The grand courthouse of Paradise somehow managed to be even more intimidating from the inside. A two-layered brazier hung from the domed ceiling and loomed ominously above a lowered semicircle platform, as if constantly threatening to fall on the defendant at any moment. The bound Incineroar didn't seem to notice, what with the combined gravity of every glare in the room bearing down on him, including the fucking king himself. Even Panne felt humbled, and she was in the audience doing the glaring.

"In conclusion: apart from the crimes you've been reported to have committed in the past which cannot currently be confirmed, and your apparent involvement in the illegal gambling hall in which you were arrested, we have gone through more than a few eye-witness accounts to the crimes you committed during the night of the raid."

Alexander was almost motionless. He read from his mental script without even a hint of inflection, but his slit pupils stared at the Incineroar like they were already dead. "To recount, they are as follows: Three counts of vandalism, three counts of arson, one count of theft, four counts of assault against civil guard, and two counts of assault against the royal knighthood."

There was a pause, like Alexander wanted to let all that soak in or something. The Incineroar just smirked at the list as if they were achievements he had earned.

"Furthermore, you also declined to give up any information on the Shardurr gang or their movements, restricting you from any partial clemency you could have earned." Though he would've probably loathed to have given it to you. "You're surely aware of the consequences that follow these types of actions. In these tumultuous few weeks, this court has been exceptionally forgiving to criminals of your ilk. It would be unwise to not take advantage of our momentary generosity."

Incineroar openly scoffed and spat in the Serperior's direction. "Kindly go fuck yourself, your honor. I ain't about to become a snitch, and I definitely don't give a shit about what you call generosity."

From atop the highest pedestal in the room and adjacent to Alexander's platform, Reinhardt placed his arms on the corners of his bench and leaned forward. "I know you, Incineroar. You're Persian's son, correct? I had heard that you had joined in with a rough crowd, but I never would have imagined this. I'm glad Master Alexander has pulled me aside for this trial in particular. I can't seem to find your father in the gallery."

"What a fucking surprise," the defendant moaned. "You kiddin' me? That fate-forsaken sack of shit disowned me years ago. No son of his would ever be standing in the spot I'm standin' in right now. You couldn't pay that fucker enough to admit that I came out of his sack."

"...I see," the king slowly said.

Alexander's eyes somehow narrowed even further. "Your lack of support combined with the certainty of your crimes has left you dry. My judges have already discussed your verdict. The average sentence for someone in your position can range well into decades. However-it is understood that you were maliciously acting against the will of the kingdom of Paradise, going so far as to threaten the lives of her loyal servants in the name of your gang. This is paramount to aiding a revolution."

Reinhardt turned his head towards his partner. "Master Alexander, perhaps it would be best if-"

"You are a danger to Paradise and her people, and like many times before, your malevolent ideals cannot be tolerated if the peace is meant to be kept. By the constitution of Paradise, you are hereby sentenced to death by execution."

The court murmured and stirred, but there was little surprise. Seems this was the kind of verdict that they had come to expect.

"Yeah! I bet you would, snake! Do it right here if you're so fucking bad!" Incineroar growled, struggling against his bonds to stick out his neck while two stoic guards tensed at his sides.

"Master Alexander," Reinhardt repeated once more. The room fell silent, as it always did when the Chesnaught dared to speak a word. "These are extraordinary times. I don't intend to speak out against your wisdom, but I believe there is reason to hold off on carrying out such a verdict."

The air went electric. All at once, the entire chamber had been reduced to three beings. The Aegis of Paradise, the Master of Law, and the insignificant speck of an Incineroar that they debated over. Two titans lording over a pile of dirt.

The Serperior kept his emotions locked firmly behind his crooked rib cage. "A great deal of leniency has already been offered and turned away. The defendant has had every available opportunity to take redemption into their own hands. They have remained defiant, and thus will be given a fitting punishment. What wisdom is there in twiddling our thumbs and letting this prisoner continue to eat meal after meal when the end result will be the same?"

