It was always galling to ask for help.
To admit that I, on my own, wasn't enough.
It’s not something I liked doing, when I could help it. And that was especially true when I had to ask something of my parents.
Part of it was guilt. Or maybe shame. After the tantrum I’d thrown at the end of the school year, I’d promised myself that I would grow-up, that I’d handle my own problems, and that I wouldn’t cause them any more misery.
And surely, dad getting more busy had nothing to do with the fact that I had synergy sickness, or my reaction to learning that unfortunate truth. It was just the big project he’d been working on. The one that he’d released to the world one week ago. And of course he’d have more work to do after said big project was released. Work that meant he spent most nights sleeping at the office, instead of at home. That was only natural.
Bugs to squash, legal issues to untangle, and all sorts of other businessy things to focus on.
And mom too. The Pokémon Centers and hospitals were completely swamped of late. I’d seen it myself just hours ago, when getting my knights treated, after all. I even still ran into her sometimes in the morning when I woke up early enough.
Nevermind that I’d made her use up years worth of PTO back in December. Nevermind that I didn’t want to follow in her footsteps and become a nurse.
Nevermind that I wasn’t her real daughter.
I knew none of that mattered, and that she still loved me. I had no doubts.
And I definitely wasn’t afraid that if I asked for a favor, she’d turn me down.
So surely I wasn’t sweating as I sat on the couch, barely perceiving the sights and sounds of nighttime television.
Maushold and I had compromised on a documentary (they didn’t want to watch battle replays and I didn’t want to watch late-night dramas), but the slow, droning voice of the narrator playing over footage taken from the Nacal Desert hadn’t been enough to hold my interest. It was sort of novel to use the Pokédex Drake had gotten professor Birch to send me to look up information on the species shown in the program, but both fonts of info. were more interested in ecological niches and reproductive habits than in battle strategies and relative strengths.
It’s not that the former was boring, per se, but I knew I would have found the latter far more engaging.
At least my partners had been enthralled, eagerly chattering amongst each other as a crimson Sizzlipede desperately dove beneath a sand dune just in time to avoid the sweeping dive of a massive Braviary (action faithfully recreated by hired Pokémon actors, according to the program’s narrator).
The front door creaking open threw both the documentary itself and the trivia I’d learned from it out of my mind instantly, my attention now fully on the upcoming conversation.
I wiped my hands off on the cushion beneath me, and then stood up, making my way through the dimly-lit living room to the foyer.
“Mom, is that you?” I called out, keeping my voice down so that I wouldn’t be disturbing the neighbors at half-past midnight.
“Fe?” I heard my mother call back as I turned the corner, to find her divesting herself of a puffy, pink coat. “It’s late, what are you still doing up?”
I tried to speak, and found my throat refusing to open for a moment. I swallowed reflexively, and resisted the urge to wring my pajamas with my hands. “I, um, I needed to ask you something,” I finally got out.
Mom seemed a bit nonplussed, but she barely hesitated before replying, “Of course sweetie, what’s up?”
“It’s– it’s about my knights. It’s sort of complicated, but I need some help with them,” I told her, struggling to explain. I started- and stopped- a few times, trying to find the words to express what was going on.
“Can you give me a few minutes to put things down and get situated sweetie? And then we can talk at the table,” Mom said after a few seconds, giving me a much needed reprieve to sort out my thoughts.
When mom came back to the kitchen table, her pink hair was down and her clothes had been traded for a set of PJs. One of grandma’s shawls was wrapped around her shoulders, the well-knit garment pulled tight against the cold winter air. She sat down, and her blue eyes focused in on my brown, as a gentle smile danced across her features. “Okay sweetie, how can I help?”
For a moment, the multicolored, patterned shawl was replaced by a white nurse’s uniform, the messy, undone hair tied up in twin loops. The image of my mother was superseded by the image of a Joy, of one of a dozen dubiously-related figures who I might run into out in the city streets.
How many times had I walked up to a pink-haired woman, calling out for my mother, only to be confronted by an eerily familiar stranger? Certainly more than once.
More than half-a-dozen times, if memory served.
“Oh does your mom have pink hair?” “Oh you must be little Fione.” “Oh Fe darling, it’s good to see you. Say, when will you dye your hair pink? It’d be a great color for you.”
Each one some strange echo of my mother. Of the woman who had raised me, who had treated me like I was her daughter. Nevermind that my hair was brown, not pink.
Nevermind that all Joys treated all children like they were their own.
My mom was special, because she was mine.
And I was special to her, just the same.
Surely.
