The Prince of Pugilis Part Two
“Ryuu, wh-what’s that?” Stufful asked, her voice cracking in fright.
The buzzing grew louder. Soon enough, the Fighting-type residents of Pugilis were scattering about in search of loved ones and reasonable shelter. The ones that stayed behind began climbing toward the capital’s outer wall to reach the height of the insects. Riolu and Stufful remained in place, silent, as the buzzing swarmed around them.
“I need a better look,” Riolu eventually whispered. Before Stufful could comprehend, the prince darted from the wide cobblestone road and raced toward a set of inside stairs that hung along the wall.
“Wait!
Wait! What’re you doing?” Not given much choice, the plushy Pokemon reluctantly followed, her legs squeaking slightly on each step.
Prince Riolu made it to the stairs and ran up the side of the white clay wall, which extended over 30 meters into the sky. The incessant buzzing only grew louder. Between stone steps, he glanced down at the capital below and watched the remaining confused bystanders struggle in indecision. Stufful followed distantly behind him, but that wasn’t going to slow him down.
He jumped onto the last step, rocketing over to the top surface of the capital wall. Though the sky was dark with insects, he glanced over at the countryside along the outskirts of central Pugilis. Farms, suburbs, villages--all of them had Bug-types hovering above. On the ground, there were Pinsir, Scyther, Escavalier...many others watched properties and monitored families. Yet none took action.
The setting sun was still partially covered in Volcarona’s silhouette. The faded blues and purples of sunset were replaced with a brownish mass of hateful aura. Though Riolu hadn’t mastered sensing such energies among individuals, the collective hate was unbearable. A chill went up his spine and out his feeler ears, causing them to tremble in a dreadful, adrenaline-fueled excitement. He looked over at the wall defense guards. A Conkeldurr held his position as head and screamed for scattered troops to get into formations and prepare fire. The sturdy Fighting-type was a family friend, however he worked somewhat independently on defenses as his own operation. He didn’t take the social hierarchy too kindly.
“Sir Kronk, was there any notification of confrontation from my father?”
The high-ranked general spat phlegm off the edge of the wall and, satisfied, watched it fall to the cobblestone road far below. He brushed his large lips together and moved a heavy hand from one of his concrete blocks to Riolu’s small shoulder. With a look reflecting both anticipation and regret, he shook his head and twitched his clown-like nose a couple times.
“Son, I haven’t heard nothing ‘bout yer daddy. But from the looks o’things, that little pest up there’s ‘bout to,” he said with a grimace. “‘ese little roaches got no idea what they’re in for.”
Stufful, out of breath, collapsed at the top of the stairs. “This is overwhelming,” she cursed.
Riolu followed the seasoned general’s gaze and saw Lord Scyther getting closer to the wall.
“Lemme jus’ toss a stone here an’ end this bugger,” he said. “In fact,” he glanced toward a Primeape, who held a megaphone in his hands anxiously. The Pokemon was pacing around, unnerved, barking orders for preparation. “‘Ape, tell ‘em to fire at-”
Riolu’s eyes widened. “Sir, with all due respect for your position and loyalty to my father, you will do no such thing. They have yet to initiate any sort of attack and I will not condone any irrationality until my father has given his word. You will stand down and
wait for orders, nothing further.”
Stufful bit her lip and stared between the two Fighting-types. Prince Riolu
was a prince, but this was the defense squadron that was hand-picked by the king. Riolu’s jurisdiction didn’t really stretch this far.
“...And you will let Lord Scyther go to the castle, but him
alone. We will settle this as diplomatically as we can to avoid Bug-type casualty.”
Conkeldurr growled at the power move, but it was that exact leadership that legitimized Riolu’s regality in the eyes of the populace. “Yes, Prince.” He turned to Primeape once more. “Spread this ‘round the wall: don’t engage nothin’ ‘less they start it. Prince’s orders.” He stopped, felt Riolu’s sharp gaze, and rolled his eyes. “And let the flyin’ Caterpie through.”
Bug-types were notoriously weak, after all, and Riolu even acknowledged the stereotype. Strong against Grass-, Psychic-, and Dark-types, sure, but any resident belonging to those subtypes was only neutral to their moves thanks to Fighting’s natural resistances. But Bug was weak to both the common Rock- and Fire-type moves often in practice at the dojos, including Stone Edge, Rock Slide, Blaze Kick, Fire-Punch, etc. The only major advantage the Bug-types had was…
“The sky,” Stufful whispered, looking up at the blur of bodies growing larger and closer. It seemed she just realized the situation’s magnitude. “Riolu, this is...this is really bad.”
He nodded. “I need to get to Dad.” Before heading for the stairs again, he glanced at Conkeldurr once more. “Please, heed my words: do not start an unnecessary war.”
. . .
