How was it even possible that all of these pokemon were used to the cold? How could she, a fire type of all things, be left shivering atop her staff while creatures that had no right living in a climate like this pranced through the snow like it was nothing? A fucking family of Jumpluff protected by nothing more than scarves drifted happily on the same breeze that made the tips of her ears feel like pincushions. And like a punchline in some cosmic comedy, the sovereign rulers of this terrible valley were a couple of grass types.

While the Delphox silently scolded herself for not at least bringing a hat, she took the time to absorb the names of the streets she ambled through. This place was quite a bit more confusing than Lively City, especially in the fact that most of it looked the same. It might actually be kinda fun to make her own map of here. Well, maybe if the weather wasn't so fucking miserable all the time.

This section of town seemed to have invaded a forest at some point, or was inversely invaded by a forest. Much of it was built around unworkable sections of silt cliffs. The only reliable way to reinforce those landslide hazards would be to leave the evergreens and their roots where they stood, and so the city planners did. Brief tastes of wilderness ran parallel to freshly plowed stone streets, separating a cramped urban landscape from a useful imprisonment of nature.

Panne took a turn into a claustrophobic little passage that was technically counted as a road. Passing beneath the shadows of towering brick and wood for a short ways, she ducked into what appeared to be a small market amidst the chaos. Peddlers and craftsmen. Shops and services. Worn down signs and the booming voices to make up for them. She really didn't need that Exploud to tell her about his roof repair service, nor did she care that they even worked through the winter.

The commotion seemed to be mostly front-loaded, at least. The further into the little ravine of buildings she got, the more it opened up, the less sales were being shoved into her face. In fact, the atmosphere became much heavier when it got quiet. It was like she could feel the weight of the snow bearing down on this neighborhood. The almost gentle look of disrepair-where everything was still being held together, but only just barely. Like warped wood about half a year before the rot. Sturdy and fading.

Yep. This seemed like the right place.

The only thing left was to follow the signs. She came to a city block that lived in the shadow of its neighboring buildings. These roads were too far out of the way for anyone to bother plowing them, so the dozen or so trails of footprints that traveled from door to door were the only signs that anyone lived here at all. It was so quiet that she could nearly hear the flakes falling. Her sigh caught on the wind as she came to the end of the alley.

There was an abandoned storefront with its windows boarded up and everything. A rickety wooden staircase started from the far corner of the building and took a horizontal path up to the second floor, which looked considerably less shitty. Panne was thankful she didn't actually have to touch the ground as she traveled up that skeletal stairway. At the top was a small balcony with a windowed door. The blinds on the other side were shut, but she could just make out a faded white logo and some tiny writing.

"...An office? Private Investigator?" she thought out loud. "Tch. I guess that makes sense. Anyone from a neighborhood like this ought to have plenty of work…"

She gave the door a sturdy knock and waited. A short while later, she tried again. When an icy gust came instead of an answer, the Delphox touched her good leg down on the balcony and tried to let her own damn self in. The door was unlocked, but the entryway couldn't have been darker. She hurriedly shut herself in and shook the last of the snow from her fur. In the short time it took for her eyes to adjust, she conjured a small flame at the end of her fingers and took in her surroundings.

The place certainly wasn't in disrepair, at least. A handful of paintings lined the entryway. A potted plant happily grew in the corner. Everything was more or less clean, apart from a bit of sweeping that needed to be done. Despite all that, it was...disconcertingly dark in here. There weren't even any candles as far as she could see.

"Hello? Anyone here?" Panne spoke out, advancing down the hall into what would be the office proper. The windows at the far end at least provided some ambient light-as much as the shut blinds allowed, that is. It was enough to even see the four corners of the room, and the desk at its center. Much of the furniture aside from the desk and one of the three cabinets seemed designed for a smaller pokemon in mind.

"What?! What is it? I was havin' such a nice dream. I should get a closed sign."

The tiny voice came from somewhere atop the desk. It was hard to pinpoint the source until the shadow sitting on top of a stack of books started to move. A Noibat. One with a tiny brass badge stuck to the fluff of its chest.

"...Though I suppose I need the business," they continued. "And frankly, I don't got the funds to turn pokemon down these days. So what is it, Delphox? Ain't often I see your kind around here, and usually not they're not Delphox with legs for…" The pause went on for longer than it should have. "A leg for days."

