Bonds that Bind - Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-two:Sanctuary’s HeartWith the Servine now on side, both Grass types joined the path leading back to Home Tree, palace and home to the queen and prince. As they went, Laurence kept conversation flowing by explaining to Rose the degree of her involvement with the play; how many acts she would be doing alone, which scenes would be most impactful, drilling it into her mind that when in doubt to simply reset and seek a cue. Being told all this wasn’t good for her nerves, her stomach beginning to flip over as reality caught up. She felt in strong need of a quiet restroom but knew she was flat out of luck. Happily, a chance encounter with Juliana served as a welcome distraction. “Oh spiffing,” moaned Laurence. His mother was just up ahead, in talks with one of the Exeggcute guard batches. It struck him as odd seeing sentries outside of their posts — what was going on? Mildly interested, Laurence moved up with Rose following. But by the time they were upon Juliana her conversation was over. “. . . as soon as I’m done out here, I’ll tend to them.” Juliana noticed some of the heads peering past her, evidently seeing something or someone. Twisting her head around quickly confirmed her inkling, smiling at the youths. Turning back to the heads, she said, “I hope you can accept my apologies for today’s trouble. Everything you’ve done is appreciated, truly.” Little did Rose know this Exeggcute batch had dealt with her group trying to force entry earlier this morning, finding Juliana to update her. Getting the praise and recognition they deserved put the heads in a much better mood, Juliana taking the opportunity to fully inform them on the latest development before the pair’s arrival just now. And so with their report carried out, each head pitched forward in a respectful bow to their queen, then departing for their post via teleportation. “More than average gossip, I’m guessing,” Laurence spoke up, addressing his mother as she whirled around. “Son, and Rose,” she greeted warmly, looking from Servine to Leafeon. “Fancy this, us lot being out here. Been enjoying each other’s company?” “Insightful, you’ll be happy to hear. And don’t act like you had no part in this; Rose told me everything.” “I had to be truthful,” Rose said to the Serperior, feeling a need to justify herself. “Honesty’s the best policy.” “Indeed it is,” agreed Juliana, her response the precise opposite of what Laurence was expecting. “All right,” he said, about to bring it back to his opening point, “what were you discussing? Guards catch some intruders?” Juliana took a moment to admire her son. Laurence was certainly a bright child, more so than his brother at the teenage stage; but what Jamie lacked there he made up for in compassion. “All a misunderstanding I’ll soon resolve,” she answered. Turning to Rose, she continued, “Your group is waiting over by Home Tree.” “Everyone?” chirped the bright-eyed Eevee. “My bro as well?” Something about her excitement seemed to affect Laurence, the male seemingly pushed out of the conversation as Juliana went on. “What say we head there now? They’re just as eager to see you, so tarry we shan’t.” Noting he looked to be sulking, Juliana said, “Laurence — son?” He merely shrugged. “Whatever pleases.” Fortunately, Laurence’s attitude recovered as they walked and slithered together, delighting particularly in the topic of their coming play. Juliana was quick to figure he disliked the Leafeon’s shift of attention now that she had familiar faces to look forward to. To combat this, Juliana explained the misdemeanours of Rose’s group. Hearing of Simon’s antics embarrassed Rose but it was taken in good humour by both snakes. Determined to keep spirits up, Juliana then mentioned word of the festival, stating her hope she wouldn’t have to cancel. And it was Laurence who jumped in with the fantastic news, agreeing to take Rose under his metaphorical wing after she had convinced him. Juliana could hardly have asked for better, keeping a lid on her gratitude for Rose while Laurence was present; with things so tenuous she, Juliana, could not get too excited. As for Rose, none of this did her bowels any favours. Gradually the forest trees spaced out more and more, the three passing by an increasing number of Grass Pokémon, many of which surprised to see queen and prince together. Juliana wasn’t foolish enough to draw attention to the fact, simply enjoying being with her son. Having heard it mentioned a number of times already, Rose finally asked about Home Tree. Juliana pointed out to her where she originally woke up, a den beneath a tree. Trees made excellent shelter and were most Pokémon’s first choice when it came to resting long. Juliana explained with their approach to the sanctuary’s heart almost every tree served as shelter, entrance holes either exposed or covered in grassy material. Apparently, the one Rose had woken in was the equivalent of a hostel: basic and accessible to all. Larger trees were typically reserved for Pokémon with families, furnishings made possible thanks to a group of Leavanny and Whimsicott. Home Tree, however, wasn’t any ordinary tree. Old as this place itself, a single acorn was planted and nurtured over generations, receiving the best possible care rivalled nowhere else in Tavolous. Oak trees developed in stages, suitable conditions allowing them to reach maturity (notable oak boasted ages between one hundred and fifty to two hundred years); luckier trees aging beyond notable were known as veterans; and even older than them were ancients. Juliana was excited for Rose to see Home Tree in all its splendour, the undying support of Grass inhabitants feeding the oak life. What set Home Tree apart from all other trees was a labyrinth of tunnels underneath. Over its lifetime, the oak’s roots had grown and spread unimpeded, cleaving deep into the rich soil; Juliana held confidence Home Tree would endure the most brutal of storms. Natural growth helped to loosen the soil, allowing past Pokémon to dig out tunnels and chambers. Excavating a home for the rulers of the sanctuary wasn’t a menial task. Architectural skill and careful execution was vital in order to keep Home Tree from collapsing above the proposed underground palace, all before Juliana’s time. While it would have been simpler to wait until they got there, Juliana explained, proudly, just how sophisticated life was within the palace. It wasn’t all dark, dirt, crumbling and cold surfaces: Tunnels were hollowed out level with the surface to prevent balance upset, all walls and ceilings arced tall and wide. Lighting was no issue thanks to the resident Morelull population, an established agreement that a cluster of around thirty individuals could spend one full month feeding off Home Tree’s roots, providing a continuous light source for those navigating the tunnels; Morelull weren’t permitted in the private quarters of Juliana or Laurence or the throne room, with the exception to prune their mushroom caps, still providing light to those areas several hours after severance. It was important that each Morelull be mindful of spore control and overindulgence so as not to cause drowsiness in others and/or kill off the oak. Other Pokémon helped with the latter, life in the sanctuary conforming to a cycle of give and take, maintaining good health of the forest. Despite having more to say, Juliana fell silent as they emerged from the trees into the most bustling open area Rose had seen yet. The young Leafeon froze, somewhat overwhelmed by the drastic change of pace. Marketplace was her initial impression, and this was quickly backed up when she spotted actual stalls and merchants. She counted six stalls occupying the same space, divided into two rows of three which stood abreast, a wide gap running between them to accommodate traffic. Both sides mirrored each other, with one stall notably larger than the others; both rows also pointed (near enough) straight at each other. From where she was standing, each stall had a high level of craftmanship to it, wood unpainted and pretty generic in appearance but each plank expertly cut and smoothed, as though crafted by a carpenter using top-notch equipment. Only two stalls were manned currently: one of the bigger stands offering a selection of fruit (apples, pears, and limes to name some), vegetables (turnips, courgettes, and beans), and berries (Bluk, Nanab, and Oran) — and one smaller stand specializing in weaving accessories (blankets, pillows, and drapery) made from surrounding nature, Leavanny silk, and Cottonee/Whimsicott cotton. Amidst the activity Rose heard kids’ shouts and calls, turning to find a play area in use. Pre-evolved species were having fun on the equipment; two see-saws swung up and down, friendly competition underway to see how high a Thwackey pair could get; many smaller species piled onto a roundabout, getting spun by a friendly Victreebel using his long vine; some tried their hand on the monkey bars. But by far the most head-turning detail here went to the ancient oak tree, nested slap bang in the centre of this wide, circular space. Even with so much to look at and take in, Rose found herself enraptured by the sight, the oak’s very presence pulling in her attention like a magnet. She didn’t need to be an expert to tell this tree had some long decades behind it. Sheer size was anybody’s first clue; this oak was almost laughably fat, boasting a girth