A Few Months Back
Scyther stared down at the open casket in silence. Most of the guests had left the funeral by now, and King Pangoro--the hypocritical “uncle” Scyther had always been forced to “admire”--was among the first to leave his father’s resting place. But this moment wasn’t filled with hatred for Pangoro, or envy of the privileged little Riolu that always towered over him (even though Scyther was always so much taller and better equipped!). The young prince-turned-lord scratched his scythe hands together nervously. It was his turn to lead the colony and help the Bug-types thrive again. Starving as a subsidiary was not their path.
The funeral room was spacious; the walls were far enough apart to line the lengths of several Scolipede from head to tail. Nonetheless, Scyther felt constricted, suffocated, as if this were his own coffin. The pressures of the colony was on him. He let out a sigh at the heavy burden he would bear alone.
“It gets easier,” a voice whispered from behind Scyther’s shoulder. He flinched, drew his scythes into an attack position, but caught himself at the sight of Volcarona. She had given such a long speech for his father’s sake, and while she was indeed a Bug-type (and had a strong bloodline within Chrysalian history), she was an Ignisian politician, and Ignis was notorious for producing nonsense terrors and reformists. Still, he listened to her calm, soothing voice. “Moving forward--it does get easier. You’ll miss him, but that’s about all you can really do.”
He didn’t know what to make of the comment. King Pangoro was his father’s closest friend, yet the king had never extended emotional support beyond the superficial. Scyther only witnessed a political relationship in public; the real kinship had long since faded in his eyes. He hadn’t been comforted by someone else before, but it felt warm in all the loneliness surrounding him.
His voice was unsteady. “I swore growing up that I’d find the cure. But Chrysalia never had the research, the resources. He would never even talk about it, I… I didn’t know what to do,” he said, scythes drooped.
Volcarona’s blue eyes adjusted and her head twitched erratically. “Lord Scizor had the same disease that took dear Akari from King Pangoro,” she said, referencing Riolu’s late mother. “Both died heroes. But you know what’s interesting?” she paused.
Scyther soaked the information in. He only knew the disease was somehow related to the Great EdgeQuake from decades ago; Pangoro, Lucario, Scizor, and a few others were instrumental in stopping the catastrophe.
“It’s a wonder how Pangoro remained unaffected after all these years, considering those he loved most were suffering day after day. At least he inherited the monarchy in the end,” Volcarona finished. After seeing Lord Scyther’s empty face, drained of all composure and formality, she smiled (as best a moth could) and gave the prince some distance to process her statements.
The words were like reading the solution to a word problem; the answer was already in plain sight. And then everything clicked. Pangoro had married into the royalty; the Lucario dynasty had ruled Pugilis for decades, and this was the first time a non-Lucario king presided over the throne. Pangoro was but a no-name immigrant knight anointed for swooning Akari at a young age. Had he used the opportunity to his advantage? What research had he done? Was there a cure?
“We’ll be in touch,” she said, flying from the funeral. As she flew, Scyther’s expressionless face twisted in a pure rage, finally finding an outlet for the frustrations and grief of discrimination and loss.
. . .
Present-Day
The almost throbbing of the buzz was a comfort to Scyther. It was reassurance that he was leading the charge to take back their kingdom, their sovereignty, and he had an army to support him. He even had outside support helping lead the charge. No longer was he “just” A Bug-type. He was a Bug-type Pokemon, and he deserved equal representation and basic rights.
“My Lord,” an incoming buzz from a Vespiquen arrived. “It appears the guards have been instructed not to attack.”
“Very good,” Scyther affirmed. “Stay at your posts and do not make any first moves. Someone will act out and we will play accordingly. I am en route to the palace, ETA about ten minutes.”
“That’s not all,” she said through the noise. “We’ve detected movement outside the kingdom, though we cannot identify the spies.”
Scyther pressed onward. “Disregard. Most likely spectators. Proceed as planned. Volcarona’s assembly will be arriving shortly to prepare the raids.”
After passing over the innermost palace wall, Scyther just barely made eye contact with the canine prince watching below. He closed his eyes and flew forward.
. . .
Prince Riolu reached the bottom of the stairs and launched himself in the direction of the castle. Scyther was no doubt going after his father in this shameless surprise attack. Dragging Volcarona into their political relationship spelled disaster for Chrysalia’s allotment for the foreseeable future. Uprisings wouldn’t be tolerated.
He zig-zagged across the streets, dodging brave Fighting-types prepared to defend their kingdom. Many of them, children included, were willing to stand up against the colony.
“Ryuu!” Stufful trailed behind once more, her four legs squeaking as she ran as hard as she could. She was always falling behind her friend and superior, and the gap only widened since entering adulthood.
“Refrain from attacking! Do not initiate!” Riolu screamed along the streets as he ran, repeating every few blocks.
“Ryuu!” she screamed. He turned around and Stufful pointed back to the top of the wall--the same one they had just left moments ago.
At the top, Conkeldurr was at a standoff with none other than Volcarona, the Ignisian proletariat’s undisputable icon. A weird red cloud, which stood out in the dark grey of the insect-infested skyline, had enveloped the two. Volcarona hovered just off the ground, while Conkeldurr held his concrete blocks with a death grip. The tension between them was unmatchable.