Panne struggled not to cringe. "Okay, buddy. Cut the shit for a second. I'm looking for the pokemon that's supposed to be able to help me out. I was told there was a Nibby somewhere around here, or whatever they call themselves. You heard of them or what?"

The Noibat stuck his nose up higher. "I don't see anyone else in this room. Do you?"

"...You're supposed to be Nibby? Well, that explains the weirdly cute name, I suppose."

The dragon didn't grumble or moan. He ignored her outright, crawling over to the other side of the desk and briefly lifting off with a flap. A small puff of blue flames left his mouth and hit the end of a pipe. He lifted his side of the pipe with his wings and began to take a drag from the smoldering contents, letting the smoke linger in his tiny throat before blowing the sweet-smelling air at her face. She squinted at him with a bemused grin.

"Strange, ain't it? Seeing a small pokemon like me in a position like this? Can't say I get too worked up over the reality of my appearance. There aren't much of my kind this far north, either. Nobody can tell the features of a Noibat child from an older one, and the cold's never done anyone any good for growth, either. Shoulda grown my tail in months ago."

"Fair enough. I don't know how old you are, but I was definitely doing worse while younger.." The Delphox shrugged. "Why keep a name like that if you wanna be taken seriously, though?"

He ignored the question outright and hopped to the edge of the desk, balancing on the bends of his wings. "What brings you to my office, Delphox? I understand you heard my name from someone else?"

She snuffed the flame at the end of her claw, and instead filled that hand with a roll of willow bark. Leaning backwards, she willed her staff to go vertical and catch her weight like a wall. "The Master of Books himself, actually. And if you're smoking in here I'll just help myself."

"Hm. Grumpig, was it? Is that so?"

"It is so. And what's more is how little of help he actually was. Don't get me wrong, I'm not exactly looking for your services. What I am looking for are answers to what should be a couple fairly simple questions. I was told you could probably help me out with them."

A minuscule murmur in his throat, Nibby leaned over and inhaled another lungful of the pipe's contents. "Depends on the questions."

"I need to know about the gangs around here. Grumpig told me there were three big ones, but that's about all I could get out of him before he started blabbering. I didn't want to bother sifting through records of trials just to get a bunch of inoffensive legal-speak."

The Noibat paused again. It was too difficult to see his exact expression in the dark. "That's a dangerous question."

"So?" Panne crossed her arms. "I'm a dangerous person, and I don't give a damn if I'm getting dangerous answers. I can't exactly go out and fucking ask people on the street. Well, more than I am right now. You gonna give me what I want or not?"

"Well hold on just a minute. These aren't issues you'd find yourself talking over during a Sunday breakfast. There's a reason you couldn't find anything in the archive."

Her tail twitched back and forth, catching on her staff over and over. "Oh, I get it. If I was sent here by someone and you end up saying the wrong thing, that could be your neck, right? I'm definitely not from this place if that's what you're worried about."

"Actually, I think I might have a pretty good idea of who you might be."

"Ha!" Panne sucked in a breath through the burning bark, shuddering as warmth finally started to settle back into her body. "And again, my reputation precedes me. Not that I'm ever gonna complain about it. Just goes to show-"

"You're the Fennekin that stopped the world from falling into the sun, ain't ya?"

She froze, mouth hanging open stupidly while her remedy burned centimeters away from her lips. The Delphox stood up straight with a slight push from her staff. "That wasn't what I was expecting to hear."

Nibby hummed. "Close to the mark on that wild guess, was I?"

"...Hmph." She finally finished the motion and brought the bark to her mouth.

"It's the scarf," the Noibat said. "The tale I heard really goes into the pattern on the scarf. I ain't ever seen a marital scarf look exactly like that one. That and I ain't ever heard of anyone talkin' to a Master so casually. Didn't really believe in that story fully, but here you are, I suppose.

She shook her head. "I just don't hear about that much anymore. It seems that everyone either didn't live through it or just forgot. I don't even think about it myself anymore."

He finally shot her a smile. "Ain't that like all pokemon do, though? Life is so quick, so...temporary. Hell, a lot of the people that live in Paradise have blood that hasn't settled down for generations. Years come and go and you hardly notice a thing. Next thing you know, you've been a detective for five years and it's been…"

"...Nevermind that. It's different here, you know. Memories hold up in this place. Grudges and promises don't go away. It may have seemed like an eternity ago for you, but I remember my mother telling your story like it was yesterday."