unmatched throughout the region; height-wise, Rose guessed around seventy-five feet, maybe taller — such height made her feel dizzy. By this stage in the oak’s life, lower branches had grown so big and heavy that a number of them had buried into the soil. These limbs had long since shed their leaves, foliage only growing from halfway up and doing well at blocking out the sky, though plenty enough space basked in sunlight thanks to the openness. Perhaps to non-Grass types this oak appeared deformed or ugly, not the typical graceful oak one would picture. But Rose saw a beauty only possible with old age, its bark scaly from weathering season after season, surface scars peppered all over in the form of knots and chips — “If trees could talk, oh, the stories she’d tell . . .” smiled Juliana wistfully, having followed Rose’s gaze to the oak. Seconds later, thanks to her sharp eyesight and height advantage, the Serperior said, “And there they are. Wait —” she squinted, focusing on the white-flowered Florges, “could it be . . . ?” Rose, however, stopped paying attention, her mission to now find her brother amid the horde of strangers. The moment she spotted his distinct yellow fur, she was off, zigging and zagging a bit too fast; it annoyed her having to slow down and swerve around people, obstacles being the last thing she needed. But before she knew it her hind legs sprung her into a leaping hug — “Simon!” Thankfully for the Jolteon, Colonel Coulter had seen his sister darting their way (upsetting some individuals in the process) and was able to warn him. Simon turned barely in time to park his haunches and catch fifty pounds of Leafeon. “Is it too late to change my mind and be a Flareon?” he groaned playfully as he shared in the hug. “All right, let go,” he recovered, breaking away from her. “Good to see you, squirt,” said Rozlynn. Along with Simon, Coulter, and both Shiinotic, she had been waiting beside the oak. “Thanks!” Rose beamed. “Glad to be back.” “Rozlynn, darling,” Juliana’s voice interrupted, and all looked to see her approaching, Laurence no longer with her. “Nothing short of unexpected.” Both women embraced each other, Rozlynn wrapping with arms and Juliana coiling via tail. “You’re telling me,” the Fairy-type attested, something surreal about finally meeting up with the Serperior. As they broke away, she continued, “Life’s chaotic that way. Um, yeah, so . . . this is Maverick Coulter —” The Decidueye bowed his head respectfully. “I am honoured,” he greeted the queen. “— and Simon,” Rozlynn finished introductions, not worrying with Rose as she and Juliana were already acquainted. “Sweet forest,” commented the Jolteon, casting his gaze among the hustle and bustle. “Lotta Grass types.” “That’s the idea,” voiced Nigel, plainly irked by the Electric-type’s ignorance. Juliana didn’t share his view and cracked a smile at Simon’s statement. “A pleasure to meet you both,” she greeted both males back. “Juliana?” Rose piped up, “You never said you and Rozlynn were friends.” “This arrival is news to me,” said Juliana. “But yes, I visit Rozlynn’s Chime Pavilion when possible.” For Rose, the penny seemed to drop. She felt rather daft as she glued together all clues: a forest shelter strictly for Grass types, a queen of roughly Kadence’s age, the mentioning of Blossom Valley, and lastly Exeggcute guards. All that remained a mystery was Juliana’s identity, something Rozlynn could’ve gotten straight over the course of their train rides. Rose pinned it on the news concerning the prime minister, which had troubled their thoughts since leaving Verculum. Perhaps if she’d not been swept up in Juliana’s plight, she would’ve realized they had arrived. “So you’re Kadence’s friend,” Rose chirped loudly, all but certain of her statement. “Let’s keep the volume down, yeah?” insisted the aging Decidueye. “Sorry,” she complied in whispered tones, bringing her voice up to an acceptable level when she continued. “We’ve travelled from the capital to find you,” she told Juliana, whom was taken aback. The Serperior shut her eyes and lightly shook her head in an effort to understand. “Where is Kadence?” she asked, her crimson gaze inescapable and disconcerting. “What is the meaning of this, Rozlynn?” “It’s a long story,” Rozlynn said, not being much help. Coulter stepped in. “If you’ll permit us somewhere more private, we can explain.” “Uh-huh,” nodded Rose, helping to sway Juliana’s mind. “In which case,” she began, “follow me. I shan’t be needing you boys, thank you. The day is yours to enjoy.” For Wes and Nigel made to follow their queen. “Only if you’re sure, Your Majesty,” said Nigel. “Thanks!” beamed Wes. As he walked off, he told Nigel, “C’mon, I’m starving. . . .” “Hey . . .” said Rose, searching the crowd for a teenage Servine but only noticing many staring eyes and busy mouths, a clear interest taken in the two non-Grass types. The attention agitated Rose, forcing her to look away. “Where’d Laurence go?” she asked Juliana. “Who dat?” said Simon. Even though his question was pointed at Rose, Juliana answered first whilst scanning. “My son. . . . Whom I suspect has skulked off to his room.” “Like, as in ‘bedroom’?” furthered Simon, finding the idea difficult to imagine without any buildings. “Precisely,” she replied. “Come along.” And Juliana took them around to the oak’s den opening, sheltered by vines and predictably larger than the one Rose had emerged from. Nobody stood guard over the entrance and the curtain of vines were already drawn across, held in place by a low-hanging, chopped branch. Considering she lived here, it made sense Juliana would descend casually. But for her guests, seeing a flight of stairs came as a surprise, enough to make them stop. Just wide enough for two at a time, the stairs themselves could have passed for carpenter’s work; appropriately angled, sanded down for smoothness, and even varnished for long life and protection. “Well I wasn’t ready for this,” Simon quipped, making his sister titter; she felt more confident with him around. “I’m with you there,” commented Coulter, hunching down for closer inspection of the highest step. Brushing with his wing feathers confirmed his belief; the craftsmanship behind this easily matched the main staircase of his manor house. “If the stairs astound you,” came Juliana’s voice from below, the queen snake having paused, “wait until my throne room. In the meantime, do keep up and mind your footing.” Brother and sister ventured down first, followed by Rozlynn and Coulter. “Good thing Eclipse isn’t here,” Simon mentioned from glances, and Rose knew he was referring Eclipse’s claustrophobia. It wasn’t a fear she shared, but she felt that the limited headroom would definitely affect the Umbreon. Rozlynn was silently impressed by the cleanliness of the stairs. Even while surrounded by roots and soil, she struggled to find dirt; cleaning had to be daily, was her conclusion. But the woodwork didn’t end with the stairs: Anyone who walked down here did so on wood flooring, throughout the entire network. Utilizing the same wood used for the stairs, fitting had to have been a painstaking task, no cheap laminate or cowboy builders used. The reason behind the compact descent was to not weaken the oak’s foundation, resulting in a sinkhole — but now at safer depths, the tunnels opened up, walls and ceilings lined with bits of root sticking out at varying degrees. It was upon these roots Morelull clung to, feeding and producing their otherworldly glow. Instinct told Coulter to hold in his breath, aware of the risk of spore inhalation. “It’s quite safe to breathe, be assured,” Juliana put their minds at rest, noting the Decidueye’s caution. “They’re fallow for much of their time here, provided they aren’t disturbed.” “What’s fallow?” Rose asked, cocking her head. “Inactivity,” said Coulter. “A slowed metabolism minimizing what nutrients they need. In exchange for,” he turned to Juliana, “lighting?” The Serperior grinned at him. “Categorically.” “I couldn’t do a lazy life,” said Simon, his gaze drawn to the soft glow of a sleeping Morelull latched to a root on the wall. “They rotate on a monthly basis,” Juliana informed them. “This lot will eventually head topside for more to have their turn.” Again she slithered off with her guests in tow, heading for a three-way fork. Short though this walk was, Coulter took an interest in the walls, which curved into a dome shape. While not perfectly smooth, lumps and bumps and juts of root being the main offenders, the soil in general looked bizarrely glossy, as if coated with something. Stopping briefly out of curiosity, the owl raised a leg and lightly ran talons down the wall, yielding a result similar to fingernails on a chalkboard. It explained how the flooring was kept so clean, some protective substance covering the walls to prevent clumps of soil breaking off. Hearing the noise, everyone else glanced back, Rozlynn immediately mortified. “Get over here!” she chided through clenched teeth, and completely overreacting in Coulter’s opinion; had he fired off a Spirit Shackle arrow, then he’d understand. However, not wanting to disgruntle her further, he obeyed. Juliana led them through the tunnel branching off to the left when they hit the fork. Here, space narrowed slightly, still with the nice wood flooring and pastel lighting. Smaller side tunnels served as shortcuts throughout the labyrinth, and Coulter spotted multiple doorways down some. Even though