Ignace crossed his arms and gave Johannes a confused look. "Did you say that it was an aegislash?" He looked away long enough to glance at Ana - she had fallen silent, and simply sat upon the floor, rubbing Jean's head with a far off look in her eyes.

The researcher nodded. "Yeah. Given the description d'Artagnan just gave us, it'd have to be an aegislash." He paused and furrowed his brow. "I just don't know why an aegislash would be behind this."

Viola frowned. "Dear, is a trip to the library in order? Or perhaps you could make a call and discuss this matter with someone who may have more to offer back in Celestic?"

He shook his head and began to pace. "I don't think anyone in Celestic is going to have much to offer. Aegislash isn't exactly high on their list of pokemon to study. Not to say that they don't have complex and interesting histories and folklore associated with them, but…" He trailed off and tapped his chin. "Hmm. Folklore…" Johannes began to pace the room and then stopped and grabbed Viola's hand. "I've got some digging to do, and maybe a few books to peruse. Let's go, Viola." The gardevoir obliged him, but as the two made to leave the room, Ignace held out a hand to stop them.

"Hey, don't just say a bunch of half-formed shit and then trundle off. What are you gonna do?" he asked, a twinge of annoyance in his tone. He had knelt down to study Ana and shone a penlight in her eyes - her pupils contracted, but her eyes had otherwise locked in place and did not respond to Ignace's stimulus.

Johannes apologized. "I need to dig into the history of aegislash. I could also do with looking up the current pokedex data we have available about them." He shrugged at the look on Ignace's and Ricard's faces. "It's the best place to start when it comes to getting a few bread crumbs about where to go next." He pointed at Jean. "Consider the Shuppet line. There's still a fair bit of mystery surrounding them, like any ghost type, but we know that Banette don't become lifeless dolls if their zippers are pulled open."

Ricard looked to d'Artagnan and nodded, then began signing, and the bird's voice rang out in the room. "The Merchant wishes to extend his own personal stock of books to you, Errant. He believes you will find it illuminating, if perhaps not as penetrative as you may be hoping."

Johannes smiled. "Thanks a bunch Ricard. That'll help us out quite a bit. First things first though." He dug into his pocket and removed his pokedex and flipped through it to the Honedge line. "Hrmm…" He mouthed a few words and then the color drained from his face. "This Ghost King, I mean, this aegislash - who do you know is working for him?"

Ignace snapped his fingers in front of Ana, and upon receiving no response, sighed and said, "Well, a gengar, we know that much. Some kind of vicious little bastard too. A sneasel or weavile, was my deduction. Maybe the dusknoir too, what with them attacking you and I."

"You have no idea just how many?" pressed Johannes.

With a shrug, the detective considered Ana again - she stared forward into infinity through her boyfriend; her eyes were glassy, her jaw hung slack, and a strange, raspy rhythm of sharp breaths left her mouth. Plumes of purple smoke, rising in spirals, began to snake out of the corners of her mouth. Ignace took hold of her shoulders and shook her once.

Johannes could not help but notice the strangely impassive look upon Ignace's face. It all seemed so routine to him. Especially for someone who had mentioned being rather poor with the supernatural."Well, just listen to this, alright?" He cleared his throat and read:

"Generations of kings were attended by these Pokémon, which used their spectral power to manipulate and control people and Pokémon."

Ignace looked away from Ana long enough to look Johannes in the eyes. "Alright, so he can mind control people is what you're saying? A fuckin' sword is out there takin' control of heads?"

With some hesitation, Johannes shrugged. "It's possible. Again, pokedex entries aren't exactly infallible. There's tons of inaccuracies because people love their folklore and supernatural explanations for mundane things, and we tend to mix that into the more scientific entries. The harder a pokemon is to understand, the less we know about them because of their typing, rarity or what have you, the more likely you are to run into really outlandish descriptions." He paused and looked to Viola, who stared back, concern etched on her face. "It's a lead worth investigating. But it's also entirely possible that it's a complete dud. The odds are pretty stacked against it. If aegislash could control people, it'd completely throw a wrench in everything we know about our history. We'd have no way of knowing what was done by people of their own volition or not."