"Don't fucking try to defend me!" Incineroar continued to shout. "I don't want your pity, bastard! Your Paradise can go to hell! You hear me?! Slice me off down to the fucking shoulders right now! Do it!"

Alexander turned his spotlight eyes to the Malamar guarding the Incineroar's left. "Please silence the prisoner until further notice." Then, back to the king of Paradise. "I have carried out verdicts like this many times before. I'm sure I will carry many more out before this winter is over. What justice is there in making special exceptions?"

While the Malamar's body rapidly changed colors, seemingly hypnotizing the Incineroar into submission and threatening to give Panne a headache even from this distance, Reinhardt folded his arms in thought.

"I'm not suggesting you make a special exception for this defendant. I'm suggesting you make a special exception for these circumstances. My offer is to hold off on lower-priority executions until at least the spring, after the current situation is dealt with and resolved. It is still too early to throw around accusations of revolution with the complexity of the state of the city. I believe that you were too quick to come to this conclusion."

The collective silent gasp that grasped the gallery was contagious. It seemed to be fairly common knowledge that Alexander was a rigid asshole, especially to his own people, and now even Reinhardt was adding his two cents. This was way more interesting than the actual trial could ever hope to be. Unfortunately, there was no more room for debate.

"...Yes, your majesty," Alexander finally conceded, then turned his judgement tone back on. "As the king wills it, so it shall be. The guilty remains so, as does the sanctity of my verdict, but punishment will be delayed until further notice. This court is adjourned. Dismissed."

As the Malamar released their mental hold on the Incineroar, the fire type got one last guffaw at the face of his judge before being hauled away. "Idiots! Scumfucks! You're not even gonna get a chance to kill me now! This city's gonna be a smouldering pile of ashes by the time you'd get me to the chopping block-You hear me?! Chenza will wipe the slate clean and tear down all you bastards!"

The prisoner was corralled out a doorway somewhere in the back while everyone else gathered their things and gradually poured out the entrance. Panne kept her head above the crowd and watched the judges disperse, nearly missing the hasty exit of Alexander and Reinhardt in the mild chaos. How was it even possible that a guy like the king of Paradise could leave the room so quietly? Which direction did he go again?

A gloomy stone corridor waited for her beyond the back passage that the Incineroar was led through. It lacked even the barest of decor, whereas at least the public halls attempted to seem somewhat inviting. It was clearly made for its purpose and nothing more. The Delphox shuddered to imagine what it must've felt like to be one of the criminals that get tugged along this grim hall, only to end up beneath that brazier and audience of critical eyes. Eh, at least most of them probably deserved it.

Nobody thought to stop Panne until she came to the end of the corridor and met with a pair of stoic knights. The Mamoswine on the left didn't acknowledge her existence, but the Breloom on the right stepped forward to get in her way.

"Halt. State your business."

Must be the right place. Lucky guess, Panne thought to herself as she reclined across her staff. "I've got something for that zombified Serperior involving an assignment he put me on. It's just some paperwork-I'll just be in and out."

"Present your papers."

She rolled her eyes and reached around into the bag that was slung across her back. She gave them the small clip of papers, and then had to hand over the entire bag to be frisked through. After an irritatingly thorough search and a quick flash of that new writ of permission, she was finally allowed to head on through.

Immediately as the door opened, Alexander's exasperation came through crystal clear in his voice.

"...It's precisely because of the state of things that we have to tighten our grip! Acting in a group should bring about harsher punishments, not the other way around! You cannot dissuade threatening movements and organized crime without the act of unification itself having consequences!"

This was probably the most lavish room in the entire building. A trio of arched windows finally gave an impression that wasn't reminiscent of the dungeons this place sent people off to. However, the only reason those windows existed was to give ample light to the large tree that was growing in the middle of the office. At least there were actual cushioned seats for visitors, which was currently occupied by a Lilligant and an infantile Chespin.