these rooms lacked actual doors, a drape of vines offered occupants a degree of privacy. Soon, they reached a dead end with a bigger doorway, their view inside blocked, again, by vines. “In here,” Juliana told them, parting the vines as she entered. Being a gentleman, Coulter held back some vines for Rozlynn; the Florges accepted his gesture without complaint, which was as much of a “thank you” as he was going to get. Still, both Eevees were grateful as they passed by. None were ready for the grandeur of Juliana’s throne room, a large, beautifully-lit, cuboid-shaped space with a high ceiling. Each wall looked considerably smoother here, on par with plasterboard for flatness although many roots protruded from them, almost like veins under skin with how they flowed. In each corner of the room Morelull individuals shed a cluster of mushroom caps, glowing still vibrantly to keep darkness at bay. One very eye-catching feature went to four tree roots growing down from ceiling to floor, all of equal size and forming the corners of a box in the middle of the room. Unlike all other roots, these were sanded smooth and perfectly cylindrical — but what made them truly special was their carvings: stunning oak leaves and acorns spiralling upwards with petiole lines. These roots were comparable to support columns, as strong and magnificent as marble. And as for the queen, she had slithered ahead to her throne; an oval seat of wooden craft, padded with Cottonee cotton for comfort and perfect for any snakelike Pokémon. Her throne stood elevated atop two surrounding steps near the opposite wall from where they entered. The room seemed to have been cleaned recently, the wood flooring immaculate. “So then, Rozlynn,” started Juliana as her guests approached, marring the flooring somewhat; dried soil and bits of outdoors clung to their feet, Juliana herself in the same state only with her belly instead. “Shall we take it from the top?” After being initially kept in the dark by Kadence when the Eeveelutions rocked up on the Pavilion’s doorstep, Rozlynn knew the importance of being truthful with Juliana. She explained how Rose and Simon knew of Kadence, that they and their siblings had contacted Kadence directly at the Chime Pavilion. Juliana found nothing odd about this; considering Kadence’s work revolved around documenting history and ancestry lines, families reaching out to her wasn’t unusual. What got Juliana’s brain itching was how that resulted in this, three strangers knowing her home’s location and now standing in her throne room. Kadence wouldn’t divulge such personal information without good reason, Juliana liked to believe. Which begged the question why involve the Serperior at all — how was she relevant in this? Then there was the matter of what Rose said, coming from the region’s capital — was that where Kadence was now? Why wasn’t she with them? To Simon’s surprise, Rose was the one to drop their bombshell, the words “Verdure Talisman” rolling so easily off her tongue she stunned the queen silent. Evidently a follow-up explanation was needed fast, so Rozlynn revealed she and the others knew about Kadence being a Keeper. It was just as well Juliana was hearing it from somebody she trusted. They were among the most famous tales — the Talismans of Tavolous — myth, or real? Nowadays it was widely accepted among the non-feral population these gems were things of legend; your average browse through library records weren’t likely to cough up much after generations of protection and secrecy. Older and considerably more valuable records (the sort only accessible to historians) claim Arceus Himself crafted each one, warning of a bloody history where past Pokémon killed for their powers. Nothing good would come of hunting these artifacts, only obsession, madness, and loss. Trust and truth went hand in hand as far as Juliana was concerned regarding her secret. While she trusted her people with this knowledge, never would she betray the whereabouts of her peers, the seventeen other Keepers, to anyone. Had that respect for each other simply dwindled over the test of time? Was balance and harmony doomed to be undone? By now she looked very keyed up coiled there in her throne. Coulter was not going to beat around the bush any longer, disclosing the threat facing modern Tavolous: Black Nex. “. . . That’s not possible,” was Juliana’s response after a moment’s silence, calmly dismissing the very notion. It was ludicrous! Here they spoke of a deity gone unmentioned for centuries — the first Darkrai of his lineage, and unbelievably powerful. But faces were grim, even Rose’s. Not being forceful, Coulter persisted with giving her the full picture; justifying Kadence’s actions; going over Mythus’s involvement with founding the Defiance. Hearing of a second Origin God elicited great interest from Juliana, injecting much needed validity to their story. Simon shared his experience meeting Mythus one month prior, how the Mew came before his family seeking help against Nex, unable to fight the corrupt Darkrai alone. Rose too lent her voice, backing her brother up on their quest to gather all eighteen talismans; though still befuddled by what she was hearing, Juliana asked them how many they’d gotten so far. The whole thing sounded nuts, and it was becoming clear she was having a hard time believing it. Still the group kept to the truth by telling her Verdure would be talisman number seven, the rest of Simon and Rose’s family out at this very moment risking their lives for the Gale Talisman. “Then you have five talismans total?” said Juliana, struggling to get her head around this sudden burden of information. “Yeah,” nodded Rose. But the Leafeon couldn’t ignore Juliana’s consternation. “You . . . believe us, right?” “I’m not calling you liars,” said the Serperior, though her tone suggested otherwise. “But you want proof, huh?” Simon retorted. Juliana fixed him a stabbing glare. “Keep your lip in check,” she warned. “I could as easily banish you from ever setting foot in this place again. Has that happened yet? No — so do not insult my intelligence.” “He doesn’t mean it like that,” Rozlynn jumped to his defence, throwing him a disapproving glance. “Obviously,” she continued, looking back to Juliana, “nobody blames you for being cautious.” This statement seemed to pacify the queen. “Why send you, Rozlynn?” she sighed. “Something of this magnitude . . . I need Kadence. Surely she would’ve known this?” And the Togekiss’s absence was swiftly explained. It shocked Juliana hearing of Kadence’s condition after a vicious conflict with a flock of feral Starly and Staravia — the very same Glacia’s group now faced. But her efforts weren’t entirely in vain, providing her successors with crucial information to help secure the Elemental Talisman of Flying. Thanks to Kadence, it was revealed that the Gale Talisman’s Keeper was possessed. Yet another thing for Juliana to get her head around: Black Nex’s Shadows. Simon and Rose described the physical appearance of these monsters, bodies of crimson smoke vulnerable only to fire — but it was their power of manipulation which really scared and confused Juliana. This wasn’t manipulation of a psychological nature; the Eevees were describing intrusive methods, like parasites rooting to the victim’s brain, bodies little more than husks to carry out tasks. By the sounds of it, Shadows did not discriminate, perfectly satisfied possessing whomever; the snake took no comfort in knowing the telltale sign of red eyes and glowing yellow slits. She left her throne whilst being told her title of Keeper made her a prime target. It was clear to the group their combined insistence was working, Juliana visibly agitated. “Nothing,” she stressed, “can ever invade this sanctuary. To come here predicting — no, demanding cooperation. Ha! Oh the hubris.” “We’re not demanding anything, Your Majesty,” said Coulter politely. “I’m sorry if it seems that way.” “What’ll it take to convince you?” the Jolteon quickly got in before Juliana could respond. Although he had barked at her, this seemed to have the desired effect, in that it gave Juliana perspective on the matter. The four watched as agitation made room for broody concern. Dealing with issues came as part of the job for Juliana, but never anything so momentous. She so badly wanted to turn a blind eye, pass this all off as utter nonsense. But they all knew that time of bliss had passed. To dismiss a picture painted so black and white would be betrayal — to Kadence, to Tavolous, to her oath as Keeper. However, none of this changed the fact she had her own problems to deal with immediately. “Timing couldn’t be poorer, Rozlynn,” the Serperior said. “Sorry, I don’t follow,” said Rozlynn, giving an inquiring look. “That makes two of us,” Simon muscled in, impatient with Juliana. “Look, all we want is your talisman — so stop wasting our time and —” Before he could react the swift serpent struck with incredible speed and precision, wiping the Jolteon’s feet out from under him and pinning him to the floor; aglow light green, she brought her tail close to his eyes, Leaf Blade primed and threatening. The others instinctively jumped back, none sure of what to do. It caught Simon by surprise how strong and heavy Juliana was, quickly giving up on trying to stand and not retaliating with electricity, secretly confessing he’d asked for this. “You ought to learn some manners, boy,” she advised, feeling him submitting; Leaf