Ignace helped - or rather dragged - Ana to her feet and threw an arm around her to support her weight. He pulled her arm around to his shoulder opposite of her and made to march and drag her from the room. "Get investigating, I'll be back to help. I've got some shit to deal with first, though." He turned his attention to Ricard and said slowly, "I'm taking her to your apartment and dumping her on your couch. I'll be back in a bit."

Ricard read his friend's lips and then held out a key with a nod. Ignace took it from him and departed from the room.

Johannes looked uneasy. "What was wrong with her? There was smoke coming out of her mouth," he asked the deaf-mute and xatu.

Next to him, Viola shivered and nodded in agreement. "She looked most unwell."

Ricard sighed and glanced at d'Artagnan meaningfully before he began to sign, "My experiences with Ana as she is now are lacking, but Ignace has nevertheless told me a great deal about what it was like dealing with her as she is, and as she was when you first met her."

Viola's eyes widened. "There was a strange presence in the room. An unusual chill as well. What on earth happened to her?"

The xatu flapped its wings and ruffled its feather, fluffing itself out somewhat before continuing. "She has tapped into something beyond this mortal coil. Into the realm of the spirits, where the damned walk and wait."

Ricard nodded his head, and continued signing, adding on: "Her abilities are rather useful. And rather dangerous. The augur she created and burnt, the ability she has to tap into what lies beyond, the fact that she can create repelling tags of immense strength - all of this has been gifted to her by careful study, and empowered by that strange orb she had." He paused and furrowed his brow. His hands had caught mid-sign, as if he was unsure if he should proceed.

He gave a tiny shrug and then added, "It is not without sacrifice. The human mind is not meant to bridge the gap between the realm of the living and dead. It is taxing. It is...damaging. Ana's dark eyes, constant stutter and demure disposition could be explained away as common shyness to the common man - but are in fact products of the many times she invoked the spirits of the beyond. We believe that perhaps Jeannette is responsible for absorbing some of the damage that Ana would otherwise incur. Theories state that these so-called 'hex maniacs' are likely delayed in accumulating genuinely harmful damage to their person by their ghost pokemon, and Jean would be no different in aiding Ana as such."

"Hold on, something's missing here," said Johannes. "How exactly is this affecting her appearance and personality and...everything?"

D'Artagnan chuckled. "Errant, do you believe us to be omniscient? My Sight is clouded as-is. I could not offer you insight into why the Priestess is ailed so by her abilities."

Ricard nodded in agreement and signed, "We can only guess, Johannes. Perhaps her powers drain the body of life. Perhaps ghost energy is dangerous to human tissue. Perhaps her very soul tears open a bit further each time she uses her powers. And each time, the tear lets in more of the other side. More death. After all, Ignace has noted that her abilities have only become more prodigious with time. I expect he will be rather distraught over what it is she did this time. She's never made an augur before that functioned as well as this one has."

"Augurs are...they're prophecies, yes?' interjected Viola. "How can a human make some sort of prophecy using ghost energies? Isn't that usually relegated to the realm of our energies?" She gestured between herself and the xatu.

"Those that dabble in the dark arts of hex magic, ghost energy, occultism in general," explained Ricard, "have been sought after for their ability to communicate with the departed. Many believe that in the wishes and warnings of the departed we can divine a future that can be pursued by the living."

A muffled shriek echoed from Ricard's apartment across the hall and into Ignace's apartment. The four of them all turned to look at the door in alarm and then dashed from the room. Ricard made it into his apartment first, with the rest following closely behind. They were greeted with the sight of Ana's figure lying upon Ricard's couch, her arms swatting at the air above her. Her pale face was streaked with tears, and she was mumbling a stream of horrified nonsense.

Ignace's efforts to console her had clearly failed, but he continued to try nonetheless. "Ana, please, there's nothing there. It's alright," he whispered. "Just listen to me, please."

Johannes looked on at the detective, whom he had known only to be gruff and curt following their introduction. It was sweet, and yet, unusual. The two hardly seemed made for each other. Of course, he thought wryly, neither did he and Viola. "Is she alright?" asked the researcher. "Do you need our help?"