Reinhardt looked far too tense to sit down in one of them. "Listen, Alex. I know what you meant, but it's a stretch to get a revolution from a feud between gangs. When this winter passes and tensions calm, we'll be able to evaluate each case with clearer heads. I don't believe that Incineroar deserves death for his crimes."

"Then simply say so! Your final word precedes the Masters in all of our respective realms! If my judgement is not correct then it is your duty to correct it! It displays a certain kind of weakness whenever there's an impasse like the one we just had-to our discerning citizens and to the criminals searching for our vitals!"

"Your judgement is still sound," the Chesnaught insisted, a gesture of his hands sending waves through the fabrics that adorned him. "I simply fear that escalating punishment too quickly is going to result in a bloodbath on both sides. We must not let ourselves get heated."

"Too late for that." Finally, Alexander aimed his disdain towards the Delphox. "What, Panne? Do you always have to insist on dropping in when I'm working?"

She snorted. "Kinda hard not to do that, chief. I haven't seen you take a single day off since I've been here. It's not like you've ever given me a schedule. I'm not entirely sure you even sleep."

From the corner of the room, the Lilligant giggled. "See? I told you people would notice. The coffee doesn't do anything for the bags under your eyes."

The Lilligant herself was adorned with much of the same flowing garments as Reinhardt and then some. The grandiose robes appeared well-insulated, already making them more useful than just a collection of frills and ribbons. The Lilligant's maiden flower had long since wilted away-as evident by the absent-minded Chespin she idly attempted to wrangle-and in its place was a glistening tiara of silver and sapphire half-hidden beneath the remaining leaves. The scarf around her neck was painfully bland compared to everything else, and was also the same as Reinhardt's.

...Oh fuck. That's the queen, isn't it?

"Ugh. Fair enough," said Alexander, deflating with a huff. "Well? Spit it out already, Panne. There's always more fires to put out."

Panne proceeded with more caution than usual, taking the small collection of papers out of her bag a second time and levitating them over. The queen had the same kind of warm radiance that her husband did, but the gravity of her position finally struck home in her chest-unlike the other two assholes here whose combined power still didn't surpass her grudge.

"It's, um- It's a list of names, really. I had an associate of mine look into the oldest records I could find of this place. Managed to date back far enough that Post Town was a thing, though it was became a mess the further down the timeline we got. Since I'm essentially stuck on square one, I figured out that a Weavile had moved here very early on before all the tribes were assimilated. I just wanted you to go through these lists and pick out anyone that might've known or been connected to them."

"Hmph." Alexander snatched the papers out of the air and set them in the center of his circular desk. "I suppose that's something I can do in the interim. When I get the chance I'll-..." The Serperior trailed off, his eyes catching on the same spot that he'd just thrown the papers. A vine extended to pinch at a letter that had been placed conspicuously on top of a binder.

"That looks important," commented Reinhardt, sighing as the pressure gradually left the room.

"The messenger brought that in not long ago," the queen commented. "They were in a hurry, but seemed to take extra care with it."

The Serperior unfolded the letter, and after a few moments frowned. "Ah. Guess who just got word of the raid and is coming back from their naval campaign prematurely? I suppose we should all prepare ourselves for the scathing vocal beatings we're about to receive. I'm already getting a taste of it just reading this."

"...So much for keeping the situation cool," Reinhardt said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Oh no." Lilligant put a leafy hand to her cheek. "Poor Kommo-o. He's been trying for Master of War for so long. No doubt this is going to set him quite a way back in her eyes. It's not as if one pokemon alone could've prevented what ended up happening."

Panne waved dismissively and threw her head back. "Whatever. That Kommo-o guy's a bastard, anyway. He could probably stand to take some heat. Maybe it'll humble him out."

"Overwhelming stubbornness tends to be a requirement in being a Master of War," said Reinhardt. "You do need to be a bit of a character to fit the bill. Though it's impossibly difficult to match the hole left by Quagsire, back when the Master of Law encompassed the responsibilities of both positions."

