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Guardian Without Direction

Chapter 1: Setting the course.

Have you ever tried to remain awake, forced to listen to a lecture that is as boring as watching paint dry? Combined with my lack of fatigue (most of which was lost during my typical Tuesday all-nighter-and-morning-shift combination), my eyelids as well as my concentration simply refused to obey me any longer. Listening to any more of Professor Smith`s "highly interesting" lecture was becoming impossible for me. Obeying my body, I slumped down on my chair, finally trying to get some badly needed shuteye.

Unfortunately are the chairs, which are normally used in lecture halls, never truly constructed with the aim of letting someone nap, let alone sleep in comfort. That liability in construction was especially true for those old, nearly broken Desk-chairs used in the "Goldenroad School of Finest Arts". The kind of chair in which I am currently residing in.

Goldenroad School of Finest Arts. What a pompous name for a small private Art school. Frivolously occupying a decaying campus that used to hold one of the most exclusive and most famous art academy's in all of Johto. The Central Art Academy itself had moved over a decade ago. The city had simply made an all new, state of the art campus in the Heart of Johto`s most bustling City.

What was left behind is now a shell of his former existence, used for training the less privileged (or less talented) artists. Most of the students are just here to learn at least "how to hold a brush", as it was stated in a running gag at the Central Art Acadamy. And after seeing the works and drawings of the other students in my course, I am confident to say that the statement is surprisingly accurate.

Nevertheless, I am certain that my back will pay me back later on for napping in such an uncomfortable position on that excuse for a chair.

I can hardly wait for it... Now, time for a nice, long powernap...

"...And as you can see here, we should never stop learning from the success and failures of the old masters, for they truly created what we interpret as our very culture today! That concludes today's lecture. And please, don't forget to take the scriptures with you. I don't like using my printer budget for no reason. Paper does not grow on trees, as you may or may not know!

Finally...

"Mister Alexander Wald, a minute please."

...Shit! This can't be good.

I slowly started to get up from my chair, as the rest of my class was starting to leave. Maybe class is an inappropriate term here, considering that all of us together are no more than a handfull of students in this course.

Carefully and slowly I put my belongings in my trusted backpack, as if to stretch the precious time I had, before Professor Smith would start his loud lecturing about that I should rather stay away from his lecture of classic art history, if I am not able to stay awake during his "detailed and exquisite journey trough marvellous brush techniques of the past", as he always used to say.

Setting up my most confident look, I strode forward trough the lining of the few chairs that were forming a two-rowing half-circle around an old and heavy looking desk. It was a comically small setup, considering the sheer size of the lecture hall it was build up in. A few of the upper windows were cracked open, to let some light and cold autumn air pour into the building. The old floor itself would answer me with a light squeezing sound for every step I took towards the heavy desk. As if to remind me that the distance between me and the Professor is getting shorter by the second.

I approached the desk, and in front of me stood, in his pseudo-regal looking apperance, Professor Smith.

Clad in his old blazer, to protect is frail looking body from the rather cold air draft, I could easily view the reflection of the declining autumn sun on his half-bald and polished head, as well as the reflecting light on the thick pair of glasses he wore, where he usually hides his eyes behind. Giving him the appearance of a Sun-god no civilisation sought to have!

Okay, maybe I am exaggerating a little...

In truth, he was as generic as his name would imply. I was on semi-good terms with him, considering how often I slept during his lectures., it was a good stand. And I believe he already knew that I had to have a reason to nap trough nearly all of his lectures. I mean, even sun gods had to start as students somewhere, don`t they?

He was also was a good head smaller than me. And even I am not considered to be very tall, at least by my friends standards. He had a slight frown on his Face. This was not a good sign.

I need to pass his lecture...

"Alex, why are you here?"

Silence.

"I ask you again," this time in a more stern sounding voice "Alex, why are you here?"

He never used my nickname, didn`t he?

"Well, to pass this lecture of course... I mean to ...uhh... ...to learn more about the artistic ways of the past and to..."

He frowned. "Cut that out Alex, will you? I know you and your ability to sweet talk your way out of things. But this is not the right time nor the right place for one of your acts!"

This won`t end well...

"I took the freedom to take a look into your art portfolio. It is nearly the end of the semester. And out of all my 23 graduating students, you are the only one that has submitted his map yet!" his voice becoming louder by the second.

His Face softened a little. "And damn you Alex, even an old chap like me can see that talent of yours. It is not just the high level of anatomy and detail you display in your pokemon drawings, but it is running flawless with your technique, giving it a truly unique artstyle which I have not seen in decades."

