He came again as the sun began to set over the crater walls of Sootopolis.

This time, the man lacked a hat. Instead, his hair was tied into a ponytail to keep the hair from his eyes while he signed off on paperwork. He had told his story to the king. He had fulfilled his duty to Rocket by humoring the ruler of the world, the king who ruled in the ephemeral dream of Avalon at the end of the great battle.

Yes, when this was was over, Calyrex would inherit the ashes and rule over them. It would be its duty to raise monuments to the past, to ensure that the past was not forgotten. Yet monuments could be torn down and history could be lost. There was one thing that stayed eternal in the great tapestry that was humanity:

Stories. The lifeblood of mankind.

Yet Howard had no story to tell. He came on his own accord, because nobody else could hear what he was going to say. Going to a king to speak treason was a dirty thing to do, yet not every story was a clean one. Some were dirty, stained with mud and grime. They had as much of a right to sit in a library of knowledge as any other tale.

"My king," Howard bowed, ponytail flopping slightly as he knelt. "I will tell you my story. This is not a confession. There is no need to seek forgiveness, nor do I request it. Sit, listen, and be merry. Let me tell you of Team Rocket."

He stood, coat swaying in the wind as he regarded the Calyrex. He weighed the words in his mouth and tasted them.

"Rocket consists of monsters. There is not a single good person within this organization. You will rule over a kingdom of black-hearted rogues. Do you realize that?" His voice was as soft as the breeze. "We aren't a group of misunderstood heroes. We've been wronged, broken, left out to dry, and now we take it out on the world itself."

'They', not 'we'. Howard would always be different from Team Rocket. There was no lie there. There was no contempt against the League, no rage against someone who had denied him. Everything stemmed back to history, in the end. It all led to that one passion he had, and how Rocket had fostered it.

They had let him study archaeology. Nobody else gave him a chance. Not GIDEON GRAVES, with his museum. Not Remiel Calcifet, with his idealistic future and Zekrom. When he was down to his last vestiges of capital, nobody extended a hand.

Nobody but mint frost. Mint had given him everything.

He hated Mint. He had dragged Howard into the organization by saving him. The noose was too tight now. If he tried to leap to freedom, he'd only hang in the wind.

"I hate them all."

The bile in his voice was vast. It was poison that ran from his mouth, now. There was no talk of heroism, only of pity and self-loathing. No one person was good or bad. Everyone was a liar. Even him.

"They're all inhuman and broken by circumstance."

His fellow colleagues in fern delaney, jayden cross, and BARNABY FINCH disgusted him. Fern was a liar. Jayden hated himself and took it out on everyone. Barnaby was a snake who whispered into your ear. All of them were at his rank. All of them were guilty. Each of them would perish in time.

Elisabeth Fiorelli was vindictive. She was the biggest liar of them all.

"You are a king. You have a duty to your crown, and to your people." Howard took a deep breath and sighed, his breath frosting in the air like a vindictive ghost. "There's another tree in Ever Grande. Did you know that?"

He wondered if there was another Calyrex there. It seemed likely. Why else would another Dyna Tree sprout up?

"If you are a king, you have a duty to represent those you rule over." Howard frowned. "You must be greater than every subject, yet lesser than the smallest babe. The greatest kings have their names echo through history, but barely anyone knows a fact about them. You must become so engraved into history that you become a concept that echoes into the far future."

Yes, the far future.

"So you must represent Rocket. You'll laugh louder than us, fight harder than us, and act greater than us. Congratulations, you are Rocket. That is your purpose, now."

Calyrex would become him. Another cog in this great machine that was Rocket. At the end of the dawn, Calyrex's name would ring on. Howard's would, as well. He would not become a page in the victor's history book.

"I'm thinking..." his voice became hesitant for a moment. The words 'of leaving Rocket' almost passed his lips.

No.

That would never happen.

"I will take my leave, your grace. I hope you dream of the finest tales in the land."

With that, the archaeologist disappeared back to Sootopolis.

Oscar would reappear to share yet another story with the monarch. He approached with his usual casual demeanor, perhaps still not taking the rank of this cabbage hare seriously. Still, he would try to show a little respect by bowing toward its majesty before addressing it. "Hey highness, glad to get the chance to regale you again. Goin' for an actual written story this time, like a fairy tale from a book. I think it sheds a lota light on the nature of leadership and monarchs within our world and whatnot. Disclaimer though, this has nothing to do with you, okay? Any negativity toward nobility depicted in this tale doesn't apply to you. You're pretty cool. Don't want you getting anxious while you're listening. Anyway, let's fuckin' start already."

"...Fuck I forgot the book. Alright no problem, I got it memorized. Prose might be a little casual though. Okay, once upon a time there was an evil king. From the day he took the crown he was nothin' but a tyrant. Taxes were higher than ever before, the problems of his subjects would go unanswered, and his only care was entertaining himself with carnal pleasures. The peasants of the local villages were his playthings, and he would round them up to be tormented within his dark castle. While his subjects starved, he would throw lavish feasts for himself and the other nobles. He was cruel for the sake of being cruel, because it made him feel strong. Yada yada yada, it goes like this for a bit. Long story short, he was a huge douche."