I blinked, and rubbed my eyes while suppressing a yawn, and suddenly I was sitting across from my mom again, the apparition in white banished, for the moment.
“Like I said, it’s about my knights,” I started again after a deep breath. “Do you know what mitosis is?”
Mom nodded. “Of course, sweetie. It’s how cells reproduce, and Falinks too,” her brow furrowed as the implications of my question caught up with her. “Are you saying that your partners are showing signs of mitosis already?”
I nodded grimly. “Tristan’s been getting bigger since last week, and his horn and carapace are extending. If I don’t do anything, in a week or less, we’ll have two Falinks on our hands, who don’t want anything to do with each other.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Mom’s eyes were sad, azure pools of compassion. “I’m sorry to hear that, do you need help rehoming them?”
“NO!” I shouted, surprising both of us with my volume. I found myself half out of my chair, and had to Mareepishly lower myself back into it. “No,” I said again, quieter this time. “I want to get them to stay together, even after Tristan fully turns from troop to brass.”
Mom looked slightly taken aback, maybe by my volume, or maybe by the admission of my rather lofty goals. “From what I’ve heard, that’s– rather tricky to do, sweetie,” she finally settled on, her eyes breaking contact with mine. “I’m not saying it’s impossible, or that you can’t do it of course!” She hedged quickly, but I could see the doubt plain in her features, mingled with something else I didn’t recognize.
“I know it’s hard, but I’ve got a plan,” I insisted, trying to keep my tone firm. “It’s actually why I need your help. Well, your’s and Chansey’s. I think together, you can show my knights why it’s better if they stay together.”
Mom blinked a couple of times, seemingly thrown. “Chansey and I? What exactly is your plan, Fe?”
“It’s like this. My knights really love chess. It’s their favorite thing outside of battling and training, and they get really competitive over it. And here’s the thing,” I leaned in, eager to explain my theory. “When they play together as a group, they play better than when they’re on their own.”
Mom didn’t look appropriately stunned by my awesome revelation. “That… makes sense?” she finally replied, sounding unsure. “More players means they have more chances to correct their own mistakes and pick up on their opponent’s.”
“Right, it makes sense! But it wouldn’t make sense to them, don’t you see?”
To her credit, it didn’t take mom all that long to understand, and she was hardly an expert on Falinks behavior. “It’s a way to show Lance that he needs to listen to the others,” she concluded.
“Exactly!” I nodded, “If we can convince Lance that his brothers have useful perspectives that he should listen to, he should be more willing to accommodate them once they become brass as well.”
Mom mulled over my words for a few moments, obviously weighing my plan in her mind. “It sounds like it could work,” she hedged, but before I could get too excited, she held up a hand. “But if you were going to ask Chansey and I to be their opponents, I don’t think this is going to go the way you want.”
That brought me up short. “Why not?” I asked, doing my best not to sound plaintive.
“Because they’d never actually win,” she replied, “so they’d never notice a difference when they worked together compared to when they didn’t.”
I felt a swell of indignation on behalf of my partners. “I think you’re underestimating them.” I accused mom. “They’ve gotten a lot better since they started playing.”
“I’m sure they have, sweetie,” I’d bet mom didn’t mean to sound condescending, but I felt my eye twitch all the same, “but they’ve only been playing for around half a year. Chansey and I have over two decades of experience with the game.”
That brought me up a bit short, but experience wasn’t an end-all-be-all. “Even still, it’d be six against one, or seven against two if you and I join in. That’s gotta count for something, right?”
A doubtful humming noise came from behind mom’s closed lips. “Tell you what sweetie, why don’t you grab the chess set and I’ll show you what I mean.”
I felt a frown crawl over my face, but I didn’t let it stop me from getting up and grabbing one of our chess sets. There was no way I could win a game here, but I’d at least have to show mom that she shouldn’t underestimate us.
-
As it turned out, mom wasn’t the one underestimating her opponent’s skill.
“You two have been going easy on me!” I accused mom from across the board, my poor Nidoking surrounded by a pair of Nidoran and a Nidorina.
Mom had the grace to look at least a little chagrined. “If we didn’t, you’d never want to play with us again,” she explained. “We know how competitive you are, and you never really liked chess all that much anyway. If we’d just beaten you completely over and over, we’d never be able to get a game out of you.”
I wanted to deny it, but the truth was, before my knights had gotten into it, I’d barely played chess with them anymore. Mostly because winning games against them was so hard. If I’d never even gotten one match off of them, there was no way I’d have found the will to keep playing. “Ok fine, so you guys have been sandbagging against me. Why can’t you do the same thing to my knights? Beat them until they… What?”