Okay, maybe now he is exaggerating a little...

"By all means, you should be up there in the Central Goldenroad Academy, or open up your very own studio. refining your skills.So, tell me. Why are you still here Alexander?"

I was getting more and more nervous. I hate it to tell people about things I just can`t do. I just hate it. Call me a score loser if you want, but by the time you show society a weak spot, it is over. I learned that the hard way.

"Ehm... well... the truth is, studying at the Central Art Academy takes a small fortune for my standards, let alone living there in Central Goldenrod. I need to get the Goldenroad Art school certificate to be at least considered for a stipend. That is why I need to pass this semester"

Or I will lose my last bits and pieces of my sanity, with all those "would be" artists and imbiciles constantly nagging at my site!

Professor Smiths face loosed up. It looked like gravity could finally get a hold of his wrinkles again, tearing them down to earth with no mercy...

I really need to stop exaggerating over every little detail that is happening to me.

"Listen there Alexander. I am going to meet with the Teachers Council tomorrow. We are going to discuss your case, maybe pull some strings there and there...

In any case, if things go smoothly, I could see a fair chance in receiving a special Goldenrod Art school stipend, which would cover most of the expenses and will eventually get you out of this god damn place that is only filled imbeciles and idealistic academics past their retirement age!"

He let me speechless. I didn't know how long I stood there, or if gravity would ever allow me to reclaim my lower jaw again, just to close it.

"that would be... I mean.. I would be..." A massive, heartfilled laugh came from Professor Smith.

I had the feeling it was letting the very foundations of this old and moldy lecture hall shaking to its core.

"I was a student once too, you know."He chuckled. "Back then when the real Art Academy resided in these Halls, not this excuse of an Art school. Alex my boy, I was there when true art was created. Golurk and the Knight, A Man and Mew and many many more. Some of those fine creations are displayed in the most famous museums all around the world."

His voice grew thinner

"It is a shame that it was abandoned fourteen years ago. All just to make some new juppy New-Age campus in the Central City! Some people have no respect for the history that was made here in these holy halls!"

He got back to his usual self. "Even so, one of the main purposes of this Art School is to find and nurture aspiring Artists such as yourself. Of Course I cannot guarantee you anything. Just keep working like you do, and things will work out. You will be called by me when if a decision is made. For now, you are dismissed, have a nice evening."

He smiled and looked trough the window in direction of the decaying sun. The reflecting light was making him looking more regal than he ever did in my eyes.

To tell you the truth, I did not know how I left the lecture hall, or even saying god bye to Professor Smith. All my mind was revolving about was the possibility of a stipend to archive my goals.

I will show my family, that it was not me who was wrong. Will show them that....what the...

Suddenly, a lout splashing sound reached my ears and I could feel a slight dampness raising up my left leg

As my brain trying to comprehend what just happened, I heard an angry, tipsy voice sounding behind me.

"Ohh no! You did not! I make...pay!"

I started to get a grasp at the situation. First of, it seemed that this incident was all the stimuli my brain had needed to reboot his normal functions. My first real thought was, that I somehow had kicked over a floor bucked. Thus adding work to the poor soul behind me that was cleaning the Art Schools lobby.

The person behind be continued to throw unintelligible insults at me, never even stopping to ask, if I was alright. What a nerve!

But it turned out to be much worse for me than a spilled floor bucket. At least on my end. For i had not just kicked the floor bucket over but in my mind-absent haze, I had to step right in that darn thing! I quickly pulled my leg out of the bucket, spreading a good deal of dirty cleaning water on the freshly moped floor. Earning me a new wave of insults from the enraged cleaner. Getting more and more on my nerves.

Whoever is behind me, swearing at me in that grotesque squeaky voice is going to...

Hold on, cleaning duty, cute tipsy voice, broken english...

I turned around, expecting to see a friend of mine. Guess I was right. The Mienfoo was still shouting angrily at me, his voice long since returned to his natural language. His unkempt golden and red fur was mattered with cleaning water, indicating that it hat moped the floor for some time now. In his right paw the Mienfoo was holding a damp mop with a poorly cut handle, probably to make the smaller pokemon look less comical while it was mopping the floor.

I tried to make a warm smile, despite the situation and the infuriating, swearing pokemon behind me.

Luckily for me, I knew the words that could calm it down in an instant.

"Hi Min. Its me, Alex. Sorry for the mess."

