The sun shone in the cloudless skies, as the band came marching down the street to the rhythm of their drums. Bipedal, thumbed Pokemon made up the drummers; woe be the quadruped that tries to march in lockstep with the rest of the parade, whilst trying to keep a steady rhythm.

A crowd happily watched as the parade proceeded, floats and squads of various Pokemon responding to their waves with their own. Craftsfolk, military mon and a wide array of other peoples were represented. It was a day of celebration, one that no group in Eravate couldn’t enjoy.

Among those in the front of the crowd was a young Kirlia. Not a year older than thirteen, curiously watching the parade proceed on by whilst holding a Gallade’s hand.

“Dad?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” The Gallade glanced down at the Kirlia poking his leg, his attention to the parade melting like snow before the sun. “What is it?”

“Where is the king?” She asked, trying to poke her head over the crowd. “I can’t see him anywhere…”

Gallade smiled at her. “He isn’t here yet. But he will be soon enough. The Soldiers are almost here, would you like a better view of them?”

“Please!” the Kirlia replied. Her father obliged, and hoisted her over his shoulders, granting her a commanding view of the square and the parade. Flags hung from every balcony, mast and vantage point, all bearing the king’s green sigil. In the parade itself, the first Soldiers came in just as she got to have a look, the green scarves wrapped around their necks bright in the sunlight. Many of the attendees, biped and quadruped alike, wore cheaper replicas of the same scarf. Some waved tiny flags around. Some wore face paint in the shape of the decal on the flag. And most important of all, her father wore a green scarf of his own, authentic and clean, like any Soldier worth their salt would wear.

“Dad?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Why aren’t you in the parade?”

Kirlia Terez was pulled off her father’s shoulders, and held in front of his face. He looked at her with a prideful gaze only a father could bear . “Because you’re far more important than a parade, sweetheart.”

“But aren’t you required to?” Terez asked. Gallade shook his head.

“No. Even if it were an order… You always follow your heart. No matter what.”

Terez looked at him, puzzled. Her dad devoted his life to the military, even after her mom had gone away. Wasn’t disobeying military orders akin to insulting the Creator? It’s why he hadn’t been as present in her life before it was just the two of them.

“Look, sweetie. The king!”

Her father’s guiding hand led her to an enormous carriage being pulled down the street by several Mudsdale. Sitting atop was an Empoleon, slowly waving and basking in the cheers of the crowd. The energy in the square was contagious. Everyone capable waved at him, smiling and laughing and cheering. Terez followed them, as her father put her back on his shoulders. She waved and waved for as long as the king remained in sight, no matter how much it made her arm itch.

And for just a moment, the king looked her way, all while waving back.

* * *

A decade had passed since the parade. On the evening after graduating from the academy, Terez returned home. Or what home she had left. Her father and her hadn’t been wealthy. All they had was his wage at first, then charity. It took but a single fateful day to change history. Some days may change the very foundations of the world, others touch a single life.

To dismiss small impacts was a sin. In the end, all lives are precious, aren’t they?

It rained as Terez descended down the row of stones, a bouquet of flowers dripping wet in her hands, her hair and new green scarf cloaked. It still smelled fresh from yesterday, when she first tied it around her neck. A day she and her father had been dreaming of for many years, no matter how dark the times were.

If only he was still around to see it.

By a stroke of luck, it didn’t take long for her to find him. Being a war hero, he got the dignity of never being forgotten, least of all by the elderly Grotle who took care of this place. The Kirlia kneeled, laying her flowers on the ground, then stared at the stone bearing an inscription in Unown:

“Mennu Pearlsedge - Father, Husband, Hero”

“Father… I hope… I hope I’ve made you proud. Wherever you and mom are, I hope you can be proud of me…. I-If you can hear me…”

Terez stared at the inscription for a long time, the rain pouring all around her as she kept readjusting the flowers, and straightening the scarf she’d promised he’d be seeing her in one day. A mist emerged out of the Kirlia’s eyes. Why now? She had promised him long ago that she’d be strong, regardless of what happens. Regardless of how hurt, lost, or troubled she was, how rough the times might be.

But when the heavens were united in grief with you, it was hard to bury how you truly felt.

Her voice wavered. “I miss you…”

* * *

Terez had her work cut out for her in the army. She followed in her father’s footsteps knowing of the challenges and sacrifices that had to be made: Mennu had told her as much many times, whether through tales of his own battles, or the effect it had on others. It wasn’t an easy life, but she was determined to get in.

But when she did, she learned first hand that words only conveyed so much. Four years into her career, and she had gone through enough sleepless nights and misery to last a lifetime. Her eyes certainly had gotten wrinklier, as a cursory glance at the mirror would reveal. And that wasn’t the only change. She’d gained experience in the psychic arts as a consequence of war, and her Kirlia body hadn’t been long for the world.

