no clue.”

The Gardevoir hummed. She, too, didn’t know what to say. It was horribly awkward admitting such things, after all. A seed of remorse gnawed at her insides; but more than that, she felt empty. Even weeks after the festival, she felt aimless and despondent. Like her life had been ripped out from under her.

Truthfully, Fey had exhibited a clarity of purpose which Akiva envied. It was doubly embarrassing, then, that this puny boy would escape her grasp. She remembered how his face contorted and grimaced as she ate at his mind; faintly, she could still remember devouring the memories of his first kiss, his graduation. Overwhelmingly, his memories were happy. It made Akiva self-conscious. No, no… it made her angry.

Suddenly, Akiva then snapped her head toward Iris, barked: “What?”

Iris was taken by surprise. She replied: “What?”

“You were whispering.”

The Ninetails lifted her brow. She replied, “No, I wasn’t.”

“Well, someone was.” Akiva swiveled her head around the thick boughs, her eyes adjusting to the tar-black darkness. Ahead, that Sneasel was silent; and behind them, faint chatter. No one had spoken, and yet…

Without hesitation, Akiva then fumbled those slim fingers around her satchel; and from the burlap she pulled two white pills. She popped them into her mouth and drowned them with her canteen. They took time to kick in, of course; and amidst the crackle of torches, she could still hear it. Disparate incomprehensible whisperings, several voices acting as one…

“Is Renasca populated?” Akiva asked.

Iris cleared her throat. Attempting to put aside her discomfort, she replied: “Middling. It’s the least populated Augustan affiliate… I believe it beat out Peace of Mind a few years ago.” She paused, and then: “Why? Are you hearing their voices?”

Akiva tilted her head. “I… thought I was. But I usually don’t hear them so intensely around the middle of nowhere.” She tapped her head. “Augusta is one thing, but… I’m sorry. I must just be paranoid.”

“No, no.” The fox’s tails thumped along the ground. Anxiety made her tense. Eventually, she asked: “Akiva, how much do you know about Penumbra?”

The Gardevoir managed a glib reply: “Do you really think Maximus tells me anything?”

And with a solemn nod, Iris explained: “I suppose I’m the only one besides him who met Penumbra. But… it was brief.” Words danced on her tongue, but fumbled on their way out. She attempted to speak once, twice, but couldn’t quite manage to find the words. So finally, she simply said: “He’s… like a fog. He gets in your mind.”

Akiva recoiled. She asked: “What, is he a Psychic type?”

Iris seemed troubled by the assertion. “No,” she said, “he’s something else. I’m not quite sure. I only saw him once, toward the conclusion of things… after Ceres had come and gone, Maximus and I established diplomatic relations with him. We ceded local governance of Renasca, but on paper we still control the land.”

“And yet you saw fit not to tell me,” Akiva sniped. Her face scrunched in disgust, her voice like venom. “Arceus, you two really are similar.”

The Ninetails took the blow in stride. She replied: “You need to understand that this is a sensitive matter. Knowledge of Penumbra’s existence would only complicate our trade relationship with Renasca.”

“So your solution was to hide this from everyone.”

Iris scoffed. “It’s never been relevant to you before now. Penumbra keeps to himself–”

“Stop!” Akiva barked. Her arms flew out before her chest, clenched, her voice shaking. Up front, the Sneasel turned; one pointed glance from Akiva was enough to steer her gaze back to the map once more.

“I’m sick of being lied to,” Akiva said. Her voice was hushed, yet each pointed insult poked holes in Iris’s ego. “I’ve been on this board for over a decade, and yet I’m just now learning about a mysterious dark cloud that rules over our southern territories? And what about Alvin, hm? Am I supposed to just roll over and accept his coup?”

Iris gritted her teeth. She replied: “I didn’t know about Alvin, either.”

“Let me guess, Maximus didn’t tell you?” Akiva could feel pressure building behind her eyes; she squeezed her eyes shut, taking only tiny steps forward. “Everything comes back to him. It’s unfair. It’s so unfair.”

Vitriol coalesced within Iris’s throat, threatened to leak from her tongue. So desperately, she desired to chastise the petulant child. Akiva’s position was prominent, but it demanded no special privilege; she, like anyone else, would only be allotted the information she was required to know. Such was the basis of high governance. Truthfully, Iris had expected Akiva to wizen to that fact by now.

