Boys of Summer

Boys of Summer
By Alex Hamilton
Prologue



Chapter 1

Damien could feel the small flame on his tale beginning to burn stronger with his anger. His blue eyes were glowing intensely now as his frustration with his friend grew.

“You’re a fool, Shane, if you think this isn’t you’re war!” Damien growled angrily, small embers in his mouth spewing forth as he spoke.

“It’s a diplomatically legal maneuver. I don’t see how some Slowking’s war endangers the Empire,” Shane, the bulbasaur who had been his friend until an hour ago, replied coolly.

“That puts Maro lands in danger! You know that! The Maro family has remained loyal to the Emperor for eight generations!”

Basil, a lazy, sickly abra spoke up for once in what seemed like ages. “There is little danger for Lord Maro. He keeps the largest army north of Slowkingdom, there’s no way Slowking will be willing to sacrifice that many men for such a small piece of land.” Having finished, the abra folded his arms, closed his slanted little eyes, drifted back to sleep, and teleported back home after his daily excitement at the rally.

Oliver, the squirtle, finally spoke for the first time since the end of the rally. “The size of Slowking’s army has tripled since he came into power. There is little that will stop him from venturing into the massive industries and fertile farmlands of the Maros.”

Damien looked at Oliver and knew he would have no decision in fighting in the war. The Lyshells were the noble family of Tortoise Port, the largest port in the Aurora Sea. The Lyshells were well known for their military prowess and there was a family tradition of serving as officers in Emperor Mewtwo’s private army. Even if the Lyshells didn’t push Oliver into service, Damien knew it was likely that Emperor Mewtwo would personally request that he serve.

Oliver was a handsome squirtle indeed, a sign of his noble heritage. His shell was perfectly symmetrical and of a copper color. His eyes were purple instead of the normal blue, and his claws were long and of a pearl color.

Shane wasn’t simply average for a bulbasaur either. His main distinguishing quality was that his eyes were green instead of red. He was of a teal color, with dark green spots. The bulb upon his back was healthy and thick.

“Either way, it isn’t our choice. If Lord Maro calls for the Emperor’s help, he’ll be obliged to send some. When he does, he will need to keep up the strength of the south so Slowking doesn’t launch an amphibious invasion onto our island. That mean’s he’ll have to use northern auxiliaries. That’s us.”

The one who spoke was a young dratini, Salmoneus. Salm was of ancient descent. His father was Salmoneus Fisher, the lord of Fishington, a prosperous and powerful southern port. He had sent Salm north to study the art of warfare under the Lyshell family.

His perfectly blue back and pearly underbelly made Salm a handsome dratini, with black eyes and majestic ears. He was average size for his age and sharp too. He had already become nearly as good a warrior as Oliver in his first year at Tortoise Port. He was due back south in another year.

“Why can’t he just use some southern boys? We never benefit from the Maro province anyways! We don’t even do that much trading period!” Shane was getting angry now. “It’s ridiculous that the Emperor can’t use southerners to fight! They have huge armies down there, yet they can’t use ANY of them!”

Salm reposted. “That would leave our ports vulnerable. If the Slowking took one of our ports, he would have a foothold to attack the entire Empire.”

Salm and Shane hadn’t noticed that they had finally reached Lyshell castle, but Damien looked at Oliver and smiled. They were both glad to be home.

All four of them lived there. Oliver and Salm lived in the bedrooms at the top of the castle while Damien and Shane lived in the servant’s quarters.

Damien’s father worked as the castle trumpeter. His father’s family had served under the Lyshells for as far back as any family history could trace. They had ridden into battle with the Lyshells since the days when the Empire was separated. Even though they were subjects, the Lyshells still allowed Damien to befriend Oliver. They said it would do well for Oliver to bond with his subjects at a young age.

Shane’s family was a much newer family. They had traveled to the Empire two generations ago to escape warring in their home of Sauria, a Startonic city-state. It was rumored that Shane was of the royal Sauri bloodline, and his green eyes held true to this. His father had become Lord Lyshell’s economist, telling him which industries to nourish and monitoring the local market.



Damien and Shane listened intently as Lord Lyshell lectured Oliver and Salm. They weren’t supposed to be receiving this training that was normally reserved for aristocracy, but Lord Lyshell thought that his lessons could be just as useful to two nobles who would someday command cities as to two commoners with no future in leadership at all.

He was a wartortle of middle age. He had the same sea blue eyes as Oliver. The two looked as similar as two different pokemon could. If Oliver had evolved that instant, it would have been impossible to tell the two apart. However, he wore a cape with the Lyshell bubbles, a small burst of bubbles that seemed to be floating to the top of the cape. He also wore blue steel greaves and gauntlets, a sign of his nobility and warrior’s heritage.

“Salmoneus! When you think of war, what images come to mind?” Lord Lyshell said. “From what I’ve heard from you, probably massive armies, in uniform, evenly ranked, marching together into one grand collision come to mind.”

The dratini nodded, his serpentine body growing rigid in respect for this great warrior.

“And you Oliver. You think of one grand warrior, fighting off masses of faceless savages screaming and charging mindlessly into you’re attack. You imagine a hero. Am I correct?”

Oliver nodded guiltily toward his father.

“Shane, you’ve been given the impression by your father that war is an economic struggle. You imagine farmlands being razed in the wake of armies, profiteering on catastrophic scales. You think of a war of attrition, every necessity a possibility for fortune.”

“And Damien. You’re as green as Oliver. You imaginer one grand battle, one force showing the others who’s who and then the war being over at that, a mere contest of honor.”