Suddenly, Conkeldurr’s muscles tensed and he swung a block in the air, almost hitting the cunning Fire-type, and then lashed out at her with his second block. Volcarona visibly fell from the top of the Pugilis Inner City wall--her limp body steadily dropped to the ground. Riolu screamed out, helpless, and the buzzing that had stayed outside the inner city quickly amplified.
“ATTACK!” a voice screamed, though Riolu wasn’t clear on whether it was a Bug-type or Fighting-type that had said it.
To his horror, a swarm of Combee erupted over the edge of the wall and spread across the city streets. Yellow masses were in every sight; across each neighborhood, over each house, almost coming 1:1 with the residents themselves. A large, feminine queen bee emerged last, her regality (at least, to Riolu’s knowledge, among her species) on display provocatively. Vespiquen reared her honeycomb shaped body backward and initiated a city-wide Attack Order. Dozens of Beedrill came behind, stingers at the ready, soon after, and they began using Poison Stings and Twineedles on the Fighting-types that braved the fight. This marked the first attack on Pugilis in decades.
“Ryuu, we have to get back to the dojo,” his friend said in awe. “Those kids are still there, and they have no one to save them.”
Prince Riolu felt it was an easy choice. As the future ruler of his kingdom, he had a duty to protect those he cared about. And in the Kakutou Code, those you cherish first are the ones with room to improve. These children had so much children.
“Right,” he said. “My father will have to wait.”
A quick glance, though, told Riolu that Scyther was already past the wall and on his way to the castle. Did he know the war had started? Was this his intention?
. . .
Salandit could be considered one of the most invasive species of Ignis. Before not even five years ago, the population of the sneaky lizard was maybe eight harmless males. There wasn’t a need for a part Poison-type in the Fire-type kingdom; Fire was already super effective to grass and at least resisted the fairies that Poison-types could defeat with ease.
But in Viperia, a kingdom far to the east of southwest Ransei, so far that not even Prince Riolu had visited in his years of regality, the Fire typing was a coveted asset. Viperia was a kingdom plagued by the many Steel-types that ran amok in their domain of Valora, but also in many other neighboring kingdoms as well. The Salazzle squadrons of Viperia were renowned for their devotion and technique to poison Steel-type Pokemon with a nearly incurable Corrosive Toxic. The Salazzle had no reason to migrate so far to Ignis when they were treated well just based on their species’ typing.
One Toxic Lizard’s journey, however, created a newfound threat within Ignis. Poison was a great typing used in torture and force during regime change. As King Pyroar had slowly lost the trust of his subjects in this decade, an aspiring Salazzle and her 100 male Salandit servants found their place in Volcarona’s army--the Morning Sun Party.
She had battled her way through the defenses of Pugilis’ outer walls, having poisoned many weakened Pokemon that were left for dead, but she personally felt it was underwhelming compared to the Fighting-type kingdom’s reputation. The inside spoils--the quality furniture, the surpluses of food stock, and the overall atmosphere--were certainly living up, however, and were prime for theft.
The lizard leader slithered her tongue and walked between the ranks of her lesser male counterparts. On each step to a new group, she narrowed her eyes to slits and monitored her subjects’ faces. She could
smell any possible weaknesses.
“Squadrons A through M, remain outside the capital and begin collecting the supplies. Let the bugs deal with the meatheads; we’re bringing this loot home tonight. That was the deal. The rest of you, come with me.”
She stopped her march midway through Squad S and towered over one of the Salandit. He had a light grey scratch scar across his left eye and held an undeniably dopey, helpless expression. He gulped at her gestures, her singling him out, and stared straight ahead without making eye contact.
Salazzle bent down. “And I expect no hesitations in my troops, right Number Seventy-Six?”
He gulped again, then nodded.
“Good,” she said, changing focus, “I’d hate to remind you the values of a Salandit again.” Her tail, a whip-like, sleek appendage that was toxic to the touch, twitched in intimidation and made the meager Salandit put a tiny hand to his eye scar. “Now let’s spread the wealth, everyone.”
. . .
Prince Riolu was in horror as his kingdom, his very being, was crushed all around him. The schoolhouse, the colosseum, the side shops and cobblestone roads of his youth--demolished. Scolipede steamrolled the buildings into mere rubble along the spreading fires and thick smoke that encircled them.
He and Stufful ran back toward the dojo, dodging as many hostile Bug-types as they could. One Beedrill had gotten in their way at one of the restaurants, but a Take Down attack from Stufful had knocked it back long enough for them to continue running. The recoil damage, though, meant Stufful was no longer at full capacity.
They made one last turn by the same bar Stufful had visited earlier and walked into a thick black smoke that felt much thicker than the rest of the area. Riolu’s eyes stung, causing him to blink hard and strain. He stopped in his tracks and focused ahead of him, trying to sense the aura of other bodies around him. The smoke, however, made a swirling black mass surround and suffocate his attempts at connection, and he found himself trapped--
--And Stufful, still at max speed, had limited field of view, so she did not have the time to stop before running hard into Riolu. The two were sent flying across the debris-covered road. Riolu landed with a hard
thud! and looked up to find their dojo, the place he had trained and built his reputation for years, already destroyed.