But, looking over at that sulking giant, Iris was given pause. Sorrow clearly curdled on Akiva’s face, rotted her core, made her turn over herself. In truth, the Board was the only family Akiva had ever known. These political decisions which Iris so easily disregarded were made personal. And despite the Gardevoir’s egregious tone, Iris could empathize with that feeling. She, too, had been burned.

“I’m sorry,” Iris said. “I’m sorry that… everything has been kept hidden from you. I can only imagine how horrifying that is.”

Akiva did not expect such a mild response; nonetheless, she let loose a frustrated whimper. And mustering her breath, she admitted: “I’ve killed Pokémon for this cause, and now I’m learning that I barely know anything about it.”

“That’s not true,” Iris contended. Her tone was soft. “We’re building this Spear for all Pokémon, dear. We’re going to take our rightful place in creation.”

Akiva shook her head. “But in the meantime, who are we harming most? Pokémon. Not humans. Pokémon. Pokémon like us.”

“Every social movement has its detractors, you know that,” Iris replied. She was stern now. “What harm we cause now will be nothing compared to the carnage we’re preventing. On the main continent, humans outnumber us five-to-one… if given the chance, they would decimate us.”

\t“I…” Akiva couldn’t find the right words. She checked again behind her, then in front, to ensure no one was listening. Then she muttered: “Are we sure Arceus wants this?”

\tAnger flashed in Iris’s eyes, but was supplanted by annoyance. Iridescent embers dripped from the tips of her tails. She growled: “You must’ve lost your mind, child. We are in a position unlike any other in history. What more must be presented in order to dispel your doubts?”

\t“I’d like to talk to Him directly,” Akiva contended. “Maybe if I could talk to the Beginning, we could arrange a meeting–”

\t“Your ingratitude is appalling.” Iris’s fur shone a thin sheen of flame; should she aggravate herself anymore, her body might catch the detritus on fire. “The Beginning has given us everything we own, and yet you ask for more? His proximity to Arceus has ensured us a century of prosperity. A century of peace. You cannot lose faith now.” A pause, and then: “You are the faith.”

Akiva replied: “I don’t know if I want to be the faith.”

“And will you tell that to Maximus?”  

\tThe Gardevoir then hung her head low. Her answer, of course, was no. Even the thought of publicly questioning her faith made her stomach churn. Her palms were sweaty, her breaths stalled, only an anxious wheeze passing through her parched lips. She couldn’t even believe she had even spoken so candidly to Iris. Never once had she acknowledged such outright subversive thoughts; and now, they were in the air. They were real.

\tIris then muttered: “That’s what I thought.”

\tThe two then trudged along the path in tense silence. Behind them, the rest of the party made merry. They roughhoused, playfully pushing one another aside, yelping as they chased each other up and down the path. For a moment, Akiva imagined a life in which she could join them. A time free of responsibility, or crisis, or rote political maneuvering. She yearned to sleep in, to spend the day curled up with a good book…

Iris, however, did now allow her to dwell on those daydreams. In as soft a tone as she could muster, she then leaned toward the Gardevoir and cooed: “Akiva, you and I have received very difficult lives, but that doesn’t mean they’re not worth living. We must make the best of things. In any way we can. Do you understand?”

“Of course,” Akiva said. Her voice was choked with sadness. “We’ll… make the best of things.”



\tUnder that same tree cover, nestled within the same overwhelming darkness, traveled another band of Pokémon. These Pokémon, of course, did not travel along the spacious main paths, but rather weaved through the myriad smaller tunnels, turning and zig-zagging manically as they delved further and further into the forest’s belly.

\tSix Pokémon traveled there. The first, marching toward the group’s front, was a Lucario – Professor Rubrum, the scholar. Alongside him was Maestro the Meowscarada, his foremost student. A scar just barely peeked out from under the feline’s mask, trailing along his cheek like a tear. Rubrum thought it was quite attractive.

\tMaestro asked: “How big is Renasca?” His demeanor was carefree, confident, as his hips swayed amidst the wood. “Compared to Haliford, I mean.”

“It’s smaller than Haliford,” Rubrum replied. His eyes were fixated on his outstretched map; although sometimes, he’d allow them to meander toward Maestro’s lithe figure. During one of these moments, he noticed Maestro was hobbling. So he asked: “Are you sure you’re alright? Do you need your crutches?”

