A guild's light guides Prinn through the streets of Calico Town as he chases the explorer's shadow, weaving as fast as he can through empty markets and closed stalls. Prinn can hear her footsteps in the night, scratching the stone with its claws, hammering the earth with its stride.
Why was she in such a hurry? Halcion is the only one to have such a visceral reaction to Braviary's trinket. "Bad Luck" and "Unwanted Attention" are her warnings - there's obviously more to this than ill omens.
If he wants to be an adventurer so badly he'll become an independent. There is no reality where this silly toy was worth endangering everyone he calls friends, but he'd like to know why he'd be throwing it into an ocean first and foremost.
Where he lacks in stamina, Prinn makes up for ingenuity.
Nothing is open at this hour, not even the Spectre's Orb shop nor the Psychic Emporium. The only places which are open are taverns like Vileplume's dingy little establishment. There is nothing open on this side, so either she's heading to another bar to drown which troubles her in wine, or back to her Guild after an extended period of being "bar-ridden."
He runs to the left, shortcutting to the bridge in the distance. The second he sees her emerge from the buildings he calls out to her.
"Hey, Halcion!"
From atop the bridge, the Haxorus is more intimidating than she's ever looked before. Friends do not frighten Prinn however; his feet slap across the cobble streets till he stands fearlessly in the Dragon-Type's shadow. A welcoming smile spreads across his beak.
"My name's Prinn." He extends a flipper in greeting. "I don't think I ever-
Her claws grip his hand, shaking it with a strength to topple a boulder.
"Halcion." She introduces herself with a smug nod. "Four-Point explorer of Team Vanguard, but I suppose you already knew this."
No, he didn't actually. The Team name is entirely new, and given who was checking up on her when she was out - it's a team which comprises her and their suspect. He smiles before fear could take hold, shaking her hand back with matching cordiality.
"I had to get some air. Your hound friend had practically had his nose up in my face." She pulls her hand away, folding her arms against her burly chest. "Couldn't keep his mouth shut for the life of him."
Sounds like Leon alright.
"You're no better," a grin curls up her mouth and reveals jagged teeth, "but at least I can stand you."
This must be a compliment of some kind. The ever-elusive thing someone as stuck-up as Leon refuses to dole out. It fills him with a fuzzy warm feeling; a reward for treating her with respect in comparison to Leon's bickering. A chill reminds of what he's here for. Prinn quivers.
"I hope you're okay with more questions then. You did kind of run off before I got to y'know - ask something? You seemed, erm…"
"Miffed, yeah." Halcion snorts. "I don't think I'm usually this grumpy. Being stuck in a sleep coma is not something which happens often, it's been a ride but I think it's let me off the hook for the night."
"What makes you say that?" Prinn asks.
She doesn't answer straight away, instead she blinks. Counting the seconds which pass by on her three-clawed hands till an arbitrary amount of time passes.
"You know how I get up every once in a while? I never made it this far out of that hole without fighting, look at how far I've got! Fate's blessed me today!"
Her guild's light shines on her armour-like scales as she reaches out to the sea. Taking a deep breath its winds blow over her, causing her new scarf to flutter like a tattered flag. She cackles like a mad pokemon in the face of the Sea's arctic cruelty; nothing can phase her.
Except for her sickness, of course. When her laughter dies down, her eyes close for just a second and this thing takes hold. She stood like a statue and now she falls like one. Prinn is helpless to catch her as she falls up against the railing.
Prinn flops over, grabbing her shoulder in vain and shaking her.
"Hey! Are you-"
Her scarf flows wildly, stronger than it did when the winds blew through. Its garish, almost-golden fabric sparkles in the artificial sunlight. He hears a faint sound - bells. He glances to see the bell-shaped patterns animate, creating a brief cacophony which awakens Halcion in seconds.
They both stare in bewilderment at the animating scarf, watching the bells ring, ring, then quietly stop as though they were ordinary hemming. The Prinplup's eyes are glowing.
"Wow! A real one of these?"
In Scoria Town they're lucky to find any healing brews in stock, they're more lucky to find a gold nugget sitting around than they were to get their hands on an ordinary elixir. A scarf - not the kinds tailors make - are magic fabric only found in the deepest depths of dungeons. In the Dusk Continent, they were utterly invaluable. And their rarity made them a luxury few are lucky to find, and even fewer could afford. Other than a badge, it is the mark of a true adventurer.
Didn't this belong to Minstrel? Prinn ponders. Where in the Dusk Continent could someone find this thing? Maybe he brought it from abroad? He wasn't here this morning; it's not impossible he could have spent all day hunting for it.
"Never seen one?" She huffs, leaning against the railing for support. "I know they're not much of a thing around here, but you're a guildie aren't you?"
"Ye-" Prinn slaps his forehead, oh right. "Um, no- not yet sorry! Guess I'm technically an indie explorer right now."
There's a bitter taste on his tongue when he speaks this; a pain of so many failed applications all for nothing. The miraculous, almost story-book discovery of an amnesiac on a beach with a badge was the only way he was even let into their doors. Leon, Braviary - they both think he's useful. So what was stopping him from being allowed sooner? Was it his skill, was it internal stuff? It doesn't feel earned.
