Flashes of metal shone off George’s scalchops. He struck hard and fast at his targets: fruits and vegetables they might be, but that was no excuses to be a slouch. Everything short of chopping them in half, juices spilling all over the place wasn’t good enough. Not even with dry vegetables, or tree branches.

Combat required the strictest attention to detail, all at a breakneck pace. One needed to be cautious. The situation changed in the blink of an eye. One moment, George cut through a leafy branch. Five seconds later, his scalchops were parried by two proud horns. Cobalion had hopped into the fray, aiming for a headbutt.

George struck back in an attempt to parry. Cobalion wasn’t stopped. Brute force didn’t topple the blue sword - in a few strikes, the scalchop flew out George’s hand. Moments later, he received a tap to the belly. The blue Sword kicked him with a hoof.

“Ngh!”

The Dewott fell backwards, first hitting the blue grass with his rear, then his back. His tail was squished under his body weight, pain pressing right up to his spine, then stinging inside even after he’d rolled off.

“...Your form is terrible.”

Cobalion stood over George with a raised head, fancying himself above the Dewott; at least, that’s how George interpreted it. His own eyes narrowed in return.

“Did you expect me to get it in a week’s time?”

The blue Sword scoffed. “No, I expected you to have learned something in the myriad of months you’ve been on Eravate. How long has it been? Eight months? A full year? And you still make mistakes on fighting fundamentals?”

George’s face contracted into a scowl. “Did I ever ask for this?”

A loogie landed on the dirt beside the Dewott, the spatters hitting his hand. “Quit pissing around. You know fulwell this isn’t a choice.” Cobalion’s head leaned in closer. “Unless you prefer surrendering to the Corrupted? Would you risk it for yourself, having a neat little chat with them? Would you prefer taking your own life?”

“No.”

“Then quit whining. You’ve got a lot to learn. And even more work to do. Eravate isn’t waiting on you to get better when She is dying as we speak. I understand this is difficult. This isn’t what you, me, or anyone else wants… but it’s either this or a literal death. Is that clear?”

The Dewott rolled his eyes. “Loud and clear,” he said, squeezing one of his hands into a fist, right where the blue Sword could see it. He was too exhausted to hide it. The worst consequence if Cobalion chose to go there? Sitting here for another hour, arguing.

"Good. Now, take time out of each day to practise form. I will not accept any excuses. Master Hein may provide all the cover he wants for you, but I will not stand for that. Nothing short of your best is good enough." Cobalionshook his head. "Speaking of which... That ridiculous Dusknoir has an appointment with you, does he not?"

George folded his arms. "Yes. Yes he does."

"Tell him Cobal says hi. And that I want to speak to him. And that he needs to sharpen that Lone Eye of his. Teaching is different than killing."

By the time Cobalion finished, George had spun around on his heels, fur bristled; one had to say 'go', and he'd be off. "Will do," he muttered.

"Look me in the eyes when saying goodbye."

"Sorry."

"No, you’re not. And it does not matter. Do better next time."

"Yes, sir." 'Hope you trip on the way home.'

"Goodbye for now, George. Best of luck."

"See you around."

Freedom had a sweet, yet bitter taste today. For one, leaving the blue-grassed training field felt refreshing like the spring breeze. Right after a bath. George loved it. Even found a mountainside stream to run through further downhill. It felt great, getting his feet wet, reaching into the water and throwing it all over him. Wash those unsightly tangles out of his fur. Make it blue like the ocean, again - he wasn’t particularly adept at keeping himself well groomed, and getting knocked around during training didn’t help.

Then came the best part: no one could tell him no. No one had that power over him now, in his freetime between classes. No one was around to enforce anything on him.

For just a moment, he could be himself. Guilt free.

'I can't even remember the last time I got to do this. How did I even manage before? Because of Blitzer?'

Then the bitterness came.

'...Because of Blitzer, isn't it? And he's not here. He's... I don't know. Still on the run on Eravate, maybe. If he's even alive... and not following orders still. Like everyone else in Eravate has to. Isn't that the truth?'

The Dewott sighed, an uneasy feeling building up in his eyes. 'Because that's what the Alliance wants. They won.'

So much for joy and being himself. Who did he think he was, someone besides George? He’d been taking orders for so long, any break from the pattern was just that - a break. The exception proving the rule. After all, if he really could be who he wanted to be, then it wouldn’t get the blood pumping now, would it?

And his whims played second fiddle to what the world desired. Cobalion hammered that into his head plenty; if no one lifted a finger, they’d have to give up what freedoms they had. Like everyone trapped on the mainland.

And so, George ended up groaning his way across the blue fields, dragging his tail past glowing berry bushes. Tempting as they were, none were ripe. That came later, and pretending they ran on your schedule would quickly land you before a doctor, and on a bed for at least the day. He learned that one the hard way.

‘Ugh… where’s Hein? Best not to keep him waiting too long…’

The Dusknoir and George had agreed to meet several communes over; it bore the name ‘Fibre’, and was mostly flanked by orchards. A variety of trees had been planted on a grid, something which gave off an artificial vibe in spite of how real the trees were. Nature, or a facsimile of it.

