Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Hilbert came back in the middle of the night.

Cecilia heard him through the thick fabric of her tent. The half-ghost struggled to fall asleep on most days even if her body still needed it, especially after her nightly meetings with Spiritomb, and thus she found herself up late, studying the bottomless well that was the politics of Striaton and Unova’s eastern peninsula. A small camping lantern hung from the tent's center pole, its warm glow just bright enough to illuminate Slowking’s bored visage.

For all the psychic was Cecilia’s closest confidant, he held little interest in politics. No, the light shone on another Pokemon yet, her Hydreigon. The light's amber glow slid across the dark, iron-hard scales plating his body, tracing each overlapping ridge before catching along the sharp edges of his necks. What little light reached him seemed to disappear into the darkness of his hide as he lay down, his body filling nearly all of the free space in the large tent.

It was a most recent interest, and the dragon had a lot of catching up to do. Slowking translated most of his ideas. Even in battle, the Pokemon famous for its anger was now soothed by a permanent, eerie calm, and out of it he was as serene as an Audino.

The sound of Hilbert did not startle him, though Hydreigon’s three pairs of eyes narrowed a smidge. 

“Must be Hilbert,” Cecilia explained, her finger tracing the edge of her notebook. “I do wonder what he does so late at night every day, but it’s not the strangest part about him.”

She’d barely had the time to see him since they left Nuvema, but what she’d noted was that he was perhaps the kindest hearted person she’d ever met.

Slowking inclined his head. The boy’s got a mind alien to most. Strange, considering his average upbringing.

Hydreigon grunted something out as his left limb idly chewed on a pillow that was part of his treasure pile. The two head for hands might been barely sentient and partly blind, but they tended to bite at anything that got too close.

Nothing special about growing up in a small town, Zolst. As usual, Slowking arranged his sentence so Cecilia could tell the details of what her starter meant. Denzel Williams did as well, he said, referring to their old Sinnohan friend, and while small town boys tend to be nice, they’re not… scary nice.

“Scary is one word for it. I’d call it unsettling.”

Cheren had plenty to say about his best friend getting himself in trouble. In school, he’d often gotten bullied by other kids asking him for money, spinning story after story of how they were struggling when they were in reality pilfering him for all he was worth, and even after his mother had found out and had him stop, he said he did not regret it. This summer, before they'd gotten their starters, he'd gotten into a fight with another kid after releasing a Patrat that had been caught against its will. He'd declared through the punches that he loved the boy regardless and that this was for his own good.

He’d lost that fight horribly.

There was a thin line between kindness and insanity that Cecilia had just begun to learn about.

Interested, she peeked out of the tent. The fire in the middle of their camp had long gone out, but the smell of burned wood still lingered. 

Hilbert had a determined walk about him, she decided. Like every step he took was exactly where he’d wanted it to be. Only his aloof Oshawott followed by his side—Cecilia had half expected the apparently brown-haired teen to come back with a new Pokemon added to his team. They whispered to each other in the night; the conversation looked quite intimate. Not the kind a trainer would have after only having known their Pokemon for two months.

Not wanting to interrupt such a sacred thing, Cecilia would have eased her head back into the tent. Unfortunately, Hilbert somehow spotted her. It was difficult to tell in the dark, but he seemed to be waving her over, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight.

Slowking waved her away, and she shrugged, deciding that it would be good to bond on such a sleepless night. While the dark-skinned Unovan had gotten to know Cheren and Bianca, she hadn’t interacted much with Hilbert since that night with Spiritomb. 

Hilbert Cassidy was rather unassuming. Dark hair that never quite stayed in place unless topped by a cap framed an otherwise ordinary face, his similarly dark taking in Cecilia as well, though Professor Juniper had told her they were both dark brown. He was somewhat short, especially compared to her, though he clearly still had plenty of growing up to do.