Mom was shaking her head. “That won’t work sweetie. They’re Pokémon. They’re far better at picking up on that sort of duplicity than us humans. It’d only take one or two games for them to figure out that we were going easy on them.”
I blew out a sight, and sat back heavily in my chair. “Well… darn.”
“I think your plan could be worth a try sweetie, but I don’t think Chansey and I are the opponents you need for it.”
“But then, who would be?” I asked, frustrated. “I don’t really know anyone else who plays chess.”
“You don’t know someone who plays chess, but you do have something,” Mom told me, a little smile on her face.
She must have read my confusion from my expression, because she went on to explain, “A few years ago, someone got the idea to teach chess to a Porgyon. Then, they used the output from that to create a program that you can install on a Pokégear using an expansion card.”
“So, my Pokégear could be used to play chess?” My mind went to the seldom-used device, currently charging on my nightstand (or maybe not, I couldn’t remember if I plugged it in).
“If you pick up one of those expansion cards, sure,” Mom confirmed. “One of my friends showed it to me a few months ago. She said that it comes with multiple difficulties, so you can customize your experience, and the program will even give you a retrospective on your game and offer insights into how you can improve. Cutting edge, right?”
“Yeah…” I replied, my mind already musing on the possibilities. “Yeah, I think that could work.”
“I’m glad, sweetie.” Mom said, that gentle smile on her face once more. “Just remember though, even if it could work, doesn’t mean it definitely will,” her face took on a forlorn expression. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t try, but also, be aware that failure is always a possibility.”
It didn’t take a big leap to figure out why she was saying that. I could practically see my own semi-catatonic body reflected in her eyes, laying in bed and unwilling to accept any measure of comfort or reassurance. Could I suffer through that sort of disappointment again? Put my entire life towards something, only to find out that what I’d hoped for was impossible. Was it even worth trying, when I could just let them split like most people would?
An image appeared in my mind’s eye. Six little spheres, balls of sunshine that had seen me through my darkest days. The thought of trying my hardest, and then losing half of them anyway was beyond terrifying to me. It was practically paralyzing. It made me want to go curl up in bed and do nothing until the world had ended.
But the thought of letting them go without a fight? That was unconscionable. Why train, struggle, improve, and get stronger, if I wasn’t willing to battle for the things that I truly wanted to protect?
“I just have to try my hardest,” I finally replied.” And if that’s not enough, then it is what it is. But they’re my partners, and I love them. All of them.” I swallowed thickly, trying to find the words. “And I know that it’s in their nature to split up, but I’ll never forgive myself if I felt like I had a chance to keep us together, and I squandered it,” I looked up at mom, searching her expression for reassurance. For proof that I wasn’t making a mistake. “That makes sense, right? You understand?”
Mom gazed back at me, something I couldn’t read on her face once more. “I do, sweetie. I promise you, I understand,” her hands reached, settling atop mine for a few moments.
Just until they stopped shaking.
-
We set out for the park bright and early Monday morning. I’d taken the day off from the ranger station, because getting this resolved definitely took precedence. Accompanying me were my knights and Mana, Maushold electing to stay behind when I offered, still working on their tailoring project with the coat I’d given them.
I could have enacted my plan back at the apartment, but I felt like that would have lacked the necessary gravitas I desired for this situation. Hence today’s destination.
By most metrics, it was just a normal city park. A patch of green grass to run around or picnic (or sled in the winter snow) on, a few small arenas for Ferrum battles, an attached sand pit and playground for the little kids, and a few public bathrooms.
There was one thing, however, which set it apart.
It sat near the play equipment, the austere squares at odds with the whimsical metal structures that made up its backdrop. a set of three large checkerboard patterns, painted on the concrete, along with a shed containing nearly one-hundred oversized plastic pieces.
It wasn’t the first time I’d brought my partners to this park to use these boards, but it was the first time I’d come here intending for us to utilize them for their intended purpose.
The overly-large chess boards had been perfect for teaching my partners to visualize battlefields in terms of number/letter grids, and had been instrumental when we first set about training towards that end, especially for Mana and Maushold.
We hadn’t been back in a while, ever since all my partners had gotten the hang of identifying exactly where I meant when I called something like G5, but the way there was still familiar in my mind.
The huge chess-set’s Nidoking came up to my waist, and was taller than my knights. The other pieces were similarly large, and the Nidorans were just a tad under a living specimen’s actual-size, but that didn’t stop us from setting up thirty-two of them in their standard starting positions, the light-weight plastic easy to move for me and even easier for my knights.