The shriek was unearthly. Ana's eyes went as wide as saucers and she turned her head in their direction, screaming and pointing at them, at the ceiling, Ignace, the floor - everything. The stream of nonsense that came from her mouth made Viola wince, and she looked at d'Artagnan, her face lined with horror.

"I can understand some of that gibberish."

The xatu let out a low croon and scratched the ground nervously. "The Merchant mentioned something about a tear in the soul. Perhaps there is more credence to that theory than I initially surmised."

Ignace gave the group standing behind him a look that seemed to mix disdain, exhaustion and worry, and then pulled Ana up into a sitting position so he could sit beside her. He pulled her into an embrace, staying her flailing, swatting arms with practiced expertise and pulled her close to his chest.

The shrieking stopped almost instantly, caught on the the choking sound of a sob, and then Ana began to cry hysterically into his chest.

Johannes felt sick to his stomach. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered, "I didn't know I should be quiet. Really, I'm sorry."

Ricard shook his head and signed, "There is no need. You could not have known. None of us could have. I doubt even Ignace would have known to tell you to remain quiet."

With some hesitation, Johannes approached Ignace and whispered, "Is...is she going to be alright?" The detective glanced up at Johannes and nodded once.

"It's a bit worse than an episode she had last time, but then again, it's been a little over two years," he explained, his voice low. "Go get some research done. Much as I appreciate your concern, I'd rather be alone with Ana." He eyed Jean, sitting on Charles' shoulder, both of them staring intently at their trainers, and added, "Mostly alone, anyway. Go. I've got a lotta shit on my plate to take care of tonight and I'd like whatever info you can get when I head out."

Johannes nodded and turned about, gesturing to his wife, Ricard, and d'Artagnan to move to the adjacent room where Ricard's study and library was. "Ignace is right, we've got some research to do. And I've got a few questions to ask you Ricard." He pointed at the accountant, a serious look in his eyes.

Ricard scratched his cheek. He had a feeling he knew exactly what the question was. They walked into his study, where bookshelves lined all four walls, and Ricard closed the door behind him with a loud snap. Display cases of particularly rare finds sat atop pedestals and peppered the room in an attractive circular pattern. He gave Johannes a self-satisfied smirk and signed, "Impressive, isn't it?"

"The Merchant always was one for showing off his hobbies. Or rather, the depths to which his considerable wealth permits him to indulge in them." D'Artagnan's voice bore a somewhat amused tone, and he flapped his wings and shook his head to fluff his feathers. "Doubtless he will regale you with many a tale of each tome's history."

Ricard chuckled, a raspy, wheezing affair, and signed, "D'Artagnan is just as proud of this sizable collection as I am, having read a fair bit of it himself."

The xatu clicked his beak cheerfully in response.

Johannes was only half-listening. He had been floored by the collection of books Ricard owned. The questions he had about "Daniel" were shoved to the back of his head as he perused the shelves. "Pokemon behavior report compilations...wow, some of these lines are rare…" he mumbled to himself. He tapped their spines one by one, his eyes scanning the gold numbers embossed upon them. "Two-hundred and eighty dash two-hundred and eighty-two…" He smiled and pulled the book from the shelf.

"It would seem, Merchant, that our explanations have fallen upon deaf ears," remarked d'Artagnan.

Ricard gave another raspy laugh and signed, "Translate for me then, d'Artagnan. Johannes, it seems you've been rather taken by my collection of behavioral reports. I hope that report is for the Honedge line."

Johannes fumbled with the book and gave the deaf-mute a sheepish grin. "Uh, r-right. Sorry, I forgot myself for a moment." He handed the book to Viola and then continued reading the spines of the scores of books upon the walls. A few minutes later, he called out, "Got it. As good a place as any to start, I think." He returned to Viola, and found she had begun flipping through the book, a somewhat confused expression on her face.

"Dear, why do you desire a book filled with reports about my line? I would imagine you to be a bit of an authority on this by now," she said. Her expression shifted to a sly one. "You are married to a gardevoir, are you not?"