“Good evening,” Hilbert beamed at her in a half-whisper. Oshawott didn’t even bother looking up at her, instead fiddling with her half-grown scalchop. “I guess the others are asleep.”

Cecilia hummed in agreement. “You’ll find that Bianca’s currently housing a new temporary friend tomorrow.” She nudged her head toward the blonde’s tent. 

When Hilbert’s eyes gleamed with curiosity, she explained this afternoon’s debacle in detail. The younger trainer paid close attention to the story; he praised Bianca for her acumen and said he would look forward to meeting the Lillipup come morning. Like Cecilia, however, he was content to let Bianca discover herself. This struck her by surprise—she would have thought he would have been all over the little normal type to get his story.

“We’re all walking our own path now,” he said, staring up at the moon. “Right, Osha?”

The water type nodded silently.

That was the thing about Hilbert—you expected him to be the life of the party, in a way, with his sunny disposition and his outgoing personality, but in reality, he was often a ghost. Here one minute to be the center of attention, and gone the next to do his own thing. He plopped himself down crosslegged on the grass and grabbed his starter, placing her on his lap. She did not resist, though she sighed in a way to let the world know she absolutely did not approve of this.

“Tell me about your brother,” Hilbert suddenly said.

Cecilia’s brows raised a fraction. 

“You want him out of here too, right? That’s why you’re on this journey too—” he paused, frowning as he pensively rubbed his chin, staring right through her as if he could see her soul. “No, no. Not anymore, you’ve moved past that. It’s about what he represents, yes?” Hilbert paused. “Yes,” he affimed. “He is a slave to hierarchy, but he mistakes its entrenchment for permanence. You see this and you hate it.”

Her throat felt dry. A very good deduction. For all Hilbert Cassidy acted a fool, he seemed to be very perceptive when he so desired.

“Correct,” she said with an inclination of her head before sitting, though on a chair. “I know Mark well enough to understand that he is doing the right thing.” Her irisless eyes burned with mastered rage. “This displeases me, but he is not why I’m doing it. He’s not the real power behind his position anyway.”

While Unova’s Champion held nowhere as much power as they did in Shinwa—the continent holding the regions of Sinnoh, Indigo, and Hoenn—Mark Obel was a historically weak Champion, especially by the standards set by Alder Shepherd. He treaded the Vertress League like he answered to Unova’s large corporations, and not the other way around. Their father no doubt held a tight leash around his neck, even if he did not believe it.

“Y’see, Cecilia, I think a man is, at his core, a belief.” He raised a finger. “One single ambition that drives him forward in all things. For example, Bianca wants to escape from her parents’ clutches and see the world; Cheren wants to be strong enough to be able to do whatever he wants. Now for some, that can be a small thing, others large. Some have only one throughout their lives, most have multiple that change. ” Hilbert shrugged. “I’ve always been good at guessing what that ambition is, but I’ve gotten great lately, especially if it’s a big one.” He spread his arms.

Cecilia gave him an understanding smile as the wind rushed through her hair. “And so, we arrive at my brother.”

“Know thy enemy, they say. Though enemy’s a little harsh.” He rubbed his chin to think. “Know thy person who is in the way of progress? No, that doesn’t sound that good… Osha, help me out. Is it good?”

The water type growled.

“No good, huh…”

Where is his hatred? Spiritomb’s words resonated in Cecilia’s head, but she shook them off. “Truth be told, we haven’t been close since he went on his journey when I was eight.” And he abandoned her to her “father’s” whims, forgetting she even existed. “But we were very alike back then, him and I. Our emotions were repressed under a cold mask, because that is what Clarence wanted.”

“Clarence Obel, the CEO of the company,” Hilbert remembered with a nod.

And thus, she had to put herself in the mind of her younger self. “What I think my brother wants is some kind of slow reform, because a move like upending Unova too quickly goes against his nature. He is a creature of increments, not someone who would take risks.” Cecilia paused. “He might think there is a way to appease both his desire to do good and Clarence.”

