DeStaav Pokémon Investigation Bureau
Chapter 4: Ririnde Valley
By the time all four members of the traveling group were up and moving the next morning, the sun was high overhead. This, of course, meant that it really wasn't "morning" at all. Surprising absolutely no one after how worn-out he had gotten in the fight the night before, Ed was the last one to wake up; what had been unexpected was just how heavy a sleeper the young Squirtle became when he was in such rough shape. Fatheade had been able to not only move him out of the mud where he had passed out but clean and bandage his wounds, all without getting so much as a restless twitch or a half-asleep mumble out of him. If he hadn't clearly been breathing (and snoring) at the time, someone might have worried that he was dead.
While the investigation team shared a late breakfast of pastries and assorted fruit, the five Geodude bandits who had assaulted them the night before struggled against the ropes that held them, stomachs groaning as they watched every bite. Though the diet of a Geodude generally included more small rocks and soil than anything else, none of them had eaten so much as a light snack since they snuck into the camp, so even foods that were worthless to them in terms of nutritional value were looking pretty good right now.
"Aw, c'mon!", one of the group grumbled, trying to get a hand free only to find that it was lashed together with two other rocky hands. "Just lemme have one bite o' that Watmel, 'n' maybe a couple little pebbles or somethin'!"
Fatheade ignored this plea just like he had done with every other so far, taking a big bite out of the section of pink-and-green fruit in his hand without even so much as acknowledging the Geodudes' existence. Ed glanced nervously at the tangled-up pile of rock Pokémon and sturdy ropes, then returned his attention to his own chunk of fruit, which he had devoured so rapidly that only a few tiny bits of edible fruit clung to the rind.
"Hey," Lopendra said, glancing up at him, "You planning on eating the outside?"
"Wait… you can eat that part?"
The Venipede snickered.
"Well, I don't know if you can," she said, pointing one of her antennae to a partially-eaten chunk of Watmel rind lying on the ground in front of her, "But it tastes pretty good to me. So if you're not going to finish yours off, I'll take it."
Ed blinked and then nodded, passing the rind on to the bug with the seemingly-bottomless stomach as soon as he had cleaned off the last shreds of soft fruit. She immediately lunged at the rind and started gnawing away, causing what was left of the fruit to disappear so fast that Ed wondered if she had even tasted it.
Before long, everyone had finished their meal and was just about ready to get going again. After packing up the tent and all of their supplies, Fatheade finally agreed to release the Geodudes, untying them one-by-one while Ed, Lopendra, and Varney all stood (or hovered a few feet above the ground, in Varney's case) at the ready in case any of them were dumb enough to try picking a fight in their worn-out and hungry state. Thankfully, none of them did; most were too focused on digging up any rock they could find just to have something in their bellies to even turn and watch as the group who had foiled their attempted robbery walked away down the road into the north. Only the leader of the gang even seemed to notice as Fatheade, Ed, Lopendra, and Varney left them behind and vanished off into the distance.
The rest of that day's trip, and the night that followed, were almost completely uneventful. For miles at a time, the group didn't even get a clear look at another Pokémon, only being clued in to their presence by the occasional rustling sound or brief swaying of tall grass that gave away their locations. Thankfully, no attackers came in the night this time; the only interruptions to anyone's sleep came in the form of the high-pitched, vibrating songs of Kricketots and Kricketunes off in the distance. Even these slowed and eventually stopped as the night wore on into the dark, night-like hours of the early morning, giving way to a peaceful silence that made it difficult for even Lopendra, at the edge of the road on guard duty, to stay awake.
After another good breakfast and another quick re-packing of supplies, the group once again headed off on their way, this time crossing over a series of rolling hills rather than the seemingly-endless flat, grassy plains that they had spent the previous days walking through. Before long, the group reached one large hill that marked the edge of a valley that Fatheade had pointed out to them that morning before leaving—the location of the last village they would come across before they began their journey far into the northern wilderness that stretched out over the dozens of miles between there and Polunk.
"Well," Fatheade said, reaching the highest point of the hill and raising one hand up to his face to block out the sun as he looked out into the valley before him, "Looks like we've made it this far right on time. This right here is Ririnde Valley."
"So this's that other village you mentioned, huh?", Varney asked, swooping overhead several times before rising high into the air to get a better impression of the landscape. "I don't see any houses or anything down there…"
"Ain't any houses down there," Fatheade said, shrugging. "Whole town's a buncha Fire-types. Everybody livin' inside a big wooden box wouldn't be the safest thing."
He took a few steps forward and then pointed at a hole in the hillside below which seemed to have a small plume of smoke rising up out of it. Ed squinted and noticed that there was not only one of these holes, but at least a dozen scattered across the other side of the very hill they were standing on. Varney, only being able to go by what his echolocation told him about the valley (and its distinct lack of any house-shaped structures), didn't notice any of this.
