"What are we going to do now?" Monika asked, adjusting her little green backpack and squinting at the golden light flooding through the windows of the teleport station. The bright burst of their arrival had barely faded, and already she was bouncing on her toes, full of curiosity.
Rachel clapped her hands together, grinning. "Glad you asked, sweetheart! You're in the best hands. Your mom's 'Official Walking Tour de Pragengrad' begins now!"
Frank raised an eyebrow, but Rachel waved him off. "I grew up here, remember? We'll be fine. First stop: the Clocktown Tower at 8 sharp to catch the clock show. Then we'll cross the Royal Bridge, admire the statues, and head down to the Water Gardens for a little brunch. Should hit Silver Square by 9:30, then up Spine Street to the castle. We'll be at the gates before 10:30."
Monika blinked. "That's… a lot of stops."
Rachel leaned down. "You'll survive, cupcake. There's food. And a surprise. And probably a Lapras or two. Ready?"
They stepped out of the teleportation guild's glass-and-marble hall and into the flow of morning life on Rose Street.
The moment they emerged into the city proper, Monika's eyes widened. The Rose Street—named for the pattern of red and white stones in the pavement—stretched out like a blooming artery, humming with early city energy. Stalls overflowed with pastries and fruit; sleek buildings of polished sandstone and gilded signs framed the road. Pedestrians of every stripe walked with purpose. Pokémon darted between them—Pidgeotto soared overhead, a Delibird zipped past with a bag slung over its shoulder, and a pair of teenage trainers rode skateboards flanked by a Growlithe and a Skiddo.
Even though it was still early, the city pulsed with rhythm. Bells rang in the distance. The smell of fresh bread, roasted nuts, and spice filled the air.
Rachel nudged Frank. "Do you smell it?"
"What?"
"Ambition, sweat and overpriced coffee."
As they walked, Monika pointed excitedly at a "levitating" street performer—a man dressed like an old wizard, floating mysteriously a foot above the ground, staff in hand and eyes closed in meditative calm.
Rachel just smirked.
"Watch and learn," she winked at her husband and daughter before touching the Poké Ball on her belt and making her Liepard materialize with a silky swish.
"Luna, let's expose that charlatan," she whispered.
The graceful feline padded forward innocently… then tripped—quite deliberately—into the performer's setup.
There was a sudden clang, then a clunk, and the man collapsed in a very un-magical heap, his hidden support rod clattering against the cobbles.
Gasps turned to laughter from the gathering crowd, while the performer started to curse and swear. Rachel burst out laughing. "Oops! Must've broken his aura."
Frank sighed but was smirking. "Subtle, Rach."
"Well, me and Luna were knocking out these fake Merlins down when I was a little older than you," Rachel grinned at her daughter.
They reached the Clocktown Square as the sun began to climb. Monika's eyes grew wide again. The massive astronomical clock dominated one side of the plaza. It was exactly 8:00. Atop the clock, large bronze doors opened with a low chime and grinding of gears. A puppet-like procession of legendary Pokémon emerged one by one.
Ho-Oh flared its wings. Mew danced in a swirl of light. Xerneas bowed its glowing head, while Darkrai slinked past the clockface in eerie silence.
Each legendary was rendered in exquisite, clockwork detail—gears turning, light flaring, mechanical limbs subtly alive. Around them, both children and adults watched in awe, their faces painted with delight and wonder. Tourists held up their phones and cameras. Even Frank paused, visibly impressed.
"Haven't seen this since I was here three years ago. It's still very... remarkable."
"Well, all the tourist filming it are ruining the moment," Rachel snorted.
A merchant standing by a painted wooden cart leaned toward Monika. "Want to spin the legendary wheel, young lady? One spin, one memory!"
Monika looked to her parents for approval. Rachel nodded and handed over a coin. The merchant gave Monika a wide grin and helped her spin the oversized brass wheel. It spun with satisfying clacks before slowing, ticking, ticking—
—and stopping on Hoopa.
"Nice one!" Rachel laughed. "He's the troublemaker of the legendaries."
"Is he scary?" Monika asked.
Frank leaned down. "A little. But he's also clever. There's a story about how he stole an entire castle once. And gave it back just for a bite of a cookie."
Monika rolled her eyes at her mom. "And some people just prank street performers."