"One night the king would have a dream. In this dream he saw himself as a statue within a town square. The townspeople paid him no reverence as they passed by though, they ignored him and went about their day. No offerings, no moments of reflection, just cold indifference. When he awoke, the king felt a twinge of fear. Was his destiny to be forgotten? Would the generations of the future revere him as he deserved? He then and there resolved to create a monument to his greatness, so that his legacy would be secured."

"So he gathered up all of the artisans of the kingdom and demanded that they think of a monument that would suit his grandeur. They offered statues and temples and shrines and towers, but none of it was good enough for the king. He wanted something that could never be forgotten. When all of the ideas were shared and he was still unsatisfied, one artist would suggest something completely insane. They should build all of them, he said. A tower, a temple, a shrine, all of it at once. Make a gigantic cluster of monuments to the king's majesty. The king liked this idea, and demanded that it be done. All of the ideas--and once."

"So they got to work, and the king enlisted every man he could within the kingdom to build his absurd monument. The coffers of his kingdom were bled dry, yet still he demanded progress. Men dies by the hundreds constructing the various wonders, yet still he demanded progress. Enemies from within and without began preying on his kingdom while it was vulnerable, yet still he demanded progress. He wanted to be remembered by all peoples of the world, forever. Through plagues, and harsh winters, and famines they would work. Through days and nights, building temples and shrines and statues and towers for the king."

"Then it all stopped. There were no more men to work on the monument, no more artisans to guide the vision of its construction. The kingdom had been ruined, and the king himself sat ill and old upon his deathbed. He felt satisfied in his endeavor, sincerely believing that he would be remembered for the massive web of structures built in his name. He died without fanfare, his body buried and unmarked. The kingdom fell apart and was absorbed by other empires. When the new rulers of the land came upon the monument, they had no idea what it was for. They just believed it to be an eyesore. So they demolished it and used the materials to build other structures they actually needed. To this day, the king has no name."

Oscar clapped his hands together, "What's the moral you may ask? I dunno somethin' about how legacies are created from good actions and not big monuments and shit. Something to think about I guess." Oscar gave a little bow before once more walking away.

"GAH!"

You awaken with a start, jerking upright as you glance about in a state of sheer panic. Then, slowly but surely, your senses begin to return to you. You're at the Dyna Tree, taking a comfortable mid-day nap in the shade as Doublade entertains "the king" with a fluffed-up retelling of your life story. Nothing is wrong. Everything is alright. It is not here. You're safe. For now.

Goddamned nightmares. They've gotten way worse ever since your injury. Used to be they only happened when you got your eight hours, but now? You can't even take a fifteen minute snooze without getting fucked in the brain. Ugh.

"Sire? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine..." You grumble, clambering up to your feet. Oh well, even if you didn't get as much shut-eye as you'd like, some is better than none. Besides, you've probably killed enough time already, right? It's probably time for you to head out. "Anyway, I'm heading out now. See you later."

Of course, you only manage to make it a few steps before you're stopped.

"Rown?"

Of course he'd ask. Can't just leave well enough alone, can he? Has to stick his nose in everybody's business. Asshole. Why the hell do people keep entertaining this jerk's delusions of rulership? You really should just tell this guy to hurry up and fuck off already...

"...It's Ting Lu."

"Cro?"

"Yeah, you wouldn't know him, would you? You weren't there... Okay, well, you know the Treasures of Ruin? No, you wouldn't know that, either... Fuck... How do I explain this? Uh..."

Despite everything, you don't really know much about them. Apparently, they're very important, though. You're sure they're just as important as the dozens of other Pokemon the bosses have told you are very important. But what sets them apart? Eventually, you just shrug.

"They're four bastards, is what they are. And out of all of them, Ting Lu is the biggest bastard of all. I only saw him once, out during some mission or another, but shit, dude... He's bad news. You sure you don't know him? Big rocky fuck, huge metal bowl on his head? For some reason, I feel like you should know him... Well, no skin off my scrote. Point is, he's a big problem. I don't know what, but something about him hammers my fear response like crazy."

Even now, just thinking about it makes the hairs on your skin stand up straight.

"Anyway, he caused a real fuss on Route something-or-other. Managed to knock out a whole bunch of Leagues and Rockets in the process. Worse still, he gave them all these crazy false memories that they were transported to a cursed alternate reality version of Galar? Yeah, I don't get it either. Sometimes, when I feel like shit, I skim through the reports for a cheap laugh. Seriously, it's some of the stupidest shit I've ever seen. All these melodramatic battles and silly romances, like some badly written pulp... I think some of them mentioned you, too...?"

Weird. All of a sudden, you're starting to feel a killer migraine coming on. In that case, better to wrap this up quick and head back to the submarine before it gets too bad. After all, the last thing you want is to be stuck listening to storytime with a skull-pounding headache.