After we prepared the board, I brought my partners, sans Mana, into a huddle, to explain what was going on. The little Water-type had very generously agreed to give us some privacy for the upcoming conversation, as long as I agreed to release her again after.
“Alright guys, we’re doing something special today,” I felt something churning in my gut, nerves or anxiety or fear, but I swallowed it down and forced the conversation on. “It has to do with Tristan. Have you guys noticed yet that he’s starting to get bigger?”
My question elicited one wide-eyed gasp, two sharp looks of confusion, two side-eyed expressions of guilt, and one perplexed head tilt. Lance took the cake for the most dramatic reaction, spinning to look over his troops with unbelieving eyes.
I’d been wondering if he was wilfully ignoring the signs, but he really just hadn’t noticed.
Percy and Bers were the two confused Falinks, not fully comprehending the implications of what I’d said. They both followed Lance’s lead in short order, scanning Tristan up and down and finally registering the changes that had been taking place over the past ten days.
Galad and Kay were the guilty ones. I could tell right away that both had already picked up on the signs, but chosen to stay silent. Lance surely noticed their small betrayal too, but his attention was mainly on poor, not-so-little-anymore Tristan.
The rear of the formation was no longer the smallest of the troops, and indeed, he was now bigger than all of them, aside from Bers, and only a maybe ten centimeters short of catching up to Lance.
He was also the most confused, letting out questioning chirrups as his brothers inspected him, unable to see what they were seeing.
“I know this is a lot to take in, and I’m sorry for not saying anything up until now. I guess I’ve been avoiding this conversation,” I admitted, forcing myself to keep my knights’ gaze. “I always thought it was something far off, so I hadn’t given the possibility much thought, but pretty soon, if we don’t do anything, you guys are going to go through mitosis.”
My proclamation was met mostly with silence. Lance kept transferring his attention from me, to Kay, to Galad, and then back to me again. His expression was frustrated, obviously none-too-happy about being left in the dark. Bers and Percy shuffled awkwardly as they caught up with the conversation, while Galad and Kay refused to meet any of their brother’s eyes.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Tristan had rocked back, his stubby legs splayed out in front of him as his surprise literally knocked him on his little round bum.
I took a deep breath. The conversation wasn’t off to a great start, but there wasn’t any chance of aborting things now. I had to see this through to the end. “Now, I know that when a troop becomes a brass, there’s usually no choice but to split into two formations. You’ve all experienced that before, some of you probably more than once.”
My words brought six pairs of eyes to me. None of them interrupted, probably sensing that I wasn’t done, so I swallowed my nerves, and continued. “So you guys know that when that sort of split happens, you can’t keep both resulting Falinks together.”
That got sad nods and forlorn sighs from my knights, as they acknowledged the inconvenient truth.
“So, if things go normally, we’ll have to split up,” I felt something in my eye, and had to fight to not blink. “And I don’t want that, guys. I really don’t. The thought of losing half of you– it’s made it really hard to find the will to have this conversation.”
My admission got forlorn expressions out of my knights, the six Falinks expressing varying levels of emotion. Lance and Bers mostly seemed resigned, while Percy, Tristan, Kay, and Galad had expressions that ranged from sad to devastated.
I took a deep breath, and a moment to collect myself, before starting again. “However, I’ve been told that there is a way for all of us to stay together.”
My knights perked up at that, all of the troops looking up at me with surprised and hopeful eyes, while Lance carefully avoided my gaze. “It takes effort, and compromise, but according to an expert I know, multiple brass can be part of the same formation, if they’re willing to work together.”
That got surprised murmurs from most of my knights, but not from their leader, whose expression could best be read as ‘resigned.’ That didn’t bode well for the rest of the conversation, but I plowed ahead all of the same. “And that brings me to my request. Lance and Tristan, would you two be willing to work as a team to lead the formation, so that all six of you can stay together?”
Tristan didn’t hesitate, letting out an affirmative cry with as much gusto as he could manage.
Lance, to his credit, did, before sadly shaking his body in a definitive ‘no.’
That response elicited shock and outrage from Tristan, Galad, and Kay, while Percy and Bers seemed more understanding.
The refusal hurt. I’d been expecting it. Dreading it, running from it, for more than a week now. And it still felt like I’d taken a Megapunch to the gut. I could hear a ringing in my ears, and for a few seconds, it felt hard to breathe.