Blade lost its glow as she lowered her tail. Simon grunted. “‘Boy’?” he repeated, indignant despite his position. For Rose, this was typical of her brother. “No chance with him,” she joked, knowing the situation wouldn’t escalate. “Acts first thinks after.” “Gee, thanks sis.” Rose stuck her tongue out at him. “It’s true, though!” Regaining some level of composure, Juliana slid sideways off of Simon and he stood up. Looking slightly guilty over her actions, Juliana turned to Rose. “The way I see it,” she said, “we can help each other.” “What’re you —” Simon began before then catching his words and adjusting his tone, “so you believe us after all?” “Only doomsayers are as committed,” said Juliana promisingly. “That’s not what this is,” Rozlynn felt a need to say, but it wasn’t necessary. “I know,” Juliana assured her. “I do not question your loyalty to Kadence; she has spoken highly of you, and to entrust you with Keeper knowledge stands as testament to this.” Faint traces of pink dotted Rozlynn’s cheeks, the Florges clearly approving of the praise. “But there’s a catch, right?” inquired Simon. Juliana turned back to the Leafeon. “I would need Rose to uphold her promise. In return, I can provide what you seek.” “And what promise is this?” asked Coulter, his gaze drawn to Rose. “O-oh, yeah . . .” she stuttered, suddenly a little hot under the collar. “Earlier I said I’d help Juliana with a festival happening soon. That’s why it’s pretty manic up there. Right?” she added, seeking confirmation from the queen. “Most astute,” smiled Juliana. “Well we can chip in as well,” voiced Rozlynn. “It’s not manual labour Rose will be doing. Her role far surpasses that, for she’ll be performing with my son onstage.” Simon promptly whirled his face to his sister, plastered with incredulity. “That’s funny,” he chuckled, “that is somethin’ else.” While it wasn’t his intention to ridicule her, Simon knew his sibling far better than these three ever could. It was all he could do to keep himself bursting with laughter! Rose was as shy as they came, sticking way to the shadows where it was nice and quiet. And yet, there he saw a glint of determination in her eyes. Crouching down beside him, Coulter wrapped a wing around his mane in a chummy way. “Might be best to zip it,” said the owl sagely, with a pat for good measure. “This is big for them, Si,” said Rose, not upset with him. “Their festival’s all about summertime! You know how much of an energy boost I get outside of winter, so times that by a whole forest of people!” “I guess I get that bit,” he said. “But seriously — you — performing . . . to an audience?” “The opening play is a tradition carried down by generations of my kin,” Juliana aided Rose. “This year I find myself in contention with my son, and without him there can be no play. Thanks to Rose and her kindness” (Rose, wearing a bashful smile, lowered her gaze) “Laurence has seen sense to step up, willing to perform with your sister.” “This is ridiculous!” Simon blurted. “Sorry, Queeny, but we can’t help you —” “Now hold on,” Coulter interjected. “Juliana,” he addressed her, civil, “what sort of a timeframe are we working with here?” “Preparations conclude in two days, then the festival begins.” Coulter and Rozlynn shared nonplussed glances, but Simon was left in no doubt what they should do. “Perfect,” the Jolteon started down the route of sarcasm, “I’ll drop Black Nex a text asking him to chill for forty-eight hours . . . not!” Thrusting a paw off to the side for emphasis, he furthered, “He’s out there, plotting against everyone including this place! Our answer’s no.” “Then we have nothing more to discuss,” said Juliana, austere. “Rozlynn,” she addressed her, now ignoring the Jolteon’s glaring, “a pity it’s come to this. Give Kadence my best.” “Oh no,” said Simon, his fur subtly crackling with electricity, a sign of building agitation, “we ain’t leaving without that talisman —” Seeing that she had no choice but to put her foot down, Rose raised her voice at her brother. “Si, just stop it, please!” The sound of electric sparks died down as he turned to her, his face not unlike an Eevee cub’s after a smacked bottom for bad behaviour. “Juliana wouldn’t have asked if she wasn’t desperate, and it’s not your call to decide what’s best. I’m going to help and that’s that!” A warm smile lit up the snake’s face. “It would make all the difference. An imperfect compromise is a compromise nonetheless,” she then told Simon. “Your words I heed; the fight shall be met.” Because his argument held merit, Rose knew Simon would be in sulk mode for a good while; she would try speaking with him later. What else could they do but help Juliana now? The single most important thing was convincing her of their situation, and if this meant taking one for the team, then by Jove, Rose would do it! And anyway, she already agreed to help, so this was just added incentive. Having Juliana onside was imperative if they were to get their mitts on the Verdure Talisman. “So you’ll join the Defiance?” asked Coulter. “Before all else, I must improve my relationship with my son. Laurence faces succession to kinghood in the years ahead and has much to learn. Beyond giving up the jewel of my forest, I shall retell your tale, make the truth known.”Having reached an agreement which worked for both parties, Juliana permitted her guests free roam of the palace, only forbidding her personal chamber. Wanting to smooth things out after their shaky start, Juliana propositioned Simon with a surface tour, hoping to talk him round. While stubborn at first, the Serperior managed to charm the male, her manner of doing so bordering seductive as she caressed his throat and chin with her tail. This seemed to tick the right boxes, Simon swiftly perking up; playful flirting was perfectly fine by him regardless of age difference . . . though admittedly, Juliana looked mighty attractive all of a sudden. Taking note of his U-turn attitude, Rozlynn remarked slyly to Juliana, “Attagirl, you might’ve just pulled.” “Hmph,” grinned the serpent, retracting her tail with a flick, her gaze still on the yellow-furred mammal, “he wishes.” Simon was powerless to stop his blushes, an excitable smile curving his muzzle in spite of his efforts to repress it. With no conviction behind his words he demanded to get going, keen to escape his group. And so, with her brother occupied with royalty, Rose opted to do the same, asking Juliana where she could find Laurence, if indeed he had gone to his room. Neither Rozlynn nor Coulter wanted to be a third wheel, the pair deciding to mingle up on the surface. It wasn’t long before Rose regretted turning down Juliana’s offer to escort her; she did it for Simon’s benefit mainly because he looked to be getting on better with Juliana. She knew where she’d be going if she could just reach one of the main tunnels, but getting lost was all she was achieving. Happily, she was spared ridicule when she followed a narrow tunnel to a steep flight of stairs, eventually emerging to the surface via an emergency escape tree, its hollow covered over with vines. The palace had several of these scattered about, this tree situated somewhere quiet. “Great,” Rose groaned, feeling stupid for having climbed to what she already suspected was a way out. Once back under, she simplified the issue by disturbing a sleeping Morelull, apologizing as she asked directions to Laurence’s chamber. She had passed a number of them as she meandered, not wanting to wake any unless it became necessary. Fortunately, this Morelull was understanding once Rose explained her circumstance, detaching himself from the wall root and guiding her the right way. Laurence’s room shared the same doorway design as others, a curtain of vines drawn closed for privacy, and an indication the Servine was in. “Wait here,” the Morelull instructed Rose, who nodded compliantly. She watched him slip between vines, calling out for the prince; Rose heard him, sounding displeased at having been bothered. The Morelull apologized and got straight to the point, telling him he had a Leafeon friend outside. Laurence’s tune quickly changed at this so Rose thought it safe to poke her head in. “Hi,” she smiled, finding Laurence lounging on his bed. Yet another amenity of homelife Rose wasn’t prepared for, a double mattress bed and frame. All too easy to imagine these Pokémon living like ferals, but somehow, much like Lilah and her tribe, they occupied a niche between wild and civilization; while not factory-made, Laurence’s bed (as good as) followed the same standard measurements, looking comically big for a Servine. Of course, length would matter more on his day of final metamorphosis. Not seeing anybody else with her, Laurence returned the smile, seeming genuinely pleased. As he invited her in, the Morelull made himself scarce and Laurence couldn’t help but stare at the female’s rump, raised as she drew aside the vines for the Morelull using her leafy tail. Rose did not notice this after letting the vines close together, instead drawing her attention to Laurence’s chamber. In terms of size it put her own bedroom to shame, very spacious but lacking any source of natural lighting. No electricity meant no TV, radio, Wi-Fi, and central heating, all things Rose depended on. Colour was also absent, not a lick of paint or strip of wallpaper anywhere; clearly sleeping chambers were good for just that, sleeping. Still the room wasn’t entirely without