Rough Negotiations - [Coltar One Shot, M]
Apr 21, 2020 17:02:28 GMT
Post by Cavespider_17 on Apr 21, 2020 17:02:28 GMT
Summary:
Rough Negotiations is based on the year 1935 in Coltese history, a few years before the De Jou-Hilton war takes place (43 years before the main story). De Jou's Elktan (South) is struggling from a bad harvest and terrible winter, due to the previous ruler losing a lot of land to the North. His problems are about to get even worse, when his Lord Captain, Ellio Piscar (Father of Aaron Piscar from the main story) informs him of supplies being raided by the Northern Guard. Desperately trying to avoid another war, De Jou sets out to visit Mesk a semi-occupied and one of the worst hit towns by the loss of food. However, things do not quite go to plan.
Credit:
I made the banner using images I found on Tenor of characters and the castle.
The Map (1935):
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"You are from Elktan and I Colran,
we can never be friends can we?"
- Thomas Harris De Jou, Susk-Rosk, 1911
ᛰ
"You are from Elktan and I Colran,
we can never be friends can we?"
- Thomas Harris De Jou, Susk-Rosk, 1911
ᛰ
Date: 09/03/1935
Thomas De Jou had known Aadam Hilton for years, since they were young children in fact. The two had had their fair share of cold clashes and warm greetings, but this time, Lord Elite Hilton had overstepped the mark. Lord De Jou’s fingers flicked through the mounds of parchment on his desk listing every single piece of Southern flour, wheat, water, berries and Pokémon that had been stolen from the Southern farmers moving through Susk-Rosk. He pressed the tips of his worn fingers into his eyes, closing them as he did before he let out a grunt. Aadam Hilton’s guards had done this. They had taken every single piece of food heading to Engal-Irok and Mesk.
The violent blizzards from the storm had collapsed many trees, and destroyed the main bridge across to the outskirt town. No amount of Machamps moving debris would be able to clear up the mess and rebuild the bridge before the harshness of winter set in. The small village under construction en route to Engal-Irok, the place Lord De Jou had named Colok-Irok, had been temporarily evacuated due to the storms itself. He couldn’t help but wonder why Hilton would do such a thing, as Lord De Jou turned to Lord-Captain Ellio Piscar and said, “I must confront him on the matter. Starting a war over something so trivial seems pointless.”
A cold voice came from the Lord-Captain, who scowled at him. “Trivial? I think not. Our people may as well starve to death if you are going to take that attitude.” He slammed his hands down on the table, looking into De Jou’s blue eyes with his crisp green ones. “The North attacked our supplies, which as per Kilgorese law is a violation of our territory and property.” Lord Ellio Piscar pushed his hair back out of the way before standing upright and continuing to scowl.
Glaring back at him, Lord De Jou finally said, “Maybe you are right, my friend. However, I would like to discuss it with him further. Afterall, a war would be detrimental to both sides, especially us. We have a harsh winter coming in, you have seen the blizzards that have come crashing in from the sea. The avalanches and rescue missions we have had to launch have been difficult to say the least. Doesn’t your son’s health raise any sort of concern to you? He is just a baby.”
A pause rung out between the two Southern men, creating silence almost thick enough to slice through the air with a blunt blade. “Heh, don’t worry Mathias will grow up to be just fine. This place and all its monstrosities… the people who leech from you and me like the filthy Zubat of the caves shall pay…”
“Pay with what?” Lord De Jou shot back, lifting his cap off his head revealing his near-shaved brown hair. “They have nothing and if we continue, they will starve, Ellio.”
Another silence grazed through the room, catching the two off guard a little. The Lord Captain twitched his fingers a little, running them along the table before grabbing hold of the Litwick that stood on it by its waxy white body. “I only care for the future of my heir.”
“That why you divorced her?” Lord De Jou asked. “Your heir’s legitimacy is at risk because of your affair and now, you of all people, come in here to question me over my decision to not immediately start a war on the North.” His pale skin started to crawl a little, as he snarled at the young Lord-Captain. “Remember your place. It is by my side. It always shall be. When I die, my son and heir Rubris will take my place. That’s the end of the matter, now get out!”
Stumbling back a little, but morally undeterred, Ellio Piscar narrowed his eyes a little before whispering under his breath, “You fool…” With large marching steps he made his way out of the east-wing tower of the Southern castle. His eyes flickering between each portrait of the Southern rulers as he did. The golden frame made him more and more agitated, as did the markings of Harris De Jou, the father of his ruler, which were clumsily carved into one of the stones on the wall. ‘Harris and Lucia, forever together,’ in particular the thought of such a senile old man still intensely in love with an old hag made him want to gag a little.
“S-sorry sir,” a timid voice said, as a young boy rushed past. His accent sounded strong, and flowing.