Johannes smiled in response and gave his wife a peck on the cheek. "That, I very happily am." He took the book from her and stacked it atop the one he was holding on the Honedge line. "Alright, let me pick through this then," he said more to Ricard. "I hope I'll find something, but first…"

Ricard's smile faded. "Yes?" he signed. Behind him, d'Artagnan's own echoing chortles died, and the xatu turned his attention to Johannes as well.

The researcher frowned. "You stopped smiling." The accountant did not respond, but rather continued to look Johannes in the eyes. "Right. I guess I'm not going to get an answer to what I'm about to ask?"

The resulting pause stretched long enough that Johannes began to fidget and glance about the room. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and then back, and as he opened his mouth to press the inquiry, Ricard signed, "It is less a matter of receiving an answer, and more a matter of just how complete the answer you receive shall be."

There was another pause and then Johannes said, "Why are you telling me that? Now I'm going to assume you're not giving me the whole truth. I thought I was here to help in any way I could, so why the need for secrets? I mean…" He pointed out of the room, out of the apartment, into Ignace's, where he witnessed the strange ritual Ana performed. "You let me watch that. Trusted me with that kind of knowledge."

Ricard tapped his chin and then looked to d'Artagnan. The xatu scratched at the gleaming wood floor nervously and then said, "Ask your question."

Johannes looked between the man and the xatu and then sighed. "Ana called Ignace a different name. Daniel."

Ricard nodded.

"So Ignace is actually named Daniel. What's his real last name then?" asked Johannes.

"Winters," replied d'Artagnan.

"Why did he change his name?"

Ricard replied this time, signing, "Personal safety. He narrowly escaped with his and Ana's lives from Unova."

Viola gave a start and chimed in. "I remember finding vague memories of Ana in Ignace's - um, Daniel's memories." She focused on the scraps of memory she could bring to the surface of her thoughts, on the image of Ana looking back at who Viola believed was Daniel. She was sitting upon a bed and nude - beyond her was a glowing window that revealed the tops of buildings cast in the orange glow of a sunset. "They come from some city in Unova, yes?"

Ricard nodded once.

"Wait, wait, wait," interjected Johannes. "Why exactly did he leave Unova? You said personal safety, but that doesn't explain anything. What was he running from? Or Ana? The both of them?"

The accountant threw his xatu a sideways glance, and so d'Artagnan said, "The Mortician has made enemies of the wrong sort of folk. The rest is not ours to say."

Johannes set the books he was carrying atop a nearby display case just to be able to cross his arms. His face twisted into an annoyed frown. "That's a load of tauros shit if I ever heard it." He pointed out of the room, past the closed door. "That guy is out there, introducing himself as a detective and - is he actually a detective even?"

"Private investigator."

"Oh great, so...what you're saying is, I was lied to, but to what extent, I have no idea? How do I know I didn't get myself embroiled in some kind of crazy set of circumstances that you're all just trying to take advantage of? I'm a foreigner, a Sinnohan at that; I'm a perfect punching bag, scapegoat, whatever you need me to be here in a foreign land. Why couldn't he be direct? Any of you? What the hell is he hiding that he ran from? What if that's what's chased him here? I don't know if he went and pissed off some ghost and it went and followed him."

"Please see sense, Errant. There are a great many facts you yourself can confirm. You were attacked by a dusknoir, heard my account of the Ghost King, recognized the unusual coincidences between old, unverified lore and the true identity of this hidden monarch… Why, tonight the Mortician has work to do, and if you wish, you can accompany him."

"Well, yeah, but…" He paused. D'Artagnan had him there. For what it was worth, Daniel had only been helpful. If they intended to use him for something, then they had planned a long con. His shoulders slumped and he sighed. "I'm digging into this. I'm not going out with Daniel tonight, that could be exactly what he wants. I'm taking these books, going back to my hotel and drawing my own conclusions. I need pictures, diagrams, everything you've got about this case that could be considered supernatural."

Ricard gave the researcher a small smile and signed, "It is astonishing the kind of diligence that doubt can engender in the mind."

