Thunderlight

Exile

Never once has Montgomery had to borrow money. He looks at the sack of gold Torquil offers him with visceral disdain. Maybe even nausea.

"I know it's not much," Torquil says apologetically, wincing in the slightest as he adds, "My father wouldn't allow me to spare much more. He's pretty insistent on, uh. Not helping you out. After what happened."

Montgomery is incredibly appreciative of the reminder. Please, Torquil, by all means, recount the entire tale of how he's been iced out of every social circle that matters! So far, the only people who have been willing to talk to him are Torquil, Florian, and commoners. Those last two, he's even less thrilled about than with Torquil.

Florian contributed a small pouch of gold pieces as well, although not without a snooty reminder to not spend it all frivolously. Why the guy is even here, Montgomery has no clue. Maybe he's relishing in Montgomery's downfall, watching him scrounge handfuls of coins together just to purchase food and basic travelling supplies. Everytime he approaches a townsperson to buy goods, Florian is over his shoulder critiquing every choice he makes. Like right now.

"Those apples are already bruised," Florian sniffs, turning his nose up at the merchant's crate of fruit. Waving a hand dismissively, he orders, "Put them down."

Grumbling, Montgomery throws them down. The merchant curses him out while reorganizing their shitty apples.

"Look for some of better quality. They'll last longer," Florian insists. Maybe, on a better day, he'd appreciate Florian's advice. Right now, he kinda just wants to sock him in the jaw. Nodding to another merchant's table, Florian beckons him and Torquil over. "This way."

Torquil bounds happily along. Montgomery sulks behind.

Getting to the next merchant's table isn't easy. This place is crowded, with common people pressing up against him on all sides. They're sweaty and hot and sticky. Everyone seems to be screaming and something around here smells like rotten cheese. The closest Montgomery has ever been to experiencing this kind of filth is when they were kids and Torquil tackled him into a mud puddle.

Or, maybe when his father threw him down a hill just yesterday.

That thought instantly turns his sour mood even worse. Someone's baby is wailing in his ear, and he's itching to tell their parent to shut it up. The way his day is going, he just wishes everyone would shut up. Better yet, they could all just disappear.

Florian directs him to some apples that are supposedly better, but to Montgomery, they look exactly the same. Torquil nods in approval and admiration, like Florian just found a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.

"These look great, Florian!" Torquil praises, as if Florian grew them himself. Rubbing his stomach thoughtfully, he mumbles, "Maybe I'll buy some..."

Montgomery buys the apples and stares down at them. They're dull and unappetizing.

"You look like death. It's depressing," Florian sighs, as if this is all a travesty for him. He can't stop himself from glaring. Turning to him, Florian says, "Listen, getting you banished from your family was not my intent, but I had to respond to your challenge if I wanted to keep my family's name in the good graces of the public. So just keep in mind when you're looking for someone to blame: this all started with you."

He stares at Florian like he might be able to burn a hole in his big, fat head.

"Zekrom is unbeatable," Florian oh-so-helpfully reminds, rubbing his pendant. "I know you're eager to get your family's crest, but it's a lost cause. You should start thinking of other ways to support yourself."