Nevertheless, that wasn’t George’s goal. No, Fibre was known for more than orchids, namely its small library. They had a variety of scrolls, books… but also a little terrace behind the building. So you could read in the sunshine; not that the sun was keen on showing itself these days.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

It was close to this terrace, underneath one of the few trees not part of an orchard, that George found Hein resting in the shade, submerged a tad into the ground, his hands on his body,. For a moment, he looked asleep: his eye seemed absent, until a shimmer caught George’s attention. Said shimmer became a full Dusknoir eye moments later.

“You’re early.”

George blinked twice over, before folding his arms. "Didn't you tell me to come early?"

"By a few minutes, yes," the Dusknoir said, leaning his antenna over his bulk. "Instead, you're almost a full hour early. Here I was believing you wanted a break after being around Cobalion for three hours."

Hein wasn't wrong; coming fresh off the first lesson, it felt like more criticism. George fidgeted, snapping his fingers without a sound while glancing skyward. Morning, afternoon, the difference between the two wasn't so big now, was it?

The Dewott sighed. "Better to get it over with."

"You make it sound like talking to me is a nightmare," said Hein while he gestured with two fingers for George to come closer. "Weren't you and I past that?"

"Yes, it's just-" The Dewott locked up for a second. "Just tired."

Hein raised an eye. "Bad experiences, I take it? We've only been at it for a week."

George slowly nodded. "I don't want to get bossed around again. No one gets it. I feel like every teacher I've ever had doesn't want me to think for myself."

"And what makes you say that?" Hein asked, to which George sighed. It was as if he'd been carrying a weight on his shoulders for the past decade, and an opportunity to set it down had presented itself at last.

"No one's ever taken my opinion into account. I went to school, and it's all about following others. Couldn't ever be creative. Back in the foster's home, same thing. Speak out against anyone pestering you? How dare you, George! End up in Eravate? End up in a cult. Go train. That's what we want. You are un-not-special. Go learn and then we can use you. Kill you later. Then I end up running for my life."

George visualised his next step. Explaining with words had gotten tedious. It was too easy for others to ignore. And thus, he pressed his elbows against the sides of his head, his forearms going backwards like horns.

"Greetings. I am the great and magnificent Cobalion, leader of the great Swords of Justice! Eravate needs you, George. And that is why you must do as we have planned for you! To. The. Letter. Is that clear?"

The little play ended with a shake of his head, to the wind blowing as applause. The triumph didn’t last long. Hein slumped against the tree like a black bag of salt.

“Well then. Tell me how you really feel.”

“I just did.”

“Hey, I’m not your enemy here,” Hein said, putting his hands up. For an unstoppable force, he sure crumbled like a sandcastle over a quip. “Just joking around, my apologies.”

George sighed. “I’d prefer no jokes, honestly.” ‘They’re at my expense more often than not.’

He found a comfy spot next to the Dusknoir to stand on. Still in the shade, with enough distance between the two; even slouched over, Hein had size over him.

“Point taken,” the Dusknoir said. “In any case, I understand your frustrations. Cobalion is… a very proud Pokemon, to put it mildly. You bruised said pride rather hard on the first day.”

The Dewott raised an eye. “Did I?” he asked in a dull, semi-serious tone.

Hein cracked up. “Had me and Terez not been there, he’d have yelled your ears off until you fell asleep that night. Quite the piece of work, Cobalion, eh. A Pokemon of great power and great reputation… until you meet him in person.”

George rolled his eyes. “So you don’t like him either? Then why are you working for him?”

The Dusknoir reached up with one hand, grabbing onto a low hanging apple - even partially submerged, his arm could reach right into the branches. With hands big enough to crush a stone, he plucked an apple, then casually tossed it into his maw.

“Because he doesn’t want this world to fall apart, for starters. Because people are more than what they are on the surface, for seconds. A certain bastard of an Empoleon proves that. And third… well, he can admit being wrong. It requires a tinge of assertiveness, though.”

‘Tsk.’ George grimaced, resisting the urge to spit onto the dirt. His stomach cramped up, and it wasn’t the kind of cramp that made one think of happier things. Just puking your guts out over a bucket.

“Spare me the effort, really…”

Hein nodded, his mouth finally closing. “Of course. I don’t expect you two to get along. And your grievances are perfectly valid. That’s why you didn’t see me for a few hours. I had to calm him down, explain what you’ve been through. Get him to understand how this all felt for you.”

George shook his head. “Didn’t see the difference. If anything, you made him bitter.”

“Yes,” the Dusknoir said. “That is Cobalion for you. He’s far too proud for his own good. Unsurprisingly, that little incident a week ago has left him bitter. Give it time. And don’t be shy about asserting yourself again, mind you.”

“Assertive, how?” George asked, ears flat against his head. He shuffled just around the corner, his feet kicking up a little dust from being dragged over dirt, then sank down the bark of the same tree. “He’s just about ready to kick me in the face if I step out of line again. I’d prefer getting lessons from… anyone else, really.”