Her face instantly calmed down and she looked rather...happyto see me, I would say. In truth, is is that it is extremely hard to judge the reaction of a pokemon. And Min being no exception. That means a smiling pokemon is not necessarily a happy pokemon, but I hoped for the best.

Turns out I was right

She looked a me, fidgeting with her left paw around her nose.

"Hi,Alex, ....nice... nice meet you?"

The last part sounded more like a question than a proper greeting. Min was still struggling with her new language. English speaking pokemon are a still a rarity, even in a capital city like Goldenroad.

"Yes Min. And it is nice to meet you too."

She yipped at my answer, then came towards me. Min`s head was at the height of my waist. She was rather small compared to others of her species. Stunted growth was a trait that most pokemon that possessed the latend ability to speak shared.

I ruffled trough her short head fur, ignoring the sorry state it was in. She seemed to enjoy it. She even started pressing her cute muzzle against my palm, licking it."

Okay, enough cuddles Min. Let's get this mess cleaned up."She just yipped in response and threw a mop in my direction.Luckily for me, it had a normal sized handle on it. I couldn't even imagine how my abused back would react, if I had to clean the lobby with a Min sized mop.

Min the Mienfoo was a Pokemon Staff member at the Goldenroad Art School. In the last few years, it had become rather popular to use some pokemon for manual labour. But with the restrictions to use them are rather hard, as well as finding or breeding pokemon that can perform their asks even without constant supervision, they are fare more an exception than the rule.

I knew her since my first day in Art School. She used to be a lot more clumsy, had an even more delicate body and of course, hadn't mastered her ability speak English. Min has had a few grow spurts over time and has become more mature. But She hadn't evolved yet. I even drew a few sketches of her.

But to be honest, speaking to hear still feels like speaking to a child.Not just because of her broken and unrefined language, but her childish personality itself makes an advanced conversation with her simply impossible. Believe me, I have tried it quite a few times and are still regretting the time and effort I wasted with her. In contrast to her childish and more Pokemon like behaviour, I never saw her goofing of on her duties. The effort she puts in each of her chores is truly admirable.

After helping Min to clean the mess I had made, giving my goodbye and as some some good bye cuddles (Min can be annoyingly clingy sometimes), Icould finally left the lobby Building with my favourite goal set in my mind...

To finally get some sleep.

It was already pitch-black outside as I left the lobby.The campus was already empty. The wind seemed to have picked up a little. Blowing cold, wet air right in my face. And for a moment, I really considered sleeping somewhere on the old campus grounds. As if somebody would bother. Out of the three buildings that surrounded an unkempt, grassy field with a run down fontaine in its middle, only the left building had some light left in the ground floor. The remaining two, on the north and the east side, looked a little more rundown and were either used as storage, or as a sort-of kennel for the staff pokemon. Having decided against sleeping in a drafty, moldy building, surrounded by "funny" smelling pokemon, I briefly left trough the rusty gates on the south side, passing the empty guardhouse.As I quietly strode away from the Goldenroad Art School, I realised how quiet it had become.

It wasn`t the worrisome quietness you would expect when walking down a lonely, nearly lightless street, filled with a bunch of hungry pokemon that will greet you around the next corner.

No, I mean a truly empty quietness, one that can make you forget all worry, letting me think of the past. Family Business had forced me to grew up by always having Pokemon around me. And it rarely included just the cute and fluffy ones. A breeding ranch dedicated to bread a wide variety of battle ready creatures, which, in my childhood eyes, looked like they could take over the world in an instant is no suitable place to raise a child. Of course did my stupid parents think it was just the other way around.

Me and my sister used get in trouble with the Ranch Pokemon on multiple occasions. Sometimes with the nicer ones, sometimes with the meaner ones. I can say grew on those experiences. Weather I wanted them or not, is another Story. I believe most pokemon artists have never seen a battle ready Arcanine up close before. They probably couldn't even make out the minuscule differences it had compared to a tame one, or even compared to a wild one.

As I grew up at the family ranch, I had come to develop a certain sense of awareness around Pokemon. An Awareness, that is currently letting wander all by myself trough dark city outskirts without a care in the world. My Family used to call it the "Breeders Sense". And it is supposed to be the true mark of a pokemon breeder...

As if my stupid family would believe it when would told them, that I now had truly developed this special trait. Me, the great disappointment of the whole Wald family.

The cold wind lashed out at me, bringing me down to earth.

Some memory's are better left untouched.

"Well, at least not all of them are bad." I said aloud to myself. Hoping to talk myself out of my depressing mood while I was slowly but surely approaching the bus stop.