Claire clutched at the reigns of her Bravery and shivered as they passed through the cloud embankment. Hundreds of feet below her, Claire saw the great glacier that covered the northwest side of Iron Peak, the greatest mountain of the western Tarkmalan. The gym leader's map had led her here, to the most remote part of Shizo, in pursuit of one person.
As the clouds ahead cleared, Claire spotted what she had been looking for: a small cave just below the northern summit. She glanced over her shoulder to check if she was still being followed. To her relief, she caught the silhouettes of several Staraptors following at a short distance.
"It's there!" she called over her shoulder. "Get ready!"
The Staraptors fell into formation behind her, and they began their descent. At the mouth of the cave, Claire could just glimpse the fiery orange of traditional Team Balance robes. She smiled to herself. Those fools wouldn't put up a fight.
The monks backed nervously into the small cave as Claire and her grunts landed and dismounted on a rocky outcrop. Claire didn't bother to reach for her Pokeballs. Those orange robes told her that these trainers had forsworn battling altogether—the weakest of the weak among the Team Balance rabble.
"Who are you?"
An older monk—his head crowned with grey stubble—hobbled out to meet them.
"We're here for Rasmus, scum," said Claire. "You can give him to us, or we can see how much you really believe in reincarnation. Your choice."
The monks glanced fearfully at each other. The older monk stood his ground.
"If you've come for Rasmus," he said, "I urge you to leave and give up your foolish quest. No matter who you are, he will bring you, and the world, only misery."
"We're Team Power," spat Claire. "And unlike you, we're not cowards. Show me where he is or I'll have my Braviary peck your eyes out!"
The old man seemed to ponder for a moment.
"So be it," he said.
He knelt before Claire, his eyes fixed on hers. His expression wasn't defiant, but it was bold, and perfectly calm.
"Fine," said Claire.
She had expected him to give in immediately. Now, she had to prove she meant what she said—to her grunts, to the watching monks, and to herself.
"Braviary," she said. "Give him your worst."
Braviary approached the old man reluctantly.
"I bear you no ill will, Braviary," said the old man. "You will do what you must. I am not afraid—."
"Shut up!" said Claire. "Braviary, Fury Attack!"
"Wait!" said a younger monk, throwing up his hands. "We'll tell you! Please, we'll—."
"Zexi!" said the old man warningly.
"Where is he?" said Claire fiercely. "Talk fast or I'll pulp the old man's face."
"I'll show you," said the monk, beckoning her towards the cave with trembling hands. "Please, come with me. Don't hurt him."
Claire looked down at the old man, then at the two grunts nearest him.
"If anything goes wrong, he goes off the cliff," she said.
She turned to the other grunts.
"Come with me."
They followed the young monk into the cave.
The walls of the cave's interior were covered in ornate carvings that depicted scenes from the ancient and complex mythology of the School of Balance. Claire thought she could discern a few recognizable forms—Ho-oh, Palkia, Celebi—but most of the Pokemon were either long forgotten, pure myth, or so grotesque that they were unrecognizable. There was a certain beauty to it, of course. Among the four great schools, only the School of Balance had truly mastered artistic expression. The School of Virtue had its own theory of aesthetics, and Truth produced many of the Four Regions' greatest poets, but Balance alone created beautiful statues, murals, landscapes and pottery with unaffected ease.
Yet Claire saw no signs of any recent artistic activity on the cold and fading walls of the cave. These monks were merely the caretakers of a temple long-dormant—a shrine to the Enlightened One converted into a prison. She followed the young monk deeper and deeper into the cave's heart, and there he pointed her to a dark, unadorned cell.
"He's here," said the young monk. "Can I beg you to reconsi—?"
Claire shot him a furious glance, and he recoiled.
The chamber was small, with bare stone walls and a ceiling Claire could easily have reached up and touched. She shivered as she stepped through the entrance—more like a cleft or crack in the stone—and saw what the room contained. On its far wall, there was something that looked like a glowing, slimy chrysalis, large enough to hold a human-sized insect.
"Bisharp, go."
Bisharp sprang from its Pokeball, ready to follow Claire's orders.
"Open that… thing," she said. "But be careful. We don't wanna hurt him."
Bisharp nodded and slowly approached the glowing chrysalis. The blue-green light it cast reflected on Bisharp's steel armor. With the care of a surgeon, it used the blade on its forearm to split open the weird cocoon, and as it did, Claire saw the man inside for the first time.
He was young—younger than she had expected. His face was pale and youthful, with reddish cheeks and deep blue eyes. His hair and beard—long and scraggly from years of imprisonment—were light brown, almost blonde. He would have looked almost angelic, were it not for his cruel and beak-like nose. As he tumbled out of the chrysalis, Claire rushed forward to catch him before he hit the stone floor.
The man choked, gasping for air. Claire wondered for a panicked moment if the shock of leaving his cocoon had killed him, but with a horrible cough, the man spit up a mass of greenish flem and his airways cleared. He breathed heavily, leaning on Claire for support.
'Who…?'
His mouth hadn't moved, but Claire heard the words echoing in her own mind.
"I'm from Team Power," she said. "The Grandmaster wants to see you."
'Team… Power?'
"Yes," said Claire. "Team Power is reborn. We're taking on the Pokemon League, restoring order to the Four Regions. We need your help to do it."
The man coughed again. He blinked furiously, and Claire felt his muscles convulsing.
'Take me…' said the voice in her mind. 'Take me away from… here.'
Claire nodded. The two grunts that had come with her each took one of the man's arms and were soon half-carrying him out of the cave temple. The young monk looked on in shame and horror. Without a word to Claire or the man, he led them back out into the cold air of the high mountains. They found the old man still closely guarded by the other Team Power grunts.
"You found him?" asked one.
Claire nodded.
"We're going by air," explained Claire. "Can you ride?"
The man thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. One of the grunts handed him a heavy fur coat to ward off the freezing wind.
"You will come to regret what you have done," said the old monk. "Not now, but in the end. I promise you."
The prisoner looked at his former captor. He tilted his head curiously, as if he didn't quite recognize him. His blue eyes stared blankly, and his expression was oddly... unreadable. It made Claire very uncomfortable.
"Jump," he said.
It was the first word he had spoken aloud. The other monks fell into a panic, running forward to try and save their mentor, but too late. The old monk, without a hint of reluctance or resistance, had stepped off the edge of the outcrop and fallen into the darkness of whirling snow below. The man's face cracked into the smallest of satisfied smiles.
"Let's go see… your grandmaster," he said quietly.
Claire helped the man climb onto the back of her Braviary. He was almost skin and bones, so the additional weight wouldn't be too much for her Pokemon. As they took off into the biting mountain air, Claire took a last look back at the cave. The monks were completely still, staring in silent disbelief at what had just occurred. Claire didn't blame them.
She was already wondering whether rescuing Rasmus had been a mistake.