character, Laurence having his own two-person sofa, circular rugs, bookshelves holding a range of books previously belonging to his older brother, and a chest within which Rose could only guess the contents. Although curious as to why he vanished earlier, Rose did not bring it up in conversation, instead opening up with her thoughts on his room, playfully jealous of how much space he had. Despite only knowing each other for a brief period, Rose felt abnormally comfortable talking with Laurence, not self-conscious with her words, able to maintain strong eye contact, and feeding off a sense that this boy enjoyed her company. When Rose quizzed him over Home Tree he gave honest answers regarding age — five hundred years, give or take — and how much of a boon she was. Laurence knew better than to take this old oak for granted, playing his part to keep her healthy as can be. Five centuries of life . . . and Rose had been blown away by Lilah’s age! This oak was over twice as old as the Ninetales, a living legend at the very heart of this community. But talk soon fell on the subject of the play, Laurence suggesting that they practice in here, where they wouldn’t be interrupted. Predictably, Rose was all for it, going against the voice in her head telling her to rehearse in public; after all, it was highly unlikely a large crowd would be interested in watching, so a small number of onlookers would help prepare Rose at minimal anxiety. Instead, she went for the easiest option, one which strayed the least distance from her comfort zone. Laurence recited the tale’s beginning: two Snivy born in the same year to different Serperior families. (This would be their introduction onstage, Rose and Laurence quickly forming a friendship whilst under the protection of their parents.) Laurence glossed over the “boring” bits of early childhood, reaching the point when everything changed following a spell of fierce thunderstorms, setting their forest home ablaze. By this time both Snivy had evolved, and just as well: Those that weren’t outright consumed by flame were driven from the smouldering ashes left in the storms’ wake — but in a matter of weeks all perished, save for two friends. A winter of drought had dried out the landscape of eastern Tavolous, local forests and grassland extremely susceptible to fire when the thunderstorms rolled in from the ocean. It was a disaster none had been prepared for, a death toll claiming generations of Serperior lineage; other Pokémon and animal species suffered likewise. With only each other to depend on, the two Servine pushed south, getting clear of the storms’ wind path. Keeping on the move was vital for survival. Unknown wilderness tested their mettle; just getting enough food was challenging by itself, never mind adding the dangers of hungry predators. All this being said, Rose voiced how much easier it would’ve been living in some sort of settlement. Laurence agreed with her viewpoint, knowing that towns and cities had long since been established back then. But whatever their reasoning, the Servines avoided this decision — quite possibly they were afraid they would not fit in well. Living out their teenage years, supposedly, taught them the true value of family, setting them on their course to unite Grass Pokémon and build up a home sheltered against all. Rose would think it a novel idea were she not sitting here, basking in the fruits of hard labour. Names seemed to be an oversight on Laurence’s part, Rose having to ask that about his kin. Laurence explained that it wouldn’t be necessary to go by their names whilst performing as the audience would know what to expect; still, Modesta was who Rose was playing, and Broderick was Laurence’s responsibility. He approved when Rose voiced she liked the name Modesta. To find out how closely she’d been paying attention, he asked how much she remembered from Juliana’s history lesson. Short and sweet though it was, Rose recalled Modesta and Broderick’s travels across the region, recruiting with difficulty Grass Pokémon followers. Their success in making a home here was how Blossom Valley came to be, happiness determined by the many miles of surrounding flowers. Impressed at her mindfulness, he highlighted details relevant to the play, all the while trying not to inundate her. Because they would be taking it in turns telling the story, Laurence divided the act into three separate stages: last few weeks of winter drought and killer storms leading to post-storm life, next the gamble of travelling the region and discovery of this place, ending with the sad departure of Modesta. Illness claimed the Serperior’s life after her many deeds and commitment, thus the title of queen fell to her eldest daughter. The loss of his partner weighed heavily on Broderick’s heart, never truly getting over it but remaining a steadfast king and loving father to his five children for the rest of his years. Broderick would live to a ripe old age, reuniting with his beloved and fully passing the mantle to his firstborn. Modesta’s legacy moved Rose, though the ending was slightly upsetting. “And all this really happened?” she asked, but not because of doubt. “That’s how it’s always been told, long before our time,” said the young Servine with etiquette. “So their blood’s still flowing, right now in you.” Laurence scoffed without warning. “Stereotyped again. Should’ve known it was coming.” “Huh?” “Prince Laurence — descendant, heir to the throne. I’m only special because of my bloodline. Bet ya if I was anyone else’s son . . .” “I wasn’t trying to stereotype you,” Rose told him honestly, her kindly face unchanging and succeeding in gaining more of Laurence’s confidence. “I just think it’s incredible. Makes me even more nervous about playing my part right.” She’s nothing like Mother. Laurence smiled. “We’ll get you there. You’re already a good listener; really all it is is just retelling with a touch of drama. This might actually be fun. Don’t let on to my mum,” he added upon realizing what he said. Rose brought a paw to her mouth and mimed zipping it shut. The pair lost track of time as they rehearsed, Rose very much taking to her role like a Ducklett to water. Laurence deserved credit for his method of teaching, not hurrying his partner into her scenes but instead demonstrating when she would come in. Getting to know her cues was certainly important, so Laurence came up with the idea of tapping the floor twice with his tail nearing the end of his dialogue, the aim to give Rose that extra sense of awareness. Getting the ball rolling was easy enough, Laurence playing out both his scenes and hers for act one. He described it as “planting a seed” in her mind, and that they would go back and nurture it. Progress started out unsteady, Rose immediately forgetful the first time Laurence passed her control. Laughing it off together, he encouraged by leading her into the scene, letting her memory jog so she could take it from there. Reminding her there was no pressure here helped greatly, the female gradually growing in confidence. Practice wasn’t repetitive, Rose even requesting multiple attempts at scenes in which she felt strong; delight got the better of her more than once, proud to state certain parts she was really getting the hang of; Laurence stoked these fires of positivity, genuinely happy for her. But there was more to it than just that. His heart . . . he was putting it in, making a real effort — and . . . fluttering in his tummy? “Hey,” he broke character to say, in need of a distraction, “er . . . my stomach’s acting up.” “Oh,” said Rose, drawing nearer the male and incidentally intensifying his beating heart. “Talk about sudden. If you need to —” she angled her head back toward the vines, putting the next word subtly, “go.” Laurence knew what she meant but wouldn’t let her think it, especially as it wasn’t true. “No it’s not that. I mean I’m . . . hungry. Like, painful sort of hungry,” he covered up his description of his stomach acting up, tapping his abdomen for emphasis. “You could’ve said something,” said Rose plainly. “Well . . . we were making progress. Maybe I didn’t wanna ruin it. Besides, we’ve earned a break. Oh, we can get out through here,” he told her, for she made to leave via the way she came in. Laurence indicated one particular section of wall overgrown with roots, looking unremarkable to Rose’s eye. Growing in from the ceiling, these roots crossed over each other in a meshwork way and were cut off at floor level. Rose watched as Laurence approached it, the Servine throwing her a smirk which promised a surprise. And what a surprise. With touch alone, the roots creaked to life, parting open to reveal a hidden flight of stairs, much like those she climbed before. “Ta-da!” “No way,” an enraptured Rose said, moving closer to what she just witnessed. “Yes way,” said Laurence proudly, letting her pause for a quick look. “. . . You just don’t see this stuff anymore, in towns or cities. Everything’s powered by electricity and technology, which is great and all. . . .” “I’m sensing a ‘but.’” Rose heaved a sigh. “It’s suffocating sometimes.” She moved up to touch the vines. “I’m used to a lot of it now, but if our home wasn’t in a forest . . .” Ever so slightly, the vines reacted to her touch, almost as if a level of trust had been built between Leafeon and oak. Laurence knew exactly where she was going with this. It simply went to show that regardless of background Grass Pokémon were kindred