Claire was surprised to see Rasmus slumped in a chair in the Grandmaster's office when she answered her father's summons that day. The last time she had seen him, Rasmus was barely able to walk, and he still looked skeletally thin and pale as she took the seat beside him facing the Grandmaster's lacquered desk.
"Have you found… my Pokemon?" asked Rasmus.
His hair and beard had been cut, but he still wore the heavy fur coat they had given him back at the temple. The Grandmaster, by contrast, wore his usual ornate white and gold uniform.
"They are locked away on the Tubon Plateau," explained the Grandmaster in his soft, almost gentle voice. "Still in the possession of the Elite Four and their champion."
"Why not go claim them?" said Rasmus icily.
Claire shot a nervous glance at the Grandmaster, but his painted face concealed his thoughts.
"We don't have the strength to assault the Tubon Plateau," said the Grandmaster simply. "Not yet. Apart from your former schoolmates, many of the gym leaders driven out by Team Power have taken refuge in the High Dzong. And Nanzo remains to be dealt with. Its gym leaders are strong, and the Elite Four will come to its defence. We will need time to prepare for that final confrontation."
"I… will also need time," said Rasmus. "My body is weakened, and my mind is weakened with it. I don't have the power I once had."
"You will have rest," the Grandmaster reassured him. "We will have no need of your abilities this autumn. Take these weeks to recover. Eat. Drink. Meditate. Your powers will return in full. You are Team Power's honored guest, and most valuable ally."
Rasmus rose to leave.
"The grunts have been instructed to meet all your needs," said the Grandmaster. "Though I don't suppose they could have resisted either way."
Rasmus nodded and left the Grandmaster's office.
"Grandmaster," said Claire. "You told Rasmus you wouldn't need him this autumn. What about the attack on Nanzo?"
"Plans have changed," said the Grandmaster. "Our designs for Nanzo will take longer than anticipated. Rasmus must be returned to his full strength, and there are other matters to be seen to. Many things must fall into place before we make war on Nanzo and its gym leaders. Until then, we will focus on the further pacification of the Three Regions."
"Let me scout out Nanzo," said Claire eagerly. "I can keep an eye on it for you—I'll be the eyes of Team Power in the south."
The Grandmaster scoffed.
"Don't imagine that I can't see right through you," he said derisively. "You are still hungry for revenge against your schoolmates. You would gamble the success of Team Power on your own petty grudges."
"Grandmaster, I—."
"You will remain here and attend to Rasmus," said the Grandmaster with a dismissive wave of his hand. "His recovery is imperative. Nanzo will wait. There is nothing further to discuss."
Claire hesitated.
"Dad, please," she said, dropping the formal cold manner expected within the ranks of Team Power. "I promise I won't cause you any trouble. I'll go to Nanzo alone and keep an eye on it for you. Just give me a chance."
"My answer is unchanged," said the Grandmaster. "Now, go to your quarters. I have business with the triads."
Claire sighed. She wanted to argue, but a knock on the office door told her it would have to wait. With a stiff bow, she left the office by a side door. Instead of returning to her quarters, however, she left in the direction of the deserted south wing.
Most of the abandoned factory that served as Team Power's headquarters had been fully converted into living quarters, holding cells, and storage rooms. They even had a fully-staffed Pokemon center down on the second level. The south wing, however, had never been touched. This was simply a matter of practicality—the south wing was drafty, damp, and filled with rusty industrial equipment. Apart from a few Pokemon Claire saw as no better than vermin—Rattata, Zubat, Grimer—the south wing was entirely uninhabited. This made it, in a way, more private even than her own quarters, but that wasn't why Claire sometimes came there alone.
She came for the view.
At the top of a peeling ladder in a disused boiler room was a rusted metal hatch that offered access to the roof on the factory's southern side. With some difficulty, Claire pried open the hatch and climbed onto the flat concrete roof, exposing herself to the dusty winds and warm afternoon sun. It was a little chilly, but the vast, multicolored landscape of tans, reds, grays, and browns flecked with deep green made the cold worth it. Claire had hated Nanzo during the few years that her family lived there, but she had grown to appreciate the rugged natural beauty of Shizo's arid plateaus and lush valleys. It reminded her of Orre, where her family had vacationed together every summer before her parents quietly separated two years ago. She had chosen to stay with her father because she admired him, and she thought her loyalty would be rewarded with affection. It hadn't turned out that way. Her father had grown colder, and while reviving the ancient School of Power certainly suited him better than being the neurotic and overworked principal of a small international school, the change hadn't made him more patient or tolerant of his daughter. If anything, without other kids her age to measure herself against, Claire had lost the only avenue to her father's heart she had left. He had taken pride in her report cards, her perfect conduct reports, and even seemed to regard the contempt of students like Grace Shaw as a compliment to Claire. On good days, he had even spoiled her. But he had always taught her to be strong, to be better, to lead—and he never appeared fully satisfied with her efforts. She had come to accept that he considered her a dissapointment, but she still believed—or hoped—that she could change that.
Claire scooped up a pebble and tossed it as far as she could into the valley below. Her eyes followed it as it fell short of where she had aimed for and bounced to a premature halt on a slope about ten meters away. With a frustrated groan, she picked up another rock. This one flew farther—clearing the ledge where the factory stood and disappearing into the valley below. Claire felt disappointed in herself. Her father had taught her to value only perfection.
That took away the pleasure of even her smallest successes.