"It does very little to mount an effective argument for your side. There is no reason for us to trust anything you've told us, and if what you say is completely true, you've still lied to us." Viola frowned and looked d'Artagnan specifically in the eyes. "Why would you do that? The truth would have kept any of this from happening in the first place. We didn't need more doubt."

Johannes scowled. "I'm a researcher. I've already made the mistake of not doing my due diligence once. I'm catching the next plane out of here if I find out I've made it a second time." With that, he scooped up the books and made for the door.

The door opened as if on cue, and revealed Ignace. He put a finger to his lips and stepped inside, then closed the door behind him with a soft snap. "She's passed out. Should be fine; Jean knows how to take care of her almost as well as I do, and she's got Charles for back-up anyway. Find out anything, Johannes?"

"Yeah, I want to know why the hell you lied to me," said the researcher at once.

Daniel rocked on his feet for a moment and then shrugged. "Ana never was good about keeping assumed names." He chuckled. "Been Ignace since I landed here in Lumiose. Only made sense to keep everyone believing so." At the look on Johannes's face, he added, somewhat irritated, "Oh, don't give me that shit. You know damn well it doesn't matter if my name is Ignace or Fuckface, I'm trying to get a job done."

"You could have been honest about your name! That's kind of an important thing to be honest about, don't you think? Doesn't really set the stage to consider you trustworthy if you have to lie about even that," replied Johannes.

With a sigh, Daniel leaned against the door and stuck his hands in his pockets. "And I had to keep up the façade in the event you happened to be someone sent after me to fuckin' kill me."

"Kill you?" asked Viola in alarm. "You're a wanted criminal, a liar...what else? Are you also a murderer?"

Daniel chuckled. "No, nothing like that." He paused and shrugged. "Not anymore anyway. Came a time I was a criminal. Did things I'm not proud of." Johannes and Viola both balked. He jerked his thumb at the door he leaned against. "And she's the reason I got out. Met her during a routine collection run from the businesses we 'protected' and now we're here."

Johannes chewed on his tongue for a minute before he said, "You're leaving stuff out. A lot of stuff."

With a groan the detective threw his hands into the air in defeat. "What do you want? The specifics? I'm not opposed to coming out and saying I lied to you. I'm not opposed to coming out and saying that I used to be a wanted criminal that probably has a bounty on his head from my old organization. But I don't know what the fuck else you want to know."

Johannes pointed at the door himself and said, "I want to know why the hell you ran away with Ana. Something tells me criminal organizations don't put bounties on your head for running away."

With a hollow laugh, Daniel replied, "Oh, you have no idea how this shit works at all do ya, Jo? You've got to have watched television, read about gangs, know something about them, right? You don't get out whenever you want, and you sure as fuck do not try to get out with one of the most helpful hex maniacs your gang's ever had. You're gods-damned right they put a bounty, a hit - whatever the fuck it took - out on me."

"Was what Ana just did back there just a common occurrence to you back in Unova then, or something?" asked Johannes, incredulous.

"Nothing quite like this. But they have you talk to the dead quite a bit. Only problem is hex maniacs are equal parts made and born." He put his hands behind his head and sighed. "You're born a medium. Got a few more drops of ghost shit in you than the average Joe does. Not quite a psychic, you don't manipulate shit and make forks bend, but you can talk up a gastly that's got human tongue down pretty good. You form a bond, and then when you've blown apart everyone in the rival gang's hideout of the week, you send the gastly or banette or whatever you want, off to ask the newly dead pokemon a few questions.

"You don't get long, and it's not pretty. Dead men tell no tales, but dead 'mon tell bad ones. They're too fucked up and fading away into the other side to give you more than a few seconds time to answer questions. But, if you get yourself a ghost-type, you can have them bite on their contrail of ghost essence and drag 'em back into the world of the living as a spectre for a minute or two so you can get some meaningful questions in. You make up some tags and anchor them with your own willpower or spirit or whatever.