"They live underground here, y'see," Fatheade continued, "See those holes with the smoke comin' up from 'em? Every last one of 'em… that's where somebody down inside's got a fire goin'."
For a moment, he glanced up and noted the position of the sun in the sky, then continued.
"And right about now, that smoke is probably everybody in town gettin' some food ready for lunch."
After a few more moments waiting at the top of the hill and looking out over the scenery, the group finally began to head down into the valley. As Fatheade had suggested, it was right around lunchtime for the tiny hillside town—the further down the four Pokémon walked, the more they could smell all kinds of foods in the process of being cooked. Having not stopped for lunch yet themselves, this led to more than a few stomach growls from the four.
"So," Varney spoke up, swooping down closer to Fatheade, "Whaddya think they're gonna have to eat around here?"
The Jigglypuff shrugged.
"Ririnde's pretty much just one big Cyndaquil 'n' Quilava clan," he said, scratching his head for a second and adjusting his hat. "They'll eat just about anything, so you guys should all be able to find somethin' for lunch down here."
With that, Varney and Lopendra both sped up their descent into the valley—the Zubat flapping his wings rapidly to pick up speed, and the Venipede just charging headlong down the hills, going just about as fast as she could without curling up into a ball and just rolling down the hillside (and probably breaking half of what was in her pack in the process.) Ed tried to keep up with them for a second, but quickly ended up out of breath and slowed his pace again, walking just ahead of Fatheade as the two slower Pokémon gradually made their way down the grassy slopes. Along the way, they passed not just the exhaust holes venting smoke but several much larger entrance holes, most of them easily wide enough for two Squirtles to enter at once without even bumping into each other. Further down the hill, they passed by a small stone structure providing shelter for a vertical hole in the ground; Ed began to walk over to check it out, but Fatheade stopped him.
"That's just a latrine, kid," he said, grabbing the Squirtle by the shell and turning him away from the outdoor toilet. "Nothin' to see here."
Before long, they had all come close to the bottom of the valley, where a slow-moving river wound its way through the landscape and trees bearing a variety of different fruits hung over its banks. Varney and Lopendra had stopped to rest under an Oran tree, setting their packs aside as they waited for the slower members of their group to catch up; as they finally approached, the Zubat detached himself from the branch he had been hanging from and fluttered down to meet them.
"When's lunch?"
"Better question," Lopendra butted in, "Where's lunch?"
"Well," Fatheade said, setting down his backpack, "I've got some old friends around these parts. Figured we'd just drop by their place while we're here and grab a bite to eat."
Within a few minutes, the group had entered one of the larger entrance holes in the hillside, one which Fatheade had specifically pointed out as the home of his friends. The locals hardly seemed friendly toward him, however—almost as soon as he passed from the narrow entrance hall into the larger room beyond it, two Quilavas leaped out and blocked his path. Each one wore a helmet that was specially designed with an opening to allow their head flames to project outward, along with a bit of additional armor on their upper bodies. Both their head and tail flames were raging, as if they were ready for a fight at the very sight of the Jigglypuff.
"Your kind are not welcome here," the guard on the left snarled, taking a step closer to Fatheade and shifting his body into a fighting stance. "I'd suggest you leave."
The other guard, a female, turned to her companion for a moment but then quickly focused her attention on the (apparently unwelcome) visitor, as if not wanting to let him out of her sight for even a moment.
"Careful," she muttered, "Don't get so close to him."
The male backed away a bit, keeping his eyes on Fatheade the whole time. After just staring at them for a few seconds with a stunned look on his face, the Jigglypuff frowned and finally stepped forward.
"What the hell's goin' on here!?", he yelled, waving his stubby arms around as he approached the two guards. "Whaddya mean my kind ain't welcome here!?"
The two Quilavas crouched down and snarled, lowering their heads so that any incoming attacks would hit the armored parts of their bodies while also preparing to counterattack. Fatheade stopped walking toward them, but definitely didn't quiet down.
"After all I've done for Ririnde Valley, this crap is the thanks I get!? Ya gotta be kiddin' me… it's only been a decade! Don't tell me ya forgot the name Fatheade DeStaav that fast!"
For a moment, the Quilavas paused, an odd look of realization appearing on their faces. The female turned to the male and whispered something to him, who responded in another whisper. Slowly, the male guard backed away into the next room, not taking his eyes off of Fatheade until the other guard had shifted her position to effectively block the hallway. As the other guard took off running further into the network of burrows, the one remaining guard growled and flared her tail-flame dangerously, clearly warning Fatheade and his team (though the pair of Quilava guards hadn't seemed to acknowledge the rest of the group's existence) not to take a single step without even saying a word.