Quickly, Lord-Captain Piscar grabbed the young boy by the throat, shaking him until his face started to turn a slight blue. “You spying on us boy?”
“Stop that!” a girl shouted out at him, also with the flowing Northern sounding accent. “Leave my little brother alone!”
“Hey!” a fifteen-year-old Young Guard shouted, running over. “You fucking cunt! I don’t care that you are Lord-Captain, you put my fucking cousin down!” he shouted, raising his blade to the Lord-Captain’s back.
Lord Ellio Piscar swivelled, drawing his sword blade and slamming it onto the boy’s blade. The metal sound rang out down the corridor and into the hall. His heavy-handed blade weighed down on the boy’s hand.
“Mister Kek! What is going on down there?” Lord De Jou shouted, storming over to the two who were locked in combat. “What did I say about fighting in the corridors? Both of you, lower your weapons, now!” The Southern ruler stepped down onto the stairs, and with a sigh, he placed his hand onto the wooden banister.
“My Lord Elite, he started it! He-”
“No, no, no. Who is he? Use titles please, we are not peasants.”
“Lord Captain Piscar attacked my cousins. They had come from the North to visit, and well…” he said, rubbing his nose a little. “I’m sorry sir.”
Looking into the young boy’s blue eyes, Lord De Jou let out another exasperated sigh. “The Queks? I guess having a family split really causes a lot of issues. Go, Baron. Take your cousins upstairs to your room and don’t cause any more issues today.” He groaned a little inside, turning to his thoughts, ‘Great, if this gets out… it will be bad. Those two kids are from Northern Guard families. There is no way that this will go unspoken… I guess we are heading for a war but before we reach that point, I have one last trick I can try to avert such a disaster.’
Date: 12/03/1935
A few days past and the growing threat of the desert winter started to worsen. Feeling the chill on his brow, De Jou walked out into the hillside of Mesk. His eyes warily glanced over at the miners, who were carrying heaps of coal out from their neck crushing pits of despair and darkness. However, they knew that without them the Southern world could come crashing down into extinction. Mesk’s current occupation by Northern forces was enough to put most of the inhabitants on edge. Something that De Jou couldn’t help but worry about.
His great grandfather had been alive when the South conceded the territory of Mesk, however, under his own strict and powerful negotiation skills he had managed to trade for it back into Southern territory at the cost of constant Northern occupation and losing twenty-five percent of all goods manufactured there. However, at the current time, that pain was the best he could hope for.
The Northern Golems strutting around amongst the starving people made him scowl, and a breath that left his mouth started to freeze almost immediately. His disguise of an old man’s cloak and little fur to warm himself was good enough for him to walk around the town without causing mass panic. Despite his Guard’s ring sitting on his finger, he mostly didn’t think about any of his distinctive features becoming an immediate problem.
A few Northern Talonflames flew overhead, sparking the fires from within their bellies and breathing it out using flamethrower onto Northern piles of wood. The Guards who were watching over the people suddenly turned to the fire, and quickly ushered over to it to warm themselves in the snow, while a Southern woman in her fifties collapsed to the floor, freezing to death.
A few Southern citizens rushed over to her aid, but were quickly pushed away by the Toxicroak that rushed over. Their glandular skin glowed a blue and purple as their red toxic glands puffed out wards in a threatening manner towards the citizens. Each Toxicroak drew a sharp blade from their fingers, ready to strike down on the innocent people of the town.
“We are so hungry, please?” a young girl said, walking over to one of the Northern Guards, opening her hands out to take some of his bread. However, the Toxicroak behind the Guard launched itself at her, preparing to slash her across her young tender face.
“Stop!” Lord De Jou shouted, throwing a Poké ball out onto the floor in between the girl and the Pokémon. A Runerigus poured out, waving its long ghostly fingers and prepared to counter the oncoming slash from the cross poison. It bulked out its earthy body and grabbed hold of the Toxicroak’s fighting spirit, sucking it into its own body, as a darkened trace left its body and latched itself onto the Toxicroak.
“Now!” De Jou called out in Elkrat. “Shadow claw!”
The Toxicroak jumped up desperately to avoid the incoming long arm. However, the shadowy Pokémon grabbed hold of its leg, and pulled it back down into the ground with a thud, ripping it through the snow with its long drawn out claws, what were sharp enough to slice through the hardest rocks around. The snake-like pattern burned into its body glowed a little, as it looked up at the other Guards nearby.
“How dare you attack my citizens! That was not the negotiation. Tell Hilton he and I need to discuss this incident immediately. He is to come to Kilgor tower, tomorrow at noon. Pray your actions be not the end of peace.” He sounded tired as he spoke, the cold freezing his bones at the joints as he started to shiver.
He slumped down into the snow, allowing it to cover up his knees and his worn outfit. He placed his hands down on the softening, slushy white powder, lifting it up and resting some of the snowflakes which had clumped together in his hand. De Jou’s stomach started to growl from the hunger he had endured.