Prinn pushes those thoughts back into his stomach with a dry gulp. Talking to a guildie is no time to think bad of them.
"Huh, I thought you were." She sighs. "We were all your age when we started taking interest in this life. You have this certain angle to you which puts you above the dozens of younger adventurers I've seen - what's your schtick?"
He unbuckles the tube from his waist. With a pop, the map slides out into his flippers and he hands it over to her. She reaches for it with her claws, then decides against tearing it to accidental shreds.
"I was always good at remembering places so I got into making maps. I figured a lot of scary stuff happens out there in the Sea so I wanted to use my typing to help chart it. I made this tube-thingy myself. It's airtight so the currents will never mess it up!"
Maybe it's the fact he's a flightless bird, but it's always been easy for him to visualise things as though they were from high above. Combine this with some slightly-above-average drawing skills for a poke his age and he's able to draft up maps on the spot. The all too familiar large rooms and corridors scribbled onto this side of the map elicit an amused "huh" from the experienced adventurer.
"Not bad. Those weird places mix-up and change too often for it to be super useful, but…"
"It's something I made while we were walking in there," he rattles his tube, "I could show you a better-"
"You made this while walking in there?" Halcion suddenly flares up. It takes the kid by surprise.
"Y-Yeah!"
"During it?"
Prinn shakes his head again, he gives the map an eager tug.
"Yeah! I wasn't in the front, so I had time to draw on it every other minute or so? I can make something better when I'm not worried about the dungeon guys."
"Don't undersell yourself, brat!" Halcion's smile softens the blow. "Mienshao mentioned you were just some cute kid, but you actually know what you're doing!. This is enough to get you into any place worth their salt, so why aren't you getting exploration done?"
Because he's on here investigating her very partner and guild, that's why. Her words cause some thoughts to resurface, this time however, he's not on the verge of frustrated tears. He feels righteous almost. There's nothing preventing him from gossiping a little bit, right?
"I'm technically independent, and I've been trying to get into the Scholar's Guild forever because they've got the big library. It seems smart if I wanna take my map stuff super seriously. Everytime I try to show them the maps I've made - they never accept my application no matter what I have." Prinn bemoans. "They only now wanna see what I can do. Leon's here to watch me and I'm gonna stick a leg out for me but there's no promise I can even get in after we get back. I'm lucky Leon's even doing this."
She's absorbing every word, watching like a beast from its cage. When he's done, the growl Halcion makes could shake the earth.
"Gah! Always those snobby Scholars! They get three good people at their jobs and they think of themselves as this elite little group." A guild rivalry shows its scowling in her voice. "Don't you listen to them for a second Prinn! If they don't want you, then it's their loss!"
She sounds too furious for it to just be her trying to make him feel better; there's truth under her child-like anger. She might actually believe in Prinn. Being told day after day his work was never good enough to be allowed into a guild, to travelling alongside a bickering old bird, having a stranger defend Prinn feels so unusual. It's no wonder he took a liking to her.
"They aren't even as hot as they think they are!" Her claws reach for her badge, and rip it off her sash. "You ever see one of those nerds with these?"
She sends the badge soaring through the air, Prinn catches it with ease. It's the same sort of badge as Mienshao: a semi-circle either representing a setting sun or a moon on the horizon with four instead of five points on one side. The badge is, at least in comparison to braviary, sort of heavy. It's probably all the spikes which look like they've been grafted on by a fire-type.
"Every guild worth their name, even those spooky-society folks up north have a badge to represent them. Some don't have power like mine has like those guys, but as a guildie you're nothing unless you have something to stand for." She reaches a claw over and taps the badge in his hands. "If a guild stands for nothing, and no badge to show for it, then what's the point in joining one? You're better off running indie jobs than you are singing for a guild who doesn't have their act."
She spits into the waters behind her, hissing under her breath.
"You'd think with so many books these nerds wouldn't lose sight of the Knight's legacy. Utter amateurs."
Just as questions begin to form about this murmured knight she turns around with a half-grin. Halcion swipes her badge out of his flippers, and holds it in front of him.
"Wanna see a trick?"
What he wants to see is what the deal with this Knight is. If this Zekrom has such a legacy then why did he never hear this name until she's said it? There's tons of books in the library, one of them has to have a tale of his. This Haxorus can't be the only adventurer in the dusk continent who knows about him. But given her obsession over this man and not-so-apparent the loss of his values, she might know more than anyone in the Continent.
Perhaps if he were to get her to begin rambling she'd spit it out, but Prinn doesn't have the heart to be so manipulative. Besides, she has a trick to show him. It's bound to be cool, right?
Prinn nods his head eagerly and watches as she holds this badge up to her temple. It shakes like a Magikarp trapped in her claws, shining for a brief second before she talks at it.
"Lunatone?"
The badge acts like a gateway; a voice speaks on the other side.
"You're nineteen nights late." The being is monotone, there's an odd way which it echoes from the badge which sounds like a murmur in the night. "Is this to signal the end of your extended break?"
"Possibly." Halcion chuckles. "I won't be able to use this thing again for another day, so I may as well ask right now: are we looking for newbies?"