The walls were smashed in, with only a stray section or two still intact. The burgundy ceiling had mostly collapsed, and the once-sacred mats and training gear were now disintegrated into nothingness--it was all gone. They looked around in the smoke and only found deep red stains along the brown floors.
“It’s too dangerous, Ryuu. The fire’s spreading quickly. I-I can’t do fires,” Stufful whimpered.
“Someone survived,” he said, his voice getting desperate. “Sensei, the children--
someone had to have survived!”
Prince Riolu closed his eyes once more, replacing himself in the deep smoke surrounding his mind. He faced the dojo, scanned the building, and felt for any signs of life. There’s always that one survivor. He strained his eyelids, feeling as though they’d plow together and crush his eyes, and waited. Sure enough, after seconds of intense pain and concentration, a small blue light emerged within the rubble.
“I’m going in.”
Stufful took a moment to process her superior’s words before cringing as he jumped into the fiery massacre. She called out, but she couldn’t go near the fire--her Fluffy ability meant she wouldn’t last a minute. Stufful wiped her damp forehead and waited, worried, when suddenly a Pokemon slammed into her and darted back with its powerful U-turn attack. She was launched several feet across the cobblestone, skinning one of her paws until it began to bleed. Stufful winced in pain and looked up at the shadow cast over her--a threat she would face alone.
. . .
Scyther stopped fluttering his wings and gracefully landed on the king’s very balcony with a determination that seemed unmatched by Arceus itself. He looked around at the expensive bamboo chairs and used his hand scythe to slice one into shreds. The high-quality lifestyle that his Bug-type kingdom sorely deserved, but was never given. They never had a chance.
Behind him, a small ladybug Pokemon landed on the balcony edge. She nearly collapsed in exhaustion from her quick flight to the Bug Lord, so he was very skeptical of her competence as she gasped for air while grasping chairs to stand up.
“Your...Your Highness,” she wheezed. “Your speed is astounding; it took me two Agilities just to catch up with you!” She coughed for several seconds before continuing. “Anyway, I’m here to report that the mass Stun Spore is going to be happening soon. The Butterfree and Vivillon have gathered and are waiting for your approval.”
Scyther nodded. “This is the palace, Ledian. I will be sheltered inside, so you may start the Stun Spore as soon as possible. I also have Cheri Berries readily available if I were to be affected. Please, leave. This area is still very dangerous...the panda king has yet to show himself.”
Ledian agreed, inhaled deeply, and flew in the direction of the buzzing mass that remained above. Scyther approached the glass balcony door and found a dark body gazing back from the other side. He gulped, excited to finally approach as an equal, as a threat, and raised a scythe at the door.
“Hello, Your Highness,” a Heracross quietly said. “King Pangoro is this way.” The Pokemon was equally calm and terrified; it seemed to understand the attack, however that did not lessen the impact of watching a city implode.
“Thank you, my brother.”
Heracross, one of many feeble servants, felt his heart skip a beat at the recognition. He felt like blushing; he was never considered much in Pangoro’s eyes, yet this young lord was capable of harboring such courage and acceptance just based on one’s typing?
. . .
“Squads X and Y, you will round out the eastern portion by raiding the supermarket. I suspect some of the citizens have already looked for rations, but you are going to steal from even the thieves. This is for our family in Ignis.”
Several Salandit were dismissed and quickly scampered out of the abandoned drugstore. They all held sacks about their size--at full capacity, these bags would be almost impossible to lug around. Regardless, they were sent on a mission.
Salazzle watched two of the last three groups take on their tasks and comply with ease. However, there was a squad she had purposely skipped because of its...underperformance. She rolled her eyes as the time came for their assignment; so many of the males were incompetent--stupid, even. But these four soldiers were some of the dumbest, weakest Salandit she had ever witnessed. They were definitely not contenders to help further the Salandit species.
“And Squad S,” she said, pausing to look at the sorry troops, “Check out the dojo for any spare equipment. I’m sure most of it is ruined, but surely even you can’t screw up finding
something in the mess. Am I right, Seventy-Six?”
The few other members of the group, who were also as feeble-minded and discouraged, glanced sympathetically at the one member who was identifiable. Seventy-Six’s scar made him easy to distinguish and target any discipline or stress. The rest of the Salandit were only identifiable if they responded to their numbers/groups.
The Pokemon emitted a cowering whimper of fear. “Yessir--” he caught himself. “...Agh, ma’am. Yess’am?”
Seventy-Six swallowed at Salazzle’s unimpressed expression and quickly grabbed his bag to exit. The other group members reluctantly followed.
“I expect nothing from that group,” she said dully. Volcarona’s vision for an equal society, where every Pokemon is given the same opportunities and resources, will never change the fact that scum exists under society’s feet.
. . .
