“NO! We’re not having this argument again, we’re NOT doing this for the second time this week!”

Artanouk slammed his flippers onto the table, scratching up the map splayed out over the surface. Several glasses set on top fell over, spilling their contents over the map. Some of the guards watching shook their heads. The ministers at the table had but stern and contemptful looks to give. One, a Bisharp, groaned.

“Your majesty, this isn’t a light matter. We don’t have the budget for any of your pet projects.”

Artanouk ruffled his feathers. “It’s NOT a pet project! Luminity’s water is horrible! And they do not even HAVE fresh water up north! I don’t care how harsh the winter gets, FIGURE IT OUT!”

Ministers representing all corners of Eravate, Whitiara included, shook their heads. “By every conceivable metric, Luminity’s water is fine. Clean enough to drink, clean enough to wash, freshly sourced too. And there is more than enough of it to go around. The citizenry is fine. This garden project of yours is not.”

“And what of droughts?!” Artanouk blurted out in response. “Have you thought of that?!”

A different minister took a deep breath, flicking her forked tongue out afterwards. “Of course we have. Our whole job is to research these things. Not only is Luminity City prepared for droughts, we have enough to provide aid for nearby regions if needed. You are aware of this, yes?”

“Sort of…” Artanouk grumbled. His feet shifted sideways under the table, as he tried to hide his stress from everyone else in the government.

“And you know this garden of yours needs a lake’s worth of water come the summer, yes?”

“How is that any different from Luminity Park?” Artanouk asked, to which the Serperior sighed.

“Luminity Park uses locally sourced water. It’s a slice of nature that hasn’t been chopped down for farmland,” the Serperior minister explained. “Your majesty, one thing’s pretty clear from all this.”

A high pitched growl came from the side of the room: It belonged to an Arcanine with a short mane, and a nose far too large for his snout.

“Ehh…”

“Don’t growl,” the Bisharp minister said.

“Eh?” the Arcanine shook his head. “M-my apologies. What I meant to say was, I think it’s a good idea… droughts aren’t unheard of out west.”

The Serperior shook her head. “Brighthowl, was it?”

“Yes?” Arcanine responded with a tilted head. “Cerben Brighthowl. That’s me.”

“You come from the Ruby Province. Of course water is scarce there,” the Serperior spat his way, leaving a guilty-looking Arcanine behind before turning back to the king. “Let’s get one thing straight, your majesty. This project is a disaster in the making. We will not vote for it.”

Artanouk slammed his flippers on the table yet again. “Are you joking? Do you take nothing your king says seriously anymore?” he whined. “You’ve shot every last idea I’ve had in the last three months down without so much as a second thought! And whatever did get past, you modified!”

The Bisharp minister rested his blade-like arms on the table. “Your majesty, not to offend, but all the plans and ideas you put forward recently have been unachievable. We do not have infinite amounts of money to throw at them. And quite frankly-”

“LIES!” shouted the Empoleon, arms shaking. His voice reverberated off the walls, even causing a flicker in the fireplace. “You’re all trying to fool me, all of you! There’s not an iota of respect among you! Only Cerben gives anything I say a chance! After all the laws I passed that you wanted, this is the thanks I get?!”

The king’s ranting had disturbed the peace, as he and every last Minister at the table argued back and forth. No one agreed with each other on anything, even laws they had so enthusiastically passed mere months prior. No talk of growth, no talk of having kept the peace, just complete and utter bitterness. The room resembled a rowdy pub more than a government, what with its rustic yet tacky furniture and artwork, complete with a statue of a Tinkaton bearing a silver hammer on one side, and a Politoed holding a harp on the other.

Eravate’s finest, watching Eravate’s ‘finest’ hard at work.

“Your majesty-”

“Grr! Idiots, the lot of you!”

“Did you always think like this? Why did none of you ever say anything?!”

“Why did I listen?! Why oh WHY did I agree to have you lot in here-”

“That’s ENOUGH!”

The Serperior hissed over the chaos, her voice like venom to the ears. All present at the table quietened down fast, even the guards at the doors didn’t appear so confident anymore, given the way they shivered.

“This entire conversation is a waste. Of. TIME. Look at you all, arguing like hatchlings over candy! You should all be ashamed of yourselves.” Her tail whipped out across the room, as she slithered towards the door. “We’re not discussing anything more today. Anything. Do you understand?”