spirits, all with ties to Mother Nature. “You’re lucky you get best of both worlds. Careful,” he then warned, signalling her to climb the stairs ahead of him, “it’ll be dark most of the way.” Rose proceeded first, only taking a few steps before glancing back; she saw Laurence brush his touch a second time to close the vines behind him, visibility almost down to nothing. Relying on touch, she took it slow and steady. “So you’ve been to different places?” There was a definite fondness in Laurence’s voice when he answered. “Before my brother got properly loved up, he liked taking me out on daytrips to this town. There’s this museum we’d visit with an astronomy exhibit, has lights projecting stars and space and huge model planets. It can be a bit hectic if there’s a crowd, but the science behind it — mind blowing. To think how small and insignificant we are versus the limitless reaches of the universe!” Rose would admit her knowledge of deep space was about as vast as her ability to see right now. “Home is where the heart is,” she summed up her viewpoint. “Being king is a responsibility, not a sentence. Surely you’ll still have freedom, can go off to places. Juliana manages, and she’s Keeper of a talisman.” Behind her, she heard Laurence misplace a step, causing a dull thump which sounded painful. “What?” Rose left the explaining until they reached the light of surface. Thankfully where they emerged was out of earshot of Home Tree and all the bustle, allowing her to spill the beans on current events. Getting a read on Laurence’s thoughts was impossible with him staying silently poker faced but Rose kept to the truth, about Black Nex and their quest for each and every talisman including the fabled shield needed to unite the elements. Ultimately, it was her reason for being here. Much to Rose’s unease, Laurence seemed fine in contemplating this information as she continued to talk, interjecting zero emotion unlike his mother. After awhile Rose could bear it no longer, asking him straight if he was angry. “Why?” was his only question, and Rose heard the hurt in his voice. “Why not say something sooner?” “I dunno,” said Rose meekly, her leafy ears drooping slightly. “I really should’ve done — but when we first met, I didn’t know this was the right place, honest. We spent all yesterday riding through the underground, then we were on foot for hours until it got dark and we had to pitch camp. Last thing I remember is falling asleep in my tent with Rozlynn, then I woke up here. I got caught up in all of it, so I’m sorry.” “Y’know I figured it wasn’t a coincidence, you arriving. This is the middle of nowhere, not the best place to be camping out. Well I guess it’s all gone to plan.” “How d’you mean?” “You don’t have to pretend. Just get what you came for and go fight whatever it is you’re fighting.” “But that’s the thing,” Rose placated, “I’m not pretending, and I don’t want to! This festival is really important. I’m not walking away.” “So what, this ‘Black Nex’ not as big and bad after all?” He couldn’t bring himself to be contentious, well and truly fed up being tangled in this convoluted web. “I’m not being funny here, but if you need every last talisman to face this guy, then hanging around is plain stupid. You’ve probably jeopardized this whole place now! Why hasn’t Mother sent you packing yet?” Rose hesitated, unsure of how to break it to him. In the end she didn’t need to, Laurence reading the answer in her eyes. “She wants this to go ahead, doesn’t she?” The Leafeon nodded. “Unbelievable.” Laurence’s irritation was practically palpable. “In her defence,” Rose piped up, “she was pretty mad, so she is taking this seriously.” “Oh please,” Laurence sneered, “she’s protecting her own interests, with no regard for the ramifications.” “I don’t agree. She’s thinking of you and the sanctuary’s future. It’s why she won’t give us the talisman right away.” “Until after the play?” “Laurence, I’m sorry. I hate that I’ve dragged you into my mess. . . .” “And you’re okay going along with this? Is wasting time really something you can afford?” Rose raised a smile, simple and pure. “Helping out is never wasted time. If I can make a difference, then every second is worth it. Really, all of it now comes down to you.” The Servine closed his eyes, inhaling and expelling a lungful of air through his pointed nose. Childish refusal wasn’t an option now; knowing his mother, she would stick to her guns and not surrender the Verdure Talisman. Jamie had once praised him for having his head “screwed on straight.” Time to show it. “Good thing you’re likeable,” he smiled. “We’ll have a bite to eat and get back to rehearsing. I can show you the stage as well, if you’re interested.” Rose’s nerves flared at this, her worry of the unknown swooping in like a surprise left hook. But she wouldn’t let it discourage her, especially considering what must be going through Laurence’s mind. She had been nothing but a nuisance, bombarding him with her troubles both past and present. Yet despite all this he still found her . . . likeable. “Y-yeah, that’s fine,” she said. Food came courtesy of the fruit-and-vegetable stall where Laurence helped himself to regular Oran berries; Rose needed a little coaxing before she ate any. As it was easier for them to eat there and then, they did so, propping themselves up against the side of the stall. Activity remained high all around, but luckily the pair were inconspicuous enough in the stall’s shadow. While not, perhaps, the best place to be asking, Laurence had questions regarding Rose’s quest. The very least she owed him was total honesty, going over the talisman elements her family had acquired, the adversities they’d faced along the way, Black Nex’s powers and his scary goons; the Houndoom, Hunter, gave Laurence very bad vibes. How easy it would be to write this girl off as a nutcase spouting utter crap — only, there was certitude behind every word. Heck, if his mother approved their request for Verdure, how could this not be real! He began to wish they’d never started down this road of conversation, growing wary of his home’s protection. Was it enough — would this Hunter psycho somehow track them down and infiltrate the sanctuary? If there was one immediate danger to fear, it would be Fire types. Few here were powerful enough to challenge a mercenary of such calibre, and a single attack had the potential for ravaging destruction. He would have to trust his mother’s judgment — no way she’d endanger the lives of any under her rule. Rose helped put his mind at rest somewhat, expressing how she had not encountered the Houndoom recently, and that there wasn’t any indication they’d been followed during their trip. Nothing felt “off” to her, which was to be taken as a good sign. After one too many greetings from those happening to spot the teens, Laurence suggested moving to the stage. It was a short walk behind Home Tree, down a winding path forged through the trees. Traffic thinned nicely along the way, Rose pausing to look back at the remarkable oak before it went out of view. Of all the destinations she’d been to since leaving her house in Lavender Forest, nothing captivated her quite like this haven. It was a whole other world here, safe from prying eyes and shrouded in secrecy. Needless to say not every Grass Pokémon could be a permanent resident, although Laurence took pride in telling Rose he could bend the rules for her; playing about, she approved of this special treatment. Soon they came to another clearing, smaller than Home Tree’s, but boasting an elevated stage constructed of wood. Large and sturdy, its design was simplistic, accessible via steps found either side at the front. Though it wasn’t sheltered, backdrops were made possible from crank-operated winches, a solid wall of wood used as support. Fewer Pokémon were found here, certainly less than fifty, all of them working towards festival preparations. Rose noticed that, dug out in rows in front of the stage, there were craters of increasing size the farther back she looked; these were being swept clean of dead foliage, tree bark, and rogue plant stems. As it turned out, these craters served as seats for the audience, a simple somewhere to rest, with bigger, deeper depressions made for larger individuals. Something more on the artistic side went to a group of kids colouring a large amount of rolled cloth, starting out blank. The explanation behind this one was the making of the backdrops which would feature in the play; a most fantastic way of getting those younger involved. Neither the paint nor the cloth was artificial, the former produced from blending berry juices with a certain Pokémon’s secretion allowing for colour choice, and the latter weaved together using Cottonee cotton and Leavanny silk. When invited to climb the stage Rose stalled, unable to hide how she really felt. It was one thing to rehearse in private, another to in public. She wouldn’t have blamed Laurence for getting ticked off with her, seeing how this could come across as hypocritical after just allaying his fears over the sanctuary being at risk. Displaying maturity beyond his years, Laurence merely smiled and offered light encouragement; extending a vine to wrap around her foreleg as he walked her over to the stage. Once there he released her and proceeded up the steps alone. Just as Rose suspected, their actions had drawn in attention, casting her gaze among the working Grass types and finding plenty