A Tale of Two Dragons Chapter 1

Hello guys! Flamewing98 here! Welcome to the first chapter of what will likely become the spiritual successor to May a New Day Dawn, my other story for those of you new here. I've written down several notes for this story, and it looks to be a fun one to write… mainly because it covers the genre that I, myself, absolutely love to read: Medieval Fantasy.

Now, as the story develops, there may eventually be questions as to the names of the lords of each realm and their relation and such with the characters. If demand becomes high enough, I'll make a sort of "Known Lords" sheet, giving a basic summary of this information. In all honesty, I'll probably make something like this for myself, just to help me keep track. It'll be located on my profile and if it is made, I'll announce it.

Just in case any of you are wondering, this story is heavily inspired by Robert Jordan's series, the Wheel of time. (May he rest in peace…) So strap yourselves in and let's be off!

Chapter One: The Beginning of a New Age.

(…)

The sky was gray… that much was clear. Blinking, Romulus cleared his vision, only to realize at once how much his head was pounding. Hissing, he sat up and grabbed his head in a vain attempt to clear the pain. However, something made him pause. Slowly taking his hand off of his head, Romulus gasped to find it covered in blood. Looking around, Romulus' sense of panic only increased as he failed to recall anything. He was in a castle. Rather… he was in what remained of one. Holes were blasted in the walls, tapestries were torn, glass was shattered, and bodies littered the floor where they fell.

Finding a shattered piece of mirror on the ground, Romulus looked at himself. His face was quite firm, with touches of gray beginning to enter, thanks to his age. His hair was brown and well groomed, much like the rest of him. He wore a chest piece of segmented plate armor, as was custom in his homeland in Unova, with a red tunic underneath. Completing the outfit was a set of iron greaves and studded sandals for the march. However, his most distinguishing feature, which Romulus shared with all Knights of Psion, was his violet eyes, even if his were a little harder after years of war and battle.

"I see you've finally come back to your senses, Dragon of Psion," A voice said hatefully from behind. Instinctively, Romulus rose to his feet and spun around, albeit clumsily. For some reason, his muscles were overtaxed and his breath short. But that could wait for later. Blinking again to clear his vision, Romulus saw his trusted ally, Sir Aaron, the Dragon of Aura. However, rather than the usual friendly gaze, Sir Aaron only looked at Romulus with hate.

Due to being from Kanto, Sir Aaron's attire was a little different. Unlike his own armor, Sir Aaron wore a full body suit, from head to toe. The only reason Romulus had been able to tell his expression was because Sir Aaron's high, Kanto-style visor was lifted to reveal his face. Like every Aura Guardian, Sir Aaron's eyes were a deep blue. Other than that, many of his features were hidden thanks to the armor. As per usual, Sir Aaron wore his blue cape on his back, signaling his status to outsiders. Remembering some sort of battle, Romulus felt for his own violet cape, finding nothing. It was then that Romulus realized he couldn't remember how he got to where he was… wherever that was.

"Aaron… what happened here?" Romulus asked, looking around once more at the ruins around him.

"You don't remember?" Sir Aaron asked, almost seeming to grow angrier. Then, oddly, he paused to chuckle darkly. "You won, Romulus. You and your knights single-handedly sealed the Dark One away once and for all. I suppose a 'congratulations!' is in order."

"Speaking of…" Romulus began, glancing at the one Mark of Psion on the back of his right hand. Looking like a violet, hollow dragon fang, the Mark of Psion made a perfect circle with the Mark of Aura that Sir Aaron had. However… Sir Aaron had two marks, one on either hand, while Romulus had just one. "What happened to my other Mark? I… I can't feel Cornelia's presence anymore." Suddenly feeling nervous, Romulus looked over to Sir Aaron, who still gave that cold stare mixed with… pity?

"YOU happened, Romulus," Sir Aaron replied. Romulus opened his mouth to ask for more, but Sir Aaron's harsh tone cut him off. "She was killed after the battle and you were the one to do it! You even killed your daughter and son! Kinslayer!"

"What!" Romulus gasped, feeling as if he had been impaled on a spear. Sinking to his knees, Romulus vainly grasped his hair, struggling to come to terms with this news. However, it was as he clutched his hair that he remembered the blood on his hands. Shakily holding them in front of him once again, he couldn't stop the thoughts from entering his mind. Was this their blood on his hands? Had their deaths been painful? Did… did they try to stop him? "Gods… what have I done?"

"That is not the depth of your sin, Romulus…" Aaron voiced, making Romulus once again look up. Taking a step, Sir Aaron gestured to a balcony behind him, urging Romulus to take a look. Slowly rising to his feet, Romulus staggered over to the balcony, once again losing his breath when he saw the destruction. And that's what it was… destruction in its basest, purest, and most complete form. The once vibrant city, whatever it was once called, could only be described as a field of ruin. Buildings lie toppled over, purple and blue fires burned where Aura Guardians and Psion Knights had used their power, and corpses littered the streets in droves. It was truly a scene of nightmare.

"What in the name of Arceus happened?" Romulus demanded, turning to face Sir Aaron with a look of desperation.

"This is what your victory cost you, Romulus," Aaron replied coldly, his gaze not even faltering. "You didn't listen to reason and led your knights to seal the Dark One, Giratina, anyways."