However, rather than helping the Southern ruler, the Northern Guardsmen looked at him, some with a cocky grin painted across their faces, others with a sadistic smile. Slowly they started to approach him and Runerigus, tossing their Poké balls in hand.
‘Fuck this, there are at least forty of them and one of me… it’s going to be a bloodbath… forty Pokémon at least… one-hundred and twenty… damn it… it could be two-hundred and forty to six…’
He felt a solemn glow inside of his chest, as he slowly went to raise his hands and bow down to the Guardsmen that were rapidly approaching him. However, before he could reach his knees, a few cheers came from behind him, and some Lampent, worn down and covered in coal shot past him. Fire spewed up from in front of his eyes as they launched their attacks at the Guardsmen.
“On me!” one of the miners from behind him yelled out, charging towards the pack of Northern Guardsmen, swinging his pickaxe.
A Tropius flew over De Jou’s head, launching several razor leaf attacks into the Guard pack before its neck twisted in mid air and snapped at the ends of a Charizard. He jumped to his feet, grabbing his second Pokémon. “Visk! Stay here and use stealth rock! Protect the children!” he shouted back to the Runerigus, who gave him a salute with his long ghostly hand. De Jou threw the Poké ball forward, allowing the magnet on his ring to summon the ball back to his hand the moment the Duraladon came out. Its silvering white body, and trunk like legs stood beside him, only just shorter than his shoulder, but much taller than most of the Northern Guard who were slaying the Southern miners.
“Nok, use snarl!” he called out, and the Duraladon locked its clunkily hinged mouth open, firing a cold, gruesome snarl at the incoming Pokémon, making a lot of them rear up or cover their ears. ‘Damn those Northern fairy types… but I can counter them too!’ he thought. “Follow up with flash cannon!” De Jou called out, pointing sharply at the incoming Florges. ‘My best bet here is to keep my distance. Only use my body and sword if I have to…’
Nok grounded himself, bending down and opening his clunky mouth once more, firing a bright beam that blinded the battle field for a few moments. However, the Florges had fired back at him, hitting Nok in the leg, making the Duraldon let out a metallic grumble, before firing a much shorter blast at the fairy. Its blue petals surrounding its head exploded into a fire, as the fairy started to burn alive, like a flower in a fire storm.
However, the Northern Guard were running through a lot of the miners faster than they could even draw their Pokémon out. A lot of the others engaged in the fighting were losing badly. De Jou closed his eyes and reached for his third Pokémon. “Vesx!” he shouted, as he tossed the Dugtrio out onto the ground. Its yellow hair and typing gave him an opportunity. “Dive down underground! Grab the Guardsmen’s legs!” he called out in Elkrat, starting to run forwards. ‘I want to stay back, but if I do all of these men and women will die,’ he thought, drawing his sword which he had kept hidden under his cloak. “Let’s go! Napork!” He flicked his wrist, releasing his Mamoswine from its ball.
Napork seeing the brutality going on immediately went into a full-on rage. Its tusks were lowered, as they curved outwards and looked sharper than before. Its brown fur glowed little in the snow, as it shimmied around, sniffling with its big snout trying to find the best target. ‘Wait, the North is struggling in the snow and ice,’ he considered. ‘They aren’t used to it, so let’s make this our battle ground!’ “Hail!” he called out, however, Napork ignored him, continuing her violent charge into the Guardsmen, impaling the ones who failed to move out of the way. Her bloodied tusks swung back and forwards as she shook her head.
However, the Northern Guard backed away a little, and those with Infernapes, stepped forward to take up the gauntlet. De Jou watched on as the fire types dragged their knuckles along the ground, waving their long, fire-lit tails and blended in a little to the white scenery due to their white torsos.
“Hey, I have an idea!” a man shouted out, turning to run back into the mine.
“Wait!” De Jou called out, knowing immediately what the man was going to try and pull. He drew his knife, and hurled it at the man to desperately try and stop him. However, the knife faded into the darkness of the mine.
His back was turned to the action.
Before he could swing back around to fight again, he felt a stabbing pain run through his back and into his spine. Blood started to pour out through De Jou’s chest.
The knife had just about missed his heart.
He swung both of his arms back, elbowing the Guard in the chest with incredible force. Visk, seeing De Jou struggling, floated over with haste, grabbing the Guard and tossing him onto some of the stealth rocks that were littering the area. Smugly he looked up at De Jou before -
De Jou’s ears rung out as he lay in the snow.
Three-hundred and fourteen bodies littered the rocky hillside of Mesk now. Some had arrows in the chest, others had burns and grassy spores on their bodies, but the fact of the matter was Mesk had won temporarily. The Northern Guardsmen who had lost were patiently waiting their execution, as was tradition, many missing limbs already. Despite everything though, Lord De Jou felt himself feeling sick inside as he looked to the large crack in the ground and collapsing main street of the town. The bastard had blown up the mine. Not even the worst of the injuries churned his stomach as much as what he had just done. He had caused an uprising.