“Why not?” one meek Pinsir minister asked. “Who put you in charge here-”

Serperior turned back around, slithered to the Pinsir, and pressed her face against theirs. ”Do you see anyone taking charge of this mess?”

“...No?”

“Then stop wasting everyone’s time.”

She whipped back around, and headed for the door. “Let me make one thing clear. I’m not tolerating any of this. If any of this happens again, then I do not care who is responsible, or what they’re trying to argue. I will motion to have them thrown out of the discussion.”

“Motion?” Bisharp asked. “We haven’t had one in years.”

“Then it’s as good a time as any to start doing them again, yes?” Serperior asked, ducking her head under the door.She left the room behind in dead silence.

The Bisharp nodded as she left, then sighed. “...Agreed, minister Rosemary the Third.” He removed his arms from the table, then got off the chair he had been sitting on. His eyes were drawn to the king sitting across from him. “Frankly, I’m done as well. Evidently, giving everyone at this table an equal voice isn’t working.”

“Say that again?!” Artanouk asked, feathers ruffling to the point where they looked on the verge of falling off. “What are you-”

“Please.” Bisharp stood up. “Don’t start again.”

The ministers dispersed, leaving Artanouk alone in the room to tend to himself. Not so much as a goodbye, or acknowledgement. The extra guards that had been called in disappeared as well, back to their regular patrol. In the end, it was just him and Cerben left in the room.

“Not again…!” Artanouk growled to himself. “Not AGAIN!” He bashed his face into the table, and didn’t lift it.

“Your majesty?” Cerben asked.

“Leave me alone, please…” was all Artanouk replied with, his beak still imprinted into the table.

* * *

Water ran from a faucet, then flowed off into a makeshift pond illuminated by moonlight. It was cut off only by Artanouk sticking both his flippers into the stream, then splashing some of the water onto his face. Rubbing it into his feathers, then drying off the excess, the Empoleon was left staring at his own reflection in the end.

A sigh left his body. For a split second, he wasn’t even sure it was his.

“Is this all I am?”

Slowly, his eyes were drawn to a portrait hanging in the corner of his room. Pictured on it was an aged, far statelier looking Empoleon, surrounded by a frame bearing a golden plaque. The name ‘King Naperte’ was written on the plaque in flowing calligraphy.

“Father…”

His beak clacking, and his arms dangling from his sockets, Artanouk waddled his way over the silky carpet, then got onto his knees before the portrait.

“Is this all I was meant to be, father? Was I really meant to be this weak?” The king shook his head, the feathers on his belly ruffling out in discomfort. “I swear, I followed every last instruction you have ever given to me. Never abandoned any of the things you’ve taught me. Did everything… exactly according to the plan… for the sake of a better tomorrow… for Eravate’s sake…”

Words didn’t find the king easily. He had naught but fragments on the mind.

“Father. This… I lived my whole life in preparation for this duty… for Creator Arceus. C-creator? Arceus? I don’t know his exact title at the moment, but.” Artanouk gulped. “I’ve prayed to him every day. I shed a tear for you daily. I… I wish I could be as strong as you two were. Not so… obsessed with… obsessed with anything besides a good job.”

With a sigh, Artanouk rose back up. He shot a glance at the door; none of the guards keeping watch outside had come to check up on him. Breathing out in relief, his eyes were getting blurry. So he patted the region around his eye down, and ended up with a wet end of a flipper. He took a sniff. Tears.

“Think it’s time I headed to bed…” he muttered out loud to himself, before killing the candlelight, then crawling between the covers of the bed in the centre of the room. It was large enough to fit two Pokemon, but just a single one had slept in it during the last few years.

That wasn’t a thought he wanted on his mind when passing out.

He wasn’t destined to be alone too, was he?

Fufufufufu…

It wasn’t long before even the moonlight drifted away, leaving Artanouk in a pit of his own darkness. No light reached him in his dreams. No memories caught up with him here. The stress of regular life was gone, if only for a moment.

And yet, he couldn’t escape the tingling sensation that he wasn’t as alone in his dreams as he wanted to be.

Looks like you have gotten yourself into quite the pickle now, haven’t you?

A voice boomed through the void in Artanouk’s mind. A voice that no Pokemon should hear, for the sound struck fear into the heart.