Wait, wait. She can't be serious! Prinn's heart begins pounding like a drum against his ribs, and he waddles up, shaking his flippers back and forth and sweating bucketloads. She just grins back at him, her crooked teeth shining like pearls.
"We have an open recruitment policy, yes. Nothing has changed, Halcion of Team Vanguard. You have not been gone for too long" Its answer sounds exceedingly tiring. A sound of a huge tome hitting a desk booms through the gateway. "Do you have more questions, Halcion of Team Vanguard? There may be others waiting to converse with me."
She hums, and haws for a second. "Nope!" Then places her other hand over the badge, clasping it like one shuts a book. She pins it back onto her red sash, scrubbing the iron clean with the back of her finger.
"Our guild does work from sunset to sunrise, travelling with caravans all over this darn rock. We can pair these things with another badge and talk through them once every day or two." She points to it as if the person on the other side's watching. "The fussy guy you heard is Lunatone, they're the night coordinator - the day guy is Solrock. They share the same badge which a lot of guildies pair to by default. They're pretty good to have on hand even if the night guy's kind of a…"
She was probably about to say something nasty because she cut herself off. The second of silence allows Prinn to step in.
"Before I ask what your badge is for, uh-"
"Standing strong in the night, till morning." She gives a confused shake of her head. "What it resembles, I don't care. It's a circle someone was too lazy to finish."
Prinn didn't even need to pry her for that nugget of information, huh. Now onto the real question - the one making him quiver in place. He swallows hard, then spits it out.
"You weren't serious about what you said, right?" His courage builds with each word. "You wouldn't have asked that of Lunatone if I wasn't standing right here. As nice as you've been to me, I don't know if you guys have the stuff I'm looking for - the resources you know? I've been trying to get into the Scholars for ages. I know I don't belong to any guild just yet. Changing my path now feels…"
"It's fine, Prinn." Stoic understanding overrides the anger in her voice. "I'm pulling your leg. The road's only open if you want to take it. I all worked up when people badmouth the Knight; drives me mad."
Freezing water runs below their feet, glacial winds pour in from the Sea, but the warmth inside him burns hotter than Calico's beacon. He has tried, and is still trying to earn his right to the Scholar's Guild. Braviary and Leon are betting on him succeeding.. He owes it to them to succeed in this little investigation for everyone, and Leon's guild. After this, who knows what his future holds? As of now his burning loyalty has made its home in the Scholar's archives.
If he knew what the Scholar's stands for Prinn would know his future. It remains clouded by doubts, both in himself and the badgeless guild. A tiny guild of troubled souls with no belief to define them. He digs into his carrying tube and pulls out a second badge, the featureless emblem of Braviary's guild which taunts them day by day. A thought occurs to him.
A guild with nothing to stand for.
No badge to show for.
Could the creation of a badge like Halcion's or Braviary's be simply a matter of group mentality - of perceived worthiness? A second fire ignites in Prinn, this time in his mind.. Did he just figure it out?
"Indie, are we?"
As if the badgs in Prinn's flipper summoned it, a third voice snuffs out both flames. Were it not for the darkness soaking those few words, the graceful unfamiliar voice would have Prinn at ease. The plumage along his neck rises up as he snaps towards its source.
Nothing. Two lampposts and the guild's beacon light a street void of life. The windows have no light from within them; no doors are open. The tower shines its light through every nook and cranny. Even Halcion sounds perplexed. There is no place for this mysterious voice to hide.
Other than in plain sight.
Once so still as to be invisible to the naked eye, a tail flicks from behind the lamp. Emerging from thin air is an impossibly slender lizard even taller than the likes of Halcion or Braviary. A membranous pink crest runs from their head to the base of their tails which fan off like pair coattails, their hands are sterile white, and their determined eyes stare at him like two gold rings in the darkness. A white cravat ties a mantle to their shoulders - an article of apparel when combined with confidence paints them as one of their ilk.
If he's so sure of this fact, then why Prinn sense such malice from them?
Prin shrinks into Halcion's claws, holding Braviary's precious medal close to his chest. The Lizard steps forward, stopping a distance aways with a hand on their toothpick waist. Their eyes don't leave him for a moment.
"We're cut from the same cloth." They dust their spotless cravat. "But my way of independence has taken an abrupt turn as of late. My long, lonesome path has led me to where we are now - on this beautiful bridge at a haunting hour."
Everything about them is a mystery, but Prinn is sure they've seen the gaudy crest in the Tavern. There was another pokemon at their table, right? Where are they?
"There a reason why you're out here?" Halcion speaks up. "If you want somewhere to hang, the Hollow Dream's Tavern is the way you came."
"That's where I came from. You were there Hal, and so were you, boy." They restrain a chuckle. "Sorry, Prinn is your name, right? You're the friend of Burke?"
A name he has spent an entire morning looking for, one which could mean everything or nothing to his good friend, they drop like it's a rotten berry. He wants to shout, he wants to tell them to keep that name to himself. Halcion's hand on his shoulder reminds him to let her handle this.
"Halcion is my name." She retorts with cold indifference. Her claws are the only things between Prinn and this stranger. "And we're not friends. Now If there is something you want to say, spit it out already."
"Fine. I'll forgo the pleasantries then."