"After a while, you're not a medium anymore. Doing this does something to you. Hurts your soul. Fucks with your head. Gives you them spiral eyes. It just…" He paused and cleared his throat. "Starts to make you crazy. You don't sleep right anymore 'cos you can't stop having nightmares. People start scaring you, loved ones turn into monsters in the dark, your own ghost-type starts to look like some kind of fucked up mutant in your eyes. Lots of screaming. Too much screaming. Some of it is in a language I don't understand. Guys called the weird tongues the mediums started speaking in, right before they went crazy anyway, 'hell whispers' and eventually, 'hell shouts.' The looks you see on their face, their sunken eyes - seems like that's where they've been dragged to. Becoming a 'shouter" usually meant you had a maniac now.

"A few of the guys liked some of the maniacs. Didn't fight back no matter what you did." His fists clenched and he grit his teeth. "Broke a lot of jaws keeping Ana safe."

Johannes shuffled his feet, uncomfortable. "Right, running from a gang you skipped out on, I get it now," he mumbled. "Sorry."

"Running from a gang I skipped out on with a very helpful asset," corrected Daniel. "Didn't exactly leave a pretty present on their doorstep either." Daniel pulled his shirt off and spread his arms. "Look."

Scars of various lengths, some of the slashes, some punctures where he'd be stabbed, ran across his chest, stomach, sides and arms.

"I didn't get all of these just doing typical gang shit. I was good at knife-fighting. It's what we did. What we were known for. I got most of these the day I left." He pulled his shirt back on and grimaced. "Good exchange if you ask me. I'll take a dozen scars over four bodies." He began to pace around the room, eyeing books now and again; he paused and pulled one from the shelf and tucked it under his arm, then returned to the doorway.

Johannes cleared his throat, even more uncomfortable now and bowed his head. "I'm going to get what I can out of these books. Where are you headed tonight?" he asked, his tone sheepish.

"Quartier rouge. Sewers in the area, specifically." Daniel scratched his shoulder idly. "Mmm, might be worth it to ask around if anyone's seen anything suspicious too. I've got a few contacts in the rouge that I can tap. What do you think, Ricard?"

The accountant furrowed his brow and took his time mulling over his response before responding in sign, "Wouldn't be a terrible idea. Though I would be wary the time you're in the rouge. It is difficult to say when we are being tracked and when we are not. We've had no indication from d'Artagnan or the tags that other ghost-types have taken up an interest in our homes, but that doesn't mean that we can't be tracked by other means. We have yet to find that vicious, blue-furred something or other that those hairs betrayed."

"Be careful, Mortician. The lap of debauchery is unsafe at the best of times." Daniel gave the xatu a smirk and nodded.

"Viola, let's go. Do you mind if we pore over this stuff in your kitchen, Ign- uh, Daniel?" asked Johannes.

Ricard raised an eyebrow and looked from d'Artagnan to Johannes. "I was under the impression that you wished to cover these tomes at your hotel," he signed.

"He feels a bit embarrassed and guilty over his outburst," said Viola, cutting across Johannes. "And I must admit, so do I." She inclined her head at Daniel. "I still have my doubts…" She cupped a hand to her husband's face. "And my worries. But they are now solely focused on this case, not any of you."

Daniel let out a single, dry laugh. "Good to hear. Wish most people were this reasonable about being lied to." He grumbled something unintelligible and scratched at his chest. "Look, I realize I lied to you both about who I am," he began, looking from Johannes to Viola and back again, "But other than that, everything else is true. I wouldn't have asked Ricard to spend as much as he did on you two if I was just trying to pull something shifty."

Johannes nodded.

"That said, there's an awful lot I couldn't tell you because we just don't fucking know it yet. So crack those books. I'll try to help out myself while I tend to Ana," he said, his tone brisk and matter-of-fact. "With any luck we'll find something worth using."

He turned on the spot and marched out of the room. Johannes followed after him and glanced at Ana's sleeping figure. She had drawn her knees up closer to her chest and laid sideways on the couch, clutching Jeanette to her breast. Though her eyes were closed, her expression betrayed discomfort and fear, and her brows furrowed and unfurrowed without rhythm. The banette stared out from above her Trainer's arms, her expression impassive.