His body shaking, Artanouk turned around, and was greeted by the sight of two enormous red eyes glistening in the darkness. In an instant, it felt as if the air had been sucked out of his body, despite not needing to breathe in his own dreams. His limbs became sore, the trident on his face felt as if it was about to rot off…

‘Wh-what are you?!’

Actually, I wanted to ask you that question. What are you?

‘Wh-why don’t you tell me first?’ the king asked the two red eyes in front of him. The vague outlines of tendrils appeared to sprout from behind the eyes.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Well… let’s just say that I am somebody you have an awful lot in common with. More than you could possibly imagine.

‘A-And how I am supposed to believe you?’

The voice chuckled. Allow me to put it this way. Have you ever felt as if others dismiss you out of hand, purely because of who you are?

Artanouk, unsure of how to respond, replied with a slow nod. He didn’t know where this line of questioning would take him. All he knew is that playing along couldn’t hurt. For now.

‘Yes… I have.’

And why do you think they do it to you?

The king breathed in deep, his feathers ruffling in his sleep. ‘I don’t know. I’ve always been told that I have big shoes to feel, being a monarch. My duty is to the people of Eravate, and the people of Eravate only. I don’t want to play politics with the cabinet. I want to accomplish great things, like my father did.’

Interesting, interesting! Do continue, why do these advisors and ministers… Whatever these folks in your cabinet are called, why do they not take you seriously, then?

Artanouk attempted to look away, yet the allure of staring down the enormous red eyes was too strong. He snapped back without hesitation, without the slightest bit of foul play involved from whatever creature had come to visit.

‘Because… because they see me as a shadow of my father. They think I’m incompetent, even though I do nothing but my best. I know, I’ve indulged myself before, but… no! A little enjoyment out of life, that’s what everyone expects, right?!’ he rambled out loud. ‘I never went overboard! Eravate is wealthy enough… to… maybe I did go too far, but I swear I never meant it in the wrong way! And then they get in my way, say I’m a fool, take over the government from underneath me, cut me out of decision making, won’t even listen to any of my inputs, do everything they can just to spite me!’

The king collapsed before the red eyes, burying his head under both flippers. The void below didn’t respond to him giving in. Nor his frustration, nor his tears falling down. All the pent up emotions over the last few years, which he never expressed in the open.

‘I never had a chance to prove myself…’

Dead silence took over as two tendrils slithered out of the darkness, and crept towards Artanouk. Blood red tips shone bright like the eyes, surrounding the Empoleon on both ends. Artanouk breathed in, then out. In, then out, as the tips connected with his shoulders. He didn’t look at what was happening. The only thing he felt was a strange comfort as the connection was made.

Well… isn’t that utterly miserable? So sad. The voice thundered throughout the darkness, in a manner that sounded almost playful, but was far too serious. You and I have a lot in common, you know.

‘We do?’

The voice from beyond hummed. Mhm. My own ‘friends’ abandoned me all the same. They’re… rather peculiar friends, shall we say. You probably know, and even admire them. You may not even trust me based on that same admiration, and I would fully understand your reasoning for why. But oh my, you do not even know half of it!

Artanouk finally removed his flippers from his face. ‘...Just who are you, then? And what am I supposed to know?’

I will tell you in a moment. And believe me, you need me as much as I need you. We were made for eachother, King Artanouk. If we work together… We can set things right at last. But before that, let’s introduce ourselves properly, shall we?

The Empoleon gazed up at the eyes. ‘Right… you already seem to know me, but… My name is Artanouk. King of Eravate. And you are?’

A laugh echoed through the void, as the figure revealed its true form before the King.

Pleased to meet you. Hope you guessed my name.

* * *

Atop the main tower of Luminity Keep, the King looked out over Mount Stalwart in the distance, its snowy peak glistering in the sunlight like diamonds in a crown. Far below, the noise of the ordinary folk droned on, filling the streets with the most mundane of atmospheres imaginable. He smirked.

‘If only the ministers were so regular.’

Beyond the city walls, a calm held sway over the countryside. Farmers were hard at work tilling the soil for the next cycle, digging in the dirt with their paws where tools wouldn’t do. Civilisation’s heart beating on, in spite of what petty political games those in the Keep were up to.

And for now, in spite of the wisdom being whispered into the King’s ear.