"Of course I did!" Romulus shouted, suddenly growing enraged and turning to face his friend. "If we had listened to you and your council of women, Giratina's plan to manifest in our world would have succeeded and all of the lives lost would be meaningless!" Heaving a heavy sigh, Sir Aaron looked out over the balcony, Romulus still shooting him a dark look.

"I'm well aware of that, Romulus. We're all aware of that. However, did you ever stop to think for a moment that maybe we weren't retreating, rather defending a more important objective?"

"And what, in Zekrom's name, could be more important than sealing the foe we came to face?" Romulus demanded.

"His Holiness, was under attack," Sir Aaron explained, referencing The Father, or the one who represents the head of all religion on Terralia. "Our divine leader nearly lost his life, and would have, were it not for my Guardians and I."

"I fail to see where you're going with this," Romulus growled, unable to calm himself.

"Think, Romulus!" Aaron roared, getting face to face with the Dragon of Psion. "What would happen to our people if their Holy leader perished at the hands of creatures of Shadow? They'd fall into despair! Likely, many would have defected to Giratina right then and there in their grief, and all would have been lost! Soldiers would turn on one another, and those who held the lines for you would have fallen, leaving you and your Psion Knights helpless as you sealed Giratina!"

"My knights? Helpless!?" Romulus demanded, taking offence to the remark. "Try saying that to them, Aura Guardian, and see what happens! We're the ones who held the forces of Darkness back while you and your women debated, talked, and schemed! We're the ones who lost brothers as you sat in your tower and sipped your tea, doing nothing! Just try saying that we're helpless!"

"I can now, you damned fool…" Aaron hissed, taking Romulus aback slightly. What did he mean by that? Speaking of… where WERE his Knights? Surely they'd be somewhere nearby. As if reading his mind, Aaron continued. "If you're wondering where your Psion Knights are, Romulus… they're dead… all of them."

"WHAT!" Romulus roared, barely restraining himself from blowing Aaron to pieces with Fire. In fact, he only now realized that he had embraced Psion, runes covering the right half of his body as he half-awakened. However, now that he felt it, something about Psion felt wrong… tainted. It almost made him sick to his stomach.

"You feel it, don't you?" Aaron asked, noticing Romulus stumble slightly, grabbing onto the balcony to steady himself. "You doomed yourself with your plan, Romulus. Due to you going alone, Giratina managed to place a taint on Psion, and all of your Knights went insane, killing the first thing they could see… you included." Slowly, Romulus' eyes widened as he realized what his friend was saying. "My Guardians lost even more lives putting down those that they once fought beside, Romulus."

"But… How did…" Romulus fumbled, unable to say anything. Finally losing his composure, Sir Aaron reached over and gripped Romulus by the collar, hoisting him into the air and embracing Aura as he did so. However, unlike Romulus, Sir Aaron completely awakened. Blue runes covered his entire body, and a pair of magnificent, draconic blue wings, sprouted from his back.

"You damned all those who could channel Psion, you blasted idiot!" Aaron roared. "Nevermore will the Amethyst Tower hold those who would protect the world! Now, the name Psion Knight will invoke only despair, loathing, and hate from people! You damned thousands more to a fate worse than death, Romulus!"

"ENOUGH!" Romulus cried, unable to take all of this information. It was then that Romulus began doing the impossible. Having lost his Bonded, he shouldn't have been able to go past half-awakening. However, with what was seemingly a fit of madness, Romulus matched Aaron's form. Violet runes covered his body, with a matching set of purple draconic wings sprouting from his back. Pushing Aaron back with a blast of energy, Romulus flew off into the distance, leaving his friend behind. Millions of thoughts raced through Romulus' mind, all of them hard to hold onto. He could feel the taint on him, as if he were caught in a vat of honey. It clung to him, sapping his sanity.

"D…Damn it all…" Romulus cursed, blinking once again to try and clear his vision. He could feel his strength fading as well, due to going past his limits. After what felt like an eternity of flying, Romulus found an unpopulated forested area and landed in a clearing. Looking up at the gray sky once more, Romulus thought about things. His wife and children lay dead at his hands, his Knights and all who would follow them were doomed to insanity, and he was essentially a dead man walking. Smiling, Romulus laughed as only a dead man could. "Is there any redemption for me, I wonder?"

"Woe be to the kin-slayer, for he is doomed forever to walk in Shadow," A voice recited, ending with the flap of wings and a landing. Turning, Romulus once again faced Sir Aaron.

"Couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?" Romulus asked. "I planned on killing myself here anyways and save you the trouble."

"Romulus…" Aaron mumbled, showing the first real sign of concern. However, it was quickly replaced with the glare. "It has to be this way, old friend. You're too dangerous to be left alone to your own devices."

"I'm well aware…" Romulus calmly replied, turning his back to his friend. "But… I think you may be wrong about something."

"And what, in Mew's name, would that be?" Aaron asked with an amused tone. Turning once again to face Sir Aaron, Romulus made his case.

"I think that anyone can be redeemed to Divinitus if they try hard enough."

