The Sneasel's grimace deepened in the strained light.
"Well I don't know nothin' 'bout that! An' if I did, I wouldn't be tellin' you 'bout it, anyways! If ya really wanna know so bad, ask the archive or summin', instead of buggin' me on a weekend!"
The door slammed shut in Panne's face. The reverberations of the sound echoed in her ear as she withheld a groan. When the moment had dragged on long enough, she let the breath finally leave through her nostrils in a puff of steam.
"I did check the fucking archive," the Delphox mumbled.
The Noibat on her shoulder glanced off into the distance with a dismissive whistle. The overcast sky that peeked around the ridges of grooved roofs had quickly started to blend in with the shadows.
"This ain't workin' out," Nibby muttered into her ear. "Maybe we ought to pack it up and go home."
Panne threw her head back and hissed at the air. "Of course it's not working out. Everyone that walking window suggested are basically fucking kids. They weren't even around for when their kind had tribes in this area! Where are the parents of these little shits?"
"Apparently not around here. Look, there's no need to drag this out for longer than we have to. If the trail's a dud, then it's a dud."
"Not yet it isn't." Gripping her staff with a little too much vigor, Panne exited out back into the brickwork labyrinth of Redland District. The place wasn't much different from anywhere else in Paradise. Surprisingly vertical, perhaps, but Noe Port likely was built on more impressive cliffs than this. This region was also supposed to be the westernmost hand of The Family's influence, but at worst Panne felt maybe just uncomfortable. What was the big deal with any of these gangs, anyway? Weren't they supposed to be scary? This wasn't much worse than Lively City so far.
Nibby's talons gripped at her fur a little tighter. "There's only one more possible stop after this, Panne. With all the faces we've already checked with, I highly doubt this one will be any different. Don't waste time striking a cold iron."
"What's with you?" Panne shot back. "I've long since ran out of patience for today, Nibby. I want to see some fucking results. What, are you trying to guide me away from something?"
The Noibat shrugged in her peripheral vision. "Well, yes. I'm guiding us away from overstaying our welcome, if that's what you're wondering. I liked your initial deal, sure, but no good can come of snooping where we don't need to."
"Then go home if you're such a pansy. Personally, I'm gonna keep snooping, because that's basically half my entire fucking profession. The other half happens to be blowing things up, so I don't know what you're so worried about. What's the worst a couple of common crooks inside city limits can do?"
Relenting with a sigh, Nibby doled out the last bit of directions she needed to find their last Weavile.
The route took them out onto the Main Street once more. The road was characteristically massive, trailing through pretty much every part of the northwestern districts in one part or another. You could fit three or four lanes of wagons on the damn thing, it was so wide. This side of the city was apparently jam-packed during harvest season. Not so perfect now, when there were maybe three or four poor saps at most walking out in the middle of the empty road at dusk.
Likewise, there were many side roads around these parts that would eventually leave the city altogether and trail into the countryside. Most of them ended in dirt paving rather than rock. Luckily, she didn't have to head down one to be turned away for the umpteenth time. Their last destination was just a handful of city blocks closer to the border. Getting back to the palace from here, on the other hand, was going to be a pain in the ass. The Magnagate system might already be shut down for the night at this rate.
"You sure about this?" Nibby spoke up again.
"Seriously? Look, I don't know what your deal is, but being told to quit only makes me want to go through with it more. You're getting cold feet around the wrong Delphox, dude. If you're serious about getting to the bottom of this, then stick around and watch a master work."
With exasperation burning a hole in her chest, Panne made her way into a dilapidated section of weather-worn buildings and thrice-repainted walls that were already defaced once more. This was the kind of atmosphere she had originally expected from an area like this. It had an air of cruelty and selfishness, like the faction which supposedly ran it. The final address was rightfully in the center of it all. A run-down manor that looked like it had once belonged to a wealthy farmer at some point.