"Let's keep moving," Rachel replied, suddenly pulling Monika by the hand. "If we don't cross the bridge now, the tourists will swarm it."
They moved on, the Rose Street narrowing before opening again at the edge of the river—Velvava, as the people called it for over a millenium, a sweeping, bubbling and over half a kilometer wide. The waters shimmered with light, and across them rose the graceful arc of the Royal Bridge.
It was magnificent—long and wide, lined with statues of famous trainers and their faithful Pokémon. A young woman in long robes stood beside a mighty Rhydon. A bespectacled old man held up a Poké Ball while his Gengar crouched grinning beside him. Unlike the tower, where legendaries or mythicals were displayed—here were only stories of real people, known and remembered.
"Whoa," Monika whispered, walking carefully along the statues, her neck craning. "Are these real people?"
Frank nodded.
"Some of the most famous in Bohemia. This one," he gestured to a tall statue of a woman on a Salamence, "was the first to win three Royal Championships in a row. And that one," he pointed to a boy with a Breloom, "saved the capital by stopping a flood with just his team and a lot of guts. And the two brothers who brought here the letters and alphabet are over there."
"Gross," Monika growled, before pointing to a lady at the end of the bridge, whose statue was one of the biggest, "who's that?"
"Funny that you're asking. That's the queen who pushed the law for everyone to go to school. Some three hundreds years ago."
"Double gross!" Monika's face made a disgusted expression.
"Yeah," Rachel continued, "but to get to something closer to home... even the first Lindenberg is somewhere here on the bridge!"
Then she looked at both edges squinting with concentration, before her eyes sparkled, "over there!"
And she pointed towards a statue of young man standing next to a Flygon.
"That's Henry, the kid who "borrowed" the king's armor and his Flygon and saved the battle," Frank remarked.
"And "borrowed" is a fancy word for "stole", right?" Rachel laughed.
"Well, from what I heard, the king wanted to execute Henry for this stunt. But since our army won the battle and since many people cheered for Henry as their savior, the king had to admit that this guy was a hero."
"We must bring Jake here!" Monika commented, her voice filled with enthusiasm.
They paused midway across the bridge. The city stretched around them like a mosaic—tiled rooftops, forested hills, the distant spires of the High-Castle glinting in the morning light. The giant skyscrapers of the southern district gleamed on the horizon like sentinels of the modern age reaching towards the sky.
"Is the city old?" Monika asked.
Frank smiled. "Very old. Almost two thousand years. It was founded by our ancestors who came to this place and liked it here. And ever since, the royal family has ruled from the High-Castle."
Rachel added, "They say the it was built after a daughter of the first king had a vision about beautiful city. And the dragon dynasty decided that they would stay here and rule everyone from up there. And almost two millenia later, everything is still so balanced."
Then they stopped in the middle of the bridge, where much bigger statue of a crowned king was erected.
"Who is this?" Monika wondered out loud.
"That's king Charles. He built this bridge." Frank explained.
"Did they name Prince Charlie after him?" Monika asked.
Rachel gave her an exaggerated wink. "Bingo. King Charles the Builder, Prince Charles the Charmer. And who knows—maybe one day, Queen Monika the Mischievous."
They all laughed.
As they reached the end of the bridge, a figure called out to them.
"Fancy a portrait?"
A street artist wearing a flamboyant scarf stood next to a large canvas and a lounging Smeargle with a beret and paint-splattered tail. The artist grinned.
"We do caricatures. The real star here is Pierre," he patted the Smeargle, "and he works for berries."
"Can we?" Monika pleaded.
Rachel shrugged. "We've got ten minutes."
"More than enough time!" the man winked at them and clapped his hands.
They sat down on a bench nearby while Pierre the Smeargle studied them with serious eyes. Then the Pokémon leapt into motion—tail sweeping, tongue sticking out in concentration. The artist cracked jokes the whole time.
"Smeargle's done portraits of champions, criminals, and one time, a Sudowoodo. That one didn't move much. Was like a rock."
Rachel laughed. "Just like my husband."
Frank snorted and looked up from his watch, mildly impressed by the innuendo. "Hilarious."
The final sketch was delightful—Monika with wild hair and giant sparkling eyes, Rachel winking with one hand on her hip and emphasized cleavage, and Frank looking confused, surrounded by hearts.