"You have something in mind?" Sir Aaron asked curiously. However, Romulus merely grinned and began drawing in Psionic Energy. Around him, a purple cloak of aura appeared and began to grow, and grow, and grow still. Soon, the pillar of energy reached higher than most buildings, and still it grew. Panicking, Sir Aaron tried to stop Romulus from whatever madness surely was overtaking him. Channeling Aura, Sir Aaron threw fireball after fireball in Romulus' direction. However, they were all easily blocked as walls of water quickly rose to stop them.

"Do not stop me!" Romulus shouted, straining to get the words out. Truth be told, he was struggling to do much of anything. The fact that he could still even breathe defined him further as the Dragon of Psion. Any other Psion Knight would easily rupture under the strain of holding as much Psionic Energy as he was right now. However, he had a mission. Drawing in more still, Romulus searched. He was looking and looking, despairing of never finding it until… at last! Latching onto it, Romulus took a small part of Psion, a part that the taint hadn't yet reached, and isolated it, sealing it within a sphere of energy. Holding his child-sized treasure, Romulus began the last part of his plan. However… someone kept complicating things.

"Enough of your madness!" Sir Aaron shouted, now firing any sort of elemental attack he could. Wind, Fire, lightning, ice, shards of rock, all of them came. And all of them were blocked by counter attacks that Romulus threw. However, enough was enough. Temporarily setting his treasure down, Romulus glared at the man who was once his friend. Merging Fire, Earth, and Spirit, Romulus made steel. Suddenly raising his hands into the air, Romulus commanded giant swords to erupt from the earth and impale Sir Aaron upon them. Unable to react fast enough, Sir Aaron was whisked off of his feet as a sword from behind burst through his chest, carrying him into the air.

"Heh… you were in such a rush that you didn't even bother to Armor yourself, did you?" Romulus sneered.

"T… this isn't… gk…. Over!" Aaron coughed, creating another weave of elements. Romulus detected Air and Earth to create a blade, slicing his swords apart and causing them to shatter completely. Then using Spirit, Sir Aaron healed his wounds alongside his natural healing ability, rising to his feet as if nothing had happened. Finally, Sir Aaron weaved Air, Spirit, and Earth to make a suit of translucent blue armor around himself. Once back on his feet, the only things that revealed Sir Aaron's moment of haste were the small puddle of blood at his feet as well as the holes in his armor. However, the man most certainly wasn't done wielding Aura. Using his momentum, Sir Aaron weaved Fire, Wind, and Spirit to conjure a giant avatar of Moltres that lit up the sky. Unfurling its mighty wings, the avatar of Moltres let out a booming roar before diving towards Romulus, leaving behind a trail of holy flames.

"FOOL!" Romulus roared, weaving Water, Wind, and Spirit to conjure a frozen Golurk. Just as the golem arose, Moltres' avatar collided with it, sending energy, dust, and tree limbs flying everywhere as the blast of energy tore the land asunder. Using the temporary peace, Romulus wove Earth into mounds of more Earth, and then more still. After a short time, he added a touch of spirit into his creation, and cast it into the world.

"Romulus!" Sir Aaron shouted, just about to launch an attack. However, he was too late. Mounts of stone and dirt arose all around, taking the two Dragons with them. Higher and higher they rose, a large mountain range being brought into the world and shaping it forever. After an earth-shattering eternity, the quacking of the land stopped… and an eerie silence befell the land. Struggling to his feet, Sir Aaron scanned the area, seeing Romulus on his feet not too far away, looking at something.

"It's beautiful… isn't it?" Romulus asked, obviously knowing Sir Aaron was still there. Letting out a slow breath, the Dragon of Aura walked to stand beside his companion, looking down at a large crystalline dome of swirling violet energy. "I found an untainted part of Psion and sealed it away, rescuing it from its fate. Fitting, don't you think?"

"I don't see your point," Sir Aaron said angrily. "All you did was save a small speck of energy from its fate. One day it will be found and used by some mad Psion Knight. While given a small respite, all you do is delay the inevitable, Romulus."

"Perhaps…" Romulus whispered, looking at the sky. The clouds had broken in several spots now, and rays of sunlight shone on the land as a symbol. Turning towards one another, the two longtime friends shared a look of respect and prepared to fight once more. However, Romulus soon felt a torrent of pain surge through him, forcing him to clutch his chest and collapse to his knees. Letting out a choking gasp, Romulus signaled for Sir Aaron to flee, knowing what was to come. Nodding, Sir Aaron turned and flew off, leaving Romulus to suffer in agony as wisps of violet smoke emanated from his body with a violent hissing sound. Rolling onto his back, Romulus had to squint as a ray of light shone directly onto his face. However, in that single moment, the pain stopped. Romulus opened his eyes and saw the light. Smiling, he released his pain, let go of his regrets, and awaited death.

"Perhaps my sins can be forgiven after all…" He thought, until his body could take no more and exploded in a display of raw energy that would go unrivaled. Leaving the land completely untouched, however, the display marked the passing of one of history's greatest heroes.

The Dragon of Psion was dead.

(…)

500 years later…

The Doge of Hoenn was tired. Walking through the halls of the Grand Council, temples for what was surely the hundredth time. However, he wasn't quite finished yet. Despite the gray in his hair, he was still a man full of life and ready to continue making his mark on the world. Finally, if all went according to plan, his son, Norman, would inherit the throne once he finally succumbed to his age. But until then, he was Doge!

