CHRIS

It felt good to stretch his legs after spending the last week and a half on that ship. He walked through the streets of Mauville waving and smiling at the people. His people. Azumarill paced proudly by his side, its round chest puffed out. The people were there, watching as their lord returned at last.

Chris Marsh II relished every smooth step along the streets of Mauville. It had been so long since there was solid ground beneath his feet. As he began walking up the hill to approach the wooden manse that was his childhood home, he smiled.

He was now the Lord over Mauville and Slateport, just a few weeks shy of his eighteenth birthday. Empress Glamour had declared it herself before the First Generation set sail from the capitol back to their respective homes. Chris had decided he wanted to stop in his mothers' ancestral city to see her one last time before he set up his own residence in the town of his late father.

"Look around," he told his Spirit Pokémon proudly when they got to the top of the hill. "All of this land the Empress has given to us, in her name." Both he and his Spirit Pokémon swelled with pride. They had known that would be the case, since he was a child.

The wooden gates creaked open, and behind them a small party waited for him. The first to greet him was his mother, Sarah Spark, in her mid-thirties. She wore the traditional gold-plated armor of the Spark family. His mother sat on top of a similarly armored Manectric. Guards and servants accompanied her.

Thunder rolled in the grey sky above. It's going to rain again, Chris thought. He stared up at the palace he had grown up in. Something was wrong. "Mother," he said calmly.

"Welcome home, my son," she responded with a smile as she rode up to stand beside him. They looked at each other for a second. "Is something wrong?"

Chris pointed at the flags flying above the palace. "Her Majesty's flag should be flying above your family' flag, mother. They're not to be flown at the same height." Chris was proud of himself. That was one of the first lessons he had learned during his teachings in Sootopolis: Empress Myranda Glamour was to come first and foremost in everyone's thought. She had unified Hoenn after centuries of conflict and disorganized rule. The citizens and great Spirit Families of her Empire needed to pay her homage.

Lady Spark looked back down at him with a smile. "Yes, I suppose you're right. I'll have the banner-man fix it at once."

Chris scoffed at her. It wasn't enough that the problem was fixed this time. He remembered Ahab's words: "If there's a problem," his mentor had told him, "it's best to pull it out by its roots, and see to it that it never happens again."

"Yes, have a new banner-man fix it," he told his mother. "Then, I want him in a cell, so he can think about how he has shamed his Empress."

Lady Sarah's Manectric growled unsurely as Chris began to walk back up to the palace. He heard his mother following behind him, trying to catch up.

"Chris, might I speak for the old man," he heard her pant behind him. "He's served our family for many years, since your grandfather still ruled. It was a mistake in his old age."

Chris felt annoyed. He looked down and saw Azumarill frown beside him. Why did she have to question him? He was lord of Mauville now, not her. "You're lucky I'm the only one who heard your back talk," he said. "If one of the Empress's men had heard your talk, they would have you punished as well, mother. How many other times, how many weeks has her majesty's flag of glory been too low? Put the man in prison and I'll forget this mistake."

Mother and son walked into the wooden hall together. Chris was used to the extravagance of Empress' Glamour's castle. His childhood home was less impressive to him than he remembered. I don't know why I decided to come back, he thought. I should have gone straight to Slateport, to my father's home.

"Chris, why are you talking like that?" his mother asked him. "Where is the happy young boy I sent off to study with the First Generation?"

Chris scowled and shook her question off. Azumarill began to pace his mother's hall, just as unimpressed as its Spirit Human. "Look at me, mother, I'm grown up," he held his arms up and smiled. Even she had to notice. His arms had gotten thicker and stronger. He had spent nights on end training in combat with Ahab, the Empress's own half-brother. There was no one like him in the entire Empire. He remember some of the lessons Ahab had personally taught him again. "There's no time for a Lord to be happy. Or a boy. I have a duty to her majesty: to uphold her rule, and serve her with justice and honor," he recited.

"So be it," his mother said, giving in. "It has been decreed that you're the new Lord Governor of the Mauville and Slateport lands." She turned to one of the guards. "Arrest the banner-man, and put him in a cell." To Chris, she still didn't sound pleased about it.

It doesn't matter, he thought. When I'm back in Slateport, Mother can do as she pleases. I have more important things to worry about that flag-men.