She didn't even hesitate to give the door a sturdy knock. The wait sprawled on for a moment, but that moment became two, then three. She tapped her claws on the metal pole beneath her, glaring at the door as if doing so would intimidate it into letting her in. A full minute of relative silence went by before there was even movement on the other side. She heard Nibby audibly gulp.
A Heatmor answered. They stuck their long head through a crack in the door, their expression apparently nonplussed. "Yes? What is it?"
It seemed that gulp was Nibby swallowing his reservations. "Yeah, we've got a few questions to ask the Weavile living here. It shouldn't take long at all, it's just some historical work is all. They wouldn't happen to be here, would they?" The Noibat angled himself away from the Heatmor, seemingly trying to hide the badge tucked away in the fur of his chest.
The fire type blinked. "No. They aren't."
They motioned to shut the door. The Delphox moved swiftly, sticking the end of her staff into the closing crack with a metallic thunk. Crawling forward on her perch, she peered through the narrow space. "I've decided to stop taking that for an answer, actually. That Weavile is definitely here. In fact, I've got a little slip of paper that says he probably ought to see us."
Panne drew the writ of permission, as she always did. The wonderful little sheet of paper had the entire kingdom's backing inside a simple wax stamp. Presenting it to the Heatmor, they reached out and took the paper into their claws, stared at it for a few seconds, then ripped the thing in half. A few licks from their flaming tongue later, it was ashes blowing away in the wind.
"You brought me trash," they said. "Go away."
The Delphox's ears flew back. "That's not even a big deal, you know! I'll just go back and get him to write me another one! Doesn't change the fact that I don't need it to work my way in there! Where's the Weavile, huh? I bet he knows all sorts of crap about old tribes and markings! Why don't you bring them out already?!"
"Do you really wanna-?" The Heatmor was cut off abruptly. A voice carried over from seemingly the other side of the manor.
"Let them in," they had said, a slight echo punctuating their words. "Heatmor, give it a rest. We'll humor them."
Some grumbling and a bit of hesitation later, the fire type eventually did open the doors for them. Panne let herself in with a huff. The manor wasn't as trashy on the inside as it was out, but it wasn't too exactly batting it out of the park either. It was completely dark apart from some candlelight flowing out from a distant room down the hall. The Heatmor didn't stop her from heading that way, so she assumed it was intentional.
The dining room wasn't large. A single moderately-sized candelabra reasonably lit the entire area. The oval dining table it sat on was already laid out with a feast's worth of food, ranging all the way from spiced soups to eloquent bread rolls to...some shredded red substance that Panne thought smelled good, which was a bad sign.
"Shit," muttered Nibby in her ear.
Across the table sat a Weavile, who was in the process of licking his fingers clean from a pastry he was in the process of finishing off. His features were clearly worn from age and stress, a grey tint to parts of his feathers. Without a word, the ice type ushered them over to the seats over from him, then took the last bite with a satisfied hum. It felt like the fire that was lit in Panne's chest was doused with a splash of water as she psychically pulled a chair out and sat down.
"Care for a bite to eat?" said the Weavile, grinning from ear to ear as they took a caramel-colored drink from a whiskey glass.
"I think I'll pass. Had a big lunch," Panne lied. "I promise this won't take long. Just a couple questions about heritage. Sorry for the entrance, it's been a long day."
He laughed. "I know. An associate of mine told me you were coming. You already gave them your little interrogation routine. Whatever it's about, I've been told it ain't trouble, so I figured 'why not? I'll see it.'"
"Associate?" she repeated with a frown. "Well, whatever. This'll be quick. I'm thankful I'm finally talking to someone who might actually know what I'm trying to say, at least. You wouldn't be able to tell me about the tribe you came from before Paradise swallowed up all the land around here, would you?"
"Ah. What an interesting question." The Weavile took another sip and let the air hang in silence. His eyes darted to Nibby's brass pin, then back to the Delphox. "We were called the Kral, a long time ago. Our tribe ruled the steppes of the east once. In the summers we would reside in the mountains for two seasons, then descend upon the plains as the weather pushed more dangerous foes towards our dens. Now those territories are nothing but squared districts and quarries. I do not miss those times."