"...Anyway, he vanished when everyone woek up, and nobody knows where he is. Frankly? I'm fine with that. As long as I'm not the poor fucker who finds him... Speaking with which, you'll probably have to fight him at some point, huh? I mean, if you want to make yourself a nice little kingdom or whatever, you'll probably be at odds with him, so... Fuck me, good luck with that one, bud."

And with that last "piece" of "advice", you make your exit.

---

A tale of nightmares (fear).

He returned again, like a lost child returning to its parents when faced with a new experience.

There was no order for him to return. Walsh had ordered him to tell one story, not three, but there had been an urge in his soul guiding him back to the dreaming king's court. Like a loyal vassal, the admin returned to hold court with the king of forests and faeries, the king of the arcadia that Hoenn had become.

Hoenn. The locus amoenus that Howard had seen it as when he was young had fallen apart into a nightmare that haunted his every moment. Ever since he lost his—

"My king." Howard bowed, before producing two oaken mugs that he had produced with fern delaney 's forgery skills. Between his knowledge in antiques and his colleague's understanding of imitation, it was a genuine mug. It was filled with a fuzzy mead as Howard put the mug down before Galar's king. "This is a Galarian blend I've produced in the old way, when Galar was nothing but a densely populated wood. I hope you like it."

"Crowow?"

"Sharing stories is how culture is shared. It is how history is chronicled. I'm sorry, normally I get excited whenever I see one of your calibur. I want to ask you questions about Galar's tax code, what your royal policy was, and whether or not Galar did lose a year's worth of crops to drought. Yet..."

That was not possible. Calyrex could share nothing besides a confused expression as it slowly regained its power. There was no exchange here, only the proclamation of a king that Rocket's good faith would be rewarded in the end.

"Yet..."

He had lost that passion, somewhere. Before, he would've gushed to Calyrex for hours about Galarian history, even if the king could only do things. Now, he was running out of time to be passionate. Even his job at the museum was a front. Any joy he had for history was being crushed underfoot in favor of Rocket.

"I should leave Rocket, but I can't." His voice was soft for a moment. "I am afraid."

"When I joined up, I thought this would just be a side hustle where I could make some cash and keep studying archaeology. How wrong was I! mint frost got me good. I was younger, desperate, grasping. I didn't even realize that I had grabbed onto the noose that they mean to hang me with."

"My admin position is a fluke, you know? I don't belong, but... ah, I'm grasping." Howard took a deep gulp from his mug. "Apologies."

"I have nightmares about them all. Necrozma's Avatar will betray us all, one day. I fear he'll kill me for something, once he realizes that I'm quietly acting against him. For now, I'm hidden by my insignificance." The Devourer wouldn't notice him. Not yet. That was good. They were colleagues, both pretending that they had Rocket's best interests at mind. "And Walsh."

"I don't even trust my own men, or the shadows in the corner of my office. He could be there. Watching. Waiting for me to make a mistake. I barely even remember why I signed up for Rocket. All I recall now are the nightmares."

Fear.

"I want to be a hero, but I don't know how. I don't even think it's possible. As for you..."

Howard pointed his mug at the king, who looked at him with a mixture of confusion and royal pride. Howard hated that look. It reminded him of the previous Admin Fox. He loved and hated this rabbit that had been born anew from the dream of the masses.

"How dare you? 'Correction?' Please. Do you even remember kingship? You realize you're joining Rocket, right? You'll be a weapon of war, and you'll only repair the damage once the war is over. You'll rule as the king of ashes and cooked meat, the inheritor of an Eden that we've been cast from."

Rage filled his heart as he stood up. He acted on the fear and paranoia of Rocket, pointing a shaking hand towards Calyrex. This was no king.

"You're no king! You're a—" Fraud? Like Howard? An admin masquerading as a loyal Rocket? Calyrex was masquerading as a king when it had no memories. All it had was an urge, and it acted on it. Howard glared at it for a moment, before deflating. "Sorry."

He sat down. With a murmured word to a Claydol, Howard teleported the Pokémon away while staring at Calyrex. He unclipped a pen from his collar and began scribbling on the back of a laundromat receipt. "What will your policy be as king?"

"Crowrow?"

"Your policy for rulership!" Howard pointed at Calyrex with his Aerodactyl pen. "If you're to be king, you need to act like it. You have to pull Rocket together, which means understanding rulership! Here. I'll tell you about the reign of Edward V. His reign was simple, but prosperous."

"Crowrow?" It looked at the mug of mead.

"Yes, I'll help you with kingship! I know more about history than anyone else in this city! Stupid!" He bonked Calyrex on the head with his pen. "First mistake! You should've punished me for my insolence. Nobody will respect a king if they can walk all over him!"

He flipped open a book before rapping his knuckle against the cover.

"Your policy as king will influence your legacy, which will help kings that come after! That is the value of history. You're a king, so act like it!"

"Crowrow!"

"Exactly! Now come on, we have another twelve books to get through. You'll be learning about tax policy next..."

---

A story of fears and nightmares, and a future with a hopeful legacy.