\tMaestro, of course, was too proud to accept them. With a smirk, he replied: “I’m fine. I just have to get used to walking on both legs again.”

\t“Are you sure?” Rubrum asked. His tone was tender. “You’re quite important to me, you know. I can’t have you tripping and hitting your head on a rock.”

\tThe Meowscarada had a good laugh at that. “Yeah,” he said, “imagine if we came this far just to die to a stray rock.”

“It’d certainly be a shame. Do you think the Board would still give me the bounty?”

Maestro shook his head. “No way,” he joked. “With how stingy they are, you’d be lucky to receive a single coin.” The two shared a troubled chuckle; then, Rubrum buried himself once more in his map.

Silently, the smile then fell from Maestro’s cheeks. The mention of a bounty reminded him of Chairman Kane; he and Rubrum had heard the news of his death less than a day prior, after all.

At first, the couple refused to believe it. Asher just wasn’t the type to kill someone, they thought; he had always been quite mild-mannered at his core. A bit headstrong, sure, but never short-tempered. But the more the Cinderace spoke, the more Maestro realized this was real. Very, very real.

Behind Maestro, Asher and Fey marched. Their chatter was sparing. The Cinderace trudged along the dim, damp path with little enthusiasm; but nonetheless, the Sylveon remained by his side, his ribbons loosely clasping Asher’s paw. Such a small gesture meant a great deal to Asher, even if he didn’t acknowledge it.

“Are you keeping up alright?” Asher asked. As they walked, he listened intently to Fey’s breaths; occasionally, he would hear a stray rasp, a slight cough. It worried him.

But Fey replied with an easy smile, a squeeze of his ribbons. The gesture was perforated with the pitter-patter of his little paws. And in a scratchy voice, the Sylveon replied: “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“All I do is worry about you,” Asher admitted; and he meant it. “I can still carry you, if you need it.”

The Sylveon huffed. “No, no,” he said. “I’ll be fine, but thank you.”

Fey then snuck a glance toward Asher’s face; and predictably, what he saw disheartened him. Ever since that night in the records hall, the Cinderace had been acting differently. His usual cocky demeanor was perforated by a persistent sadness. His movements were slower, his conversation sparse and grim. It pained Fey to witness.

Fey, of course, was acutely aware of the trauma Asher had suffered. He watched as the Fire type closed the distance between himself and Kane. And even as the little man screamed, Fey remained frozen; against his better judgment, he assumed Asher would’ve stopped. But by the time the Sylveon realized the severity of Kane’s wounds, it was far too late. The air smelled of burnt flesh and mildew.

“I did it for you,” Asher cried. His eyes welled with salty tears, his mouth contorted into a panicked grimace upon the cold warehouse floor. The words rang through Fey’s head again and again. That night, he had cradled Asher’s head upon his lap, rubbing his pristine mint-green paws through the Cinderace’s blood-soaked fur. Even as Asher’s tears ran dry, he still cried. “I did it for you, I did it for you.”

\tAnd while Fey didn’t doubt his words, the depths of Asher’s devotion proved terrifying. There was something uncomfortable about it. As if Asher wasn’t living for himself, but rather for Fey’s comfort; or moreover, for the Board’s destruction.

\t“How are you feeling today?” Fey asked. He managed his tone carefully, flicking his torch-lit eyes toward the Cinderace’s imposing frame; and with anticipation, he watched for Asher’s reaction.

\tAsher, however, replied with an apathetic shrug. “Same as yesterday,” he replied. Clearly, there was nothing more to be said about it.

\t“I see.” Fey sighed. “I’m sorry.”

\tThe rabbit shook his head. Ignoring the leaden ball in his stomach, he replied: “There’s no need to apologize.” A pause, and then: “I should be the one apologizing. I’m sorry you had to see that. I… didn’t want you to see that.”

\tFey simply nodded, squeezed tighter. “It’s okay,” he cooed, even though it was clearly not okay. But nonetheless, a kernel of hope remained within his sullen demeanor. So he said: “I’m here for you. Now and always.”

\t“I’m here for you, too,” Asher replied. But he did not meet Fey’s eyes; instead, he stared straight ahead, boring holes in the back of Maestro’s head. Futile words tugged at his lips; for the past few minutes, he’d been deliberating the best course of action. Anxiety made his palms sweat; his heat then made it dissipate. Spindles of vapor rose from his hands.