"Are you...alright?" whispered Viola, gliding over to the banette to kneel before her. In light of being forgiving to Daniel, she figured she should make an effort to forgive Jeanette for her less than pleasant comments on her marriage to Johannes.

Jean shifted her gaze from the infinite expanse that stretched out beyond her to the gardevoir kneeling a few feet away. If only she knew, thought Jean. She was more than alright. The arms of her Trainer felt like how humans described home: somewhere warm and comfortable. "Yes. Ana needs something, someone to cling to for comfort." Her eyes tracked Daniel as he put on a pot of coffee and set out a few pastries - and then slapped away Charles's hand as he tried to take five for himself. She outright smiled as the detective stuffed his other hand into his mouth to fight down the urge to shout in pain for being dense enough to smack a metal gauntlet away.

"Idiot over there can't offer much right now because he's too busy. Not that it matters to me, of course. Used to doing this. Glad I can help Ana in all the ways I can." Her gaze shifted back to Viola and she smirked. "But now is not the time for talking. Might wake her up and the screaming will be dreadful if we do. Talk later? Good. Don't be a stranger, I've got quite a few questions I want to ask you."

Viola felt a curious shiver run up her spine. "Ah, y-yes, certainly." She glided back over to the door where Johannes was waiting, clutching the stack of books he'd taken from Ricard's library, atop which sat a tray laden with four cups of coffee and a plate of pastries.

"I hope your ability to perform research is up to par, Embrace," said d'Artagnan.

Viola smiled and bowed her head, somewhat sheepish. "It is...lacking," she admitted.

"It's fine. We don't have too many books to pick through, judging from what Ricard has too," noted Johannes. The deaf-mute held only a single book at his side and nodded.

"The Merchant's tomes are varied and broach a wide variety of subjects - but their ability to penetrate far into any of them is, admittedly, limited," explained the xatu.

"Anything is better than nothing," mumbled Daniel. The four all turned to look at the detective. He had a cup of coffee in one hand and a book of his own in the other. His face seemed to bear a set of fresh lines beneath his eyes, and made him look five years older. "Let's get this shit done. I want Ana out of this hex shit as soon as possible. Get reading, I'll keep her under control and do what I can on my end. Doubt I'll get much out of this thing though." He held the book up and read the faded gold embossed letters upon the cover: "Roi, Hommes et Pokémon: A Study In Kalosian Monarchy, Volume 1: The Old Kings." He grimaced and added in a grumble, "Text is smaller than a joltik's dick."

Johannes raised an eyebrow. "How would you know?" he asked.

Daniel rolled his eyes. "I don't need those kinds of questions from the pokephile. He might be serious." He smirked and waved them off. "Figure out what you can." He turned about and groaned. "Charles, for the love of- well at least you saved me one." A quiet growl of apology hung in the air as the deaf-mute, the researcher, the gardevoir and the xatu left Ricard's apartment and crossed over into Daniel's.


Johannes rubbed his eyes. The section of the book that dealt with aegislash had report after report of their documented behaviors, and the closest he'd found that could help was the odd incidence of ambitions - delusions really - in a subject to achieve some grand plan. It was generally observed in the older subjects that were studied, and there we some theories that the aegislash were possibly old enough to remember (even vaguely) the old kingdoms. Perhaps the pokedex entries weren't pure fiction after all, but this did not explain this so-called Ghost King. Hearts upon pillars and strange occult magics meshed well with the seals Ricard and d'Artagnan had explained to him.

He looked up from his book. "Are all of these seals these tiny little markings? You said one of them was a manhole cover, right?" he asked those seated at the table.

Ricard looked up from his own book and tapped his chin as d'Artagnan translated. He signed, "That is correct. The seals have so far been tiny markings and the seal upon the manhole cover. Why do you ask?"

Johannes stood up and excused himself. "I'll be right back, I have to ask Daniel for something."