She got through the last of the medicine, and with one final huff she threw the spent ashes into a nearby bin. "Well what about it?"

"I'm just wondering what a fantastical character like you's doing in my office, asking me about a topic most pokemon will veer hard to avoid."

Nibby went in for another lungful of his pipe. In that moment, Panne pulled a thin sheet of paper from the fur of her sleeve, unfolded it to its full glory, and used telekinesis whisked it over onto the desk. Alexander's writ of passage seemed to glow in the strenuous light, though it was mostly just the color on the wax stamp. Still, the mere sight of it got a grumble out of the Noibat.

"Ah," he muttered. "That kind of business."

"Yeah, that kind. And as you might be able to guess, it'd be stupid if I went any farther into what that business entailed. So are you gonna tell me what I need to know, or is the consultation not free?"

A couple blue embers left Nibby's mouth as he exhaled. Some contemplative tapping of his wingtips later, he flipped around and flew off towards the largest cabinet, grappling at the handle with his feet and pulling it open. He scanned the contents for a moment and returned with an unmarked brown folder between his feet. The wind of it landing nearly brushed Alexander's letter right off the side.

"Sure. Why not. Maybe something will come of it this time."

The folder was certainly not Noibat-sized, yet he managed to flip it open all the same with the digits on the bends of his wings. Before skipping through the documents within, he twisted his head and shot a couple blue sparks from his mouth like spitballs, lighting a trio of candles in the corner of the desk. The brass pin on his chest glimmered in the light's reflection. He glanced over to the Delphox.

"Have a seat. Makes me nervous for you to just stand there."

"What? Don't think I can stand on my own?" She huffed, then pulled up one of the two nearby wooden stools. The coarse wood immediately started to catch on her fur.

With a bit of effort and a preparatory breath, Nibby sorted through the folder until he came to something that looked like a trade contract of some kind. He then hopped over and put his foot down on the stamped emblem at the top right of the page. It was a crest wreathed in footprint text, its four corners occupied by decorative images that were too small and too smudged to be made out.

"We'll start with the most controversial and work our way down to street thugs," the Noibat said. "This first one most pokemon don't consider to be a gang at all. Rusty Mountain Mercantile Guild. It's based in the eastern part of town and has a substantial hand in every cookie jar this side of Paradise, this neighborhood included. I'm sure you noticed the bustling market on your way in?"

She nodded, frowning. "Awfully loud. They must've thought I was made of money or something."

"If you were, they would've ripped you apart on the spot. Rusty Mountain's goal is to wring every last business of their coin, be it by tariffs or competition. Those folk out in the alley are just trying to get by without that yoke around them. Cruel, but not particularly gang-like, right? You'd expect it in an economy like this."

Nibby leaned over and pointed to a paragraph halfway down the page. Certain passages were already underlined. "They're the sneakiest bastards of the bunch, operating in-between the lines of law and order. This is a cease-and-desist order sent to a shop they caught operating under the radar. More specifically, it's not the one that comes in the mail, but the one that they slip under your door. They give you both."

More political mumbo-jumbo, as far as Panne could tell. However, if she just focused on the highlighted bits, there was definitely something more sinister going on. 'Forceful seizure of goods and property' certainly seemed like a choice use of words. It went hand-in-hand with 'legal acquisition process' and 'by the constitution of Paradise and His Majesty's will'.

"Ah. So they firebomb your shop and take your shit if you don't play by their rules?" Panne said.

The Noibat nodded. "Good eye. They're the least illegal of the three groups, I suppose you could say, but anyone not plugging their ears knows about the kinds of hell they put you through. It's spearheaded by a former Master of Trade, who planted the seeds for his fortune long before he got kicked out and mysteriously pardoned for embezzlement. Twisted the fine print of dozens of bills years before he'd ever come to use those loopholes. Even those who benefit from the guild's existence probably won't have many kind words for that Persian. Heard he had a bastard son at some point, though."

Panne shrugged. "Alright. Corrupt guild, immoral means. That's easy to understand. What's next?"

A look of confusion passed over Nibby's eyes before they hopped away and started flipping through more of the folder. A flood of barely-incriminating letters and vague threats went by until he finally landed on a document clearly belonging to the kingdom itself. It appeared to be some kind of report, or a news article or something. It spoke of a bust that the Master of Law had performed on a few individuals who were hoarding the wheat they had harvested a season prior. Nothing else.

"...What's so bad about that?" she asked.