\tThis heat quickly made Fey uncomfortable. He unhanded the rabbit with a flick of his ribbons, his face screwy, then said: “Asher? You’re getting hot.”

 \t“I–I know. I’m alright,” Asher mumbled. Fear was getting the better of him; even in this diminished state, he managed to overthink everything. Frustrated with himself, the Cinderace then cleared his throat, shook out his hands, and said: “Actually Fey, I think I need to talk to Maestro for a minute. If that’s alright.”

\t“Oh,” Fey said. His expression quickly became crestfallen; clearly, he thought, he hadn’t done a good enough job comforting Asher. But instead of announcing these feelings, he said: “Sure. Go ahead.”

\t“Thank you.” Asher then broke free from Fey’s stride, lightly jogging to the front of the line; there, he caught Rubrum and Maestro engaged in a petty argument about bird calls. The two gazed at one another in a disgustingly saccharine display.

\tAsher interrupted their conversation with a light tap on Maestro’s shoulder. The feline snapped his head backward, then greeted Asher with a trepidatious smile. “Asher,” he cooed. “What’s up?”

\tThe Cinderace attempted to smile, but only mustered an awkward half-grin. “I need to talk to you,” he said. A quiet frenzy dripped from his words; clearly, this matter was urgent. The Meowscarada’s demeanor perked.

\t“Of course,” Maestro replied. He then looked at Rubrum, his brows raised, and asked: “Professor, if you could?”

\tRubrum nodded hastily. “Of course,” he said. “I wanted to discuss a matter with Fey, anyhow.” And so the Lucario trudged backward, beyond hearing distance, as he caught up with the little Sylveon. Asher and Maestro were left in silence.

\t“So,” Maestro began. He didn’t quite know how to approach Asher, given the recent news; but nonetheless, he attempted to be friendly. “What do you need?”

\tAsher replied: “I just need to talk to you about something.” That much, however, was obvious; the Cinderace simply couldn’t find the words. For a moment more, he stumbled over himself, beginning again and again, until finally he managed: “How do you… feel… about it?”

\tMaestro frowned, his brow narrowed. “It?” he asked. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

\t“Cassius,” Asher explained. He glanced backward, suddenly paranoid someone was listening. “With… everything that happened. I was wondering… how do you deal?”

A small exhale puffed from Maestro’s mouth. His shoulders lowered. And he said: “Oh. You’re asking me how I cope.”

“Yes.” Asher’s eyes pleaded for an answer; despite being taller than Maestro, he felt terribly small asking for so much. Even before that night in the records hall, Asher had seldom been one to talk about his emotions; to pry so deeply into his friend’s thoughts felt wrong.

But nonetheless, Maestro greeted the question with earnesty. He thought for a moment, staring down the pitch-black road, and then flatly replied: “I don’t know. I guess I try not to think about it too hard.”

Asher was taken aback. He asked: “You just… don’t think about it? That’s it?”

“Of course not,” Maestro explained. His voice took on a somber quality, methodical and slow. “I just… I saw Cassius kill Pokémon in front of me. I…” He thought for a moment more. “I guess I feel better about my decision because I didn’t really have a choice. He was trying to kill children, Asher… like, real children. He wanted to kill the entire village. What else could I have done? Run away?”

Asher nodded intently. “Of course,” he said. “I’m not criticizing you. I’m just… I’m trying to understand how…”

“How to be okay?”

“Yeah,” Asher breathed. “Yeah, that’s a good way to put it.”

Maestro sneered at the thought. An exhausted chuckle rattled in his throat. And he simply replied: “I don’t know. I don’t know how to be okay. I don’t think any of us are okay.”

That response left Asher crestfallen; he surely hadn’t expected a straightforward answer, but such an agnostic one was disheartening. “I see,” he whispered. “I should’ve known it was… I should’ve known you were still struggling. I’m sorry.”

The feline hummed. He sighed, then added: “In the past, I never once anticipated I’d kill anyone. Hell, I never thought someone would try and kill me… but now that I’m here, I realize that life is a privilege I never really appreciated.” He swallowed, nodded. “So long as these Pokémon live, they’re going to try and kill other Pokémon. We have to beat them to it. We have to win, even if that means… even if it means we have to hurt them.”