Because what they’d been raised to crave the most was their father’s approval.

Hilbert nodded sagely, and then deadpanned, “Oh, he’s wasting his time. Poor guy.”

“What do you mean?” she asked as Oshawott snickered evilly. 

“A Champion should think bigger than that! If you’re sitting atop mount Vertress, you share a history with the greats! Our first, Aldric Voss, united the warring Unovan city-states into one nation for the last time when he was nothing but a vagrant without a home, and we stopped having to pay tribute to what used to be Orre! Seraphine Vale spearheaded our industrial revolution and made war on the wilds to open the country for settlement as our population boomed! Helena Mire led us during the Great War and kept the country from imploding as Moltres burned Orre to the ground next door!” There was a glint of madness in his eyes. “They could be kind. They could be terrible. They were great. They hungered for something more than… this!” He threw his hands up in frustration, and his eyes suddenly looked much, much older. “When did Champions stop dreaming, Cecilia? That is the real question.”

These were but a few examples in very different eras, and it was easy to see Hilbert admired them, if only for their ambition. “When they started having to answer to someone other than their own ideals,” she replied smoothly. “After the Great War, when the government chose five companies who had grown fat and wealthy off the conflict to build the nation, and in return those companies slowly began to shape the nation themselves.” 

Could a person truly feel the difference between Alder and Mark? Besides the Ranger being more heavy-handed than they used to, not really. It was a short string of Champions since Helena Mire—two, then Alder, then Iris and Mark—yet the country had not stopped going in a single direction as if shaped by an invisible hand.

“They must be broken apart and sold for parts,” Hilbert said with a cheerful smile. “Someone needs to see it through without flinching, and it’s going to be us, no matter how ugly it gets. Right, Osha?” For once, the water type nodded with a hint of resolution. “Go after them, and the rest of what I desire will follow. They won’t push me out like they pushed out that dragon master girl. Iris,” he said, remembering her name.

“I admire such willpower.” As Azelf’s old shard, she’d always been drawn to strong personalities. A hollow vessel she might have been due to her father’s abuse, she’d been chosen regardless by happenstance due to her closeness to Grace at the time. Needless to say, her not-death had rid her of said shard. 

It was easy to throw it all away and chase a single purpose, when you were empty. There was not much else to think about.

“Thanks.”

Mildly confused, she shifted in her chair. “What for?”

“When I tell others about my dream, they all treat me like a little kid,” he complained with thinned lips. “Tell me that it’s impossible and I should temper my expectations. Even Cheren and Bianca!”

“Doesn’t Cheren also want to become the Champion?”

“He doesn’t think he’ll do it in a year because he calls it overly ambitious. His main goal right now is the Conference,” Hilbert explained as he petted Oshawott. The water type finally had enough of this touchy feely nonsense and sprayed him with water until he let her go, watching her as she waddled away into the night. “Aww. Bye, Osha! Sleep well.” The teenager turned back to Cecilia. “Plus, people think I’m stupid.”

Cecilia couldn’t help but snort.

“I’m serious! They always say that the world’s gonna eat me alive and that I won’t know how to handle it…” he trailed off, adjusting his cap over his eyes. “Did people ever think that of you? It’s suffocating.”

“I was unmade as a child. Laid across the anvil of my father’s ambitions and hammered relentlessly until I became a tool for his bidding,” Cecilia spoke quietly as she stared at the stars. “But in the darkest of nights, I still strived for freedom despite having no one in my corner. No one.”

Until she’d met her friends, that was. She’d been sent to Sinnoh as a prop to marry the scion of another company and who now remained one of her only friends. It was funny, how life worked out.

“All of that to say,” she continued, tone hardening. “Do not let anyone tell you what you can and cannot do. Fate will prove either you or them wrong eventually.”

“And then?” He leaned forward in the grass, almost hungry.

“Then, Hilbert, you get the last laugh.”