Hein harrumphed, as if he had a throat to clear. “No need to overthink things. You should be prepared to state your mind. And don’t be shy about making demands if needed. You’re the one learning. Lessons should be catered to you, no?”

“...You make it sound like it’s no big deal,” George deadpanned. “Like it’s easy.”

“Simple. But not easy. There’s a difference between the two,” Hein continued. “You know when there’s something wrong. You know when you want change. But standing up to authority? That is the tricky bit,” he said, echoing out a sigh. “Back when I was a fledgling mayor, that was an issue I had. Residents too afraid to speak their minds. It took a lot of work to reverse that course. I made it a personal philosophy to be as clandestine as I could be to those looking up to me. We’re all flawed at the end of the day, George. That is part of being a Pokemon.”

George hid his mouth behind his hands, which he clasped together in front of his face. “Sure, but we’re not talking basic discipline here, are we? I’m getting lessons from Pokemon far stronger than I am. Everyone here could rip my gut open if they wanted. You can’t ignore that.”

All of a sudden, the Dusknoir twisted his body around, rolling and diving through the terrain until he was looking George directly into the eye, resembling a snake bursting out of the earth. No snake had similar bulk, or a lone eye, but the comparison made sense in George’s head.

“Take it from someone cursed with far too much power for his own good. No sane, civilised Pokemon would kill over simple protests, George. My ‘folklore name’, if you want to call it that, is dreadful. No one in the right mind wants that reputation, everyone on this island included.” He leaned in closer. “Has anything happened to you here that I am not aware of?”

“...No.”

“Did those two clowns try anything funny?”

“Nothing I haven’t said already.”

“And do you know why that is?”

George blinked several times. Something itchy crawled around inside his fur; a pinch didn’t solve the problem. Could’ve been a natural reaction to the question. It was one of those open ended ones that sounded simple on the surface, until you actually sat down to come up with a answer for it.

“Because…?”

The Dusknoir scoffed. “Because the people on this island aren’t evil.”

“Ergh…” George pinched himself on the arms, his tail lashing out at the trunk of the tree. Stumped by what was said to him ten seconds earlier. Talk about sinking to new lows. “I know that…”

Hein pulled back. “Then act based on that. Believe there’s good in people, George. I know fulwell why you would think otherwise. You’ve been dealt nothing but bad hands all your life, based on what you have told me. But the moment you give up hope? That’s when the game truly ends.”

The Dewott sighed just as the wind swept on by. “If you ask me, it’s never even started.”

“All the more reason to get things started today, no?” the Dusknoir answered, tilting his antenna a little. “Speaking of ‘getting things started’, have you seen dumb and dumber around these last few days?”

“...You mean Hyran? And Demi…dan?” ‘The hell was his name again? Demidan, right?’

Hein grinned. “Who else could I be referring to?”

George got back up with a tired groan. Having the wind in his face felt nice, and sitting around only made him feel sluggish. “We’ve said hello to each other a few times. They’re together more often than not… actually, not a day goes by where I don’t see them, huh.”

“What, do they block the way when you’re trying to get somewhere?” Hein asked, lowering his antenna to eye level, resembling a teenager in the process.

No, it’s more like…“ George gritted his teeth while keeping his mouth closed. ‘Stalking?’ “Well, it’s like someone told them about my classes, because they’re always somewhere on the road. Oh, conveniently walking on by. Scratch that, this morning they were pretending to be construction workers! Chopping up a boulder, or something!”

He gave his red scarf a good tug, the Azure Flute swinging back and forth. For all he knew, they might have been bugged. Did technology on Eravate even allow for bugs in that sense? Or god forbid, did they use actual bugs?

It was then that Hein decided he was done scraping up dust with his ectoplasm, and he rose back to his full height. “That sounds like they want to know you better. Spend time around you…”

“...Are they allowed to?” George thumbed his nose. ‘Do I want them to, or is that my instincts speaking? In… either way…’

The Dusknoir scoffed. “Originally, no. But since you got yourself involved with them… Well, plans are malleable. Besides, any ban would have been temporary. You can only keep someone caged for so long before it becomes cruel.”

“Right,” George said, arms folded. ‘Would’ve appreciated hearing that sooner, honestly.’ “Do you want to get started with the lesson? The one you planned.”

Hein’s ectoplasm flickered. “Pray do tell, what did I call the class again?”

George blinked at him. “...Mental fortitude?”

The Dusknoir nodded back. “And do you understand how our little talk ties into that?”

“...What?”

“Standing up to authority. Believing there’s good in your fellow Pokemon. All of that requires mental fortitude, George,” Hein explained, guiding George with his hand to the wall of mist on the horizon. “That is what we will learn over the coming weeks. Both in body, and spirit. The way our souls handle conflict, cope with loss, and deal with victories. How our feelings manifest into actions, and how we can harness our emotions to better ourselves…”

The Isle of Swords did not rest. And George, as a new resident, no matter how temporary his stay might be, would learn that the hard way. Of course, backbreaking labour wouldn’t be what kept him awake.

His own reflection did, whether through words or pond water.