Five minutes later he was back in his seat and flipping through photographs - and accompanied by Daniel, who sat down at the table without a word. "Anyway, it's just a bit...odd, don't you think? A manhole cover? That's manmade. I mean, I'm not one to discount the power of ghost magic, but...couldn't his seal be in plain sight? After all, you've said yourselves that it has yet to be filled with the proper mark of a king, but everything else for it to be a proper mark is in place. The borders and what not. What if that's this aegislash's intent? What if his sigil is intentionally empty so he can mark anything he wants in bold, obvious ways without anyone knowing?"

d'Artagnan chimed in, "Hmm. Excellent observation, Errant. Very astute. That is certainly something that would be worth relaying to the Mortician." Next to him, Ricard nodded. "That said however, there is also one other issue to address concerning my trip through the world of the damned - as well as the trip I took with the Merchant, Blade and Mortician a week ago."

"Prism Tower, though you could hardly call it as such, has appeared both times as a strange ruin. It is worth investigating the tower for what information we can gather from it, as it is clearly of some importance to this King."

Daniel considered what the xatu and researcher said and chewed his tongue. "Well for what it's worth, I didn't get shit outta my book. And I'm guessing neither did you." He pointed at Ricard.

Ricard shook his head, signing all the while, "Fascinating though it was, I have nothing of note to offer."

The detective heaved himself from his chair. "Change of plans. Not gonna go dig through sewers tonight." He held his hand out to Johannes and gestured to the photos. "Time to play a little matching game. I'll head to Prism Tower first while it's still light out and visitor hours are still on. After that I'll comb through some brothels in the rouge. Maybe tap a few contacts there and see if they can't point me in the right direction."

"Anything we should be doing while you're doing all of this?" asked Johannes.

Daniel considered him for a moment before glancing to Viola, around to Ricard and then back to Johannes. "Ricard can stay here with d'Artagnan and help take care of Ana and pick through more information. You'll come with me and Charles to Prism Tower and the rouge." He paused and furrowed his brow. "You know how to drive right?"

Johannes nodded. "I don't do it much, but yeah, I can."

"Good. First stop is a car rental service."

The researcher looked alarmed. "Wait, what? Why do we need a car?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"Not risking drifblim on another aerial escape. Sure as fuck not inviting you to have a repeat of flying around on your skarmory either. The car is in case we need to get away fast from something that's gone tits up. It's not likely to happen, but the fact is, it just might." Daniel crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Got it?"

"I just don't… I… I'm not so sure about this. Is all this necessary? Seems a tad extreme. You're just asking around, right?" asked Johannes, fidgeting with the C-Gear strapped to his wrist.

"I would also like to know that," interjected Viola. "This seems rather...excessive. Aren't we simply visiting a tower and then asking around a few-"

"Asking around a few brothels. Brothels are legal only so far as they follow the law. Human meat only, no pokemon."

"But you said-" began Johannes.

"Oh come on Jo. You've got to be putting this all together in your head now. You're a smart guy. Lumiose is the city of double-standards. I explained it back at your hotel, nothing's changed since then. Or did you think I was exaggerating?"

The researcher looked at ground and mumbled something indistinct.

"Poor bastard," said Daniel. "You actually thought I was exaggerating? I lied about my name Jo, not how this city fuckin' functions. I know how to navigate the underworld. But something goes wrong and these brothels will turn nasty fast. Paying off the police keeps their gaze passin' over you if you're offering up something for the weirdos - no offense - but the second you fuck up and violence breaks out you can kiss your ass and everything in your fucking building goodbye."

He scowled and sat back in his chair. "I'd be starting fights nonstop trying to shut every one of those shitholes down if they didn't grow back faster than tangela vines."

Johannes inclined his head. "Right. Sorry, I guess…" He paused and chuckled in spite of himself. "This was a nice vacation, you know?" He grasped Viola's hand with his own and brought it to his cheek - the gardevoir caressed it in kind, her brow furrowed and mouth turned down into a frown. "The city is...beautiful."

"Was," signed Ricard.

"There's an old saying this poetic bastard over here taught me," replied Daniel, gesturing to Ricard. "It goes: "La ville des lumières brûle un rouge vif. Des roses à l'aube. Du vin à midi. Du sang au crépuscule."

Johannes and Viola alike looked dumbfounded. "What does that even mean?" asked the researcher.

"Means this city ain't nearly as pretty as you think it is."