They take a step forward, extend an acuristory finger, and hold the pose. Their reptilian eyes stare down their arms through their fingers, locking the duo in their reflective sights. Prinn flinches.
"One of you is in possession of something important to me." Their yellow eyes do not waver, and their voice is steep with intent. "Ordinarily I'd rather speak in more cordial circumstances, but fate has not afforded us this luxury. Be thankful you've forgotten, and I caution you not to waste this fortune chasing a sense of nostalgia."
"I am sure we could arrange a day at the Emporium to have Xatu pick through your mind, but he's been suspiciously absent since you showed. Thanks to Burke, I have it on good word psychic tricks are useless on amnesiacs."
Halcion was as silent as she was in her death-like slumber. Her grip on Prinn tightens as do his flippers around the badge. They've yet to move.
"Neither of you have or could lead me to what I'm looking for, but I know what can."
A membrane covers their eyes, blotting everything around their yellow pupils black. Prinn hears Halcion take a deep breath.
"Sorry, Hal."
Two cracks akin to the sound of shattering ice sound off. Before Prinn sees what left their fingertips Halcion turns her back to the thief as two watery bullets splash against her armour scales. She releases Prinn to grab her badge, and a look of terror overcomes her face.
She already used it. They're alone.
Prinn looks behind them and sees a glint on their fingertip. A third shot is coming. An object wells up in his throat in fear as spits out a Bubble and punts it with his free flipper.
They leap out of the way, landing on the balustrade with precision. The third shot didn't fire off, but now they're bolting across the marble tightrope. Halcion stares down an imminent fourth shot.
"Gotta slow them." She tells herself.
The bridge beneath Prinn shakes as she slams her talons into the stone. A chunk of rock rises up in front of her, and Prinn hops aside in time for her tail to violently whip around, pitching a Rock Tomb at their foe. It careens straight in their path and-
Stops.
The only Person who could be here is a Sneasel - quite the opposite of the thing Prinn assumes is responsible for what he sees happen. There's no glimmer, no sign that what he watched is the work of a psychic, just a deepening feeling of dread in his stomach. As though hundreds of unseen hands have instantly put themselves before the lizard, the hunk of stone which would've otherwise shot them into the river has come to a floating halt.
They take to the air, springing their tail off the anomaly. A slender shadow casts over Pinn. He looks up to see the Lizard clutching their cravat, lining up a shot.
PLINK
Braviary's badge endures the blow, sending itself soaring out of his flippers downriver. There's a splash below the bridge, and their foe is gone.
What for a split second feels like a miracle to Prinn was their plan all along.
No! No! His mind races as he scurries towards the other side of the bridge. He's lost the badge - both his ticket in the scholar's and the only thing ever important to his amnesiac friend. He scours the abyssal river from the edge trying to spot a glimmer of gold among the waves of darkness, but every second he wastes here is another for it to drift further towards the heartless Sea. Prinn can't afford to lose it, but the ever-tightening dread inside his stomach glues his flippers to the floor. He couldn't bring himself to move even if he wants to.
There had to be something he could come up with, but every thought Prinn thinks of at this moment involves him throwing himself into harm's way. No matter how brave he was, Prinn was weak. Either the currents or the lizard somewhere in those waters will do him in. There is no time to think this through; the panic is eating away at him.
He nearly jumps off when Halcion suddenly slams her claws onto the railing, chipping off a piece stone as her nostrils billow with fury.
"Damnit!" The Dragon-type curses. "They were waiting for me to use my badge the whole time, the sly bastard! Them running off like that has made it personal! My knight's pride has been trampled on, so you and I are gonna get my guild, then we're gonna find them and rip this fool to shre-"
"No!"
Prinn shouts. She swerves back to the little bird, her expression turning from wrath to bewilderment. Leon would have him expelled on the first day of guild work were he to allow Mienshao's guild in on this. He can't let this happen - not in a million years.
"N-no!" Prinn lays a flipper on his chest, feeling his heart pound inside him. "T-That's my friend's badge! It's my fault I lost it while out here, and I don't wanna make this any more worse for him by dragging another guild into this!"
"I can fix this, I-it's my problem anyways! I really don't want it to be a bigger mess than it already is." Prinn begs. "Please, if I ever need your guild's help by tomorrow you know where you can find me, okay?"
He can tell she's just chomping at the bit to get her gaggle of guildiesto find this thief and beat them to the ground, and her supposed "Knight's Pride" won't let her go. Just as fear grips Prinn, something else is commands. With a deep breath, her fury leaves.
"Prinn," she says slowly, "what does that thing mean to you?"
The badge?
"It's my friend's. For all the everything he puts me through and all the trouble that badge gets, it means the whole world to Burke." He says the name - she would've figured it out anyways. "I don't even know if he can get another from his guild, Halcion. I don't want him to lose this."
"It's Hal."
Guess he's the newest member of the Hal Club after the previous guy left: second being Mienshao.
Without warning she hoists the boy off his feet like a hatchling with one arm while she draws imaginary lines with the other. Was she about to-
"I think I saw it go to the market's side, which is good for you because your friends could hear you scream if it all goes to crap."
Yeah, she's actually about to throw him.. She's the catapult and he's the stone. Prinn takes a deep breath, tucking himself up into a feathery blue sphere.