"There's a...reasonable amount of freedom here. The monarchy is more concerned with keeping things running smoothly than anything else. Unless you're a farmer. Then your soul belongs to the king and you damn well better like it, because there's plenty of other vagrants out there just waiting to get put in the same damn spot you are. You know how much food it takes to keep this city fed?"

She clicked her tongue. "Yeah. Enough to permanently alter the region's weather patterns. I already checked."

"Then you know how important it is that our food gets distributed fairly, and well enough that it will last us through long winters like this one. The whole network is owned and mediated by the king and His Master of Trade. Like anything around here, there's plenty of bad apples that get caught in the gears."

Nibby turned the page, revealing a report regarding several smuggling crimes, and yet more food hoarding. Another page, another set of laws broken, another throne of bread dismantled. The next one even had cases of cannibalism and the distribution of some poor butchered souls. Why was it so consistent? What, was the Reinhardt 'The Kind' starving his own damn people that much?

He must have seen the look on her face. "Weird, right? You notice how they're all on the northwest side of town, too? All that belongs to a group they call The Family. Though they've got their fingers in quite a few different guilds themselves, you'll find the heart of this beast in the only chartered business that's authorized to trade food at all. I heard a Mandibuzz is the one driving the operation. Calls herself The Matriarch, as rumors have it, and is so elusive because she sends a flock consisting of her own sons to do her dirty work."

"And the last of the three?" Panne egged on, her leg bouncing with impatience.

"Why so eager?" Nibby stepped off the page to take another drag of his pipe. "You're a teacher now, ain't you? I wouldn't have thought a learned pokemon such as yourself would be so hasty, especially after twistin' my leg so much. Don't it pay to be thorough?"

Her tail practically thrashed to the side. "That writ you nearly knocked to the floor isn't an invitation to take my time and mull over every last detail. The sooner I come up with answers, the better."

One thoughtful shrug later, Nibby turned to the tail end of the folder and sifted through what remained. The last of the papers didn't seem to have much in common with one another. Some of it was propaganda that was clearly peeled off a wall at some point. Some of it, reports of various crimes without as much interconnection as the last gang.

Then, the Noibat came to the very last document. A crumpled up page of ordinary paper, all blank except for the letter that was brazenly written at its center. A jagged 'S' made up of three lines.

"Shardurr," Nibby spat the word out like it was burning on his tongue. Then he flew up and slammed the folder shut, landing on it as if to keep the evidence from escaping. "You're probably seen their work cut into the bricks already and not realized it. If you came here hoping to hear about common street thugs, I've got good news. That's the most positive thing I can attribute to these two-tongued motherfuckers. They're petty crooks that prey on the weak and spout childish nonsense. They're spineless alone, but they get it in their head that they can do whatever they want as a whole.

"Don't know if you've heard, but there was a riot that tore through downtown West District just last year. Laid waste to three square city blocks, busted up another seven. It wasn't any random fucking accident, either. That's what Shardurr does. Three years before that it was the same thing. And before that, West District was a fucking mess of gangs and factions, until that one somehow gobbled them all up and got to work twisting pokemon to do its bidding. There didn't used to be so many guards. Not until Shardurr."

Ah. There we go, Panne thought to herself. Drawing the symbol in the air with a claw, she chuckled and motioned like she was gouging chunks out of the air. "That makes a hell of a lot more sense now. It's actually obvious a Weavile's in charge of that. No wonder Alex had his suspicions before then."

"A Weavile? Who said anything about one of those?" Nibby tilted his head, his proportionally massive ears bouncing with the motion. "As...far as I'm aware, Shardurr's been run by a Swellow and Druddigon for almost as long as it's been around. Where's this Weavile coming from?"

Panne gestured for the Noibat to step away and leaned in. She opened back up to that last page, laid that crumpled paper out flat, and drew another simplified 'S' on top of it.

"That's clearly a tribal marker," she explained. "I reckon there were a lot of Weavile tribes around these parts until Paradise swallowed their territories whole. Not sure if you knew this little fact, but those packs often communicated with their own and neighboring tribes by carving symbols into trees, stones, and ice. It's essentially a region-specific alphabet. If Shardurr marks their territory by specifically chiseling this symbol into the walls, that's a clear sign of Weavile influence. And also a good place to start looking."

Nibby went silent. You could practically see the gears in his head start to turn as he started to pace about the edge of the desk. After a few laps, he looked up at the writ of permission and grumbled to himself.