"Signore, there are still matters that require your attention," Mario, the Doge's faithful aide, said. Turning a weary face towards his advisor, the Doge, surprisingly, let out a laugh.

"There are always matters that require my attention, amico mio. But grazie for your ever vigilant work. I'll be in the throne room in a moment."

"Yes, Signore," Mario replied, bowing before striding down the tapestry lined hallway. Pausing for a moment, the Doge of Hoenn took a good look at his palace. It was quite lavish, with many paintings, tapestries, and other various works of art adorning the walls. Stained glass windows let in colored light, only highlighting the beauty of the interior. Shaking his head, the Doge continued to the throne room. Looking very similar to the rest of the palace, the only thing that set the room apart, as one would likely guess, was the presence of a mighty gold lined throne. Sitting down, the Doge extended a hand to his attendants who stood to his left.

"I am ready for our first visitor. Let them in!"

"Si, Signore!" The attendants replied, running over to the large chamber doors and opening them with a loud creak. The Doge made a mental note to have their hinges oiled before they got worse. One by one, the Doge settled matters with merchants, peasants, minor and major nobles, and even tavern owners about various matters ranging from crime to taxes. During a brief pause, the Doge felt a cold chill go up his spine, but shrugged it off. However, he couldn't escape the feeling that something was about to happen. Pushing the thought away, the Doge continued with his leadership. He had a Republic to run, after all! After an hour or so, the tide of petitioners slowed and, eventually, stopped altogether.

"Thank the gods…" The Doge sighed, leaning back into his throne with a feeling of exhaustion. Furrowing his brow, a thought occurred to the man. Perhaps his age was showing more than he was willing to admit. Once again, the Doge reserved the thought for later. Beginning to rise, the Doge was shocked as another ran into his hall, someone he recognized.

"Signore!" She shouted, stopping at the base of the throne to catch her breath. Her name was Claudia, and she was known as The Prophet of the Doge. Despite a regular appearance of long brown hair, a blue dress and green eyes, she bore what was known as Gift. Specifically, she had Future Sight, letting her see events yet to come, as the name would imply.

"Claudia? What is it? Stai bene?" The Doge asked, wondering what could put his prophet in such a state.

"A vision, Signore! A vision is coming to me! It… it is one that will change the world, Signore!" Claudia half-shouted, clutching her head as she did so. Kneeling down, the Doge could watch helplessly as Claudia's eyes began to glow a brilliant white as the vision came.

"I see them! They are now born, and they kill already! Their mother's life is forfeit, unable to bear her birth! They cry, oh how loudly they cry! Their voices are like thunder! They grow, unknowing of their destiny, amassing friends and foes alike. However, the darkness begins to loom over them, and destiny calls them into action! War calls them to battle, war will teach them the meaning of strength! They fight, oh how viciously they fight! Those that stand before them are destroyed in clouds of fire, smoke, and blood!"

"By the gods…" The Doge whispered to himself. Just what was Claudia seeing? It troubled him… especially the parts about the fire, and shadow. Surely… it couldn't be…

"They Awaken and show their true power!" Claudia continues, unaware of the Doge's musings. "Their power grows as well as their knowledge! They face alliances, betrayals, and loss. What was once lost is then found, bringing one from the edge of madness! The other learns how to understand that which he cannot! Together, the face the Shadow!" Rearing her head back, Claudia blurted the final lines of prophecy. "The Dragons are born into this world again! They will break us! They will unite us! Tremble you mortals, tremble and be humbled, for the mighty have been born! The light fades… and I see no more…" Finally exhausted, Claudia collapsed in a heap onto the palace floor, causing several attendants to rush to her side and see if she is alright. However, the Doge simply stood before his throne, unable to speak.

"It is time, then…" He whispered. "The Dragons have returned to our realm at long last." Looking up at his banner, the Doge once again felt a cold chill creep slowly up his spine. And, for what felt like the first time in ages, he felt completely unsure of what to do.

(…)

The winds of change blew across the land, ushering in a new age, unbeknownst to anyone. Change was always in the wind, and yet it was rarely ever felt. Five hundred years ago, with the death of Romulus, the Dragon of Psion, and the time known as the Age of Legends came to an end, ushering in what was known as The Quiet Age. From the cold Sinnoh lands in the North, to the waters of Hoenn, to the far corners of Kalos and beyond, change was in the air.

The world turned. What was could always come again. Trouble was brewing under the surface of this Quiet Age. Shadows grew darker, alliances seemed more and more distant, replaced by the lust for expansion, and peace seemed less and less ideal. However, times were still slow, and peace was the byword for the six regions of Terralia.

Hopping along in the woods of Kanto, a particular Buneary was at ease, a feeling that came rarely of late. There were no signs of wild predators nearby, such as Arcanine, Granbull, or even Arbok. Birds trilled all throughout the woods, adding to the atmosphere. A bright, springtime sun illuminated the forest as well, finishing the picture. Truly, the forest was peaceful. And so, happily, this little Buneary nibbled on some grass completely at ease.

*thwip*

Hearing a sound, the Buneary looked up just in time to see a solid object heading right for it before being impaled by an accurately placed arrow, killed instantly.