Seventy-Six had split up with the other three in his group; while he went inside the dojo, they patrolled around the perimeter, looked through a small storage building of supplies outside, and continued to damage the debris. The other Salandit always seemed to resent him. It was true, though. He knew it deep down: he was the root of all their problems. He never had the gall to take down an enemy or spray someone with his toxins. He didn’t want to, either.
The young lizard Pokemon tiptoed within the fire-engulfed remnants of the training dojo. He saw the crushed corpse of a Croagunk that was caught (and squashed) amid the caved-in ceiling. Seventy-Six, feeling guilty, assured himself that the debris killed Croagunk on impact and that it did not suffocate with its Dry Skin. The bodies of Tyrogue and Timburr lathered the dojo floor with drying blood stains. The Salandit shivered and moved past, looking for any sort of loot. Many of the would-steal items were already demolished; the punching bags and dummies that were every gym’s staple had already been engulfed in flames. Uniforms were covered in soot, their pristine condition now tarnished in ruin.
And then he spotted it: a long, undamaged white scroll that read “Kakutou” was still hanging on one of the still-standing sections of the wall. Seventy-Six had no idea what it meant, but it sure looked like a prize. The path to it, however, was cluttered with debris. He would have to do some labor to snatch the prize.
The Salandit turned over a loose piece of ceiling and flinched as the limp, pale arm of a Machop was revealed underneath. Seventy-Six froze and looked around the frenzy of fire that was now licking at objects within the building. It was getting dangerously close to the prized scroll. He started to move past, but he heard the muffled cries underneath--somehow, this Pokemon was still alive. The Fire/Poison type looked back and forth between the scroll and the struggling Pokemon and eventually squealed, his brain fizzling out.
Seventy-Six took one last look at the Kakutou scroll and slowly pried the rest of the debris off the Pokemon’s body. He checked for a pulse just to double-check, and sure enough the Pokemon was still alive. He sighed in relief before dragging the incapacitated Pokemon through to the backyard of the dojo. The other Salandit were still inspecting other locations, so Seventy-Six’s little side-quest would go unnoticed. When he was sure Machop was far enough away that someone would find and capture him before the fire did, the lizard Pokemon quickly snuck back into the dojo, smoke now billowing like a factory, and desperately searched for that scroll.
“Now, where was I?”
. . .
Prince Riolu, enraged at the destruction of his training haven, impulsively threw a powerful Sky Uppercut into where the aura had emanated from. There was no time for conversation, compromise, or a sanctified duel. In this moment, lives were at stake. The fist landed beneath a strange Salandit’s throat. The Fire/Poison-type Pokemon had a scar sprawled across his left eye like he were a seasoned veteran. It was surely behind much of the destruction of central Pugilis.
The punch landed squarely, knocking Salandit against a rock and causing it to choke and cough on its own spit. Riolu knew he had only a few instances before the fire engulfed the rest of the building. Smoke was making it difficult to breathe and his aura-sensing could be considered “weak” at
best.
“W-wait! I’m not-” the Salandit pled, waving its hands in defeat.
The Fighting-type prince spent no time listening to his enemy’s excuses. He launched another Bullet Punch that blasted the Salandit outside the building debris. As the poor Pokemon flew through the air, it watched as the Kakutou scroll lit up in flames, now worthless. It sighed in defeat once more.
With the threat gone, Prince Riolu searched the floor for any survivors. “Hello? Is anyone alive? It’s your prince. I’ve come to rescue you,” he said loudly, frantically moving rocks and equipment.
Bodies of young children--children Riolu had personally instructed in recent years--were tossed about the floor; some were crushed by debris, others were twisted and gory in details Riolu tried his best not to picture. Blood was streaked across the leftover walls and floors. There were no survivors left. The prince went to the back of the dojo, where Mienshao’s office had been, but the Pokemon was nowhere to be found. Blood spatters covered his desk, but there was no corpse.
He turned around to exit and found the flames had caught up with him. Riolu had no choice but to bust through the remaining wall. A strong Bullet Punch sent remaining bricks flying, so Riolu jumped through and land in the smoky backyard. Chalk lines for arenas were now smeared and stained red. There were no Bug-types to be found, but they had clearly plowed through the area already.
Prince Riolu turned to find Stufful, but a small lump in the yard quickly drew his attention. It was a Machop--somehow one of the children had made it out of the dojo. The hopeful Emanation Pokemon ran over to check the Pokemon and was relieved to find a pulse. Riolu bent down and scooped the Pokemon onto his back. He leapt out of the smoke and ran around the dojo’s perimeter, back to the middle of the street, only to find a showdown already taking place at the dojo’s front door.
Stufful, bruised and bleeding, was taking on a Scolipede all by herself. The enemy Pokemon was a large, towering Bug-type with a deep red body and purple circular patterns all around. It and more were responsible for Steamrolling the buildings and Pokemon--the fact Stufful had taken one on by herself spoke volumes to the Fighting-type prince. In his current position, Riolu was to the left of both Stufful and the Scolipede.