He began to approach the wooden throne at the end of the hall, where his mother and her ancestors before her ruled as Kings and Queens. It looked such a small thing, now. So insignificant. Chris felt the corners of his lips peel into a slight grin. He understood, now, that this throne was now a part of something greater than a sliver of a Kingdom on the map of Hoenn. It was a wheel in the machine that was Her Majesty's Empire.

"I didn't plan to stay here long," he said as he turned back from the throne to look at his mother again. "And now, I don't think I can even stay for one night."

Lady Sarah looked sad at that. "What's the rush?" she asked. "The servants have all missed you, and the townsfolk would surely love to hear you speak to them. It's been so hard since food started to become as scarce as it is."

He didn't want to hear any more of that. The nourishment of Mauville's common peasants was no concern of his. "That's your job, mother. See to it that they're fed. The small folk depend on their lords." He recalled another of Her Majesty's teachings. "And make sure that they all receive the same amount. We can't have greed and gluttony in my jurisdiction. I would hate to have to come back and do your duties for you, mother."

Lady Sarah just wouldn't shut up. "I know you're anxious to begin your rule from Slateport as soon as possible, but there are matters here that need your attention immediately. Matters that concern both halves of your jurisdiction. Come."

Chris scowled and looked at Azumarill. The Pokémon shared its partner's boredom and frustration and crossed its own short arms. He and his guards followed his mother through a side door and down a damp, dark staircase lined by torches and down into the dungeons.

He was about to open his mouth and wonder what it was they were doing before his mother spoke outside of a cell. "Here," she said. Chris Marsh II looked into the cell, there was a man sitting on a bed of straw. A chamber pot in the opposite corner of the cell smelled like night soil even from all the way over there.

Justice, Chris's heart leapt in his throat. To deal with criminals as they deserve, as the Empress would do herself is the height of honor, another proverb from his teachings played in his mind.

He leaned in close to his mother, and whispered, "What has this one done?"

Sarah stood on her toes to whisper back in his ear. He had grown since he had been in the capitol. "He was storing food, hiding it from my soldiers," she sounded conflicted. "But the law is the law. He was taken into custody and has been down here for the past six months."

Another food hoarder, Chris thought as he rolled his eyes. Food hoarders had been a problem for her majesty for the past few years. It was their greed that helped contribute to the famine that had slowly crept up on the region. Such crime was common, and he almost felt bored again having to dispense of this justice.

"So take the food and distribute it among the community," he said hastily. "And his family shall receive half-rations for a year as punishment."

His mother grabbed his arm and pulled him closer. "His family had no idea. He wasn't saving it for his wife and child. Rumor has it, he has been supplying food to the Draconids."

Chris looked at the man in the dark cell and felt his eyes narrow. Scum, he thought. Everything about his prisoner was poison to his eyes, now. His dirty hair, his ragged beard, the sweat on his brow... He was the dirt beneath Chris's feet. How could anyone defy her majesty by supporting such terrorists?

The Draconids were the reason he had sought out personal training from Ahab himself. He had mentored Chris and Azumarill for the past year, preparing them for combat. It was known that the Draconids were merciless, chaotic barbarians who would tear down Her Majesty's Holy Empire at the first chance they got, or die trying. Hundreds of Royal soldiers had been killed in the guerilla style fights that had broken out across the region. Nobles had even been assassinated to fulfill their diabolical ends.

"Show them no mercy," was one of the first lessons Ahab had taught him. "For they will show you none."

The prisoner looked through the iron bars at him with sad eyes.

"Mother, I will deal with him myself. Go. Now." He said. A smile began to play on his lips again.

Lady Spark bowed in the torch-lit corridor. "As you wish." When her footsteps died out again. Chris had one of his guards open the cell door.

"Please," the prisoner pleaded, "my family needs me. My little girl, she's so young. I've learned my lesson. I won't do it again. I swear!"

"I'm not without mercy," said Chris with a smile. It was time for him to dispense her Majesty's justice, as Ahab had taught him. "You will be free to go after I know all my questions have been answered."

"Y-yes, m'lord," the man knelt down in the dirt... or whatever it was that stank in his cell. "Anything you want to know."

Chris yanked on the man's ragged sleeve, tearing it off. He kicked the prisoner in the chest and he toppled over onto his back. Chris almost laughed at how easy it was. Peasants were never a challenge. The young Lord Governor held the rag over the prisoner's nose and mouth. "Azumarill, start off slow."

"Azu!" The Pokémon answered. A stream of water poured over the rag on the man's face, forcing the peasant to squirm as the water filled his mouth.

"When and where did you last encounter the Draconids?"