“Well, Salmoneus, foolish as you may think of Oliver and Damien right now, they are partially correct. You and Shane are partially wrong as well.”

“Imagine the feeling of racing. It seems simple doesn’t it? If you just move you’re legs faster than anyone else, you’ll win the race right?”

“Well that’s part of it, the simplest and most basic understanding. But you also must pace yourself so as not to tire out near the end. You need to have mental discipline to keep going when it seems too difficult. It is necessary to convince all of your competitors that you will inevitably win so they give up.”

“War is no different. It is an art, a careful balance of all of you’re ideas. War, at its simplest, is two armies fighting one another as Salmoneus thinks. But there are factors which the rest of you have all considered. Oliver, you are wrong in you’re assumption that whichever side has the greatest warrior or general will win the battle. Even the greatest warriors fall and the cleverest generals can lose. But one warrior can change the tide of a battle; one general can change the tide of the war. This is where Damien’s point comes in. While you can never break an army by simply defeating them in one battle, you can convince them they cannot win the war. Morale can be decisive, and an army with high morale is essential. If your troops do not believe they can win the war, they cannot win. Even the most skillful general will have to waste all of his efforts just convincing his soldiers to keep fighting when they have given up. Likewise, an enemy that has been defeated in their hearts will leave one hundred battles with no victory.”

“Lastly, Shane offers an often overlooked aspect of war: the economic factor. Not all armies go into battle perfectly prepared as Salmoneus believes; most times armies are in dire need of supplies. Armies are in perpetual shortage of simple things like provisions, rain tents, bags, bandages, and firewood. It is necessary for the home front to be in full support of a war, with industry in full gear. It is a wonderful place for prospectors to make war time fortunes. As we speak they are preparing to reap the benefits of our upcoming conflict.”

“In this way, war is not just a contest of might but an intricate and delicate symbiosis fusing military might, morale, individual skill, and domestic industry. In life, all things are like this. Even the simplest task performed well is a genius compromise of all factors. Remember this. With that, you are dismissed.”

They all left in silence, deciding what his words that day meant to each of them. Outside the sun was just beginning to set in the west.



Shane finally broke the silence. “I’m sorry Damien, I just don’t understand why you’re so eager to fight and suffer in a war that doesn’t concern you. You might live your whole life and never see anyone from Slowkingdom, and yet you feel the need to kill them, and for what? Glory? Patriotism? There is no purpose to it,”

It was late in the evening. The sun was setting, and Damien was sitting on a hill with Shane, just the two of them. Even though Oliver did his best to make sure they were comfortable with nobility, somehow it was just easier to talk when they weren’t around.

“I don’t know either. Maybe it’s just that I’m realizing that I might never leave this place. I just want to know what more there is to life. I’d hate to live never knowing what life is like outside of Tortoise Port. I feel like this is the only way out.”

“Damien, there are other ways to see the world. Why don’t you take apprenticeship under my dad? He can teach you economics and you can see the world. You can go to the Auroralands, see Tailisia, visit Startony, and maybe even see the Grand Cathedral. Who knows what’s in store for you? Don’t rush into this because you don’t see another way out.”

“I can’t Shane. Thank you, but there’s no way I could just leave. My family, my whole family, has served under the Lyshells for longer than anyone can remember. It’s said they were partners even back in the Revolution. There’s no way I could end a legacy like that.”

“If that’s how you feel, then you are no different than the peasant that farms the Lyshell’s fields because he can’t leave. He is bound to the land by law just as you are bound to the land by honor. It’s your own honor that will keep you prisoner here if that’s the way you think.”

He couldn’t even think of what to say, so he just kept silent. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there with Shane, watching the sun set. By the time he had finally thought of an answer, the stars were bright, and the moon was shining down upon them.

“You’re right Shane. It is my own honor that keeps me here. The only way I can leave here while performing my duty is to follow Oliver no matter where he goes. Seeing as he’s certainly going to enlist, I have to too. There’s no way I could do anything else, it’s what I was born to do. If Oliver never leaves this place then I’m destined to stay here with him, but if he leaves I am duty bound to follow.”

“Well, if that’s how you feel, then there’s no choice for me either. I have to follow you because I have no idea what life here without you would be like. I don’t know what I would do, with you and Oliver gone in a war thousands of miles away from me. If it’s your destiny to fight in this terrible war, then it will be mine too.”

Even though they were now both solid with resolve, Damien couldn’t bring himself to leave. He knew that tonight was special, that it marked the beginning of a whole new life, a part of his life that he could never come back from. He sat there with Shane, knowing that after that night, things would change. He sat there allowing the moment to sink in. Together, they sat there for a long time.



A/N: Some of you may be confused. To give you a mental picture, I have set this story on the stage of Europe. The stage in which this story is played out is supposed to be Medieval Europe. Thus far, the Empire is England, Slowkingdom is France, the Maro province is English occupied Belgium, and Startony is Germany in the days in which Germany was divided into a great many independent city-states. This is just to give you all a mental picture.

Tortoise Port is supposed to represent York (modern day Newcastle) and Fishington is supposed to be Portsmouth, but this is just to give you a geographical picture, the actual locations won’t matter much concerning the importance of the story.

By the way, I don’t own pokemon or Europe (I wish I owned both though), so please don’t sue me for the use of either.

If you have constructive reviews please be so polite as to send them in. Compliments are appreciated too, and I guess you can flame if you want, I really don’t care. I just like having emails.