“Ryuu, stand back!” she said, then eyed the Machop on his back. “Take that kid and get out of here.”
Prince Riolu’s face became twisted in indecision. “I can’t leave you in this condition.”
Stufful, still maintaining her distance with the Bug-type, turned toward Riolu with a smile. “Thanks, Your Highness, but I took an oath to your family. It’s kinda my job. I’ll handle the overgrown Weedle, you get out of here.”
It was true, though, that Stufful pledged her services to his family. Many Fighting-type Pokemon were fiercely loyal to and proud of their monarchy. There wasn’t a case of dissent in any of the subjects since the start of Pugilis’ golden age. Still, to leave his friend alone like this...
The Scolipede scoffed and replied in an angry, sophisticated voice. “I truly am tired of your needless oppression. Volcarona will steer us all on the right path.”
But Scyther is your lord, not Volcarona, Riolu thought to himself.
Who are you working for?
“Ryuu! Get out of here!”
Before any other insults could come about, the Megapede Pokemon rolled into a ball and began rolling directly toward Stufful. Riolu was frozen in place, Machop still on his back. He could make a run for it and save Machop, or he could put the Pokemon down and save the more competent soldier.
The Scolipede rolled closer, Stufful stood proudly in place, and Riolu felt his stomach flip in distress. He couldn’t make the choice--it wasn’t fair to either Pokemon. What would his father do?
Before Scolipede reached Stufful, who had accepted her fate, Riolu noticed a small stone wedge launch from the ground in front of the Normal/Fighting teddy bear Pokemon. It wasn’t exactly a shield, per se, but rather a...ramp? Riolu felt a shadow come over him and glanced up--a purple figure had gone unnoticed until it was already in range of the prince’s attacks. Who was known to possess such speeds?
Mienshao landed on the ground on his left foot and kicked off further. The stone ramp grew larger and Stufful closed her eyes, bracing for impact. The Scolipede, unable to see the spectacle, rolled onward. It went over the stone ramp, launching itself high in the sky. As it uncoiled, realizing it never made impact, the Bug-type screeched before landing in and finally imploding the remains of the fiery dojo. The dying fire was rekindled, erupting in a larger roar. Stone walls and waves of fire crushed and drowned the Megapede Pokemon in its own allies’ destruction.
Mienshao walked back, Stufful already in hand. From behind, a blue karate specialist Pokemon removed the large stone that had protruded from the cobblestone. It was the Sawk that his sensei had mentioned earlier.
Both the prince and his guard were in awe at the spectacle. Mienshao dropped Stufful onto the ground and scanned the two Pokemon for wounds. The extraverted Pokemon smiled wide after seeing them still okay.
“Glad to see you two are still at it. I can’t
believe this is happening. I had just left the dojo for my date when this happened. I received word from your father to find and escort you to safety, so let’s get going and we’ll catch up later.”
The sensei pushed Riolu and Stufful away from the castle’s direction and insisted they retreat. He saw the young Machop hanging weakly on Riolu’s back. “Is that Takeshi? From the dojo? Dear Keldeo, his parents in the Sumo District have been searching for him amid the destruction. Gimme.”
Machop moved from Riolu’s back to being cradled in the older Pokemon’s arms. All around them, more destruction occurred. Sawk brought up the rear of their party, throwing Stone Edge attacks like darts to knock Beedrill out of the air. A Primeape and his Mankey children were also seen throwing rocks and punches at bugs all around. Hawlucha were jumping from rooftop to rooftop of what buildings remained and tried to mitigate the aerial advantage.
“There’s a small task force of us here in the capital that are doing damage control. The king himself has been out fighting Bug-types around the central capital.”
Riolu frowned. “Do you know where he is?”
“He received a note from one of the enemies to meet Scyther back at his castle. He had no choice but to cooperate. I’m not sure if he’s going to take the kid out, but he needs to stop the destruction. He gave us permission to kill on sight.”
The party of Fighting-types instinctively look toward the central wall as a large beam of light into the sky. The rising moon’s lunar light quickly became as intense as during the day. The sky turned blue and clear of clouds. A Sunny Day attack had been called on the kingdom.
The artificial sun was then blocked out once more by a rejuvenated Volcarona. The buzzing grew more intense and the frenzy of Bug-types once again became feverish. A yellow cloud of dust appeared from below the mass of still-hovering Bug-types that surrounded Pugilis. Riolu wasn’t immediately sure what it was, but his main concern was his father.
“That looks like a Stun Spore cloud,” the Sawk said, his deep, intense voice breaking the awed silence.
Mienshao nodded. “This is not good. This could stop the entire resistance movement. Where are the Limber Pokemon at? The squad of Hitmonlee? Are they still in the countryside?”
“I’d imagine they’re--” Sawk started.
“I’m going to find my father, sensei. Thank you for saving us and taking Machop. Please find some cover for him.”
Both Stufful and Mienshao knew the statement was coming. Prince Ryuunosuke of Pugilis was the most by-the-book, predictable Pokemon in the kingdom. Without much disagreement, Mienshao bitterly nodded and wished them luck.