"And your family?" Nibby asked.
"Oh, I don't know. I was among the first of my tribe to leave for the growing city in the west. I felt stifled by the politics of my people. As far as I'm aware, they might have been a part of the dozens that tried to push back against Paradise's expansion. I'm sure you're aware of how well that would've turned out for them."
Panne rapped her claws together, ears pressed back. "So you've already lost contact with everyone, huh?"
Another bite of that delicious-smelling something allowed to Weavile to wring another few seconds out of the conversation. "Yes. Unfortunately, you'll only have me to deal with. It's a good thing I have such a keen sense of memory."
Nibby's turn. "Then you should be able to tell us all about the written language your tribe used to determine the boundaries of that territory, right?"
"Mm. Well, perhaps." He clapped his talons together. "Many tribes had different ways of saying the same thing. This language barrier tends to keep members of those tribes with their own, so to speak. It makes sense why so many were opposed to His Highness' rule. That being said, much of the Weavile groups below the eastern peaks had many similarities in their carvings. What did you need to know?"
Panne pushed the excess of dishes out of the way and made room on silken tablecloth. There, she gestured for the Weavile to watch as she made that three-point S in the space with an index finger. "You're familiar with the Shardurr gang's tag, aren't you? I figured you were, considering the part of town I'm sitting in. Let's get to the point. Would that symbol represent anything in a Weavile's tribal language?"
Their host's brow furrowed. A silence fell that was so thick that the creaks and groans of the old manor filled the foreground. That Heatmor from earlier who was certainly just around the corner made no movements, either, though they definitely heard. She didn't get it. What was so fucking tense about that question? Was the peace in this city really being held together with tape and strings?
Finally, the Weavile exhaled, clicking his tongue and finishing off his glass. "You know, that's a fair thing to wonder. Bold as you are to have brought it here, especially considering recent events."
"What? Which recent events?" the Noibat said.
"Ah. You seem to be the street-wary sort, so I'll keep it short. That group's a hot topic around these parts. Shardurr's done something to slight us not too long ago, and if you'd pardon my manners, seeing that shape drawn into my table does get my blood boiling. But that's neither here nor now."
The Weavile walked two claws across the wooden surface, then jammed the tips down like he was gouging out a pair of eyes. "Yes, that is a good question, and my answer is no. It is not a symbol I recognize from those times, and no tribe would identify itself with such a simple shape. If it does mean something to some Weavile, it does not mean anything to me."
In spite of the oppressive atmosphere, and the closed lead, Panne couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. "Sweet Xerneas, thank you! I've been waiting for a proper response like that all afternoon. Half the pokemon we tried hardly even gave us the time of day. Though half of them were born in the city, so I wasn't going to get anything out of them anyway."
"Of course. Of course." His smile was full of fangs, and felt about as welcoming.
There was a slight tug at the fur of Panne's neck. Nibby's voice filled her left ear. "Yes, thank you for your cooperation with our little project. We're sorry to have interrupted your meal. Well, we should leave you to it and get going before the magnagates are closed."
But before Panne could so much as push her chair back, the Weavile flattened his palms to the table and widened that horrible grin of his.
"Aw, so soon? What a shame. We were just getting to the part I wanted to hear."
The Delphox settled back down into her seat and leaned forward on her elbows. "And what part would that be?"
"Nothing so serious. I'm merely curious as to why someone would go around asking such a strange question. Comparing Shardurr's signature to the way a Weavile marks their turf? It's certainly a thought that seems to have come straight out of the blue. One wouldn't go so far out of their way looking for answers for a daydream, hm?"
In spite of Nibby's rigid grip on her shoulder, Panne threw her head back and scoffed. "Let's not skirt around this like a bunch of spineless noblemen. You're expecting some information in return just because you humored my stupid hunch. Well I can already tell you that you've dispelled any evidence I would've had, so don't go expecting gold at the end of the rainbow. It's back to square one for me."