"Nice shot, Ash!" A childish voice said, suddenly running forward from a hiding spot in the bush. The figure was a rather young boy, tall for his apparent young age. He had short brown hair, blue eyes, and a soft, childish face. Wearing a simple belted green tunic, brown trousers, and simple boots the boy didn't look particularly amazing as he ran over to inspect the recent kill.

"And you said I couldn't hit it!" Another childish voice replied. Again, a young boy emerged from a bush, this time a little farther away. This figure had short, messy black hair, brown eyes, and was slightly shorter than the first child. However, he wore a simple gray tunic and brown trousers with similar boots. In his hands was a short, composite bow and on his back was a partially filled quiver. Coming at a slow walk, this second figure was obviously the calmer of the two.

"How many does this make, now?" The first figure asked, looking at his companion and ignoring the remark.

"Come on, Stephen, you can count just as well as I can. We have three Buneary now for the stew," The black haired figure teased, smiling at Stephen.

"Then we're done now, right Ash?" Stephen asked, picking the dead Buneary up by the ears. It was about the size of two of his hands, so not too difficult for a task for the child.

"Mhm!" Ash happily replied, pulling the arrow out of the Buneary and wiping the blood off on nearby grass. Once the arrow was put away, the two walked through the woods for a bit before approaching a single, tethered up Ponyta. It has an elegant, white coat and proud, orange flames; a fairly common breed, but dependable. After placing the Buneary in a small sack containing two others, the two helped one another onto the horse and made their way to a nearby path towards home.

"Do you think Father has the stew almost ready?" Stephen asked, turning over his shoulder to speak to Ash.

"He's probably waiting for us to bring the meat home," Ash replied. "Otherwise it's just veggie stew again." Ash then proceeded to playfully stick his tongue out, feigning disgust at the idea. Stephen couldn't help but laugh at the imitation of their friend Gary, who was notorious for hating his vegetables. The two proceeded to talk until the forest gave way to flat plains and slight, rolling hills. Not too far away was a large fenced in area with a single house: Ketchum Ranch.

"Almost there, Liz!" Stephen said excitedly. "Hya!" At his command, the Ponyta kicked from a fast trot into a slow gallop. Within minutes, the two were nearing the fence which, for the record, was still firmly closed. "Hold on, Ash!" Stephen shouted, kicking Liz into a faster gallop. Saying nothing, Ash merely tightened his hold on Stephen's waist to keep from falling off. As he did so, Liz finally could gallop no longer, and jumped over the fence with grace, landing on the other side. The maneuver over, Stephen called the steed to slow down and guided her over to the stable.

Next to the barn, the stable was fairly small, only having room for about five horses. Currently, it held two. Liz, Stephen's Ponyta, was a fairly small breed, suitable for the young ten year old. However, their father's Rapidash, Thunder, which had served him faithfully as a soldier, also had a comfortable home to live out his later years. Practically saluting the two children as they put Liz away, Stephen pet Thunder on the nose before the two brought dinner in for their father.

"We're home, father!" Stephen called, taking his shoes off as he entered the house. It was a small, rather plain house, with few decorations. Lamps and candle hooks adorned the wall where appropriate, and a pair of windows layered the walls. A washing basin lay near the door, which the two boys used to wash their faces and hand as they entered, Ash carrying the bow and quiver while Stephen carried the three Buneary in the leather pack.

"Welcome home, boys!" Michael Ketchum, the father, called. Coming into the entryway, the father eyed the bag curiously. He was very well built for a man, years of soldiery and ranching under his belt. His hair, much like Ash's, was shirt, black, and somewhat messy. His eyes, also matching those of Ash, were a wooden brown. He also bore the same birthmarks on his cheeks that Ash did. Wearing a gray tunic, black trousers, and a gray, hooded cloak due to habit, Michael Ketchum was a strong but kind looking man. "How was the hunting?"

"I got two Buneary while Stephen got only one!" Ash bragged, grinning to his father as he set the bow and quiver in the corner. Hearing the remark, Stephen couldn't help but glare at Ash. Immediately picking up on this, Michael laughed warmly and put a hand on each of the boy's shoulders.

"Remember boy… it is not about who is best as what that matters. It only matters how much one is willing to improve." Looking at Stephen, Michael proved his point. "Are you willing to improve at your archery, son?"

"Yes, father!" Stephen formally replied, grinning to the man. Nodding, Michael shifted his gaze to Ash.

"Besides… remember which of you two is better at swordplay." Pausing, Michael couldn't help but smile as Ash pouted, being reminded of the fact that Stephen was better with a sword than he was. However, Ash suddenly quit pouting and gave his father a determined look.

"But… I'm willing to learn and get better, father!" Ash declared, a fire practically alight in his eyes. Smiling proudly, Michael patted Ash's shoulder before snatching the pack from Stephen.

"And that's all that matters, my son. Now come, you two. I need your help to prepare the meat."

"Yes, father!" The two children replied eagerly, following their dad into the kitchen. There, they each watched their father gut and clean his Buneary and the two followed as best they could as Michael watched and corrected when he had to. All in all, he was very proud of his two children. They practically devoured anything he taught them, and yet they always sought to understand more about the world. Surely, they would grow up to be fine men. After a short time, the two boys had sufficiently gotten as much meat out of the Buneary as they could. Instructing the boys to dispose of the leftovers, Michael took the meat and began cooking it beside a small pot of vegetable filled broth.