“Get to the castle as soon as you can to avoid paralysis, my prince. I’ll find somewhere safe for little Takeshi here. And don’t worry about me--this is actually a great bonding experience as a date. Wouldn’t you agree, Sawky?”
The blue Fighting-type Pokemon, rather quiet and focused, blushed slightly amid the destruction around him. “Yes.”
Riolu smiled awkwardly. “I’ll see you on the other side of this, sensei.”
Stufful (somewhat begrudgingly) followed the Pugilis Prince’s quick pace to the castle, the heart of the battle. They dodged dropped corpses and briefly fought nearby threats along the way, never fully stopping to engage. There wasn’t much time between Scyther’s outrage and Volcarona’s Stun Spore plan. They had to move quickly.
. . .
The prince and his guard finally made it to the steps of the castle. He looked up at the home and felt an invisible dagger slide through his heart. Blood stained the cream steps, which were cracked and broken along the staircase. Spires above, where lookouts and other servants lived, were already broken and crumbled on the ground. The main section, however, was mostly intact; King Pangoro must have restricted the damage as best he could.
While bugs were buzzing all above, it appeared that they were still focused on dispersing the Stun Spore and avoiding being hit by the blast. It would likely land in just under a minute max. They were lucky to make it to the castle steps in record time. Prince Riolu ran up the steps and Stufful quickly stepped in front of him to open the door--a weak attempt at consistency.
The door swung open and just inside, Prince Riolu met a Heracross servant face-to-face. The blue-shelled beetle remained in place, no signs of slackened posture or relief to see his prince. The bug wasn’t about to move.
“Hello, Heracross, nice to see you are safe,” Riolu said cautiously.
“Ryuunosuke.”
The lack of “prince” hit Riolu hard. Only his father had permission to call him by his full name without a dignifier, though Stufful sometimes got away with it. The disrespect Heracross showed in this time of need was evidently an establishment of power.
“I’m going to check on my father.”
“I’m afraid I’ve been ordered to not let you pass.”
“By my father? Your king?”
The Bug-type didn’t answer. Riolu stepped forward and watched it brace for impact.
“This is a matter to be settled by Lord Scyther and King Pangoro, Ryuunosuke. You have no authority.”
The prince felt a heat of embarrassment overcome him. How could one of the most dedicated servants dare to defy him--and simultaneously respect Scyther? Was this something only a Bug-type was capable of? No member of his kingdom dared (nor wanted to) defile his rule.
“I’m going to this meeting.”
“I won’t allow you.”
Prince Riolu lurched forward and instinctively ducked under the first hit of a Close Combat attack. The young Emanation Pokemon solidified his fist into a hard metal and sprang a Bullet Punch against Heracross’ chest. The Pokemon was knocked back, but its defenses were sturdy.
Stufful, still tired from her battle with Scolipede, lunged for a Take Down but was swatted away by Heracross’ Brick Break. The slam knocked her back, sending the Normal/Fighting-type spiraling across the floor until she hit a pillar nearby. A small trail of faded red blood streaked behind her as previous wounds opened up anew.
The prince launched a strong Sky Uppercut into Heracross, sending the Pokemon into the air, but its blue horn emitted a white light and landed a Megahorn attack that brought Riolu to the ground as well. The servant paced between the two Fighting-types and sighed.
“I’m sorry, Prince, but the discrimination and toxic economy of this kingdom has brought it to its downfall. Chrysalia will take this mistreatment no more.”
“Heracross,” Riolu said, getting up from the floor. “You are not of Chrysalia...You’re a citizen of Pugilis. You belong here.”
His opponent swallowed hard. “I appreciate the kind words, but I cannot pretend I am not a servant here because of my typing. These are my people, too.”
Prince Riolu felt the direction this conversation was going. The servant felt mistreated and would run to Scyther and Volcarona without understanding the consequences of his betrayal...and of trusting the enemy. There was no turning back.
“I’m going to finish you off, but I will leave you alive, prince, so you can experience the same undignified lifestyle that I have. You will still serve the monarchy you cherish, but under a more fair management.”
Heracross jumped forward, his horn glowing blue in the attack. Riolu immediately recognized it as an Aerial Ace; those in the kingdom with access automatically had an advantage in the arena. He braced for the impact, moving his arms in front of him, and winced at the damage Heracross’ horn had slung. His hands bled from the attack and his health slipped lower and lower. In a desperate attempt, Riolu moved one of his hands, causing the Aerial Ace to push through to his chest, and punched a Counter attack down on Heracross’ head before the attack would pierce any further. The Bug-type servant smacked to the ground, crushing the tiled floors. Riolu fell back, weak, and landed hard on his butt. Stufful was still in the corner struggling to get out of the puddle of her own blood.
Riolu jumped back to his feet and walked across the castle’s main room’s floors. All the artwork and sculptures of famous Fighting-type generals and kings had been smashed and sliced, no doubt from Aerial Ace attacks. The prince’s own bust, which had been recently placed following his streak at the arena, was reduced to dust.
