"So," Sycamore said, "We have a bit of a thorny situation here."

Siebold snorted. "A bit indeed."

"Now that Lysandre has been... hrm..."

"It needs must be stated plainly, Professor," Wikstrom said, holding up a gauntleted hand. "Lysandre and the other ringleaders of the accursed Team Flare have been jailed—for the rest of their lives and without possibility of parole, as they deserve."

"It's only Lysandre that presents our current predicament, however," Sycamore said, repressing a wince at the fate of his former friend. The trial, after digging him out of the rubble of the ultimate weapon's control bunker and treating his injuries, had been brutal; Lysandre had been too enthralled by his ideology, his insanity, to actually realize that he had done anything wrong in trying to bring about the destruction of Kalos. The children from Vaniville Town had been witnesses for the prosecution.

"We have to decide what to do with the girl."

"What girl?" Malva asked, propping her feet up on the conference table. She had breezed into the meeting twenty minutes late with a Staryubucks coffee, complaining about how her personal fashion assistant was unable to have any good ideas. Whether Diantha's request for Malva's resignation from the Elite Four no later than the end of the year bothered her was impossible to tell.

"Lysandre's 'daughter', Belle. The one currently under house arrest in his penthouse in Lumiose City."

Malva shrugged and sipped her Staryubucks. "Is she underage?"

"Yes."

"Seems simple: the mom gets custody—unless she's in prison as well?"

"The girl has no mother."

"Deceased?" Drasna asked, her brows drawing together in worry. "The poor dear."

"Nothing so simple," Sycamore said with a shake of his head. "She has no mother. She has only one genetic parent: Lysandre."

"That is impossible," Wikstrom said. "My knowledge of genetics is poor, I admit, but during meiosis there is required an equal exchange of chromosomes between the parents to create a fertilized egg capable of growing into a human child. One human alone cannot supply them, unless this child is a clone of Lysandre, which is impossible since she is a girl."

Sycamore pinched the bridge of his nose. "I admit that genetics isn't my area of specialization either, but it's somehow true. I've taken blood samples and have only been able to find Lysandre's DNA in the girl. Xerosic has been very cooperative in trying to explain how she was created, but since his notes were destroyed with the Labs we're a long ways from understanding the process. We think it involves the totipotency of embryonic stem cells, but..." Sycamore shrugged, realizing his audience wasn't interested in the details.

"So she was 'created' rather than born?" Siebold demanded, wrinkling his nose.

"Yes. As far as we can tell she's a completely normal, healthy ten-year-old girl, discounting her, uh, means of entry into this world. And she has an absolute and unshakable belief in the Team Flare ideology. She worships Lysandre. And now Lysandre is in prison, Team Flare is disbanded, and we have an orphaned girl who is in no way ready to enter the foster care system."

There was a moment of silence in the room. Siebold folded his arms over his chest. Wikstrom thoughtfully stroked his beard. Drasna took a deep breath. Malva sipped her Staryubucks and examined her manicure.

"Who's watching over her now?" Drasna asked eventually.

"Sina and Dexio, my assistants. Clemont was also kind enough to provide an extra security detail of electric-type pokémon."

"What protection!" Wikstrom exclaimed. "Does she have pokémon?"

"Just a low-level sylveon. The sylveon wasn't housed in a registered pokéball, so it was presumed stolen and has been put up for adoption."

"So she's all alone," Drasna said, "friendless and probably scared."

Sycamore snorted. "Not scared," he said, "angry is more like it. Dexio reported she attacked him with a broom yesterday in an escape attempt."

Wikstrom chuckled, then sobered at the Professor's stern look. "Is there anything else we should be aware of regarding this... Belle, you said her name was?"

"Yes, Belle is her name. The vast majority of Lysandre's wealth and property has been liquidated and used as reparations for the damage done to Geosenge Town and other locations... except for a trust fund with 500,000,000 pokédollars, which belongs to Belle."

Malva coughed on her Staryubucks. "Who's the trustee?" she asked hoarsely.

"Xerosic was the original trustee, but after his arrest he named a new one... you, Malva."

"...You're kidding me."

"Not at all," Sycamore said. "It seems your Team Flare connections have landed you a real responsibility now."

"Ugh, fine," Malva snapped. "What am I supposed to do?"

"It's fairly straightforward: Belle receives increments of the money as she matures, and a certain amount has been set aside for her education."

"So I'm not required to act as her guardian?"

"No."

"Good." Malva tossed her empty Staryubucks cup into the waste basket. "I have a broadcast in fifteen minutes. Goodbye, all." She stood up and waltzed out of the conference room, her houndoom padding after her. Someone caught the door as it swung shut behind her.