"Is there anything else I can do, father?" Stephen asked, appearing beside the man.

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Michael replied with a smile. It was just like Stephen to always be looking for something to do. "Go tend to Liz while this cooks. She deserves it after carrying the two of you on her back, after all. You're not young boys any more.

"Yes, father!" Stephen happily replied, darting out of the room to tend to his Ponyta. Meanwhile, Ash stood a bit back, observing his father do the cooking. Knowing what his son was thinking, Michael spoke anyways.

"It won't be done for a few more minutes, lad."

"I know that, father," Ash calmly replied. "I'm just watching." Nodding, Michael was reminded of how well he knew his two sons. Stephen, ever restless, always looked for opportunities to do something. Usually, it ended up being helping someone else with a chore be it Ash, Michael, or a random passerby. Ash, on the other hand, usually stuck to himself a bit more. He did what he had to, but preferred to better himself, rather than the world around him.

Smiling, Michael wondered what sort of impression his two children had on people. Already, some of the village girls would giggle and look at the two boys. Stephen would always smile and politely wave back, while Ash would merely acknowledge it. Funnily enough, both of their actions just seemed to get them even more attention. Chuckling, Michael wondered what their mother would think. Likely, she wouldn't want any girls looking at "her two babies" yet, but that was just a hunch.

"Is something funny, Father?" Ash asked curiously.

"I'm just wondering what your mother would have thought of you two," Michael admitted, turning to look at Ash over his shoulder. "She always talked about how proud she'd be to see you two grow up… and she has every right to be proud, son. You're growing up to be fine young men."

"Thank you, Father!" Ash happily replied, beaming as brightly as the sun. However, he suddenly stopped smiling and sniffed the air. After a moment, he pointed to the meat. "The meat is done, Father." Blinking, Michael turned back to check the meat which was, in fact, exactly as cooked as it should be. As expected of Ash.

"Go call Stephen in, Ash. I'll set the table so we can eat," Michael instructed, lifting the pot and heading for the dining room.

"Yes, Father!" Ash responded with a nod. Turning, he went to fetch Stephen from the stable. After a minute or so passed and the boys washed up again after their before-dinner chores, the Ketchum house was all seated at the dinner table, wooden bowls full of delicious Buneary stew thanks for the efforts of everyone. Milk and bread supplemented the meal on wooden plates. Bowing their heads, the three began their daily routine of prayer.

"Almighty gods, we thank you for this feast which we are about to partake. We thank you for keeping us in good health, guiding us through our troubles, and for warding off evil. We humbly offer up this prayer in the hopes that you continue to watch over us from Divinitus. Amen."

Following the prayer came a period of silence, at least as far as conversation went. None of the three so much as uttered a peep during the meal as they were too busy eating. Say what anyone will about the Ketchums… but one thing was always certain: they could eat. After a short time, the three were finished with nary a crumb left. It wasn't the Ketchum way to waste food, after all.

"I'll take care of the rest, boys. Go to your room and prepare for your lesson, Michael instructed, rising and collecting all of the dishware. Nodding, the two boys rose and went upstairs to their shared room. Like the rest of the house, it was rather simple. Two beds, two dressers, a window, a single lantern, and a chair made up the décor. On the right lay another bow and quiver, which Ash walked over to get. Next to the left hand bed laid a wooden training sword and a heater shield, which Stephen claimed. Walking back down, the boys went to the front of the house and set their weapons aside, waiting for their father.

"Now, we will start this lesson the same as always," Michael suddenly said, exiting the house. He held a Kantoan longbow and sword in one hand, a shield in the other, and bore a quiver on his back. Rather than his usual attire, he also wore a padded gambeson as well as a tough leather helmet and gloves. Setting his weapons down, he stood before the boys as a Serjeant would before his men. "We stretch so that we do not inure ourselves as we better our skills. Follow my lead!"At the order, Michael led the boys through several stretches, not forgetting to cover any key muscles that would be worked. Once finished, Stephen claimed his sword and shield while Ash picked up his bow and quiver. Walking off to the side, Ash began taking some warm-up shots at a hay target beside the house.

"Are you ready for some sparring, Stephen!" Michael asked, standing before his son.

"Yes, Father!" Stephen exclaimed, making Michael lightly hit him on top of his head with his sword. "Ow!"

"Wrong! Impatience like that can get you killed!" Michael said, his tone becoming commanding. "You're unarmored, and you have no Focus. Fix those things, and we can talk again."

"Yes, Sir!" Stephen said, running off to the barn to get his armor. After a minute, Stephen ran back to his father, sporting the same sparring attire.

"Are you ready now?" Michael asked.

"Ye…. No, Sir!" Stephen stammered, catching himself at the last second, making Michael smile slightly. "I haven't Focused yet!" Closing his eyes, Stephen calmed his breathing and imagined a void. Empty, black, devoid of everything, the void was an area unto its own. It held nothing, felt nothing, feared nothing, and was nothing. Once calm, Stephen slowly brought forth a flame, proud and strong. Slowly flickering back and forth, the small orb of purple fire was the single object that dwelled in the void. However, this state was completely shattered at the slightest disturbance, so that had to be fixed.