Unintentional.
Unplanned.
Uncontrolled.
Unforgivable.
He buried his face in his hands, hoping for the silence to swallow him up. However, there was no silence. The jeers and cheers from the Southern miners echoed down the hill, into the valley and across the lake, where few Northern Guards had fled to after not engaging in the conflict. Lord De Jou watched them as he stood up on his shaking legs, as they rowed away on their tiny paddle boats back towards Kithuk.
Mesk was now in serious danger. ‘Hilton might not be a monster, but he’d be damned if he let these poor people get away with what they have just done… they should have just let me die. Why did I come here? Why didn’t I just speak to him directly… damn it.’
He flopped himself back into the snow, lying down as he bled a little from his injuries, not that they bothered him. A cold echo of being uncomfortable swept through his body and into his fingers, that were becoming numb to the snow as he lay still. Many of the miners involved in the uprising had died. Some of which had families of five, six or seven to feed A few had even more. Guilt stricken, he felt himself let go of the world around him. His eyes closed and he felt himself sink down into a pit and fall as Northern reinforcements arrived.
Date: 16/03/1935
“You really are a prat sometimes, Thomas,” a voice said.
Stirring from his sleep, Thomas De Jou looked up. The room he was in was painted the Colran green, although in places the wall’s pain was starting to peel away. Disorientation filled his head, making the world around him fizz and wave. He pressed his right hand into his face, rubbing above his right eye, as tiredness made him feel queasy.
“It is okay, old friend, you rest well.”
“Aadam?” Lord De Jou asked, looking at the blurry image of Lord Hilton. “Ugh, I feel like I have been hit by a Machamp in the face.”
“Close… you were hit by a Sawk,” Lord Hilton chimed in, almost laughing at his friend’s close guess.
“Oh. That would explain why I feel like shit,” Lord De Jou replied.
“Just try not to start a revolution by accident. However, I do admit, you did cause the North a huge scare.”
A sigh from Lord Hilton put De Jou more on edge., as he wrapped his fingers around the blankets. “You going to kill me?” he asked, as with his other hand he puffed up the pillow behind his head.
“You really are an idiot. Why the hell would I kill my best friend?” Lord Hilton smiled at him. “We may have our fair share of disputes, but I am not that much of an arsehole, am I?”
“Yes,” De Jou replied, trying to keep a straight face. However, he could feel his lips cracking up into a huge smile and started to laugh his coughing laugh. His voice, although slightly higher than Hilton’s at the best of times really did shoot up in pitch when he laughed.
The unfortunate squealing of his best friend made Hilton burst into laughter too, and sit down beside his best friend. “We may not always get along, but you aren’t allowed to die on me. Now, are you going to tell me why you accidentally started an uprising and almost got your dumb, sorry arse killed?”
Sighing once more, De Jou pushed his right hand behind his neck, resting on it and closing is eyes, lifting his left arm up a little in an attempt to stretch it before wincing a little. His elbow was swollen from being knocked over. “Some of your Guards stole from our supply route. My people are going to starve to death in both Engal-Irok and Mesk. So… I went to Mesk, I wanted to see what I could do. I made myself look like one of the locals to avoid attracting attention…”
“Yeah, good job,” Hilton chipped in, in Elkrat with a smile.
“Shut up, you prick,” De Jou responded with a smile, getting shunted back a little bit by Hilton, who had picked up a pillow off of the next bed and hit him with it. “Anyway, I saw a young girl starving to death, and well… two Guards… your Guards, went to attack her with a Toxicroak…”
Silence wafted between the two for a few moments, as Hilton pressed his fingers into his stubbly white beard. “Hmm, a predicament indeed, however, I cannot let your actions go under the radar either. The people of the North are calling for your head.”
“No change there then.”
“So,” Hilton continued, ignoring his friend’s remark. “I am going to have to force you to concede some territory.”
“No, no, no, I cannot lose any more territory, or the people of the South will call for my head. It is already a harsh winter and my people will die without that food…”
“I cannot do anything about that now,” Hilton snapped, taking a deep breath in and composing himself once more. “We cannot help you… this year…”
De Jou looked up at his friend. “What do you mean?” he asked, a little despair in his voice.
“Well, I am willing to return both Mesk and Beskrop to Southern control, but in return Elktan builds Colran two new towns, one on the lake, and one in the forest between Graeor City and Fehahra, and Virto,” Hilton said, crossing his arms in thought. “If we had a lake town, we could increase our fishing output, and the town between Graeor City and the others would really aid us.”
“No.” De Jou sat himself up. “That wouldn’t work, you see Ilok is a better exchange instead of Beskrop.” He glanced over at the Northern Flabébé that was floating dangerously near his head.