"It's perfect," Rachel declared.
"I look like a confused Togepi," Frank muttered.
Monika giggled. "You totally do."
As they left the bench with the picture carefully folded in Rachel backpack, the city beginning to bustle louder around them, Monika rubbed her eyes. "I'm getting tired from all of this."
"Hang in there," Rachel said, draping an arm around her daughter. "We'll cross into the Water Gardens now. There's a café I used to work at as a teenager. We'll get you a cake as big as your head while you sit and rest."
Just as the last arches of the Royal Bridge passed under their feet, the clatter of footfalls gave way to something softer—gravel paths leading away from the city bustle, down toward an island embraced by the wide river.
Monika paused at the edge, peering down at a long stairway bordered by hedges and lilac trees blooming even in the autumn warmth. Below, water shimmered everywhere—rivulets, pools, and fountains catching the morning sun like hundreds of dancing mirrors.
"What's that?" she asked, tugging at Rachel's hand.
"That," Rachel said with a grin, "is exactly where we're headed. It's the Water Gardens. The river splits around this island, and they've turned it into one big green retreat. There are fountains, fishponds, and the world's most awesome park benches. That café should be hidden down here. If it still exists, I'm buying."
"Challenge accepted," Frank chuckled, adjusting the strap on his backpack. "Let's find it."
They stepped off the bridge and followed a shaded path spiraling gently down toward the gardens. The sounds of city life—clanging trams, talking crowds, the occasional distant Honchkrow caw—faded behind them, replaced by softer notes: burbling streams, chirps from Starly overhead, the occasional playful pchoo as a trainer let their Pokémon out for a stroll.
Monika walked wide-eyed through the greenery. Mechanical fountains shaped like Gyarados spat arcs of water into lily ponds, while Marill and Lotad splashed among reeds. A nearby Slowpoke watched a Beautifly drift past, unmoving, its eyes only half-awake.
Rachel took a sharp turn off the main path and broke into a jog. "Come on! I think it's still here!"
"Wait—Mom!" Monika shouted, laughing as she and Frank hurried after her.
They passed a pair of elderly women playing chess with the help of a meditating Medicham, then turned past a kiosk selling lavender ice cream. Finally, nestled behind a grove of water-worn willows, they found it.
The café didn't look like a building—it looked like a fairy tale that had been left behind. Moss grew on a slanted red roof. Its walls were timber and whitewash, framed with old brick. A huge wooden wheel, slowly turning, in a small brook next to the entrance. Birds sang from a crooked gutter.
Rachel stood before it, hands on her hips. "The Mill-house Café. Still standing. Just like me."
"Barely," Frank muttered.
She shot him a grin. "Hah! You married this wreck, remember?"
Inside, the air was cool and sweet with mint and baked pastries. They chose a shaded table on the patio overlooking a nearby pond. A small bridge arched over it where children and Pokémon chased each other. A passing Floette left a trail of flower petals behind it.
After ordering iced tea and some sweet berry scones, Monika leaned forward with that hungry glint in her eye. "So… how many people live in Pragengrad? Where do they all work? Are there more parks? Why is the river called—"
"Hold that curiosity, little miss," Frank raised a finger. "After the ceremony, we're heading up to the Victory Tower. It's near the castle, on the other side of another park. Over 150 meters high. If you climb it—"
"Or take the elevator," Rachel chimed in, sipping mimosa from her tall glass.
"—you can see the entire city," Frank finished. "From the high spires down to the tramlines in the suburbs."
Rachel leaned back in her chair, gazing toward the distant silhouette of the castle. "And just beneath the tower is the Royal Stadium. That's where all three Dragon Tournaments happen every year. Trainers from all over the kingdom—junior, senior, master divisions. It's where dreams get crushed and rivalries are born. Romantic stuff like that."
"Can kids enter?" Monika asked, straightening.
"If you earn eight badges, have enough Pokémon and survive puberty," Rachel said.
Monika blinked. "What's puberty? Can you eat it?"
"A fun fact," Frank interrupted her, "The Junior tournament is called Dancing Dragon Tournament, the senior is called Roaring Dragon Tournament and the master is called Storming Dragon Tournament."
"That's not a fan fact. That's just..." Monika frowned rolling her eyes and looked for a suitable word to describe the tournament names.