Doubt, worry, fear, happiness, sadness, hunger, pain… one by one all of Stephen's outside emotions went into the flame in the void, consumed until he needed them again. They were someone else's now, as he was the void. Opening his eyes, Stephen once again looked to his father. However, this time, he saw clearer. He noticed the touch of gray in his father's hair, he could make out the wrinkles in his skin, and he saw the same Focus his father bore. Bowing to one another, the two took ready positions and began their sparring.

The fight began with the two circling one another slowly, analyzing the other for any signs of vulnerability. In a flash, Michael lunged at Stephen, who blocked the high attack and replied with one to the leg. Deflecting the blow, Michael continued his X-cut formation and struck at Stephen's ribs. Following with his own x-cut, Stephen's shield blocked the attack while his sword was blocked once again. At the same time, the two slid their swords off of one another's shield and went for stabs, both blocked.

"Your speed is getting better," Michael said as the two began circling one another once again after their exchange.

"Thank you, Father," Stephen replied calmly. Shifting, Stephen held his shield out as far as he could and brought his sword to hide behind it, point at the ready. Noticing this, Michael countered by bringing his shield out at arm's reach as well. His son would have to fight hard to close the distance. Creeping closer Stephen lifted his shield slightly and went for a low stab, which Michael blocked. Suddenly backing out and lowering his shield, Stephen went for a high stab before Michael could counterattack. While able to block the attacks, Stephen's back and forth combo didn't relent until he suddenly pushed his shield against the side of Michael's, making it turn against his will.

Trying in vain to correct his shield, Michael brought his sword up just in time to counter an attack aimed at his shield arm. However, Stephen went with the motion, circling around Michael's left and attacking. This sudden motion left the man mostly unable to attack besides several easy to block blows. Finally, Stephen's reach paid off and he launched a blow at his father's back. However, Michael brought his arm over his head and deflected the blow, using the motion to launch an attack at the surprised Stephen's head, hitting him squarely and causing Stephen to fall over backwards from the blow.

"Not a bad attack, son," Michael praised, looking at his son. "If you had defended yourself a little better that just might have worked." Suddenly grinning, all signs of Focus left Stephen's eyes as he let the excitement get to him.

"Thank you, Father!" Stephen chirped, rising to his feet while rubbing his head. "I think you hit me a little hard, though. It stings…"

"All the more better that you and your brother share the gift of Healing," Michael replied, offering a hand out to his son. "Any wounds you have will be healed by tomorrow. Now, let's go again!"

"Yes, Sir!" Stephen happily replied, rising to his feet with his father's help and readying up again. The two saluted one another and began their sparring again. Round after round, blow after blow the two fought. However, most of the rounds ended the same. Despite Stephen's best efforts, he only managed to hit his father once or twice. Both breathing heavily, the two saluted again before ending their spar, laying their weapons down. Michael peeked over at Ash, who quickly turned his head and released an arrow, making it look like he wasn't watching.

"Father?" Stephen asked in a saddened tone, making Michael focus on his other son again. "Will I ever improve? I only got you a few times today…"

"Of course, son!" Michael replied with pride in his voice. Kneeling down, the man looked his son eye to eye. "I've had much… MUCH more practice than you have, Stephen. It's only natural that I'm better than you."

"You were in lots of battles, right?" Stephen asked, remembering his father's old stories.

"Far too many to count…" Michael replied, getting a forlorn look on his face. Seeing the look in Stephen's eyes, Michael smiled again and ruffled his hair. "But if all goes well, you'll never have to see battle."

"Then why are you teaching Ash and me to fight?" Stephen asked curiously.

"It's Ash and I, son," Michael corrected. "And I'm teaching you because… well… things hardly ever go as planned." Rising to his feet, Michael towered over his son to make his point. "But I'll be a Mankey's arse if my two sons aren't prepared for the worst! Now, go practice on the pell, son. I have to help Ash with his archery."

"Yes, Sir!" Stephen replied with a salute. Turning, the young boy walked over to a wooden pole and began going through various drills he had been taught, hitting the pell each tie with a resounding thwack. Nodding to himself, Michael fetched his archery gear and stood behind Ash a ways, watching his son shoot.

Thwum!

Thwum!

Thwum!

His aim was good. At fifty paces, most of Ash's arrows were hitting the area inside of the red circle on the target. However... it lacked something.

"You haven't Focused yet, Ash," Michael barked, wondering why.

"I know, Father," Ash replied, turning around. "I'm seeing if I can get better without it."

"Oh?" Michael asked curiously, raising an eyebrow. "Why's that, now?"

"It doesn't feel fair," Ash explained. "It's like cheating, isn't it?"

"Absolutely not," Michael replied, walking up to his son. "What makes you say that?"

"I dunno…" Ash sheepishly replied, obviously unsure himself. "Something just makes me feel like that. Not everyone can Focus, right?"

"Well… yes and no," Michael replied, getting a confused look from Ash. Kneeling down, Michael explained. "Everyone has the potential to Focus, but most lack either the training, the discipline, or the will to do so. The fact that you and Stephen can do it is because both because I trained you, and you're both very strong of heart. Use your strength, Ash. Learn to use it better and better and just watch how it helps you grow and improve."