Before he could get to Stufful, though, another figure entered the doorway. Riolu froze. Mienshao could have come as backup, or maybe one of the others for further orders. It could have been another Bug-type follower looking for a match.
But it wasn’t. The figure was none other than Volcarona herself.
“Hello, Prince Riolu. I’m surprised it’s taken us this long to get to properly meet. You’ve grown since the funeral,” she said with ease.
Riolu felt tears coming to his eyes, but he quickly pushed them back. Fighting-types don’t cry. Fighting-types go out with clenched fists. The rage he felt for this one Pokemon--the source of Scyther’s hateful vengeance, Heracross’ betrayal, and the looting and destruction in Pugilis--was monumental.
“If you’re looking for a fight, I’ll gladly give you one,” he said. “I’m not letting you make it to my father.” He put his fists up, though his body was scarred and bloody all over. One of his eyes had somehow started swelling shut.
Volcarona glided in the air and entered the room. “Oh, my dear, I’m not here for your father quite yet. I’ve entrusted Scyther to stall him for now. I’m here to tie up some loose ends.”
The air was still. Riolu felt his heartbeat in his throat. He felt like screaming and vomiting and crying all at the same time. The rage that filled his heart replaced any hint of innocence that he had. He looked up the staircase that stood in the middle of the main hallway. Just a flight of stairs is all that separated him from the conversation between world leaders. He was so close.
“I understand you’re quite the battler, and that Counter attack would be a cheap way to stop an upcoming world leader.”
“What do you want?” he spat.
She paused. “What do I want? I want every Pokemon to have the same opportunities. Your kingdom is a great inhibitor for all of western Ransei, my Prince.”
“And why aren’t you taking over your own kingdom right now?”
“Overthrowing Ignis means little to the east...right now. Successfully ending discrimination of Bug-types, fueling the economy with your surpluses, and ending years of brutal economic inequality in the region means Pugilis is the best political target to further my message beyond just localized ‘revolution.’ Afterward, my takeover of Ignis will no longer look like fringe reform. It’s the dawn of a new age, Prince Riolu. The rise of the Morning Sun Party. Chrysalia will be living proof of the effectiveness of wealth redistribution.”
Riolu remained speechless.
“Unfortunately for you, my next step is removing the rest of your family from the equation. It’s nothing personal.”
“Why don’t you come try, then?” he said.
The prince pushed his feet off the ground in an attempt to then land and jump from the pillars into an aerial attack. Volcarona’s long-range special attacks would struggle to keep up with close physical strategies.
“With the Sunny Day up, there’s no chance for your silly tactics. I am so sorry you had to grow up in this hostile environment. Goodbye, Prince Riolu.”
He lunged toward Volcarona, who hadn’t made a single move. His fist grew heavier in its steel form and he planned to land a solid punch on her, even if he couldn’t defeat her.
Volcarona simply closed her eyes, breathed in deeply through her mouth, and unleashed a Fire Blast that sent the entire ground floor to pieces. The fire swallowed up Riolu, the damaged Stufful, the unconscious Heracross, and blew the windows and wall completely out one side of the castle.
Riolu watched the blinding sea of orange surround him and lick at his skin with its sinful intent. The move stopped any momentum he had built up. His fist burned first, sending a wave of pain up his arm, and he was forced to stop the Bullet Punch from singing his hand off.
In all of the orange pain, he lost any sight of Volcarona, Stufful, the staircase. His father. His aura. The chance he needed to solve the conflict. The trace of self-respect, pride, and happiness. Prince Riolu, at this point in his life, had lost everything dear to his privileged little heart.
The fire sent his body flying out of the castle’s destroyed wall. He was blasted with the debris and fell several feet in the air on the downward slopes of the hills. He limply tumbled in the pieces of rock that scattered the roads. The Emanation Pokemon felt his vision disappear as he went from seeing orange fire and grey stone, to the yellow Stun Spore cloud that had been dropped from above, to eventual black. He couldn’t move his body, he couldn’t check for his safety, he couldn’t glance for Stufful or Mienshao or his father. It was all over. Pugilis lost, Riolu lost.
Prince Riolu’s eyes rolled in the back of his head as he laid in the rubble of his own castle. All around him, the onslaught of violence and destruction continued without a moment of silence.
. . .
“I ----- one! I think ---- him!”
“---- - Riolu! How many ----- are -- Pugilis?”
“-- -- okay?”
“---- alive!”
“Put --- on ----- ---- the ------!”
Unaware of the time, place, and people around him, Riolu’s consciousness slipped in and out. His vision remained blurred and mostly black. He felt like was floating inside himself. Helpless, he couldn’t resist whoever was lifting his body.
“Prince Riolu?” someone said.
“Dad,” he struggled a whisper.
He couldn’t comprehend or recognize the voice. His mind was elsewhere.
“Don’t worry, we’re gonna get you out of here. Put him in the cart.”