now observing Laurence. Harmless though such curiosity was, Rose lacked inner faith. She really began to feel trapped: she did not want her mistakes to be witnessed, to have word of mouth spread how crap Modesta would be this year, all because of her acting — but she forfeited any say in the matter for the sake of the talisman. To tempt the Leafeon up, Laurence suggested “switching off” and joining him like a guest. The plan was to see if she could do it under stressless circumstance, a simple invitation to come onstage and nothing else. Sure enough she achieved this, climbing up and looking out over the area. This by itself didn’t faze Rose so Laurence took the opportunity to credit her on progress thus far, his aim to boost her confidence. At once it became clear to her what he was doing, but she allowed it, listening as he insisted nobody else mattered but him and her. He wanted her to block out everything past the four corners of this stage, to focus as hard as possible on him. Goofs were totally natural and nothing to be ruffled by. If there was one thing he could promise her it was that she’d won the admiration of every resident, already having done them a great service by winning over a grouchy prince and keeping tradition alive. Laurence wasn’t ashamed to admit he was having a nice time in her company. Left beaming, Rose was hit by a surge of motivation, telling him she would try her best. To make things easier Laurence picked a handful of scenes where Rose showed the most promise. A problem he noticed right off the bat regarded his own advice — more specifically, Rose being too literal with it. Keeping concentration on the Servine’s gaze hampered her performance badly, Rose now very wooden. It didn’t help that some of the working Pokémon paused for a break, coming together in small groups to watch the duo rehearse. And try as she might, Rose couldn’t ignore the fact. She was on the verge of quitting when Laurence absolutely shone, his actions witnessed by some familiar faces arriving unseen. Laurence wouldn’t let her beat herself up, his noble voice a lulling kind of magic. Asking her to only jump in when ready, he played out the same scenes by himself, sometimes unhappy with certain lines and repeating them. As Rose watched, she learned that he did not limit himself to the stage, outwardly expressing his performance to their viewers all the while evading the pull of gazes. It was as though he was addressing everybody and nobody at the same time, like a professional actor dedicated to his role. Rose kept on watching, drawing encouragement. And then, she jumped in, tentative to begin with but getting better at accepting mistakes rather than feeling pressurized. Small steps eventually resulted in a flow, Rose performing more like before in Laurence’s chamber. Her improvement was undeniable, portraying her character with energy and determination. The pair got so immersed they failed to notice the decreasing number of onlookers, those getting back to work and passing positive judgment; some comments touched on Laurence’s teaching ability; others expressed their delight in having a play this year after much uncertainty; a female Bayleef saw Rose and Laurence making a cute couple, telling her friend this. However, two faces continued to watch: Simon and Juliana. Although they’d gotten off on the wrong foot, some time together helped to patch things over, mammal and serpent on polite terms. All this while they had been observing the teenagers, which gave Juliana the chance to further her main point to Simon. The bottom line involved her son stepping up, having him handle responsibility while also shedding his more introverted traits. The mother Serperior was both happy and proud with what she was seeing, her boy really taking to his role and clearly enjoying it. And the icing on the cake? Well, to her it seemed that Rose had risen to the challenge, some big strides already made. Laurence could only be doing brilliantly, teaching with patience and integrity, unknowingly proving his worth as a strong and compassionate leader. Watching him now, Rose having a fun time with him, Juliana harboured zero doubts that he had it in him; he just needed a nudge. The Serperior loved when things went her way. Upon receiving word of Wesley and Nigel’s aberrant plan to fetch a suitable partner for Laurence, Juliana could’ve throttled both Shiinotic. It all happened without her say-so . . . but, admittedly, they couldn’t have found better. It was almost too good to be true, Rose being a good-mannered, impressionable girl, as well as attractive. It was obvious Laurence had taken a liking to her, never warming to anyone so fast; still, Juliana trusted her boy to behave sensibly. While the signs looked positive, Juliana remained adamant concerning the Verdure Talisman, unwilling to part with it before the play’s end. Simon didn’t let this news irritate him, not wanting a repeat of earlier. However much he hated it, Juliana held all the cards. While she wasn’t unsympathetic to their plight, she certainly wasn’t making it easy. How they could’ve done with Kadence’s support right about now, have her hit home the urgency of the situation. The Togekiss, too, was a Keeper, yet she never made the family jump through hoops! This got the Jolteon thinking action more . . . underhanded was necessary. Maybe tonight, once all were asleep, Coulter could make use of his Ghost abilities to steal the talisman. Juliana most likely kept it in her private chambers. These were dangerous thoughts, especially after her display of strength, but she wasn’t grasping the threat looming over them all. Could he really do this to Juliana and Laurence? Of course, stealing called for a fast escape. As things stood, the snakes’ relationship rested in Rose’s paws; a sudden departure would surely spell disaster, never mind piling thievery on top. He could ruin the entire festival, destroy any hope for mother and son, and leave the fate of this place to chance. Rose and Rozlynn would never approve in a million years, but Coulter might see it less despicably. The Decidueye was of army background. They were fighting a war — refusing to play dirty all but guaranteed defeat. “In a brown study?” asked Juliana, snapping the Jolteon out of it. “Huh, what?” “You were miles away,” she clarified. “Is it something you wish to share?” “Oh, yeah. Um.” He smiled. “Nah. It’s nothing important.” “If you’re sure. And I’ve been meaning to . . . apologize.” The Serperior came over shamefaced. “I should never have lost my temper the way I did.” Simon pulled off his smug face. “Oh I could’ve broken free at any point — just didn’t wanna show you up,” he lied. But Juliana needed to express her gratitude. “Thank you. For staying. I’ve put you in an unfavourable position, I realize.” Smiling proudly, she lifted her gaze to Laurence and Rose. “This means a great deal to me. Watching him up there, handling responsibility with mirthful heart. That isn’t an act, rather the man he will come to be. Kings and queens don’t rule from the shadows; we rise with the sun, an all-seeing eye until our final sunset. And the more he embraces it . . .” “Yeah,” Simon interrupted, “I’ve just remembered something I was gonna ask Coulter — and I’ll probably forget again if I don’t find him now.” “Mother? A word, please,” came a summons from Laurence, which Simon took advantage of to add, “I think you’re wanted.” But leaving with haste aroused suspicion in Juliana, the Jolteon not even sparing his sister a minute of his time. Before Simon was out of sight, she called over a Skiploom by name and instructed her to trail after the Electric-type, specifically wanting her to float among the leaves of trees where she wouldn’t be detected. . . . “Oh you heard me, then? Eventually,” said Laurence when Juliana finally slithered over, less than pleased with being ignored. “Is everything all right with my brother?” Rose asked, wondering if his sudden departure was down to him and Juliana not making amends. “Worry not,” smiled Juliana, sounding convincing, “call of nature. But I must say,” she got in before Rose could think more on it, looking eagerly from Leafeon to Servine, “I see a match made in heaven looking at you two.” Instinctively, Rose and Laurence looked sideways at each other, Rose giving in to her blushes more willingly than him; Juliana saw her son wrestling for control in a classic case of stubbornness. “When you’re quite done playing Cupid,” he said with a helping of frisson, trying to focus as he addressed his mother, “I know about the talisman. Black Nex, too. Tell me exactly what’s going on . . .” “. . . steal the talisman, from right under Juliana’s nose?” “Can you do it?” said Simon without hesitation. Having found Coulter mingling around Home Tree, Simon convinced the Decidueye to hear out an idea someplace quieter. Coulter had his misgivings the moment Simon wanted to push out beyond the outskirts of the old oak, now finding himself with the Jolteon amid a witness of trees; the switch to silence was perturbing. The idea in question wasn’t a bright one, Simon plotting to steal the Verdure Talisman. Tonight provided the best opportunity, so Simon claimed. Getting Juliana to leave her chambers would be the hard part, but Simon had that covered: He would start a controlled fire out roughly this way, because anything less significant would not create a big enough distraction; Juliana couldn’t ignore a potential danger to