"Boring? Lame? Nerdish?" Rachel suggested, while Frank snorted and this time he was the one to do the eye-rolling.
"Yeah, it's boring. Why would you learn something about jumping dragon or farting dragon tournament?" the little girl giggled, making both her parents laugh.
"Farting dragon tournament, that is a catchy name!" Rachel commented with tears of laughter running down her eyes.
After lingering a little longer to finish their food and cool down, the family continued out of the café and back into the winding paths of the gardens. As they left, Monika turned and gave the Mill-house a good-bye wave.
The city gradually returned as they approached the northern end of the island, crossing another smaller bridge that brought them into the heart of Silver Square. Here, buildings spread wider apart and were clad in pale stone with polished domes and ancient murals.
And towering over it all—twenty meters high and proud—a silver statue of a figure with a crown upon his head stood atop a raised podium. His cloak seemed to ripple in stone, and at his feet were the carved forms of a several more characters, representing miners, merchants, Pokémon trainers, nobles and farmers.
"Who's that?"
"A king from around 700 hundred years ago. He made this kingdom very rich because of all the silver ore that was found during his reign."
Monika's mouth fell open. "He looks like a superhero."
"He kind of was," Frank said, clearly pleased. "Funny fact, a third of the silver mined to fund his political and military campaigns came from Iglaustadt, you know."
"Our town?" Monika beamed. "Really?"
Rachel leaned closer. "Yup. So technically, we should be the ones on the podium."
Then she theatrically added, "kneel before us, peasants."
Frank rolled his eyes and muttered towards their daughter. "Don't encourage her."
From there, they started their climb up Spine Street—a long, ancient road that sloped toward the castle like a winding tail. The cobblestones shimmered faintly with heat, and ivy trailed from ironwork balconies above. The walk was steep, and Monika's enthusiasm began to falter with each step.
"Why's it called Spine Street?" she puffed.
"Because it's shaped like a dragon's spine," Frank replied, pointing to an overhead street sign shaped like vertebrae. "Each segment was once thought to channel power to the castle."
Rachel smirked. "Or—and hear me out—it's because people get spinal injuries when they stumble out of the pubs on either side."
"Are you speaking from experience?" Frank asked teasingly.
"This is not for Mon's ears," she winked, climbing ahead.
Monika laughed between breaths. "Actually, I have different theory. I think my spine is melting from all those steps."
They reached the castle gates at 10:40, with the spires of the grand hall just starting to gleam with late-morning sunlight. The flag of Bohemia flapped in the breeze overhead—a silver dragon curled around a star on a blue field.
"Well, we made it early," Rachel said, checking her watch.
"Should probably find the ceremony room," Frank added. "It's better to be early than scrambling in late."
For once, Rachel had no comeback. She gave a quiet nod.
They entered through a tall and wide archway toward the main visitor office—marked with a large green letter "I". Inside, a courteous officer with sleek blue hair took their tickets, scanned them, and pointed them down a marbled corridor.
"No photos, please," she said with a smile. "Phones off, low voices, and no Pokémon outside Pokéballs."
Rachel tapped her Pokéball belt, "Luna'll behave. Probably."
"Ma'am, if there is an uncontrolled Pokémon of yours, you will be escorted out of the castle. Plus there will be a fine to pay. I am serious," the officer added, now without any trace of smile.
Frank raised one eyebrow and Monika giggled, while Rachel gulped and muttered, "sorry, I was just joking."
They passed through tall, decorated halls lined with tapestries of old generals and Bohemian monarchs. Their shoes echoed on polished tile. At the final checkpoint, a uniformed guard checked their IDs, scanned the Pokéballs they carried to confirm their locked status, and gave a formal nod.
Finally, they were shown to their seats in a grand, high-vaulted room. A long crimson carpet stretched toward an ornate throne on a raised platform. Gold-leaf banners flanked the walls, depicting dragons, stars, and old crests of the League.
Monika sat down, her breath caught in her throat.
At 11:00 sharp, a man in royal dress took his place at the dais and raised a ceremonial staff. His voice was clear and deep.
"All rise. The knighting ceremony is about to begin."
Monika's eyes sparkled.
Even Rachel stood tall and straight, her hands folded and her smile softened into something close to reverence.
And above them, stained-glass windows let in slanted rays of morning light—bathing the chamber in gold.