Mmm, enjoying ourselves, aren’t we?

‘Any respite from the fools we’re up against is welcome.’

Ahh… I’m afraid to say the break time’s over. Someone’s coming up.

The King raised his head. ‘What for?’

Probably related to the infrastructure plans, the voice echoed in the King’s mind. Not too fond of making Mount Stalwart accessible, I take it?

‘Of course not.’ replied the King in his thoughts. ‘But our plans are what they are. And your entry to this world will not falter to petty politics.’

The voice from beyond chuckled. Ooh, I like that attitude. Take your best shot, your highness.

Footsteps crept up the spiralling staircase, the individual footfalls too soft to leave much of an impression. Once they had reached the top, the fluffy mane and ears of a Flareon whose fur hadn’t been groomed recently poked out first, followed by the rest of her body.

“Your majesty! If I am not intruding on you here, do you have time to discuss a few things?”

The King turned around, flippers folded behind his back. “Please. I am always open to relevant news. What have you got for me?”

Ears twitching backwards, the Flareon shook her head up and down. It was far too frantic for a simple ‘yes’.

“It’s the Ministers. They have some critique about the uh, about the road plans you put forward recently.”

“And what of it?” answered the King as the wind blew at his back.

“Uhm…” Flareon gulped. “They… don’t see the purpose in building roads all the way to the mountains? They uh… with nothing except the Dragonspines behind it, and the hills being so steep, they see it as a waste of resources. Plus the dragons can all fly, so supplies shouldn’t be-”

The King raised a flipper, a demand for silence. Flareon obeyed in a heartbeat.

“While I understand their concerns, it is… simple minded. Some dragons can fly, yes, but many other Pokemon cannot. Even if the immediate economic benefits of the project aren’t evident, it is our duty to better life for all. Plus, the Dragonspines have a dungeon problem, no? A road for the Soldiers would be most effective for dealing with that threat.”

“Oh- err, okay,” the Flareon stuttered. “Um… what would you propose to them?”

The King turned back to face the mountain. “Relay my message to them. Should you forget it, or should they remain unconvinced, then we can schedule a meeting for tomorrow morning. Does that sound fair?”

The Flareon nodded. “It does.”

“Off with you then.”

The advisor scurried off, leaving several of her hairs drifting in the wind as she ran away. The King sighed, resting the sides of his flippers against the trident on his head.

‘Glad that’s over with…’

Patience! We’ll convince them soon enough. And if not…

* * *

The sun burned down on the plains of the Agate Province. In the lowlands, grasses shrivelled and withered under the pressure of the heat. The heat wave held no mercy, and the Pokemon living here were getting desperate.

Aid had been approved from all corners of the continent, in the form of water, food and medical supplies. Crises brought about the best and worst of Eravate’s people. The ordinary folk had nothing but sympathy to give. No one wanted their fellow Pokemon to suffer. No one wanted what had become of the Kronn and Tholander provinces to spread.

But to those in the government, a crisis presented an opportunity to play games.

In the city of Lodogor, in the north of the Agate Province, crowds assembled on a relatively cloudy day. The worst of the heat had seemed to pass, yet the public demanded some sort of reassurance. That was why Eravate’s King arrived here today. He was going to give that reassurance in the form of a speech, and local authorities were in attendance, along with select members of the King’s cabinet.

Inside the keep on the main square, the King prepared his feathers and polished his body as a final preparation before heading out. Once he was squeaky clean and well, he headed for the balcony from which he would speak.

Though, it wasn’t to be so simple, for a Grovyle called out to him from behind.

“Your majesty! Hang on!”

The King spun around after stopping dead in his tracks, a neutral look on his face as he held his flippers behind him. “Yes?” he asked. ‘This will be interesting.’

Ooh, I believe I’ve seen this one before, have you? The voice called from its shadowy domain. The king blinked in response.

‘Far too many times to recount.’

The Grovyle, a newly appointed advisor, bowed his head before the King, his leaf dangling before his head in an arc. “I’m sorry, your majesty, but the Ministers here don’t seem to approve of the rainwater idea you had… I just wanted to let you know, so you wouldn’t-”

“It is quite okay,” said the King, motioning for Grovyle to calm down with a flipper. “It is not the only plan I have, far from it.”