But I’d been planning for this. As painful as Lance’s response was, I’d been planning for it for eight long days, and the words I’d rehearsed yesterday came to me, ready for use.
“I know it seems like a bad idea, but give me the rest of today to convince you,” I directed that at Lance, phrasing my plea as a polite command. I was hoping he’d respond better to authority than to begging.
My question hung in the air for a few quiet moments, the troops looking between me and their leader with uncertain eyes.
For his part, I could see Lance visibly wavering, but he seemed like he needed just one more push.
“And if it doesn’t work out, then we’ll do what we have to,” I acknowledged, even though the words felt like poison on my tongue. “But when I asked you to be my partners, I told you that we’d never stop trying to get stronger.”
That reminder got an arch look from Lance, as well as the rest of my knights.
“This part of that process, I swear to you. If we can make this work, you’ll be stronger than ever.”
Lance held my gaze for a few seconds longer before looking away from me, turning his eyes on the snowy field to my left. He shuffled his little legs a little, huffed, and slumped, a bunch of tension draining from him all at once. “Falinks,” he agreed, finally, accompanying the proclamation with an affirming nod.
“Thank you,” I told him, offering an appreciative smile.
We’d made it through the first hurdle. Now, it was time for the plan.
-
The first game was Lance alone against the chess program I’d purchased yesterday.
The expansion card had cost a pretty penny at an electronics store in downtown Techne, but had hardly been bank-breaking compared to what I’d saved up so far this summer.
I’d spent most of the afternoon yesterday fiddling with my Pokégear, getting the program installed and figured out.
It looked extremely rough on the device’s greenish gray LCD screen, but chess could be played with literal stones and paper, so I wasn’t too concerned. True to mom’s words, the program offered several different difficulty settings, ranging from ‘amateur’ to ‘grandmaster,’ one of which you selected when you started a game.
I knew from my testing that ‘enthusiast’ was just around what I could handle, and would hopefully provide Lance with a challenge that he couldn’t overcome on his own.
As Lance planned and plotted his moves against his computerized opponent, I explained what was going on to Mana, giving her my analysis on what was going on.
“Lance is down several key pieces of material, going into the mid-game. The Porygon’s Nidoqueen took both of his Poké Balls, and he traded his Nidoqueen for a Nidorino and a Nidorina. That means that Lance has no pieces left that can threaten in a straight line, making securing a checkmate much harder.”
Lance wasn’t exactly cheery about my analysis, but he was mostly focused on trying to find a way to claw back into the game.
For their part, the rest of my knights had to remain silent, though I could tell from their body language that they wanted to interject several times, usually when Lance missed a trap or a hanging piece.
For this to work though, their silence was paramount, and I stared them down every time I thought they might start piping up.
“Remember, Nidorino can jump, which means that the Porygon’s is threatening Lance’s Nidoking right now, putting it in check. He can’t move it back a square, because that Nidorina is on the same diagonal, so he only has one legal move now.”
And sure enough, Lance took his last remaining option, pushing his Nidoking one square forwards, where a pair of Nidorans sat, ready to complete the encirclement. And just as surely, the program bid me to move one of them forwards, butting it up against one of Lance’s Nidorans and putting his Nidoking into checkmate.
“And that’s the game.” I said, as I stepped away from the oversized pieces.
Lance looked at the huge board, face twisted in frustration. “Best two out of three?” I offered him, wanting to make sure he understood that he was outmatched.
There was no chance he was going to refuse.
-
Best two out of three turned into best three out of five, resulting in a trio of decisive victories for the ‘enthusiast’ program. Lance could usually trade material well in the early game, but his plans tended to fall apart in the mid-game, as he blundered away a piece or two which would then snowball into a loss.
Each defeat visibly increased Lance’s frustration, and by the end of the third match, he was visibly fuming. I think he would have pushed for five out of nine, but we needed to move on. “Lance, enough! We agreed to a best of three, and the results were conclusive. No one likes a sore loser.”
My assertion was met by grumbles of discontent, and I knew Lance would be nursing a grudge for a while, though where he’d direct it was anyone’s guess. Right now though, I had to prioritize moving to the next stage of the plan.
“Look, we’re not done yet, you’ve still got a great chance to beat the chess program, but now you don’t have to do it on your own. We’re going to have another best of three, but this time, you have reinforcements.” I turned and nodded to my other knights, who were by now practically vibrating with the advice and guidance I’d been forcing them to hold back.
At my leave, the quintet surged forward, surrounding Lance and offering all sorts of suggestions and complaints.