“I agree, my friend. Do we have a deal?” Hilton asked, cocking his head, and letting his long white hair flow down beside his shoulder.
De Jou’s eyes saddened a little as he nodded. “Yes, we have a deal…”
Thomas De Jou had known Aadam Hilton for years, since they were young children in fact. The two had had their fair share of cold clashes and warm greetings, but this time, Lord Elite Hilton had overstepped the mark. Lord De Jou’s fingers flicked through the mounds of parchment on his desk listing every single piece of Southern flour, wheat, water, berries and Pokémon that had been stolen from the Southern farmers moving through Susk-Rosk. He pressed the tips of his worn fingers into his eyes, closing them as he did before he let out a grunt. Aadam Hilton’s guards had done this. They had taken every single piece of food heading to Engal-Irok and Mesk.
The violent blizzards from the storm had collapsed many trees, and destroyed the main bridge across to the outskirt town. No amount of Machamps moving debris would be able to clear up the mess and rebuild the bridge before the harshness of winter set in. The small village under construction en route to Engal-Irok, the place Lord De Jou had named Colok-Irok, had been temporarily evacuated due to the storms itself. He couldn’t help but wonder why Hilton would do such a thing, as Lord De Jou turned to Lord-Captain Ellio Piscar and said, “I must confront him on the matter. Starting a war over something so trivial seems pointless.”
A cold voice came from the Lord-Captain, who scowled at him. “Trivial? I think not. Our people may as well starve to death if you are going to take that attitude.” He slammed his hands down on the table, looking into De Jou’s blue eyes with his crisp green ones. “The North attacked our supplies, which as per Kilgorese law is a violation of our territory and property.” Lord Ellio Piscar pushed his hair back out of the way before standing upright and continuing to scowl.
Glaring back at him, Lord De Jou finally said, “Maybe you are right, my friend. However, I would like to discuss it with him further. Afterall, a war would be detrimental to both sides, especially us. We have a harsh winter coming in, you have seen the blizzards that have come crashing in from the sea. The avalanches and rescue missions we have had to launch have been difficult to say the least. Doesn’t your son’s health raise any sort of concern to you? He is just a baby.”
A pause rung out between the two Southern men, creating silence almost thick enough to slice through the air with a blunt blade. “Heh, don’t worry Mathias will grow up to be just fine. This place and all its monstrosities… the people who leech from you and me like the filthy Zubat of the caves shall pay…”
“Pay with what?” Lord De Jou shot back, lifting his cap off his head revealing his near-shaved brown hair. “They have nothing and if we continue, they will starve, Ellio.”
Another silence grazed through the room, catching the two off guard a little. The Lord Captain twitched his fingers a little, running them along the table before grabbing hold of the Litwick that stood on it by its waxy white body. “I only care for the future of my heir.”
“That why you divorced her?” Lord De Jou asked. “Your heir’s legitimacy is at risk because of your affair and now, you of all people, come in here to question me over my decision to not immediately start a war on the North.” His pale skin started to crawl a little, as he snarled at the young Lord-Captain. “Remember your place. It is by my side. It always shall be. When I die, my son and heir Rubris will take my place. That’s the end of the matter, now get out!”
Stumbling back a little, but morally undeterred, Ellio Piscar narrowed his eyes a little before whispering under his breath, “You fool…” With large marching steps he made his way out of the east-wing tower of the Southern castle. His eyes flickering between each portrait of the Southern rulers as he did. The golden frame made him more and more agitated, as did the markings of Harris De Jou, the father of his ruler, which were clumsily carved into one of the stones on the wall. ‘Harris and Lucia, forever together,’ in particular the thought of such a senile old man still intensely in love with an old hag made him want to gag a little.
“S-sorry sir,” a timid voice said, as a young boy rushed past. His accent sounded strong, and flowing.
Quickly, Lord-Captain Piscar grabbed the young boy by the throat, shaking him until his face started to turn a slight blue. “You spying on us boy?”
“Stop that!” a girl shouted out at him, also with the flowing Northern sounding accent. “Leave my little brother alone!”
“Hey!” a fifteen-year-old Young Guard shouted, running over. “You fucking cunt! I don’t care that you are Lord-Captain, you put my fucking cousin down!” he shouted, raising his blade to the Lord-Captain’s back.
Lord Ellio Piscar swivelled, drawing his sword blade and slamming it onto the boy’s blade. The metal sound rang out down the corridor and into the hall. His heavy-handed blade weighed down on the boy’s hand.
“Mister Kek! What is going on down there?” Lord De Jou shouted, storming over to the two who were locked in combat. “What did I say about fighting in the corridors? Both of you, lower your weapons, now!” The Southern ruler stepped down onto the stairs, and with a sigh, he placed his hand onto the wooden banister.