“A-alright then,” the Grovyle muttered, as the King turned back around, and continued his walk up to the balcony.

The crowd outside cheered as the King pushed aside the curtain. Pokemon from all over Agate had come to Lodogor to hear what he had to say. A marvellous sight stretched out over the square; all different colours of fur and feathers intermingled with each other, the Pokemon having their eyes and ears pointed at the balcony as they waved at the Empoleon. Across the street, on a different balcony, sat the ministers who had come along, their capes hanging flat around their backs whilst they dozed off.

“Thank you,” the King said with a smirk. “I am pleased that all of you could make it here today.”

The crowd responded with a raucous cheer, bipeds sticking their arms into the leg, while quadrupeds howled up a storm while hopping up and down in celebration.

“As you all know, this has not been an easy time for the Agate Province. Drought has wiped out many crops, and heat has left many affected for the worse. Though much aid has arrived in Agate, and there is nothing but sympathy for the people of Agate in the hearts of all Pokemon, this situation cannot hold. We must prepare for similar problems in the future.”

Another round of cheering came from the audience… though in the King’s mind, it was nothing more than white noise.

Good, good! Now, tell them the last thing they want to hear!

With an inconspicuous nod, the King cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, I come bearing bad news. Although I did approve several projects, including the building of emergency rainwater reservoirs, funding for experimenting with methods of berry and crop growth that require less water, aqueducts and more, many of these measures did not pass. The Ministers have vetoed them.”

A collective gasp passed over the crowd; in the blink of an eye, the cheering stopped, the Ministers on the other end of the square woke up, and the sunlight got a smidge dimmer. The Ministers looked among themselves, confused as to what was happening. The King did not look at them.

Evidently, he had gone off script.

“My friends, I would like nothing more than to improve the situation here. But if the Ministers are not willing to collaborate…”

Fear shone through on the Minister’s faces, as the crowds assembled at the square began booing at them. Some water types doused the balcony, while some grasslings threw a tree’s worth of leaves at them. Artanouk closed his eyes.

‘One step closer.’

Fantastic! I’m sure they’ll be far more cooperative now.

* * *

On a cold morning, The King left Luminity City on a supposed diplomatic errand to the Dragonspines. In truth, it was little more than a cover. He slipped out under the cover of night, headed northwest towards the banks of the river Ine, then swam up against its current up to the foothills before Mount Stalwart. As an Empoleon, his command over the water was formidable, and he used it to its greatest extent.

Once the river had narrowed, he stepped out, and headed into the first crevice in the mountain he could find. Guided by the voice’s wisdom, it wasn’t long before he reached that which they had been building together.

At the core of the mountain, far removed from sunlight and the prying eyes of society, a ball of darkness squirmed and pulsated. A thin purple mist separated the shadows from the nearby rocks, protecting what lingered within. Inside the mist, the darkness twisted into a form that most would be disgusted by. It looked slimy, almost like clay, and dripping with a purplish black ink. The closest shape to anything recognizable inside were tendrils, and they were only discernible by the claw-like red tips at the end.

Once the King approached, a voice boomed throughout the hollowed out core of Mount Stalwart. First impressions?

The King stood on the edge before the black shape, arms folded behind his back, his body coated in a purple glow. ‘You are gestating quite well.’

Oh, no need for flattery here. Granted, I never ask for much flattery, as that complicates things, but still. I look like a blob. Don’t I?

‘Sort of.’ The King took a breath of cavernous air. ‘But progress is still progress, no?’

Of course, but no need to sugar coat things. It’s been going slow. I haven’t properly tried to emerge like this in a long time. It ain’t that simple, King Art!

The King took a step away from the edge. ‘You are a greater expert on that than I am. I suppose we’re a long while off yet. Size especially.’

Everything especially, you mean! Come on, a single smack from a child would knock me out cold like this… speaking of which, I do hope no one notices us down here. Someone is bound to pick up on all the energy I am using down here.

‘How can you be so sure?’ The King asked.

Well, you are aware of those that follow the uh… the ‘Creator’, if you will. Detection isn’t entirely impossible, soo… yeah.

A grimace appeared on the King’s face. ‘...We haven’t prepared for a premature discovery, have we?’

Not at all, the voice answered, chuckling a little. No worries though. I’m not letting myself be banished that easily!