The brass took a few moments to badger his formation back into line, before turning to face me with a look of renewed determination in his eyes. I couldn’t help but notice that he was still eyeing Tristan warily, but he didn’t immediately kick him out of the conclave either, which was all I needed for now.
“Alright knights, let’s see if you can use your combined power to win against the machine.”
-
Unbeknownst to my partners, I ever-so-slightly cheated as we began the next series of games.
I’d explain it to them afterwards, but I just couldn’t leave the program running at the same difficulty that it’d been facing Lance at.
No, I had to turn the challenge up. The ticker went from ‘enthusiast’ to ‘expert,’ because that was just how much better my knights played together than when apart.
Not that you’d believe it from how the first game started, unfortunately. Lance was still frustrated from the previous games. In Ferrum battle terms, they’d say he was ‘threatening.’ As in, ‘threatening desync,’ something that used to happen on occasions with older AR devices when one side of a partnership or the other got exceptionally frustrated.
With Lance being on threat, it took a few unforced blunders for my knights to knock him out of his own stubborn head. They managed to recover the midgame, with each of them playing to their strengths to try to bail out of the situation.
Lance’s aggression and mind for leadership meant he had the strongest strategic idea of what was happening in the game. Long-term plans and complicated strategies were his domain, but he often stumbled in their execution.
That was where Bers came in. His willingness to be belligerent, paired with his fastidious examination of Lance’s plans, let him contradict the brass when his brothers wouldn’t. That in turn gave the leader the opportunity and impetus to to iterate into better and better ideas.
On the tactical level, Galad and Kay dominated. The pair had an eye for detail that their brothers lacked, approaching the level shown by Maushold. They rarely missed a hanging piece, and were quick to point out any flaws in the program's formations, allowing for potential forks.
The final pieces of the puzzle were Tristan and Percy, for whom caution was second nature. With their guidance, rarely was a piece blundered, and trades were more conservative, less prone to risk or over-aggression.
Alone, each of them had their flaws that the chess program could exploit, but together, they were able to make real headway.
Unfortunately, the early game play put them in an unrecoverable position, and they lost to the Pokégear. But only barely.
Mana let out a cry of dismay as I tipped my knights’ Nidoking over, one that was echoed by Kay and Percy, but Tristan didn’t let the group stay down, chirruping out some encouragement. While the stunt earned him some side eye from Lance, it also inspired the group to continue, and I visibly saw the brass swallow his irritation in favor of maintaining the group's morale.
After that, my knights were eager to rush into game two, ready to redeem themselves, and they immediately put on a much better showing. It wasn’t perfect by any means. They still lost a Nidoran they shouldn’t have, missed a free Nidorino (which I only noticed later after checking the program’s notes on the game), and almost fumbled the mate at the end and allowed for a stalemate.
But win they did, even if it was scrappy, and that gave them the momentum they needed to go into game three strong and united.
The last round was even more decisive than the first. Everyone was firing on all cylinders, and by the end of the game, I could only really point out one real mistake (when my knights had blundered an early Nidoran), and for its part, the computer found fewer than I needed a hand to count.
My knights were jubilant after their victory, with Mana cheering along in support.
And that meant now was my opportunity to seize the moment, and make my plea.
“I knew you guys could do it.” I gushed, the pride in my voice fully genuine as I joined them in revelring. “And actually, I’ve got a bit of a secret to share.” I had to work a bit to get the group’s attention, but once they were all focused on me, I showed them the victory screen on the Pokégear. The little device showed an excited Nidoking standing over a defeated opponent, with the words, “Expert Defeated” flashing above his head. “I even upped the difficulty from what Lance was facing alone, and you all still crushed it.”
The revelation earned several moments of awed silence, before my partners renewed their celebrations, even more enthused about their performance.
All except Lance, whose mien had taken on an expression of discontent. I was reasonably confident he’d grasped what I was trying to present him with, and I didn’t think he was all that happy with it.
“Falinks, Falinks!” he complained, and I got the feeling he was asking, what the whole point of the exercise was.
The question seemed like an expression of obstinance, but on the off chance it was honest, I decided to explain. Besides, it was a good chance to make sure the whole formation was clued in on the lesson I was trying to teach.
“Alone, you’re a solid chess player Lance, but just like with battling, having your troops backing you up makes you stronger. Better! When given the chance to make their voices heard, your brothers have valuable input. Collaborating improves your chances of victory, both in chess and on the battlefield, and every troop that becomes a brass will mean another of you can think better, battle harder. It makes all of you stronger. Can’t you accept that?”