Now a Gardevoir, Terez fought with a new army. The ‘Vined Crest’, as the new order proudly called itself. For reasons unbeknownst to her, King Artanouk had been deposed by the nobility, the upper segments of society that called the shots on the Eravatean continent. Being little more than a grunt, Terez had little understanding of why.

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According to the Crest, Artanouk had been a corrupt man, with unsavoury tendencies they didn’t elaborate further upon. And perhaps that was for the better, if a change in head was the only difference the new order brought with it.

But the developments went further than a change in scarf symbols. Eravate had always struggled with tomorrow; whether it was Rubyfolk bumpkins disagreeing with taxes or invaders from foreign continents, there was always some sort of defence work to be done. Not to mention the local disputes. Eravate was united on paper, but old wounds bled straight through.

Not long after the Vined Crest took control, the conflicts went beyond those of territorial and monetary manners. It appeared in street shadows, inside bogs and thickets once quiet. And it was far more venomous. Their enemies fought like ferals, never surrendered, right up to their death. Shouts of tyranny and oppression rang clear. And as the months went on by, Terez’ understanding of ‘why’ developed in ways she wouldn’t dream of.

Deerling’s Grove, the town was named. It sat on the border of the Agate Province, towards the west. Rebels had taken it over, and Terez’ regiment had the task of taking it back. The battle that ensued was dirty and savage, like all fights with this new threat. Instead of nursing prisoners, they stacked bodies once all was said and done.

Some among her regiment went a step further, though. The locals that had suffered under the threat weren’t out of the weeds. Orders from above dictated that the locals were suspicious, too. After all, if they believed in the Crest, then they wouldn’t have been occupied, would they? Thus, many were arrested. Terez’ fellow green-scarved Soldiers harassed, roared at and beat the civilians into submission, dragging them by the ear, leg, anything they could get their claws upon. One Heracross went as far as to threaten a goring to a Bibarel, right in front of his family. Terez grimaced.

‘Commander? What the hell is he doing?’

She ran to the scene, stragglers be damned. On her way, she overheard the poison dripping from the Heracross’ mouth, being spewed right over the very real fear of the Bibarel and his family.

“And you BEST be listening to me, blackneck. You’re gonna tell me exactly how long they’ve been here, what they said to you, what you told them, and what your neighbours told ‘em. Right?”

“S-sir, please, I’m telling you the truth, I never-”

“Wanna get the horn?”

“N-no! Please! I-”

Bibarel got an elbow to the chest, squealing as the Heracross grabbed him by the shoulder, his claws pincering into the skin. “Then look at me and pay attention!”

“Commander Kab!” Terez shouted, half-panting as she reached him. “Don’t you think you’re stepping out of line?”

The Heracross’ face slowly turned, the agitation dripping down his face like steam from the trunk of a tea kettle. “Say that again, squaddie?!”

The Gardevoir scowled at him. “I said, you are going too far. Don’t you see what you’re doing? Or what the rest of the regiment’s up to?”

Kab glared at her for a good two seconds, letting go of the Bibarel in the process. He remained frozen in place as the Commander spat at his feet.

“You’ve got some nerve, missie. Where was that nerve earlier, huh? Could’ve wiped all these scumbags out, instead of half of ‘em gettin’ away. Now we gotta chase ‘em in the mud!”

“Answer my question,” Terez growled. “Why are you doing this?”

Kab’s eyes narrowed as he waved his horn in front of the Gardevoir’s face. “Because we need to, missie. Unless you think all the blacknecks ran away, did ya? There are blacknecks living here. There’s people who don’t mind the blacknecks living here, too. But now I’m repeating myself.”

For a split second, Terez saw the corners of the Heracross’ mouth jolt up and down. Moments later, she got kicked right on the legs, and damn near tripped over a rock as she fell back. “Hey!”

“Go do your job! This ain’t the first time you gave me lip, but it WILL be the last! Count your lucky stars my name ain’t Gareda!”

Terez got up, dusted off her arms, then turned her back. There was nothing she could do here now.

“Now, where were we, black neck? What about those kids of yours?”

She clenched her fist as she heard one of the kids cry behind her. ‘No wonder people call us tyrants.’

* * *

With each passing day, Terez’ loyalty to the Crest faltered, until nothing remained. Abuse, bullying, tyranny. She’d joined the army to honour her father, to stand for what he stood for. Instead, she was spitting on everything he loved by staying. By being an accomplice.

One evening, upon returning to the nest of straws she had the pleasure of sleeping on, she collapsed. Actually, reaching the nest was a bridge too far. Couldn’t even get the door to the barrack open; The Gardevoir went straight through her knees, slid down the door, and just barely braked with her hand before her head would hit the floor.

‘What am I even doing here? Why am I living like this…?’

Those thoughts kept her pinned to the ground for a good while, unable to do much besides kicking her feet around. This wasn’t her. Beating civilians around, cuffing and collecting taxes… how would he have reacted? Her father was a proud man. Loyal, but principled. Tough, but golden-hearted. In Terez’ mind, he would’ve walked away. What a shame he couldn’t confirm it himself, but Terez had made her mind up already.