“My Lord Elite, he started it! He-”
“No, no, no. Who is he? Use titles please, we are not peasants.”
“Lord Captain Piscar attacked my cousins. They had come from the North to visit, and well…” he said, rubbing his nose a little. “I’m sorry sir.”
Looking into the young boy’s blue eyes, Lord De Jou let out another exasperated sigh. “The Queks? I guess having a family split really causes a lot of issues. Go, Baron. Take your cousins upstairs to your room and don’t cause any more issues today.” He groaned a little inside, turning to his thoughts, ‘Great, if this gets out… it will be bad. Those two kids are from Northern Guard families. There is no way that this will go unspoken… I guess we are heading for a war but before we reach that point, I have one last trick I can try to avert such a disaster.’
ᚡ
"My dearest best friend,
you really are an idiot niney percent of the time,"
- Aadam Lyam Hilton, Susk-Rosk, 1917
you really are an idiot niney percent of the time,"
- Aadam Lyam Hilton, Susk-Rosk, 1917
ᚡ
Date: 12/03/1935
A few days past and the growing threat of the desert winter started to worsen. Feeling the chill on his brow, De Jou walked out into the hillside of Mesk. His eyes warily glanced over at the miners, who were carrying heaps of coal out from their neck crushing pits of despair and darkness. However, they knew that without them the Southern world could come crashing down into extinction. Mesk’s current occupation by Northern forces was enough to put most of the inhabitants on edge. Something that De Jou couldn’t help but worry about.
His great grandfather had been alive when the South conceded the territory of Mesk, however, under his own strict and powerful negotiation skills he had managed to trade for it back into Southern territory at the cost of constant Northern occupation and losing twenty-five percent of all goods manufactured there. However, at the current time, that pain was the best he could hope for.
The Northern Golems strutting around amongst the starving people made him scowl, and a breath that left his mouth started to freeze almost immediately. His disguise of an old man’s cloak and little fur to warm himself was good enough for him to walk around the town without causing mass panic. Despite his Guard’s ring sitting on his finger, he mostly didn’t think about any of his distinctive features becoming an immediate problem.
A few Northern Talonflames flew overhead, sparking the fires from within their bellies and breathing it out using flamethrower onto Northern piles of wood. The Guards who were watching over the people suddenly turned to the fire, and quickly ushered over to it to warm themselves in the snow, while a Southern woman in her fifties collapsed to the floor, freezing to death.
A few Southern citizens rushed over to her aid, but were quickly pushed away by the Toxicroak that rushed over. Their glandular skin glowed a blue and purple as their red toxic glands puffed out wards in a threatening manner towards the citizens. Each Toxicroak drew a sharp blade from their fingers, ready to strike down on the innocent people of the town.
“We are so hungry, please?” a young girl said, walking over to one of the Northern Guards, opening her hands out to take some of his bread. However, the Toxicroak behind the Guard launched itself at her, preparing to slash her across her young tender face.
“Stop!” Lord De Jou shouted, throwing a Poké ball out onto the floor in between the girl and the Pokémon. A Runerigus poured out, waving its long ghostly fingers and prepared to counter the oncoming slash from the cross poison. It bulked out its earthy body and grabbed hold of the Toxicroak’s fighting spirit, sucking it into its own body, as a darkened trace left its body and latched itself onto the Toxicroak.
“Now!” De Jou called out in Elkrat. “Shadow claw!”
The Toxicroak jumped up desperately to avoid the incoming long arm. However, the shadowy Pokémon grabbed hold of its leg, and pulled it back down into the ground with a thud, ripping it through the snow with its long drawn out claws, what were sharp enough to slice through the hardest rocks around. The snake-like pattern burned into its body glowed a little, as it looked up at the other Guards nearby.
“How dare you attack my citizens! That was not the negotiation. Tell Hilton he and I need to discuss this incident immediately. He is to come to Kilgor tower, tomorrow at noon. Pray your actions be not the end of peace.” He sounded tired as he spoke, the cold freezing his bones at the joints as he started to shiver.
He slumped down into the snow, allowing it to cover up his knees and his worn outfit. He placed his hands down on the softening, slushy white powder, lifting it up and resting some of the snowflakes which had clumped together in his hand. De Jou’s stomach started to growl from the hunger he had endured.
However, rather than helping the Southern ruler, the Northern Guardsmen looked at him, some with a cocky grin painted across their faces, others with a sadistic smile. Slowly they started to approach him and Runerigus, tossing their Poké balls in hand.
‘Fuck this, there are at least forty of them and one of me… it’s going to be a bloodbath… forty Pokémon at least… one-hundred and twenty… damn it… it could be two-hundred and forty to six…’
He felt a solemn glow inside of his chest, as he slowly went to raise his hands and bow down to the Guardsmen that were rapidly approaching him. However, before he could reach his knees, a few cheers came from behind him, and some Lampent, worn down and covered in coal shot past him. Fire spewed up from in front of his eyes as they launched their attacks at the Guardsmen.