"Spread your wings and fly, little squire!"
There's not a second between him being pitched into the air and a powerful Dragon Tail whipping his back. He flies outwards with all the grace of a flightless avian leaping off a cliff, soaring high into the air while his back screams in agony.
And for a few beautiful seconds up in the skies everything seems so quaint. Thieves, magical trinkets, wine - none of those awful things exist among the air. Up here it's only him who exists; gliding (not so) gracefully over the river. The tower's light warms his face, the waters shining like the surface of a gem, and the impossible Sea ahead seems conquerable with these transient wings of his. At this moment, Prinn is above it all.
He's never actually thought of how it was to fly. The second he discovered he may never evolve to have wings Prinn abandoned the notion. Prinn's to chart the Sea one day, not fly over it. If given the chance to fly again he'd definitely say yes, because for all the pain blistering his back these seconds of flight were like nothing else.
To live among the skies flying at one's leisure. Having this freedom taken could destroy a man.
After hitting the river Prinn plummets to the bottom, speeding through the opposing current like it were air. Streaks of the guild's light shine from the waves above and coat the riverbed with a soft glow, he can see shadows of driftwood and rocks in the silt.
Glacial waters, winter currents; Prinn is in his element. He tucks his flippers in, kicking his webbed feet and letting the momentum carry him against the tides. A sparkle in the silt to his left cries out to him. He immediately shifts course, holding out a flipper in anticipation.
Closer and closer, he can nearly feel the metal in his hand when he hears a crack from behind. Not again!
Prinn kicks off the dirt below, propelling himself towards the badge whilst the shot comes careening behind him.. His flippers wreath around the emblem as a bolt bites into his leg, forcibly making him twist around. Prinn locks eyes with the thief.
The momentum provided by Halcion's throw could carry him for a good while, but the thief needs no head start to compete. The pink and blue lizard is practically gliding through the river, their membranes acting like a ship's sails. With their tail doing most of the work in kicking through the current, their hands are free to gun Prinn down.
He kicks off the silt again, clutching his goal tight to his chest. He waits for the second shot, then blindly tosses a bubble behind him.
Good news is, he didn't need to focus on hurling up the water for Bubble because there is plenty to go around at the bottom of a river. Bad news is that blowing bubbles at people is just as, if not more useless underwater. The second shot harmlessly collides with the Bubble, but when Prinn tries to follow up with another it hardly reaches its mark before it's sent floating up to the surface.
Oh right, bubbles do this.
The thief bolts downriver, making a long way around Prinn whilst he fires off bubble after bubble. A ring of floating barricades form as the bubbles continue to miss their mark, soaring up to the sky a second afterwards. He tries to fire ahead of the Inteleon in anticipation of their encircling movement, but they simply reach for this something beneath their fluffy cravat and the projectile comes to a harmless stop. So harmless in fact, they're able to bounce themselves right in front of Prinn.
And now they've cut him off.
Silt kicks up like dust as Prinn forces himself to a dead stop, his feet planting into the soggy dirt below. The Guild's sun shines through the water upon their sandy surroundings and the two stare down. The river's current hums softly.
They're standing ahead of them, tail already folded along the river's floor ready to spring to action when need be. At this range Prinn's bubble could hit them, but projectiles don't work on this person. If Prinn wants to do anything - which he's still a complete rookie at battling - then he's forced to fight him at this range where they're clearly at an advantage.
Since pecking at their eyes would put them in range to swipe the badge off him, Prinn is effectively stuck between a lizard and a wharf too far to make running worth it. With him cornered, the lizard speaks up.
"I admire you and your friend's ingenuity, but this is where your stream of fortune peeters to an end." Their voice toes a line between mockery and poeticism. It stands out for sure. "Should you relinquish your badge to me right now I shall let you swim away."
This person is a thief of a sort trying to snag their badge, but are they the thief they've been looking for? Nevermind the battle for a minute, this is the only time Prinn is guaranteed to get answers out of this person.
"What's so important about the badge to you?" Prinn watches their hands, seeing them rest on their thin hips. "I-If you have a good reason for wanting I think we can work something out with my friend, I wouldn't mind."
"I have my reasons, but I don't tell secrets." He flinches as their hand moves, only to see them wag a finger. The jerk. "You should have listened to Hal when she was growling in the tavern: I am the unwanted attention she tried so hard to warn you about. Burke's badge will lead me to what I want."
No point in asking what their wants are, they're gonna side-step it. He's got maybe one or two more questions before they ask before it's go-time.
Speaking of this Burke, there were more names on the list of regulars. Out of all the names there's one he doesn't recognize. It's worth a shot to connect the two.
"Are you Lou T, an Inteleon? You're the guy with a three hundred tab at the tavern?"
"It's Louisa." They do a short curtsy, their membranes flap in the tidal currents. "I'm a gentleman. What more do you know?"
Louisa T, male Inteleon with three hundred debts. It would help to write this down but he's not going to soil his maps. There's something he knows he's forgetting. He's not going to waste his time thinking."
"I don't know, but can you tell me what's under your cravat?" Prinn squints at the flowing white fabric.. "Every time a move gets thrown at you, it slows and acts funny when you touch it."