I was almost shouting by the end of my speech, which was still better to my mind than pleading. My other knights and Mana were all looking at me now, silent and blinking.
Lance, for his part, took some time to compose his response. When he finally spoke, it was slowly, haltingly, giving me time to confirm that I was interpreting him correctly. “Links, Falinks.” Strength comes from leadership. “Lin, lin, Fa, lin.” The more powerful formation falls to the more coordinated one. “Falinks.” I love [Tristan].” Falinks. Fa, fa, alink.” But I will not sacrifice strength for love, nor will I ask that of him.
The exact words had to be wrought bitterly from my interpretation, repeated back until I got a nod, until I had the full truth of Lance’s thoughts on the matter.
“And to you, it needs to be one or the other? Strength and love can’t coexist? You and Tristan can’t share your authority?”
Slowly, sadly, Lance shook his head, and tears sprung in Tristan’s eyes.
They matched the stinging in my own, but I didn’t wipe at my face, didn’t let anything fall. Now was not the moment for any expression of weakness. Now, I needed strength.
“Then I’m taking it!” I shouted, causing all of my partners to look up at me in surprise. “If you can’t share your authority, then I’m taking it away. If strength comes from one firm hand in charge, then you will look to me for leadership. I swore to you all that we’ll be strong, stronger than anyone, all seven of us, together.”
I took a few heaving breaths as my partners stared at me in shock. I’d put everything I had into my proclamation, and something in my chest was sore, like an underused muscle now strained from unexpected effort. I felt the edges of a headache pounding at my skull, but I wasn’t finished. I hadn’t done anything to prove my words yet, so I continued. “And that means I’m challenging you Lance, for leadership of this formation. If I win, then you will listen to me, all of you, from now until you no longer believe in our shared promise.”
My knights had wide eyes, their expressions ranging. Tristan was looking at me with a sort of muted awe that made me vaguely uncomfortable. Bers seemed confused, unsure of how things had come to this point. Galad looked torn, his eyes flickering between Lance and I. Kay was surprised, but proud, I thought. Poor Percy was giving me a look like I’d yanked the rug out from beneath his entire world.
And Lance. I’ll never forget the look of hurt and betrayal in his eyes as he stared at me. The only thing that didn’t make me immediately retract my challenge was the third emotion I thought I saw mingling in with the first two. It was small, barely perceptible, and maybe I was imagining it for my own benefit, but I could swear I saw it there. A small, barely visible flicker of hope.
-
Funnily enough, it was Mana who proposed the idea we ended up going with. I could have fought Lance in a physical fight, but that wouldn’t have shown which of us deserved to be the leader, and wouldn’t have been very fair besides. We could have battled upon the chess board, but again, that wouldn’t exhibit our leadership capabilities, and was in many ways equally unfair.
No, instead, my little piscine partner suggested that we settle this in the way almost all things were settled. With a Pokémon battle.
Lance and I, each commanding two members of the formation, with Tristan and Mana standing aside as the referee.
Joining me were Galad and Kay, while Bers and Percy sided with Lance. We’d considered drafting our battlers, thought about choosing randomly, but in the end, the ideological lines simply aligned to give us our respective representatives.
Now, three Falinks faced two of their brothers and their human trainer across a snowy field, lines drawn out with Mana’s hydrokinesis.
“Falinks, Fa!” Tristan shouted. It wasn’t hard to intuit that he was copying the referees he’d seen. Until one side is unable to battle.
“Fa.” Three.
“Lin.” Two.
“Inks.” One.
“Falinks!” Begin.
“Mokov Defense!” “Falinks!”
I wasn’t sure which of us shouted first, but the results were obvious. Galad and Kay looked a bit confused, unsure what to do, while Bers and Percy barrelled forwards, charging at their brothers with grim determination.
“Boost up!” I tried again, willing Galad and Kay to move, but the pair didn’t heed my words, instead scattering away from one another in an attempt to avoid the others’ charge.
Kay escaped, but Galad got hit glancingly, causing him to wince as Lance shouted more orders, getting Bers and Percy to regroup facing their unmoving brother.
They weren’t listening to me. I’d gotten us this far, and they still wouldn’t listen to me. All this time, all these months, all the effort I’d put in, and they still wouldn’t listen to me when we were fighting our most important battle yet. What was wrong with them?
I heard a clapping noise, and realized with shock that it came from me. My hands, almost unbidden, clapping together on my cheeks. The stinging pain forcing that unworthy thought from my mind.
No, there wasn’t anything wrong with them. Not with my knights. After all, they were perfect. They had always been perfect. Which meant that if there was something wrong here, that something lay with me.