"Well I don't really give a damn who's in charge as long as they're not going to go back on Alexander's little promise." The Delphox gave a flick of her head towards the Serperior. "At the end of all of this, Val and I will be walking out of here and going home together. You're the one that put him in the middle of this mess, so you're gonna be the one that pulls him out of it if things go south."

Alexander waved a dismissive vine. "Yes, yes. You already had my word over a month ago. When the foundations of our entire kingdom stop threatening to crack apart, I'll get around to it. Forgive me if I have more pressing matters to attend to than worrying about Vallion is doing."

"Oh, it's just a friendly little reminder. I don't really get much friendlier."

That being said, even after she punctuated her exit, the prince's curious stare did draw out a wave and a smile from her. The Chespin looked back with wide eyes, but did make a little effort to wave back. What a cute little guy. Got it all from his mother, clearly.

...

The piles of snow on the sides of the road always looked so soft, gently curving up the sides of buildings as if trying to scale the brick walls. This was especially true after dusk, when the lanterns were only just bright enough to illuminate the contours of the snow. That made it all the more abrasive when a train engine chugged alongside the Serperior and tore through all that serenity and more.

Vallion winced slightly at the screech of the iron wheels. Ahead was a patch of darkness between the lanterns that looked more like an abyss than a street. There was a street beside the elevated tracks that didn't have any lanterns at all. It was supposedly vandalized at some point, but the city never got around to replacing them. The whole stretch was near complete darkness. Even when the Serperior had come to expect it, Chenza's voice still always caught him off-guard.

"You're late, aren't you?"

Vallion grunted. "Sorry I haven't lived in this district all my life. I had to follow the tracks to get here."

"Hmph! Well you're lucky you got here on time. After all, your only job is getting this shit back to the warehouse in one piece. I'd be pretty cross if you couldn't even manage to show up to do that."

"Yeah! C'mon, Bright-eyes," Linoone spoke up from nearby. He was wearing his usual backpack for transferring illicit goods. "Even I got here on time, and I had my own fires to put out. You ever try explaining to your wife what you're goin' out into the dead of night for? It ain't easy, I can tell ya that. If she asks, we went out drinkin'."

There was a cart parked on the side of the street from which his voice came from. Once Vallion's eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he could see a Krookodile leaning on the side of the wagon, tail impatiently swinging from side to side and drawing a semicircle in the snow. The trail they'd made when coming here was already nearly covered up by a fresh layer of white. No better time for this, it seemed.

The screech of the train intensified as it slowly came to a stop. Metal on metal tore through the night, grinding to a halt over the course of a minute or so until the quiet could rule again. Even then, the settling weight of the cars left a rhythmic ticking in the air. All this waiting was making Vallion go numb again. Maybe it was a good thing he got here so late.

Finally, their business partners arrived. A Tyranitar and a male Meowstic bearing marked sashes of greens and blues shuffled up the street parallel to the tracks, having apparently jumped off from somewhere further back. The Tyranitar was carrying one unmarked crate in their hands while the Meowstic levitated another over his head. It seems they had trouble with the dark, too, only noticing Shardurr's presence after they'd already plunged into the lightless avenue.

"Sweet mother of-!" the Meowstic caught themselves and sighed. "Sneaky fucks."

"Welcome to our neck of the woods," Chenza greeted them with a fake little bow. "How about we get this underway? Crack those things open and let's take a look."

The Tyranitar had no trouble digging his claws beneath the nailed lids and prying them open. Inside each of the crates was a small revolution's worth of packed explosive powders and compounds. There was an exceptionally generous amount of cotton packing, as well-for safety and swindling purposes both. This kind of firepower could level a city block and set the surrounding ones ablaze in moments. It made Vallion sick to his stomach to look at.

Chenza held one of the explosives in front of her face, humming a tune to herself as she balanced it precariously on the tips of her claws before letting it fall back into the box. "The top layer seems legitimate, at least. I hate the smell of this shit enough to tell. Runt?"

"You got it, boss."