* * *

Several years of political trickery and slow development passed by. The King and the Voice continued their plans, secretly working to bring about a future that both desired. But all the trickery and political games hadn’t gone unnoticed, and the King himself was well aware of that.

And thus, it came as no surprise when one morning, a certain Serperior dropped by the throne room for an unannounced visit. With her was a whole entourage of armoured Pokemon that had served Eravate so well over the years.

The King rose from the throne. “Hm? What is this interruption for?” he asked, a knowing smile on his face.

Opposite to him, the Serperior’s eyes narrowed into slits, the Soldiers at her side baring their teeth. “The gig is up, Art. We know what you’ve been hiding from us.”

“Hiding?” the King asked with a tilted head, his ears tuned in elsewhere. “Care to elaborate?”

Patrina is about to attack you. Be careful!

‘Oh, I’m aware it would come to this…’

The Serperior bared her teeth with a fierce hiss, vines emerging from the extensions of her skin along their neck. The Pokemon at her side held out their claws out in front of them, growling with a ferocious glint into their eyes.

“Elaborate? There’s only one ‘explanation’ we give to demon worshipping traitors like YOU!”

Patrina’s vines lunged at the King’s neck, their ends sharp and filled with spikes. The King crossed his arms, stomped his feet once, then directed a raging geyser to erupt as the vines drew close.

A second after connecting, he slashed with both arms, cutting the ends of both vines off. He had not a second to spare; once more he stomped the ground, directing a surge of water onto his lower body, then blasting away to the side of the room.

“Don’t let him escape! DON’T!”

Patrina’s shrill voice reached his ears for the final time, as the elemental attacks of all those the Serperior had brought with her clawed at his back. From blasts of fire hotter thanmagma, to the spheres of aura that tore cracks through the founding pillars of the keep, to electrical surges powerful enough to electrocute him a hundred times over, and the physically aligned who leapt at him with outstretched claws; the slightest hesitation meant death.

‘What now?’

Through the wall! Forget about the keep, you’re not winning this fight alone!

The King burst into a garden, the rubble spreading rocks and dust across the plants that had been meticulously maintained. The same garden he had fought so hard against his ministers to receive, filled with the most vibrant flowers and plants Eravate had to see.

Alas, those same Ministers wanted him dead now.

‘Where to? Mount Stalwart?’

No. Head east! I’ll survive down here, worry about your own skin for now.

‘Understood…’ the King thought in response to the voice in his head, the voice that had been his guiding light for years.

The time for tears comes later. We’ll get through this. You and me… together!

The King fled through a hidden passage in the keep, escaping Luminity City for the safety of the east. For tiny Drasal, where his would-be assassins lost all track of him. In just a few short hours, he had become a king without a throne.

In the end, any and all sadness turned to laughter. A laughter which haunted the untamed forests of Drasal. For no usurper could steal what was most important of all...

* * *

In the weeks following the King’s overthrow, his entire domain turned to chaos. Factions from all sides fought amongst each other in the resulting power vacuum, for the news of the King’s supposed ‘abdication’ was not received well. In the end, Patrina herself would grip onto the throne with an iron vine - and the Vined Crest was born. Many of those who stood against her disappeared. Into prisons, or elsewhere.

No one back on the homefront knew where, because most wouldn’t expect anyone to flee into Drasal. That jungle backwater filled with the most feral Pokemon imaginable. Patrina’s opponents too wouldn’t expect to go there. Why would they?

Why would they receive the strange inclination that the King didn’t just survive, but hoped to gather the resistance from Drasal, of all places?

And why would that inclination come true, all in a damp cave during the blazing summer heat?

“Your majesty…”

The King raised a flipper, a content smile resting on his face. “Please, do not call me that. It wouldn’t be right to call myself a King now, would it? Especially given these circumstances.”

Those who had made it to Drasal looked around in confusion. “Then… what do we call you?”

“A simple ‘Art’ would do fine. We are in this together now,” the King explained, tilting his head towards the ceiling. “Fortunately though… we are all alive. We have everything we need to set things right. To work towards a better tomorrow.”

“How so?” one of those who remained loyal to the King growled. “We’re in the jungle, all alone. We have nothing!”

The King snickered. For a split second, a purple flicker passed through his eyes.

“You won’t feel quite so depleted come the morning, I can assure you.”