"G'morning," Ramos said. Olympia, walking next to him, merely nodded.

"Clemont was kind enough to tell us 'bout the Flare sprout yeh've got holed up in Lumiose City, Professor," the gardener said, seating himself next to Wikstrom. Olympia glided into a chair next to him, seemingly with minimal interaction with the physical world. "We Gym Leaders have conferred, and we'd like to have our say if that be acceptable."

"We're open to any and all ideas, Ramos," Sycamore said.

"Make the whippersnapper a trainer," Ramos said. "Give 'er back the sylveon and let 'er loose on Kalos. Anybody can get Kalosian citizenship if they get all eight Gym badges and pass a written exam, and she's an unlabeled bag o' seeds with no birth records or documentation—let 'er get a taste o' the world and earn 'er place."

"...Do you second that, Olympia?" Drasna asked.

There was a beat of silence, and then the psychic-type Gym Leader's eyes sharpened to the world around her. "The child," she murmured, her voice so quiet that even a stray thought could drown it out. The Elite Four members and Pokémon Professor strained to listen. "Is alone. Lost."

Olympia fell silent. The other people seated at the conference table waited several seconds to see if she would continue speaking, then turned to each other.

"Well," Siebold said, "I think Ramos' idea is spectacularly bad."

The gardener raised an eyebrow.

"It's a recipe for disaster," the chef elaborated. "Training and traveling alone, especially so young, is dangerous. We all made the official recommendation that trainers at the minimum age should be accompanied by an adult or experienced trainer until they received their second Gym badge—who's going to accompany Belle? Forgive me, Ramos, but you weren't here when Sycamore talked about his assistant being attacked with a broom. That might sound humorous, but if she needs to watched day and night so she doesn't run away from her... her caretakers, shall we say, as well as be protected from whatever hazards she encounters, it'll require multiple high-level trainers for an extended period of time. Our budget is stretched a little thin at the moment cleaning up after Lysandre; we can't afford a full-time security detail for one little girl. And giving her pokémon, pokémon that will get stronger and gain confidence battling, is something I am firmly against. I cannot condone this plan of action."

Ramos bowed his head.

"Could she simply stay where she is now?" Drasna asked, "under house arrest? A glamorous penthouse isn't so bad, and the bounds of the girl's trust fund probably extend to hiring a tutor and housekeeping service."

"She'll be lonely and miserable, and how long would she have to stay that way? A month, a year? Multiple years? A decade? Her whole life?" Sycamore said, and sighed. He ran his hands through his unruly hair, trying to think of a solution.

"It seems to me," Wikstrom said, "that our problem is this: the girl must be dealt with and treated humanely, but none among us wish to deal with her or treat her with anything other than the caution we would feel for a hostile wild pokémon."

"That... seems to be the case," Sycamore agreed.

"I hate to ask this," Drasna said, "But has Lysandre been consulted? He did raise her, after all; surely he has some thoughts on her welfare."

Sycamore shook his head. "He's refusing to speak since being imprisoned. I've tried to talk to him about this very issue, but he won't even look at me. I visit him every week."

"You are a good and honorable friend, Professor," Wikstrom said gently.

"Not good enough to stop him from pursuing his 'beautiful world'," Sycamore said, and had to look away. He cleared his throat and returned to the conversation after a moment.

"I'll take 'er," Ramos said.

"Excuse me?" Drasna asked.

"I'll take on the girl. Belle. Someone needs to be responsible for this persnickety whippersnapper, and I've raised four sprouts and nine grand-sprouts. They're like beans: need lots o' water and a good strong trellis to grow up good."

"Are you intending to make Belle your retirement project, Ramos?"

"Not at all," the gardener said, and chuckled. "She'll be my granddaughter's. Georgina's always complaining she needs more help at the ranch, so why not? Nice, stable environment, lots o' hard work, and somebody or some-pokémon always watchin'. The Flare sprout can adjust to new soil at Baa de Mer, put down new roots, learn some things 'bout life and the world. It'll be safer than trainin', and freer than stayin' potted in a penthouse."

Wikstrom slapped a gauntleted hand on the table. "I favor it!" he said.

"As do I," Drasna said.

"I see no better alternative," Siebold said.

"Seeing as we're all in agreement," Sycamore said, "I'll tell Sina and Dexio to get Belle to Baa de Mer Ranch as soon as possible. After that your... granddaughter will look after everything?"

"Georgina," Ramos prompted, and chuckled again. "She'll be thrilled."