"I've still not heard of a Weavile anywhere near the top. Where are you getting this from?"

"The big ol' snake on top, that's who. Grumpig isn't the only chump I've had the displeasure of meeting. There's probably a good reason nobody knows about the real leader of Shardurr. It's not technically my job to figure that part out, but it could be related to my job. That's good enough in my book."

The Noibat hopped on top of a stack of books in a flurry of flaps. "And just what do you intend on doing with this information?"

Panne pushed up from the stool and mounted her staff in the span of a second. A victorious twitch in her ears, she made herself comfortable and shrugged. "Nothing. Just reconfirming what I know. Got anything else to tell me about Shardurr? There's gotta be more to it than that."

"You do realize the kind of pokemon you're dealing with here, right? They are more than common thieves and scum. They are kidnappers, smugglers, and killers. I don't care who you are or what you've done, fucking with them is the last thing you want to do. If the Master of Law told you to get anywhere near Shardurr, he put you on a suicide mission. You best quit and go home before you get too deep."

She coughed. "Ha. Too late for that."

"What?"

The Delphox lowered herself to the Noibat's level, her lame leg falling against the floor with a thump. "Listen, you little twerp. I ain't the one that's dove headfirst into this shit, but I'm also not gonna sit on my ass while it's happening. As far as I'm aware, this Bunnelby hole goes a couple miles deeper than you think it does, and I ain't even at the bottom yet. Anyways, I got plenty to work with now."

"Hey! Where are you going?" Nibby shouted as she turned away, his voice projecting twice as loud through the domes of his ears.

She bent her own ears back in annoyance. "Where do you think I'm going? I've got to research the Weavile tribes that used to live in this valley. Whether that's conveniently in the archives or something I have to physically go and figure out, I'm not sure yet, but it's a damn good place to start. Thanks for your time, detective."

Before Panne could float even halfway to the door, something landed on the back end of her staff. After briefly rolling her eyes, she twisted around and looked expectantly at the Noibat.

"Yes?" she said.

"Listen. I don't know what the hell kinda mission that raggedy Serperior sent you on, but-"

"I swear to whichever god fits your bill," Panne began. "You're not convincing me of anything. These little stains on civilization don't scare me, and even if they should, I'm perfectly fine getting what's coming to me."

"Getting what's coming to you?! No, you-" Nibby's growl was much louder than what his tiny body should've been able to produce. "Would you let me finish? I want in on it-what you're doing. This mission Master Alexander sent you on."

"You-" Her ears swiveled. "Why?"

The Noibat huffed, barely keeping his balance with the natural sway of Panne's levitation. "Because I'm- I'm... I'm just not about to let someone with a deathwish walk out of my office just like that. You wanna know about those old tribes? Hell, I'll take you right to their kids. You got the initiative, I got the knowledge. All you gotta do is say yes."

"But I'm not going to pay you or anything! What's the point? You even said it yourself that this stuff is too dangerous to mess with! Why the sudden change of heart?"

"If you're not going to tell me your story, why should I tell you mine?"

Ah. Shit. She clicked her tongue. "Whatever. Fair enough. It might be useful to have somebody competent around, anyway. Oh, and one more thing.

The Delphox lazily lifted a hand into the air and beckoned at the trio of candles on the desk. Their wicks flickered wildly as she pulled the flames right off and ushered the wisps towards her. The glare of the tiny fires shined in the Noibat's eyes as the fire danced around her wrist, changing from yellow to red and shrinking into bright lights as thin as the point of a pin.

"You say you know about my legend, but I still don't think you believe in it. You're convinced that a handful of dumb thugs would be enough to do me in. I just want you to realize, I was still a kid when I did all those things in the stories."

She snapped her fingers. The three flares burst into a dazzling display of noise and sound, popping into miniature explosions that briefly illuminated the room like bolts of crimson lightning. Nibby launched up from the end of her staff with a yelp. Yet it was already over, and they were back in the darkness, with him fluttering in the center of the room.

"I'm not a kid anymore," she said. "I won't be underestimated. Not by anyone in this miserable fucking city. Whatever it is you want out of a partnership like this, you better give me the same respects. Nobody here's gonna use me and get away with it."

On that note, she willed her staff forward and continued out the door, gritting her teeth against the rush of cold as it instantly sapped away her warmth. The Bunnelby hole was starting to get deeper, alright, and she already felt herself slipping at the edge.