“On me!” one of the miners from behind him yelled out, charging towards the pack of Northern Guardsmen, swinging his pickaxe.
A Tropius flew over De Jou’s head, launching several razor leaf attacks into the Guard pack before its neck twisted in mid air and snapped at the ends of a Charizard. He jumped to his feet, grabbing his second Pokémon. “Visk! Stay here and use stealth rock! Protect the children!” he shouted back to the Runerigus, who gave him a salute with his long ghostly hand. De Jou threw the Poké ball forward, allowing the magnet on his ring to summon the ball back to his hand the moment the Duraladon came out. Its silvering white body, and trunk like legs stood beside him, only just shorter than his shoulder, but much taller than most of the Northern Guard who were slaying the Southern miners.
“Nok, use snarl!” he called out, and the Duraladon locked its clunkily hinged mouth open, firing a cold, gruesome snarl at the incoming Pokémon, making a lot of them rear up or cover their ears. ‘Damn those Northern fairy types… but I can counter them too!’ he thought. “Follow up with flash cannon!” De Jou called out, pointing sharply at the incoming Florges. ‘My best bet here is to keep my distance. Only use my body and sword if I have to…’
Nok grounded himself, bending down and opening his clunky mouth once more, firing a bright beam that blinded the battle field for a few moments. However, the Florges had fired back at him, hitting Nok in the leg, making the Duraldon let out a metallic grumble, before firing a much shorter blast at the fairy. Its blue petals surrounding its head exploded into a fire, as the fairy started to burn alive, like a flower in a fire storm.
However, the Northern Guard were running through a lot of the miners faster than they could even draw their Pokémon out. A lot of the others engaged in the fighting were losing badly. De Jou closed his eyes and reached for his third Pokémon. “Vesx!” he shouted, as he tossed the Dugtrio out onto the ground. Its yellow hair and typing gave him an opportunity. “Dive down underground! Grab the Guardsmen’s legs!” he called out in Elkrat, starting to run forwards. ‘I want to stay back, but if I do all of these men and women will die,’ he thought, drawing his sword which he had kept hidden under his cloak. “Let’s go! Napork!” He flicked his wrist, releasing his Mamoswine from its ball.
Napork seeing the brutality going on immediately went into a full-on rage. Its tusks were lowered, as they curved outwards and looked sharper than before. Its brown fur glowed little in the snow, as it shimmied around, sniffling with its big snout trying to find the best target. ‘Wait, the North is struggling in the snow and ice,’ he considered. ‘They aren’t used to it, so let’s make this our battle ground!’ “Hail!” he called out, however, Napork ignored him, continuing her violent charge into the Guardsmen, impaling the ones who failed to move out of the way. Her bloodied tusks swung back and forwards as she shook her head.
However, the Northern Guard backed away a little, and those with Infernapes, stepped forward to take up the gauntlet. De Jou watched on as the fire types dragged their knuckles along the ground, waving their long, fire-lit tails and blended in a little to the white scenery due to their white torsos.
“Hey, I have an idea!” a man shouted out, turning to run back into the mine.
“Wait!” De Jou called out, knowing immediately what the man was going to try and pull. He drew his knife, and hurled it at the man to desperately try and stop him. However, the knife faded into the darkness of the mine.
His back was turned to the action.
Before he could swing back around to fight again, he felt a stabbing pain run through his back and into his spine. Blood started to pour out through De Jou’s chest.
The knife had just about missed his heart.
He swung both of his arms back, elbowing the Guard in the chest with incredible force. Visk, seeing De Jou struggling, floated over with haste, grabbing the Guard and tossing him onto some of the stealth rocks that were littering the area. Smugly he looked up at De Jou before -
ᚢ
"If my father wasn't a Lord I don't think I could have done what you did,
become one,"
- Thomas Harris De Jou, Kishnar, 1923
ᚢ
De Jou’s ears rung out as he lay in the snow.
Three-hundred and fourteen bodies littered the rocky hillside of Mesk now. Some had arrows in the chest, others had burns and grassy spores on their bodies, but the fact of the matter was Mesk had won temporarily. The Northern Guardsmen who had lost were patiently waiting their execution, as was tradition, many missing limbs already. Despite everything though, Lord De Jou felt himself feeling sick inside as he looked to the large crack in the ground and collapsing main street of the town. The bastard had blown up the mine. Not even the worst of the injuries churned his stomach as much as what he had just done. He had caused an uprising.
Unintentional.
Unplanned.
Uncontrolled.
Unforgivable.