A few minutes passed with no change in the situation. Varney, tired of flapping his wings to hover in place for so long, latched onto a crevice in the wall to rest for a bit; Lopendra and Ed briefly whispered back and forth amongst themselves, trying to figure out just what was going on. Neither of them knew about Fatheade's past history with the residents of Ririnde Valley, and of course neither of them could understand why the guards were so worried by the very sight of a Jigglypuff to suddenly be on high alert and forbid him from entering. Before they could come anywhere near a solution, a sound from somewhere off in the distance caught both of their attention—a deep, rumbling voice that none of them recognized, though to Fatheade it seemed oddly familiar.
"Fatheade!"
This voice was soon followed by the sound of some larger creature rapidly dashing throughout the halls of the underground village, causing a few loose bits of soil to break free of the walls and ceiling and scatter to the floor. As the galloping footsteps came closer, Varney was shaken free of the wall, fluttering about in a panic trying to figure out where all this noise was coming from before finally curling up on the floor with his wings covering his ears. Before any of them could react, a blue-and-tan blur came whooshing past the group and smacking headlong into Fatheade with such force that it knocked the backpack right off his back (though, fortunately, he was able to reach up and grab his hat with both hands just in time to prevent it from being thrown aside as well.) Fatheade and his apparent attacker rolled down the hallway in their entangled state for nearly a dozen feet before finally slowing to a stop.
"Damn, Harmon," Fatheade grumbled, squeezing himself out from under the much larger Pokémon that had bowled him over. "You've gotten big since the last time I saw ya, huh?"
The Typhlosion laughed, then reared up onto his hind legs, making the difference in size between the two even more apparent than it had been when he was on all fours.
"And you've gotten yourself a new hat," he said, tapping the miniature plaque sewn into the front of it with one of his front paws. "So, what brings you back to Ririnde?"
"Eh, just passin' through this time," Fatheade said, walking back to the other end of the hall with the Typhlosion following closely behind him. He stopped for a moment to put his fallen backpack back on before continuing on past the one remaining guard. "Headin' up north to this place called Polunk. Village elder, some old Lucario guy… says they've had reports of people getting' attacked by somethin' nobody can identify."
"So the investigation business is still going, huh?"
Fatheade sighed.
"Barely. This's the first real job we've had in weeks. For all I know it might be my last one."
"Sorry about the guards, by the way," the Typhlosion said, turning toward Fatheade as the Jigglypuff stopped walking for a moment to get his bearings. "They're a little on edge lately, after what happened last week…"
Fatheade turned, giving him an odd look.
"And what the hell happened last week that would make 'em wanna refuse entry to somebody just for bein' a Jigglypuff?"
"Last week, several Jigglypuffs came into the valley and started wreaking havoc," Harmon answered, pausing for a moment and glancing in all directions to see if anyone was around before continuing. "We haven't mentioned it to anyone besides the guards, but… these Jigglypuffs weren't normal."
"Whaddya mean 'not normal?'", Fatheade asked, raising an eyebrow slightly. "I mean… exactly what kinda 'not normal' are we talkin' about, here?"
"To put it simply… it was as if they were nothing more than puppets. They looked like any other Jigglypuff, but they moved and acted as if they were being controlled by some outside force."
He scratched one of his ears for a moment, then continued.
"Though, in all honestly, the guards really should have known that you weren't one of them the moment you opened your mouth. The ones who attacked us before… none of them ever spoke a single word."
Fatheade looked almost shocked.
"A quiet Jigglypuff?", he mumbled, stringing the words together awkwardly as if they were a combination he had never felt any need to say before. "Well, that just ain't natural. 'Quiet' for us is more like... 'less noisy,' y'know what I'm sayin'?"
The larger Pokémon nodded. For a few minutes afterward, the two old friends continued to walk down the tunnels, catching up on things that had happened in each other's lives over the decade that had passed since the last time they had seen each other. Before long, they came to a much larger room with several stone tables set up in the middle—clearly, this was the dining room.
"Damn, it smells good in here," Fatheade mumbled, closing his eyes for a moment and sniffing the air to catch a whiff of the various food aromas wafting throughout the room. "Any chance ya got enough to spare for a few travelers?"
Harmon smiled.
"Only if you promise not to eat a week's supply of food again."
"Nah, these kids ain't got that kinda appetite in 'em," Fatheade laughed. "I can still clear a table with the best of 'em, 'n' Lopendra ain't too bad either… but even all put together there's no way we're gonna empty the shelves like the guys ten years ago could."
With that little detail cleared up, Fatheade and Harmon walked over to the largest of the tables and sat down on the floor alongside them just in time for the first wave of dishes to come out. The rest of the investigation team, quickly being escorted through the tunnels by the two guards, soon caught up to them and joined in, and before long food began to disappear from the table almost as quickly as it could arrive. The problems of the outside world—the appearance of strange, zombie-like Pokémon, rumors of unexplained attacks from the north, and even such mundane threats as roadside bandits—seemed far away. At least for a while, Ririnde Valley was at peace.