A flame kindled within Asher’s belly. White-hot resentment made his heart race. “That’s right,” he said. Vitriol dripped from his maw. “The Board has to die. That’s how it has to be. It’s the only way to protect Pokémon.”

Maestro shot an inquisitive glance toward Asher; and tentatively, he said: “R–right. Obviously I’d prefer for them to surrender, but… well, obviously I’m not one to scold you for use of violence.” He then cleared his throat, stood straight, his paws still marching over twigs and stones. “I just hope this all stops. I don’t want anyone else to die. If we can… if we can find the Spear and disable it, then maybe we can avoid any more bloodshed.” Alas, the feline didn’t seem very confident in his own assertion. Asher, too, was unconvinced.

“It’s not going to be that simple,” he contended. He didn’t look at Maestro; his gaze remained glued to the ground, as if ashamed of his own words. “Somehow, we need to kill Maximus. Iris, too. They’re the old guard… so they’re the ones who will follow the Beginning no matter what.” Asher exhaled hot air. “And once we’re done with them, we’ll find the Beginning. We can’t allow any trace of them to remain.”

Predictably, Maestro was quite worried by this proposition. Placing a hand on the rabbit’s shoulder, he said: “Asher…”

“We just need to find Penumbra first,” Asher continued. “If we can find Penumbra, they’ll tell us where the Spear is… and from there, we’ll make our move.”

The Meowscarada simply nodded, puckered his lips. “Right,” he said. “We’ll… we’ll find them. And once we hear what they have to say, we’ll make our next move. Okay?”

Despite Maestro’s assurances, however, Asher didn’t calm down. His paws fidgeted uncomfortably against his sides, his own words foreign in his mouth. He struggled to verbalize his thoughts; Maestro awaited them with bated breath. Eventually, Asher simply said: “I–I have to tell you something.”

“And what is it?”

“I…” Asher shook his head, sighed. “Kane told me something. And it probably isn’t true… but I thought I should still tell you. Just in case it… I don’t know.” He shrugged, scratched uncomfortably at his elbow. “Just in case it’s important.”

\tMaestro’s breath caught in his throat. He said: “Just tell me. It’s okay.”

\tAnd so Asher took a deep breath, then revealed: “That night at the records hall, I spoke with Kane. And Kane said that Cassius survived your battle. He said they carted him back to the capital somehow.”

\tThose words made the feline’s stomach sink. His face cycled through emotions – fear, anger, sadness, happiness, searching for an appropriate response. He found none. So instead, he asked: “What does that mean? Is he still…?”

\t“No, he’s not.” Asher shook his head, explained: “Kane told me that Maximus killed Cassius in his sick bed. But I… I don’t know why Maximus would do that.” He cleared his throat, his chest fluttering. “I’m sorry. It’s probably bullshit… Kane was just trying to fuck with me. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

\tMaestro raised a paw, shook his head. Quietly, his thoughts raced. The ramifications of this claim made his body heavy. “It’s okay,” he reassured. “Even if this is untrue, it’s… interesting that he’d say that.” He paused, and then: “Did he say this under duress?”

\tAsher shook his head. “No. He gave this information freely.”

\t“Then why…?” Maestro pondered the question for a moment more, then stowed it away. He simply looked into the distance, dumbfounded. “Okay. This is… this is a lot to take in. Thank you for telling me.”

\tThe Cinderace nodded blankly. “Of course,” he breathed. “I just thought you should know. I don’t really know what it means, but…” His jaw yammered on, and yet he said nothing. “...Yeah.”

\tMaestro bit his lip. “What it means is that the Board is turning on each other,” he said. “I wonder if we could exploit that.”

\t“Maybe,” Asher replied. “Maybe we–”

\tAlas, their conversation was interrupted. Like an excited pup, Rubrum bounded toward the front of the group, brandishing his map like a knife. His paws slapped messily against the forest floor, his smiling face a beacon in the darkness.

“I’m sorry to barge in,” the pup announced, “but we’re close. One more turn, and we’ll basically be there.”

\tMaestro caught his breath. “Ah,” he said. “Good. Let’s group up then. We’ll all need to stay close.” He then stopped in his tracks, motioned toward Asher, and said: “We’ll talk about this later, alright?”

\t“Yeah,” Asher replied. For the first time in days, he smiled. The barest glint of hope made his toes curl. “Later.”
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