He buried his face in his hands, hoping for the silence to swallow him up. However, there was no silence. The jeers and cheers from the Southern miners echoed down the hill, into the valley and across the lake, where few Northern Guards had fled to after not engaging in the conflict. Lord De Jou watched them as he stood up on his shaking legs, as they rowed away on their tiny paddle boats back towards Kithuk.
Mesk was now in serious danger. ‘Hilton might not be a monster, but he’d be damned if he let these poor people get away with what they have just done… they should have just let me die. Why did I come here? Why didn’t I just speak to him directly… damn it.’
He flopped himself back into the snow, lying down as he bled a little from his injuries, not that they bothered him. A cold echo of being uncomfortable swept through his body and into his fingers, that were becoming numb to the snow as he lay still. Many of the miners involved in the uprising had died. Some of which had families of five, six or seven to feed A few had even more. Guilt stricken, he felt himself let go of the world around him. His eyes closed and he felt himself sink down into a pit and fall as Northern reinforcements arrived.
ᚣ
"Whatever happens today,
let's not let it ruin tomorrow,"
- Aadem Lyam Hilton, Quigk, 1934
ᚣ
Date: 16/03/1935
“You really are a prat sometimes, Thomas,” a voice said.
Stirring from his sleep, Thomas De Jou looked up. The room he was in was painted the Colran green, although in places the wall’s pain was starting to peel away. Disorientation filled his head, making the world around him fizz and wave. He pressed his right hand into his face, rubbing above his right eye, as tiredness made him feel queasy.
“It is okay, old friend, you rest well.”
“Aadam?” Lord De Jou asked, looking at the blurry image of Lord Hilton. “Ugh, I feel like I have been hit by a Machamp in the face.”
“Close… you were hit by a Sawk,” Lord Hilton chimed in, almost laughing at his friend’s close guess.
“Oh. That would explain why I feel like shit,” Lord De Jou replied.
“Just try not to start a revolution by accident. However, I do admit, you did cause the North a huge scare.”
A sigh from Lord Hilton put De Jou more on edge., as he wrapped his fingers around the blankets. “You going to kill me?” he asked, as with his other hand he puffed up the pillow behind his head.
“You really are an idiot. Why the hell would I kill my best friend?” Lord Hilton smiled at him. “We may have our fair share of disputes, but I am not that much of an arsehole, am I?”
“Yes,” De Jou replied, trying to keep a straight face. However, he could feel his lips cracking up into a huge smile and started to laugh his coughing laugh. His voice, although slightly higher than Hilton’s at the best of times really did shoot up in pitch when he laughed.
The unfortunate squealing of his best friend made Hilton burst into laughter too, and sit down beside his best friend. “We may not always get along, but you aren’t allowed to die on me. Now, are you going to tell me why you accidentally started an uprising and almost got your dumb, sorry arse killed?”
Sighing once more, De Jou pushed his right hand behind his neck, resting on it and closing is eyes, lifting his left arm up a little in an attempt to stretch it before wincing a little. His elbow was swollen from being knocked over. “Some of your Guards stole from our supply route. My people are going to starve to death in both Engal-Irok and Mesk. So… I went to Mesk, I wanted to see what I could do. I made myself look like one of the locals to avoid attracting attention…”
“Yeah, good job,” Hilton chipped in, in Elkrat with a smile.
“Shut up, you prick,” De Jou responded with a smile, getting shunted back a little bit by Hilton, who had picked up a pillow off of the next bed and hit him with it. “Anyway, I saw a young girl starving to death, and well… two Guards… your Guards, went to attack her with a Toxicroak…”
Silence wafted between the two for a few moments, as Hilton pressed his fingers into his stubbly white beard. “Hmm, a predicament indeed, however, I cannot let your actions go under the radar either. The people of the North are calling for your head.”
“No change there then.”
“So,” Hilton continued, ignoring his friend’s remark. “I am going to have to force you to concede some territory.”
“No, no, no, I cannot lose any more territory, or the people of the South will call for my head. It is already a harsh winter and my people will die without that food…”
“I cannot do anything about that now,” Hilton snapped, taking a deep breath in and composing himself once more. “We cannot help you… this year…”
De Jou looked up at his friend. “What do you mean?” he asked, a little despair in his voice.
“Well, I am willing to return both Mesk and Beskrop to Southern control, but in return Elktan builds Colran two new towns, one on the lake, and one in the forest between Graeor City and Fehahra, and Virto,” Hilton said, crossing his arms in thought. “If we had a lake town, we could increase our fishing output, and the town between Graeor City and the others would really aid us.”
“No.” De Jou sat himself up. “That wouldn’t work, you see Ilok is a better exchange instead of Beskrop.” He glanced over at the Northern Flabébé that was floating dangerously near his head.
“I agree, my friend. Do we have a deal?” Hilton asked, cocking his head, and letting his long white hair flow down beside his shoulder.
De Jou’s eyes saddened a little as he nodded. “Yes, we have a deal…”