"Tardy more and you will find out."
Very succinct. Now comes the part where he asks Prinn for the badge, he inevitably says no, and they fight again. Prinn takes the few seconds to look at his metaphorical hand:
Bubbles are quicker to come out underwater, float up rapidly, and have their range reduced. They're also sturdy enough to bounce off. Good to know.
Peck might be useful as a last resort, though he's really not a person to go for a pokemon's eyes - which is the only way it's going to be effective. Bad overall option, may have its use.
Lousia has leaped both times he's used his special something. Projectiles slow enough when he uses the thing under his cravat to where he's able to bounce off them for getting around. He's done this two times. It might be his way of closing the distance and knocking the badge out of his hands with a-
"Now, as we've discussed." Lousia doesn't wait for Prinn's thoughts. Prinn's out of time, and he's already lining up a shot towards his chest. "Will you fork the badge over or are you going to be difficult, Prinn?"
One hand pointing forward, the other cross over his cravat, he's absolutely ready to fire a bolt at the drop of a pin. This is going to be exceedingly difficult. Prinn is way over his head. He's still sore in two places, his heart's racing, but the only thing on his mind is saving the one thing Braviary holds dear.
Prinn steels himself, taking in a gulp of the cool water surrounding him. It's either this, or having one heck of time explaining to Leon. It's time to go.
Lousia's water bolt sounds off like the ferocious crack of a vine whip, Prinn immediately spits out a bubble and the two connect. A second bubble, a second shot. His shots stop coming after the third. Four, five, exhaustion threatens to take him but he manages to throw out a good seven globs total their way. Prinn manages an eight bubble in this rapid-fire, though it lands like a sad gloop at his feet. He covers it with his good foot.
Seven of them hover in Louise's direction, most already beginning to rise. Louisa's tail launches him for an aerial strike as an object attached wire floats out of his cravat, taking it into his grasp.
This thing is gear as dark as iron and no bigger than the size of his gangly hand. The deep black metal consumes any light around it, but the ornamental clock-like engravings on each of its faces glow red in the darkness. His eyes lock onto Prinn as he clutches the gear with ferocity. It shines brightly, then…
What happens is like nothing Prinn has ever seen. The bubbles floating in the air have stopped, and the ripples in the water are frozen. For those brief seconds the rivers no longer flow and nothing other than the two water-types that seem to exist. What powers were dormant in the medals has been unleashed. Prinn's bubbly projectiles have utterly lost their effect.
Following a second gleam of this dark gear, everything other than those bubbles flows once more. Two powerful shots ring overhead, cutting through Prinn's minefield with finesse.
Only for them the ground beneath him as the pathetic eighth bubble, long having been half-buried into the silt, rises the second he lets off his - taking Prinn to the sky along with it. He sees the Inteleon up above gritting his teeth, and fires off a third shot right for the badge right for his.
It's no use, the bubble carrying him blocks the shot aiming for his chest. Though it leaves the Prinplup helplessly adrift, he's a water type, and there's already five bubbles waiting for him. Prinn's good foot finds the nearest bubble, kicks off as hard as he can, and launches him face to face with a bewildered Lizard.
Please flinch.
Prinn's beak comes down towards his golden eyes, and instead digs into the back of his shooting hand like a beaky spear. This buys Prinn the precious seconds to soar above him with a badge in one flipper, and waving farewell with the other.
"Thanks for the new trick, sir!"
The Prinplup's body launches out from the water onto the cobblestone wharf, tumbling into the barren streets with all the grace of a boulder rolling down an icy cliffside. Prinn's body is caught on a lamppost, slamming him to a bone-cracking halt. He gasps in pain
It wasn't the landing he wanted, but it got him onto dry land far away from the river monster. Diving and surfacing out of cold waters come naturally to his ilk, , it's just a shame he didn't know where he was going other than the vague direction of where the Market is. Now Prinn's whole body is sore all over: his back from the Dragon Tail, the shot which got his leg, and now his entire left side feels like something's broken..
He clutches the badge. This thing is more trouble than it's worth after all, but forking it away to a stranger as determined as Lousia seems like a bad idea altogether. Whatever he wants it for - it's probably to do with a crime. And what was the thing in his hand anyways? It looked like a piece of a contraption.
Lying limp on the side of the street is no place for a pokemon to think, not even Braviary would think this is a good place to be. The pole helps in getting onto his one good foot, but his walk's an even worse wobble than it usually is. If he can limp to the tavern then he'll be safe in his friend's arms.
He was hurt, yeah, it's pretty obvious. But these are the sorts of things most pokemon can sleep off after a good night's rest. Were he actually injured then Oran Wine was a hop or two away. His ability to walk right now is a stroke of luck. His foe may not be so kind next time, nor are there enough friendly Haxorus in the world to make them something he can rely on to bust him out of a bind.
He's gonna get better at this whole fighting thing some time in the future but oh dear has it wrought a terrible feeling brewing inside of his stomach. There was no way two water-type pokemon spitting at each other in the depths of a river was going to do either of them in; rather it's the willingness at which Prinn was able to fire away which imparts this awful bitterness. It may be easy to say it's fight or flight kicking in, but that was a person he was shooting at - not a bottle sitting up on a beach.