I was shouting at them, giving orders and commands, but that wasn’t the sort of authority that Falinks needed. They didn’t require bluster, or volume, or words. They needed belief. They needed certainty. They needed my full faith.
In them.
And in myself.
So I took a deep breath, and I resolved myself. I would order. And they would listen. And there wasn’t room for anything else.
“Bulk up,” I said, pitching my voice just loud enough to be heard over the sounds of shield clanging against carapace.
And sure enough, Galad and Kay listened, moving as fast as I’d ever seen them, hunkering down, ignoring their brothers’ blows and glowing with orange power.
Something ached in my chest, and my throat felt like it was burning, but I ignored those sensations, dismissed the pain as inconsequential. My full attention was on the battle, and words came from my mouth in a stream, an unbroken sequence of commands.
Except, mere words weren’t fast enough. My voice couldn’t compete with the speed of a battle. So I gave them more. I offered my intentions. Each word, each letter became something greater, something more than the sum of its parts.
I said “dodge,” and Galad heard, Bers is behind you on your right, roll forwards.
I told them to “converge,” and in Kay’s mind, I had said, hit Percy together, while Bers is overextended.
It was like chess. I knew exactly what each piece could do. When Lance told his troops to focus on Kay, I had him defend while Galad struck them from behind.
When Lance ordered Percy and Bers to retreat and use Bulk Up, my command to pursue came out almost before his.
When Bers was told to make a surprise Headbutt, I knew exactly which square to order Kay into to dodge it, leaving Percy at my troops’ mercy.
When Percy was barely hanging on, and Lance ordered an Endure, I had my troops space out their hits, so the first one sapped the protective barrier and the second sent him sprawling.
And when Lance let loose a roar, causing Bers to crash his shields against each other and glow with energy, I told my knights to match his No Retreat with Focus Energy. A new piece on the board, a new move available, a Nidoran promoted, but my Poké Balls were already lined up to threaten the upstart.
Kay slammed into Bers, the two butting heads against one another until Bers got his horn under his brother, sending him flying up into the air.
“Together. Midair cannon” I told them, and the words barely came out as a croak. I tasted iron in my mouth, but Kay and Galad listened.
We’d never practiced this, never conceived of it before now, but they understood. My intent was crystal clear. Galad careened upwards, jumping with as much strength as his legs would allow, and that mysterious force, that strange power that drew the members of a formation together, acted on the pair. Kay slingshotted upwards after his brother, and as the pair reached their apex, just before they met, Kay lashed out, his Headbutt slamming into Galad’s back.
My most cautious, protective partner let out a resonant warcry as he descended like a meteor, screaming at the top of his lungs even as Lance howled a command of his own. And Bers too responded, slamming his shields together, forming a protective green lattice in front of him.
“Helping Hand,” I spat something thick and sticky on the ground.
Kay let out a rousing cheer, even as he was falling towards earth, even before the energy of his Headbutt had faded.
I’d never seen my knights use No Retreat, never seen a single one of them accomplish a Protect on their own, never seen them use consecutive moves like it was nothing. I’d never seen them fight with such ferocity.
Maybe before this, we’d never been in a battle that really mattered.
Galad rammed into Bers’ shield, and both let loose full-throated roars as turbulent white energy splashed off of a green shield. I heard cracking, and splintering, and then another warcry, as Percy dragged himself beneath Bers’ aegis and leant his own strength to the flagging shield.
The green lattice thickened, and the cracking noise stopped, and for a brief, eternal moment, both sides were at equilibrium.
Kay, hitting the ground, still screaming his voice raw, energy flowing from him to his brother.
Galad, face set and grim, horn drilling into the green barrier in front of him even as the spiraling energies from the impact wracked through him.
Bers, boosted up and roaring his defiance, shields splayed in front of him as he stared into his brothers’ eyes.
Percy, barely hanging on, but too loyal to stay down, willing to offer everything he was and had to his brother’s efforts.
Tristan, watching the battle with tears in his eyes and encouragement for both sides on his tongue.
And Lance, nonplussed, staring at a level of ferocity and determination he had thought his brothers incapable of, rendered in this moment a spectator to the greatest battle his family had ever fought.
And me. Warm iron in my mouth, sand in my throat, and a heart that felt one beat away from bursting. Content. Knowing, in that moment, that I had won. My point was made. Everything after this was just a formality.
The relief from that knowledge felt like something in my head snapping.
And suddenly, inexplicably, the snowy ground was rushing to meet me.