"Okay…" Ash replied, getting a look of understanding on his face. Closing his eyes, Ash imagined the void, empty and hollow. Nothing was in the void. Then, a small blue flame appeared and Ash poured all of his worldly concerns into it one by one. Once calm, he opened his eyes with a renewed focus that made his father nod in approval.

"Good. Now get back to firing," Michael instructed. Nodding, Ash readied an arrow and looked down range. With his heightened senses, it was practically as if he was one with the arrow. He knew it, knew where it would go if he released it, and trusted the judgment. Ready, Ash released the arrow with a solid thwump and watched it fly right to the center of the target.

"Good…" Michael said. "Again!"

Thwump! This time the arrow landed within a breath of the first, the feathers touching after the impact.

"Again!"

Thwump!

"Again!"

Thwump!

"Very good, Son," Michael complemented, walking towards the target and motioning for Ash to follow. Kneeling down, the two inspected Ash's work. Four arrows lay impaled into the target, all very close to one another. So close, in fact, that it would be difficult to even fit string between the gaps. "I think you're ready for the next step, Ash."

"What do you mean, Father?" Ash asked, his tone calm and even thanks to his Focus. Holding his longbow aloft, Michael answered his son's question.

"I think you're ready to start training with the longbow, Son," Michael said, unstringing the bow as he did so. Exchanging bows with his son, Michael began to speak again. "And, as you know, the first step to shooting any bow is to…"

"String it," Ash finished, taking the bowstring in his hands and attempting to string the weapon. Straining, Ash kept adjusting his body to try and get more leverage. He was so close! However, after several failed attempts, Ash conceded defeat. He couldn't string the weapon. "I'm sorry, Father. Maybe I'm not ready."

"Haha… not at all, Ash," Michael laughed, confusing Ash slightly. "You came closer than I did in my first try, in fact." Laying the composite bow down, Michael walked over and took the longbow form Ash. "There's a trick to it. Pay close attention now." Bending the bow in a way Ash hadn't thought of, Michael effortlessly strung the longbow, showing it to Ash before unstringing it again and handing it back. "Now it's your turn."

"Yes, Father!" Ash replied, mimicking his father's motions. It looked close, but Ash was just a hair's breath away! However, with one final grunt, the boy did it. He strung his longbow! Smiling, Ash held the bow aloft to his father, which wasn't too easy considering its length. Nodding, Michael motioned for Ash to begin shooting. Excitedly, Ash turned around and took an arrow, nocking it into the string and pulling back. However, the longbow only drew about halfway with the force Ash was used to using. Gritting his teeth, Ash drew the bow as far back as he could, his hands starting to tremble slightly from the exertion.

"Gods… it's hard to aim like this…" Ash thought, furrowing his brow as he concentrated. However, his stamina was quickly running out. Having no other option, Ash finally released the arrow and watched it land just inside the red circle with a satisfying Thwump. Breathing heavily, Ash turned around expecting his father to give him a disappointed look. However, pride was the only thing on Michael's face.

"Not a bad shot at all, Son," Michael said, gathering his things and motioning for Ash to follow. "We'll continue our lessons from there tomorrow, alright?" Michael pointed at the sun or, rather, what little of it you could see. "It's dark now… and we have a lot of work to do tomorrow. Stephen! Come inside! It's time for bed!"

"Yes, Father!" Stephen hollered back, running over. At once, the family all entered the house and put their weapons away, retiring to their separate rooms for the night. Lying in bed with only the single lantern illuminating the room, the Ketchum brothers talked.

"How was shooting Father's longbow, Ash?" Stephen asked excitedly.

"It was difficult," Ash replied calmly. "But Father says I did well for my first try."

"Awesome! Father says I did well too!" Suddenly, Stephen could be heard rolling around in his bed as he sat up. "Hey, do you think we'll maybe soldiers one day? Father was a soldier, after all!"

"Maybe…" Ash mused. Suddenly, a grin spread across his face. "You can be the brave fool who charges into battle and I'll be the one who keeps the bad guys off of your back, okay?"

"Hey!" Stephen pouted. "I can fight my way out of bad guys! Good guys always win, after all!"

"Only because they have people to help them!" Ash retorted lightly. Then his tone got more serious. "But remember what Father told us about war, Stephen… It isn't like most bards say it is. It's a sad place and you have to watch your friends die."

"Oh, that's easy!" Stephen replied, making Ash look over. "We just make sure none of our friends become soldiers too! That way they won't die!"

"Ha….. hahahahaha!" Ash laughed, unable to believe his brother's optimism. "That would work, I think…" Suddenly feeling tired, Ash rolled over and pulled his covers back over himself. "But I'm sleepy. Goodnight, Stephen."

"Goodnight, Ash. See you in the morning."

(…)

And that wraps up my first chapter! What'd you all think? Like the new setting? Intrigued by that darn intro? Then like, follow, and leave a review if you enjoyed and stay tuned for the next installment of A Tale of Two Dragons!

Update: 9/7/15 (Fixed some grammar errors. Thanks to my Beta, Hironinja, for spotting 'em.)