Prinn swallows these thoughts for a moment. He peers into a nearby alleyway, then steps past. He's at the square now. Though its lights are no longer on, the tavern's safety is only on the other side of this huge wide open space where there's two or three benches to hide under. Oh, and the ghost's tent too.
Stop thinking about morals Prinn, just try to run across.
Looking from side to side, and on feet which aren't made for sprinting at all - the flightless bird makes a stumbling break for it. Anxiety builds with every brick he crosses, every yard he makes. He looks down every adjacent street, from his right, to his-
Someone emerges from a perpendicular street. Though their fur is as dark as the night gets without it being black, their big blue hat catches the omniscient white glow above. He sees the shine of their deadly hook-shaped claws and he wants to scream in horror. He was so close.
They don't book for him - they don't even shoot. They stand at the other side of the square raising their shining claws while Prinn's flippers are glued to the floor. He looks for a place to hide, turning around as they see them swipe down.
A distant pop sounds from somewhere. Prinn leaps forward as a water bolt explodes a brick at his feet, turning his dive into a tumble as he rolls like a log into the purple cover.
Its owner is nowhere to be seen. The wares are half-packed, as if the spectre vanished in a hurry. He's safe.
The canopy wasn't covering him, the inteleon could cut through it as if it were butter. This wasn't the issue, it was the precious goods he was surrounded by which made any shot difficult. But coming in here was a big mistake.
There is no way out other than towards the Sneasel. He can't deduce the Lizard's shooting angle from inside this place, and Sneasel is already marching towards the tent. Prinn hopelessly searches among the wares, his inexperienced mind trying to sort through dozens upon dozens of slightly different blue spheres for the single one of them which could save him. He'll pay for it later, he just needs-
He sees them get closer, close enough to where he can see Sneasel's reflection in the nearest.. Prinn grabs the biggest one, neither sure if he should throw it or toss it at his feet, but priming it in his empty flipper for when the ice type crosses the cloth threshold.
He can't see their eyes under their hat, but he keeps his gaze strong, praying this particularly precious scenario would scare them into-
Stopping.
Did they scare them? Did his plan work? No, obviously not. They were looking off towards the tavern.
"Sorry, dearest. We may be creatures of the night, but even this is too late for me to be open."
Sneasel peers up from their hat to reveal a look of dread upon their face, bearing their fangs like a creature trapped in a cage as they flee into the night. What scared him, who's this voice?
"What an oaf." The voice chuckles.
A phantom with a brilliantly large hat glides into the doorway, and when she sees him, an inextricable sense of dread darts down his spine. Her black eyes, slit like a serpent's, have a malice this world has never seen. And these two huge fangs peeking out from her terrible scowl. He's shaking; what is he looking at? She's nightmarish.
The orb he's holding slips out of his flippers and she catches it before it shatters. Her hat's bands drape past her face; a mirthy smile instantly replaces her visage.
"I'm sorry, dear. My kind possesses an ability to induce hallucinations. You may have seen something which was never supposed to be seen by you; I assure you it's only as real as a bad dream."
Her words are more akin to a cold dismissal than a friendly assurance. After all he's been through this evening, her words aren't convincing in this lightest.. At this point Prinn is too exhausted to bicker. He wants to sleep.
"Umn, thanks." Prinn warbles out. "That person isn't coming back, right?"
"The Sneasel?" She's already stocking her orbs away, putting them into silk-lined boxes. "If she has any sense of preservation she'd be far, far away by now. Her lizard friend is probably coddling her. I'm more curious to know how you attracted the ire of those two.."
"Protecting this." He flashes the bird's badge to her then tucks it away - this time depositing it into the carrying tube. "The uh, Lizard? Well his name is Lousia and he wanted it so much he attacked me. I would've been done if you hadn't given the Sneasel a scare."
"No need to thank me, think of it as an apology." She laughs softly. "T'was rude of me for not letting you in when you first strolled through, your friend had the demeanour of a man who talks business so I only thought it right to speak with him one on one. He's a busy-body, is he not?"
"Do you know him?" He asks.
She waves a cloth appendage. The boxes begin to organise themselves, most vanishing underneath the lavish tablecloth. The phantom turns around with a smirk.
"Know about him. Leon wears who he is on his chest much in the way your other friend dons the strange badge." Her voice has a hint of curiosity. "A badge so peculiar as to attract such rambunctious adventurers to it."
"Needless to say your friend's badge is not the first of its breed I've seen, the identity of its wearer I shall keep to myself. For what I deemed as a paranoid warning at the time, I've hence realised it's the badge's ability."
Her grin fades as she continues speaking. Everything she says he was about to tell her regardless.
"Louisa and other sorts are seeking your badge to locate something, or someone. Your imperative as the badge's holder is to keep it out of their grimy palms."
"Something?"
She raises her hat. Her glowing pupils dilate in the dark.
It's on the tip of his tongue. . The image of a pitch-black gear shifts in his mind, the piece of a puzzle he cannot comprehend. What is it? What does it do? In all the time he's heard stories of Guilds not a single one of their badges come as close as to halting everything in a space at once. What he saw was deeply unexplainable, more magical than the hundreds of orbs surrounding him as he struggles to speak. It's like anyone has ever seen, yet he was using it like one would use an orb or a seed - a tool to get him closer to what he desired more: Burke's mysterious badge.