The Weavile had pushed his plate away entirely and mirrored her forward lean. "What's your deal, Delphox? Your little friend looks like he's about to be sick, but you couldn't seem to care less. Why are you here?"
"'Cuz I got hired to be, that's why. A certain Serperior called me in from Lively City to look into some things for him. One of those things involves the Shardurr gang to the south of here. I'm sure you of all pokemon would love any juicy details I could give on them, but unfortunately, you're the start of the trail."
"Hah. The palace hired an investigator from abroad? How disgraceful." The air seemed to soften considerably as the gangster reached over to pour himself yet another glass of alcohol. "Bold of you to come to The Family with such a simple question. Perhaps we should keep in touch. I'm sure the Good King wishes to be rid of that despicable group of children as much as we do."
Panne flashed him a smile and mounted her staff in the same motion. "Yeah, perhaps we should. Right now I'm going to go keep in touch with a warm fucking bath, so I'll be off."
This time around, nobody made any subtle threats to stop her. She rode out through the doorway, past the leaning figure of the Heatmor against the wall, and pushed back out into the unforgiving bite of winter without any distractions. It truly was just as simple as getting up and leaving.
They made it about half a block away from the manor before Nibby finally let go of the breath he'd been holding in his throat. "Dammit! Panne, you're a fateless lunatic, you know that? That could've been one of the most influential arms of the whole gang below The Flock for all we know, and you're talkin' to them like a disgruntled barkeep! Why'd I even agree to come with you this far?"
"Because I'm smooth and I'm deliberate and I probably could've taken everyone there?" she replied with a misty huff. "Poor old bastard. He'd probably break a nail. It's just easier for me to walk out peacefully than blast my way out and have to explain it to Alexander. It's a shame that the tribal marking thing didn't go anywhere. I felt so clever about it, too."
"You're a real piece of work." The Noibat groaned, jumping to the edge of her staff to stare off into the far distance, where a Chandelure adorned with a ribbon of the kingdom's colors went from lantern to lantern to illuminate the streets.
"So?" Panne pulled back on her staff, stopping just before Main Street. "You're the one that wanted in on what I was doing. Why you were so adamant to join up with me in the first place if you're getting freaked out by a couple of gang members? I'm just trying to get to the bottom of things on my end."
"If there really is an invisible Weavile sitting on top of Shardurr, that's a big fate-forsaken deal!" he struggled not to shout. "There ain't many pokemon that know what happened with Shardurr's inception apart from the ones that were there. It ain't impossible that there's been someone in the background the whole time, but it's a fucking stretch. But if Master Alexander hired someone like you to look into it..." The Noibat ruffled his chest fur. "Look, Panne. I have my own wars to fight with these types of people. I'd prefer to do research rather than just walkin' into the houses of criminals as someone associated with the Order of the Guard and asking for a light."
The Delphox raised her voice. "Are you still in or not? I'm not finished with this. All tonight proved is that the Weavile didn't make all this stupidly obvious, and that still plays into what I already know. Are we going deeper or am I?"
Nibby lifted off from the metal pole and faced her at eye level. "I'll try to get some digging done, but I'm not going to promise anything. You come back to me if you figure something else out. That still the deal?"
"Fine." Panne waved the Noibat off. "I'm heading back to the palace. I don't need your directions on the return trip, I memorized the way. I know you're more comfortable just flying over everything anyway."
...
Nothing was left of the light of day. Nibby's nocturnal eyes caught only the angular silhouettes of buildings just a few blocks away, even with the benefit of streetlamps radiating their dull yellow auras. He flit through the snowfall and over the somber town, wings beating at the same rapid pace as his heart. A swift dive around a corner to catch a brief gust. Up and over a plane of shingles. Then, by the guiding lights of distant lanterns, he flew towards the tallest structure in sight: a bell-tower looming ominously over the surrounding rooftops. With a bit of effort, the Noibat climbed the last stretch of altitude to perch upon the angled peak, his talons sliding as they dug into a sheet of ice.