Linoone undid the straps of his bag and swung it around to his stomach. He fiddled with the padded insides for a while and produced a bag of clattering gold that he had trouble lifting with one arm. With a grunt he tossed it over to the Meowstic, who caught the mouth of the sack with a tug of his telekinesis. Now it was their turn to inspect the goods.

"...Hm?" The Meowstic furrowed his brow. He reached in and inspected one of the huge coins with a glare and a quick bite to test for authenticity. It was definitely real, and there was probably enough of the stuff to start a business in that bag alone. Annoyance still flashed over the Meowstic's face. "Alright, but where's the rest of our pay?"

"I wasn't born yesterday, you slimy fucks." Chenza started to pace in the snow. "You already got the first half before you even set off to get this stuff. Freak made sure of it. I'm just gonna pretend like you didn't make the attempt, though. When I finally come to rule this place, you'll be thanking me."

A disgusted scoff left the Meowstic's mouth, but he turned heel and started into the night soon enough, beckoning to the Tyranitar with an attitude like they were blowing off a lame party. The huge rock type didn't seem to care one way or the other and just stomped on after them. Chenza intensely eyed their exit while Krookodile and Vallion went on to load up the ridiculous amount of explosives into the back of the cart.

The Serperior huffed through his nose. "And you're certain nothing in these crates is meant to actually be used, right?"

"Shut up," mocked the Weavile. "I told you already. These are for framing Rusty Mountain with. If anything, the guard's gonna end up confiscating all of it, which-to be fair-would make it veeery easy to blow their headquarters to smithereens."

"I would vastly prefer that we not blow anyone to smithereens."

She snickered, finally signaling Krookodile to roll out. "Oh, but we spent all this gold! The least we could do is light some fireworks for all our trouble."

"No."

The wheels of the cart jumped and dragged and made all sorts of terrible noise as they started on the harrowing trek back. Even just being around the block-leveling payload was enough to run a shudder down Vallion's spine. Having it jostle around in the back of a rickety wagon that was announcing itself to the world was a different kind of hell.

Chenza suddenly started to laugh to herself. "It's not even that much gold, come to think of it! We still have the rest of this winter's stockpile that The Family graciously donated to us in their will. And if we ever run out of that and still need more, well I suppose we could always pluck some hapless chumps off the streets and get paid by hungry carnivores."

A hiss of disgust left Vallion's throat. Chenza shot him a glare and continued. "What now? Don't even act like this ridiculous grazing diet is how pokemon like us are supposed to eat. Our teeth were made for tearing into meat, not munching fucking bread."

"The luxury of civilization is that we don't have to."

"I really hope you're not about to start arguing morality with me when you're only going along with all this because you want to end a pokemon's life. I've got a city to upend-of course I'm gonna crack the skulls that get in my way. You think I won't?"

"Can we not do this kind of thing in the middle of what we're doing now?" Linoone harshly whispered. "I dunno about you guys, but I ain't in the mood for someone to open their window and see this!"

Chenza hummed. "When did you grow some balls, runt? Talking to me like you're not a walking carpet. I was just telling Bright-eyes that framing Rusty Mountain was only the first part of the scheme, and that it only got worse from there. If you want, I can talk louder and announce it to the rest of the world."

Vallion turned his head. "Worse how?"

"Well we can't just leave the news that the guild's shoring up for war to simmer with the public. They'll forget about it in a week if we let them. Shardurr's gotta take offense to it for this to work, and I'm already thinking about how I'm gonna rile up the horde. That gambling operation that cat took down only ended up adding more fuel to the fire, too. It won't take much to set off that bomb."

"So you wanted the gambling ring to come undone?" the Serperior said.

"What? No. Of course I didn't fucking want that. But it helps moves things along towards my greater goal anyway, so it won't matter in the long run." The Weavile snapped her claws together. "I'll whip up something while the iron's hot-make it look like they attacked us and we attacked them at the same time. Guess which one of us is gonna be doing the attacking, Bright-eyes?"

He suppressed a groan. "I don't suppose it's Freak, is it?"

It was not.