A badge - which given its vague powers of guidance - will lead him to more of these artefacts or the people who know of it. If the ability he believes it has is true, then it must have a limit similar to Hal's badge. So what does this unknown guild stand for? Can Braviary even use it?
It's all so exhausting. Prinn's head is pounding, maybe.
"Maybe, uh…maybe it could locate something like a bed."
She laughs it off, likely because him being so tuckered out was sort of hilarious.
"Want me to accompany you, then? If you worry so much about thieves, that is."
He'd be off the walls normally; however she seriously frightens him. He's not afraid to admit it. All Prinn does is shake his head. With her eyes watching from her domain he returns to the tavern undisturbed, opens the door, and steps into its soft gold glow.
Finally safe.
And for a place presumably well after working hours it was surprisingly lit. The bar wasn't open, no, but there was a Smeargle behind it rummaging through bottles whilst creating a ruckus all the whilst a golden feather was shining on his crimes. A bard on the same barside tries to convince him of his wrongdoing.
"You already smashed one," a tired Chatot laments, "if you keep tasting them you're gonna ruin the batches and rack up a tab to make your friend blush!"
A bottle of oran lies in ruin beneath the chatot's stool, its bright blue guts tainting the wooden floor. Leon is behind the counter digging through the oran part of the rainbow, leaving half-opened bottles all along the bar. A shot glass of Enigma Wine sits among the mess. Leon is taking a sip of his eighth bottle.
"My guild will cover the damages, and if they don't then I'll pay out of my own pocket." Leon marks this bottle with a swipe of his tail, leaving a green splotch. "Do you even work here?"
"Why should it matter?" Minstrel shrugs his wings. "I'm more worried about you than I am about my venue. You could get your entire guild into a fuss if you keep this up."
"I'm not getting them into any 'fuss' because you're going to tell Vileplume to put the mess you see on the tab."
It's then after much arguing Leon glances the way of the door and his baggy eyes shoot open. Minstrel notices Prinn as well. The silence is palpable. The only thing heard about the tavern is Prinn's feet shuffling along the floor.
"I'll handle it." Minstrel completely changes gears, swiping one of nine Oran bottles and holding it out to Prinn. "Just have a seat and take it slow. You look like you had a rough night."
Finally: a warm welcome after a swim through a cold river. Prinn flops onto the nearest seat to minstrel, and wets his beak with Oran. The sweet taste reverberates through his body, refreshing him like a bath.
"What happened? You look rough." Leon's already on him. "Don't tell me you've lost-"
Prinn snaps the tube open, a badge rolls onto the counter. The rainbow feather's light makes the damp metal sparkle.
"A lot happened, Leon." He explains between small, meticulous sips. It helps; he no longer feels the fuzzy feeling Halcion left on his back. "I got hurt, but I'm okay. I think I'm safe here."
Leon glances between the two, hands clasping together. Waves his tail at minstrel.
"Could you leave me and him be? I need to talk to him."
"Already planning to, it eems only right." Minstrel swerves around in his stool. "Hope you can figure out what's the deal with the Oran supplies around h-"
"No! Please let him stay!"
The desperate words stammer out of Prinn's mouth. There's two looks of confusion cast his way, and Minstrel slowly spins back to whence he was. Out of all the people he's met that Prinn trusts, maybe the bard who surely knows of many tales could give him a nugget of truth.
Leon gives him a look of understanding, he trusts Prinn's judgement to let him in on this. Prinn takes a last sip of the healing brew before he speaks.
Then he tells them everything. The secret to the Sundown Guild's badge, his guesses to how they work, how the Inteleon shadowed whilst inside and outside of the tavern and the battle which ensued in chase of the badge downriver. How Prinn managed to escape, how a spirit frightened him and the fact she told them +there were more of these badges amok. The only thing he left out was Halcion's stunt of suggesting he should join their fold as well as one fact he was saving till the end.
"Lousia, the guy who I had to fight. He had this thing under his clothes the whole time and when he touched it, objects seemed to act funny. I don't know how else to describe it other than it's like they froze in mid air."
The bard leans in, taking in every word he has to say and Leon is as retentive as always.
"It was shaped like a gear," Prinn explains further, "this badge-like thing. It was pitch black with these glowing markings."
Minstrel was mystified. Something behind his eyes clicks, it's like watching an old memory bubble up to the surface. He speaks up.
"Prinn?"
The boy nods, listening.
"I've come from a place called the Grass Continent. It ain't where I was born, my birthplace being on the more green side of the Desert Continent, but the Grass Continent's recent legends brought me there to seek stories to write and sing about. One of them has stuck with their peoples ever since it's happened; people argue whether or not its true though I'm sure myself it was."
There's the hint of a quiver in Minstrel's voice, but he sounds utterly sure. Prinn was absolutely right to have him on this.
"This gear of yours you saw in Lousia's possession. The way it slowed things down, how he used it, doing what you describe as "taking in the light around it" before doing its thing.``
"Could you say this gear had power over time?"