A week later, she was nowhere to be found. Her scarf, once a source of pride, now sat wedged in between the straws; payback for all the ones she’d have to pluck out of her dress. Her comrades’ reaction was left to the imagination. Disgust, for taking the easy way out. Anger, for leaving them behind. Jealousy, for freeing herself from a horrible job. But in all likelihood, indifference was the order of the day, like all other days. Good soldiers grow close to each other like vines, so the saying goes. In reality, all you learned was how much of an animal you were deep down. No point in dreaming if you were dead tomorrow.

One green scarf did know where she’d gone, however, because he defected with her. He was a Lurantis named ‘Len’, and playfully skipped about the forest they were disappearing through.

“Just a few hours more!~”

Terez sighed, shaking her head at the way he danced in the grass. “A few hours more, and we’re marked for death. Isn’t that right?”

Len stopped dead in his tracks. “Terez, come on. I didn’t take you for a pessimist. We’ll fight back if they come for us, no?”

Terez leaned her forehead against one of her eyes, a flash of psychic blue passing through her eyes. Her head had ached since waking. "I didn't come this far to die. But that doesn't make this any easier, does it?"

The Lurantis shrugged with his blades, his head tittering. "Speak for yourself. Personally, I've been dreaming of this day. Didn't have a shred of hope for the longest time, especially after getting suckered into the military. Never thought I'd end up fighting to keep my sorry roots from dehydrating, but here I was."

"Dehydrating?" Terez asked with a raised eye. "You said you're Agatian."

"Nah, Kronn border, " Len corrected. "Remember that drought a few years back? There you go. Took the first ticket out I could. Little did I know it would be worse." His antennae jittered.

Terez bit her lip reflexively, before rubbing her temples with psychic energy. "A soldier of fortune, in other words. Only here for the coin." She breathed in deep. "At least you have a cause worth fighting for now." 'Ideal would have been more accurate.'

Her wish she'd worded that differently came into fruition when Len tut-tutted at her with a scythe. "Food and money are causes too. But you get it. I'd have both if the Crest actually cared."

On their long road to the fringes of society, Len and Terez discussed everything from day to day activities, random oddities they’d run into on the street, the horrendous state of Eravate and what could possibly be going on behind the Crest’s doors. They were both grunts, after all, so much besides speculation was out of the question. Then again, what else could they do? Travel had a habit of loosening up the tongue. You could only take in the sights and point out plants to pick for so long before it got old.

“Whew!” the Lurantis said after running down a hill, far ahead of Terez who didn’t share the enthusiasm. “Ah, the joys of being a free man. Great isn’t it, Terez?”

The Gardevoir only shrugged at him. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Len. You said yourself we’re going to join the resistance, right? You’ll have to follow orders there, as well… at least you have ideals to fight for now.”

“Darn straight I do,” Len replied, antennae pitched backward. “You know what? I felt empty inside for so long, doing the Crest’s dirty work. Beating up strangers away from home for a paycheck? Nothing satisfying about that, I wanted money but I have standards.” He dragged his feet over the trail they were walking on, a thin line of dust rising from the mark. “‘Tis enough to make you religious, I tell you!”

Terez scoffed at him. What an odd pivot, especially for someone who never mentioned religion before; not a peep in any conversations they had, nor walking in during prayer time by accident. “Really now? Which god are you worshipping?”

The Lurantis raised his arms. “Nonono,” he tittered. “I’ve been having dreams lately. Dreams where I’m high up in the clouds, and there’s someone I can’t see up there, too. Sounds exactly like me, it’s uncanny! I swear, could be a god, could be my soul screamin’ at me!”

“Your soul?” Terez asked.

“Yeah, my soul! I’m hearing what sounds like my voice, telling me exactly what I need to hear. That being pushed around and pushin’ others around for money just isn’t what I want. There’s a better world to be made. One without tyrants. One everyone can get onboard with. You get me?”

Terez hesitated for a moment. Little did she know at the time, but she had similar dreams. Only the voice she heard in that heavenly realm was not hers. It vaguely resembled her father, but in an uncanny manner. His intonation was off, he stressed the wrong syllables, and sounded either too deep or not deep enough, depending on the dream. He spoke sense all the same, however. The army had become everything it used to be against. Everything Mennu hated.

“That…” Terez paused, “...goes without saying, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, but you don’t sound convinced.”

“Would I have followed you out here if I did?”

The Lurantis clacked his mandibles. “Tsk tsk tsk! Good point!”

And so their ramblings went wherever the winds took them, from the grassy plains of central Eravate to the harsh sands of the Kronn, evading their former comrades along the way. One mistake, and they were done for. Terez felt unwell thinking about her prospects, however. Where did insurgents even camp out? Was it not better to turn back now, spin her desertion into a jail sentence? All hope of a comfortable life, gone. She had to follow her conscience, no matter the sacrifices involved. No matter how it stressed her soul.

Alas, the light was dim in the dark.