He glared out over West District with no particular place for his eyes to rest, the bitter winds gnawing at the tips of his ears. A minute or so passed. The feathered beat of wings broke through the serenity of the vantage point, then came the clatter of another pair of talons gripping at the roof. Nibby shot the newcomer a sideways glance just to make sure, but even up here he could see the vague iridescence of the Swellow's flight feathers.
"What a surprise," Swellow went on to say. "I had almost forgotten about you. What's all this about then, Noibat? Why do I hear you've been trying to contact me? Looking for work on our side of the street after all?"
"I would never willingly work for you low-down thugs, no matter the paycheck." Nibby would've spit, but the cold had dried his mouth out. "I still hold to that. The only reason you're here is so that I can clear somethin' up before your kind go pointing fingers."
"And what would that be?"
"The fact that I've been snoopin' around The Family's streets doesn't mean nothing to you. I got a...a client, we'll call her, who's been draggin' me down that hole. I'm sure priestess Runerigus has spilled that can of beans to you already, what with all those donations you funnel into her. I'm just here to make sure you don't send goons after me for bein' in places I'm not welcome."
Swellow clacked his beak. "Yes. I have heard, actually. The oracle is still very interested in that Delphox client of yours. Strangely, she refused to tell me anything about her. I don't really care, anyway. The interesting part is what she was looking for. Weavile and Sneasel, huh?"
Nibby glared down at the pavement and gulped. He turned his head towards the avian. "Look. That dame's got me wrapped up in this mess. Tell it to me straight. What the hell is she goin' on about with this Weavile at the head of Shardurr? Is it true? I mean she had a signed, handwritten seal of permission and everything. Straight from the damn Master of Law, even."
"I know," Swellow said with a flick of their neck to the east. "But seeing as you've done your best to avoid us for years, I'm not entirely sure you deserve an answer. What I can tell you is that even Runerigus wouldn't be able to point her in the correct direction."
"And you know what?" Nibby started again. "While I'm at it, what the hell did you guys do? We almost got lynched down there tonight! I heard that the flock was buzzing over whatever it was Shardurr did to piss them off! Just mentioning the name nearly brought knives to our throats! I'd have been slit in a second if they knew the kinds of mud you've dragged me through for your guys! What are you trying to do, start up a war?"
The Swellow let out a long chuckle, the sound bleeding out into the night sky and tapering into empty noise. "You know, I'm actually glad you've tried so hard to break into my schedule tonight. I wouldn't have been able to hear that piece of good news otherwise."
"What are you going on about?"
"Don't sell yourself short, Noibat. You've already guessed what I'm going on about. In fact, you might find a few extra documents of hard dirt on your desk in the coming days. Getting a few of theirs off the streets would really start to rile them up, and soften their ranks. You're not too out of practice, are you? I know it's been a few months."
"Woah woah woah!" Nibby gave a vigorous flap, lifting off the perch and twisting around as he came back down again. "You're going to force me to help you start a fight with The Family? What are you, insane?! Do you have any idea the kind of damage that would cause? It's winter for fate's sake! You're gonna destroy this city with ideas like that!"
"Yes. That's the idea."
Their gazes met less than a meter apart. There was Swellow's ruthless sideways glare, like Nibby wasn't worth a carnivore's forward attention but deserved as much disdain as a single eye could muster. The Noibat meant what he had said, but there was no authority behind his words. No reason for this monster to care. This was the common knowledge between them. Talk was cheap, but resistance would cost more than he was willing to pay.
"Your answers are coming," Swellow continued. "Don't look so glum. The day I've been dreaming of is fast approaching, I feel. There is a bright future ahead for all of us. Even you can have a piece, granted you do your part in getting there. I know you will. You know personally what happens when someone crosses us."
Crouching down, Swellow extended his impressive wingspan to the breeze and dove straight from the vista. One beat pulled him out of the dive, another drove him forward, and within the matter of a moment he disappeared into the sea of darkness just above the rooftops, leaving nothing but dread in his wake.