her home and people. By lighting a fire, Simon could then bolt to Juliana, make her aware, and bring her out to it before it got out of hand; from there, they could snuff it out together. When asked what Coulter was expected to do while this “lunacy” was happening, Simon told him he would be cloaked in the shadows just outside Juliana’s chambers, waiting to move in. Simon couldn’t promise him search time past fifteen minutes, so the owl would have to be swift and thorough, all whilst leaving no traces of his presence. “If this were a covert op,” replied the Ghost- and Grass-type, “I could, yes. However,” he continued, speaking over Simon, “this isn’t an operation, it’s foolishness.” “No, I’ve told you,” argued the Electric-type, “I’ll just make out I was training and some stray sparks caught a bush. My house is in a forest and I’ve caused fires doing just that! I won’t let anything bad happen, trust me on this.” “And when Rose and Rozlynn find out, what then? Neither will want —” Simon gave a growl of irritation. “We tell them after we board the underground. I’ll say . . .” He trailed off for a moment, thinking up an excuse. “You got an emergency radio call from the Defiance — so we all have to rush back. Once we’re on a train, what can they do?” Coulter shook his head dismissively. “Too risky,” he said. “I’m telling you now, you can’t pull the wool over Juliana’s eyes. A few hours ago you shunned her proposal, so what, realistically, is she going to think? An honest accident. In the dead of night. Certainly smells fishy to me. Just the very idea of starting a fire is reckless and entirely irresponsible, regardless of duration. This place is a refuge, a home, for many. Get it out of your head and accept we can’t cheat this. I’m heading back. . . .” “Yeah,” said Simon, his voice shaking as he watched the Decidueye go, “off to tell Rose and Roz, right? Drop me in it to be on the safe side.” Coulter kept his cool in the hope of talking some sense into him. Stopping and twisting his head a freakish one hundred and eighty degrees around, he said, “You haven’t considered their feelings for a second. From what I’ve gathered, those are two highly intelligent women; choosing to help Juliana wasn’t done on a whim. Rose is trying to make a real difference, and Rozlynn has Kadence’s faith to make this a success. They will know something’s awry. The amount of damage this could do . . .” “So instead we sit by and go along with the festivities,” said Simon sarcastically, grinning derisively. “Sure, coz that won’t do any damage at all! These talismans are a pain in the ass to get — why aren’t you on my side?” “I am,” insisted Coulter, “and I understand it’s a provoking situation. What Rose and Rozlynn don’t know won’t hurt them, if we both forget ever having this conversation.” Simon looked highly dubious. “You’re seriously jus’ gonna drop it?” “For the sake of doing more harm than good,” confirmed Coulter. “Look, if you need a coping mechanism, get involved with the festival. We’re doing a good thing, so please don’t give me a reason to keep tabs on you.” Ending on, “Truth will out,” he left the Jolteon alone. Within moments Coulter had slipped from view. Unfortunately, his refusal to help did not dampen Simon’s resolve. “Complete prat,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “I’ll cope, all right. . . .” It wasn’t until the Jolteon moved off that a silent witness revealed herself from amid the foliage of a close by tree. It had been the Skiploom Juliana sent to spy, her weightless body and tiny form rendering her practically invisible. If the Jolteon hadn’t incriminated himself before, he certainly had now, the Skiploom positive that he still intended on stealing. By now she was trembling with agitation, overhearing all of it between the outsiders and feeling a thrill like nothing else. She knew what she had to do: Queen Juliana would soon find out.Afternoon gave way to evening, Simon staying on his best behaviour all throughout. He had honestly expected Coulter to dob him in for their earlier conversation, but nope! His Leafeon sister was highly moral; no doubt if she knew the truth she’d be giving him the biggest earful until his ears bled. A little part of him dreaded to think what Rozlynn would do, but clearly he’d gotten away with it. When he hadn’t been around others he had been pondering his original plan. Maybe . . . it was too dangerous to spark up a fire. Speed-wise, he knew he could race it and win, but he’d be a fool to assume no one else would notice it; if there were injuries, the blame came back to him. He did not want to hurt people. And what if he got turned around? He was a stranger in this forest, and the darkness of night carried extra risk with him not being an Umbreon. That put the final nail in the coffin, but he wasn’t about to quit. There had to be someway of getting his paws on the talisman. It boggled his mind how dumb they were all being over this, especially Rose. Like, had she forgotten Mythus first came to them, personally starting them off on this quest?! Well, he, Simon, sure hadn’t, and he wasn’t content to just waste days arsing around when all the while Black Nex was scheming! But thinking up an alternative for distracting Juliana was proving tough; Coulter’s support, however slight, would’ve gone a long way. It kept the Jolteon occupied at dinner, himself, Rose, Rozlynn, Coulter, Juliana, and Laurence all coming together in the palace’s throne room and munching on a selection of berries gathered in wicker baskets. Little did he know, though, Juliana was on to him, the Serperior made aware of today’s secret interaction. Nothing was stopping her from confronting him now, yet instead she played good hostess, asking the Electric Eevee how he was, to which he excused himself from dinner. Alone, he found himself roaming Home Tree’s tunnels, unsure of what to do. And then, he paused, hit by a brainwave. He was sure if anyone was coming to check on him they’d have done so already. That likely meant they’d stay and finish food, giving him a window of time to search. Ignoring the risk of getting caught, he acted on impulse and set to work locating Juliana’s chambers. Although he wasn’t familiar with the layout of this labyrinth, he had an ace up his sleeve: sense of smell. Just like with everyone, Juliana had her own distinct odour, so tracking where she slept wouldn’t be overly difficult. He moved with cautious haste, his way lit up by Morelull both sleeping and not; he didn’t disturb them in both cases. With each passing moment he grew increasingly anxious, fearing he’d bump into someone and be found out. Still he never questioned himself, committed to his goal. After what seemed like ages, he reached a new, dead end tunnel strong with Juliana’s scent. Three doorways lined the short passage, two lesser ones mirroring each other with the largest in between; all were covered over by vine curtains. These had to be Juliana’s private chambers . . . no use getting cold feet now. All remained quiet as he poked his head through the middle curtains. Sure enough, Juliana’s scent was discernible amid the musty air, and Simon half wished he could magic up a window for a fresh breeze. Stepping inside, he looked around. This room appeared to be her living space, its dimensions asymmetrical and containing luxuries of the non-electrical kind. Light once again was provided by mushroom caps shed by Morelull, the Pokémon themselves not here. Simon drew his attention to the widest wall, straight opposite the entrance. Time seemed to lose all meaning as he examined name inscriptions, finely carved into a wooden surface spanning, very nearly, the entirety of the wall. It wasn’t unlike a mural. A thick line had been carved out, beginning in the top-left corner of the surface, progressing gradually nearer the centre as it went. This main line wasn’t linear, indeed flowing like a bolt of lightning. At points, including one at the very start, holes were punched into this line, marking the name(s) of important individuals; Simon read “Broderick” and “Modesta.” Not far down the line came another hole with a name, followed up by four more names in close proximity. From then on, several thinner lines branched off either side, deviating to cover more surface area. Names were carved along these lines also, but always less prominent than those along the main line. It was becoming apparent the Jolteon was looking at a family tree, documenting the legacy of rulership here. As the main line progressed, more and more names branched off to spread all over. Simon wondered how historically accurate this record was, for not every family line kept flow with the origin line; some outright ended with a final name, while others branched off even further. Regardless, if there was one thing Simon was sure of it was a connection of blood, however small. His eyes trailed the origin line, coming up on the centre and reading a familiar name: “Juliana I.” Five further generations followed, all females and sharing the same name up to “Juliana VI.” Recently added were two males: “Jamie” and “Laurence,” although the former had his own line which broke away, a beginning for his own family. “Easily distracted, I see,” came a firm, feminine voice from behind Simon, sending chills up his spine. The Jolteon spun around to face Juliana, his expression threatening to break as he stared into the snake’s glare.
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