"You know this ain't anything dangerous, right?" Nibby asked Panne, flitting by her head. "You really don't have to be here. I'd prefer if you weren't. It's distracting."

The Delphox shrugged, looking over her shoulder down the street all the same. Nobody in the flow of the crowd so much as spared them a glance. "So? Anywhere can be dangerous these days. We're still dealing with a gang as far as I'm concerned, whether they have the face of a guild or not."

"Not really. We're dealing with merchants and shop owners that have been entrapped by a gang. There's a pretty distinct difference, honestly. I've been doing jobs like this solo my whole career."

"Psh!" Panne scoffed. "It's the same thing in my eyes. A good businessman might as well be a thief for all I care. They're all just swindlers at the end of the day, trying to wring you of your coins."

The Noibat hummed as he landed on the edge of her staff. "You know I'm startin' to suspect that you have a cynical streak going, Panne. Just an investigator's hunch."

The border of Rusty Mountain District and East District was as it always was: packed and noisy. Nibby would've much preferred to sail over the commotion, but even the skies around here were jammed with traffic, and Panne's staff was always an inviting perch to take advantage of. He welcomed any comfort he could get at this point. Beneath his exterior was an arcing ocean of nerves, and it hadn't gotten any better after he woke up from the two hours of sleep he did manage to get.

That fateless Weavile could rot in the abyss.

His destination was a small tailor nestled on the edge of Rusty Mountain's influence. It was run by a Gourgeist that had bought the property four years ago. The shop never saw much success-only just getting by if the records were any indication. Nibby had recently gotten an independent job from a victim of theft, urging to check the place's inventory for pilfered goods. The job was also completely forged, and beautifully at that. Swellow's handiwork. Even just thinking about it left a bad taste in the Noibat's mouth, and yet Panne was still none the wiser. Why was she even here?

"It should be just around this bend," Nibby announced, having to project his voice a bit just to be heard over the masses.

You might've missed the tailor if you blinked too long. A swinging wooden sign that blended in with the rest of the dull browns and reds was all that distinguished it from the surrounding duplexes. Nibby got the impression that this shop was established so far away from the markets in the hopes that it could avoid the very guild that eventually swallowed it up anyway. It was no wonder that the business was doing poorly. Or why Chenza had made it out to be such an easy target to put her scheme into action.

"...Doesn't look like there's anyone suspicious around," Panne muttered, hesitating to head through the front doors without glaring down the street first.

"In the name of the Hollow, Panne. Nobody's expecting us. You're gonna draw attention if you keep acting like that."

A bell rang in harmony with the squeaking hinges of the door as Panne floated them in. A very peculiar scent was the first thing that struck him about the place. It was the kind of smell you'd never be able to place without context-something to do with the soaps that go into cleaning the fabric, mixed with a hint of wood polish and general musk.

It got disconcertingly quiet when the door closed behind them. Panne, still perhaps more alert than was necessary, pretended to browse over a rack of scarves while her ears remained attuned to the slightest noise. It was at this point that Nibby left his perch to fly over to the counter in search of another bell to ring. Instead what he found was the Gourgeist tumbling out of the back room, a patch of silk somehow sewn into one of their fibrous hands.

"Customers? Oh, I was- I'll be right there! Hold on!"

"No need, no need," Nibby assured her. "I haven't come to do any window shopping. I'm actually here on behalf of a client. They're not too far from here, and a few days ago they had a break in that lost them some pretty important pieces to their business. Now I'm just bein' thorough, and I ain't accusing you of anything, but I do wanna check through your inventory in the back real quick. That alright with you?"

A rainbow of emotion registered through the Gourgeist's beady eyes until they finally came to a stop on reserved indignation.

"Right! Right, yeah. That's fine. Go ahead."

"Then I'm going in first!" Panne announced with a huff, flipping herself over the counter instead of going around like someone tactful might. "Hey, I'm working with him, by the way. Just point me in the right direction here."

The Delphox gladly took off down the hall and plunged into the room on the left just behind the stairs, leaving Nibby and the tailor to their own devices. Panne didn't even know what imaginary items he was supposed to be looking for. Something was certainly eating away at her, and it made her into a complete pain in the ass.

"Hey," the Gourgeist stopped him before he could take off after her. "You're with who I think you are, right?"

"Whatever you're thinking, stop thinking out loud and just let me do my job."

She made a sour face. "This is going to work, right? I'll be able to get my shop back after this is all over like she promised? Without Rusty Mountain?"

Nibby hushed her, hoping that Panne's ears weren't quite as perceptive as their size suggested. "Look. You're asking that to the wrong pokemon. I'm just playing my part in this fucked up world of ours, just like you are. Now stick to the script and stop asking questions, and maybe we'll all come out the other side."

With a nervous nod, the Noibat was finally dismissed. He lifted off and fluttered into the musty room in the back. It would have been exceptionally dark had Panne not already conjured a steady flame to dance off the end of her fingers. Understandably, she looked about as lost as if it were still pitch-black.

"So what are we looking for, exactly? I've opened some of these boxes already, but there's just junk and spare sewing machine parts. And I mean, I'm pretty sure those spools of fabric are supposed to be there."

He twitched out his ears. "I'd imagine so. My client lost valuable machine parts, but I don't think they'd look like a sewing machine's. Just check around for strange loose metal bits that seem like they'd be exceptionally difficult to smith."

The invisible race was on. While Panne was looking for stolen parts that didn't exist, he had to search the place for the explosives and confirm that it was all there, somehow avoiding Panne's notice altogether. Actually, this was a totally impossible task. Why the hell did he allow her to come with him on this farce of a job? Residual cowardice? Oh well, he might as well try to-

"What the-..." Panne muttered, kneeling over a suspicious-looking canvas bag in the corner. There was no hope in out-snooping an explorer.

Nibby already knew what it was, but was determined to play dumb. "Yeah? What is it, Panne?"

She held the mouth of the bag open with the hand that wasn't engulfed in flame. "I don't know what this 'tailor' thinks she's up to, but I'm pretty sure you don't need twenty pounds of blasting powder to mend holes in someone's clothes. Well, maybe I wouldn't know. I just have Altaria do it for me, really."

"Uh. I really don't think you do." The Noibat perched himself on a nearby surface and peered down into the bag. Even expecting it, a chill ran down his spine upon seeing what was inside. Long cylinders of packed paper sitting inside a bed of sawdust. Completely unassuming and seemingly insignificant to the ignorant eye, which was half the danger in the first place. And to think that Panne was even using fire at all- "Dammit! Put that light out already! You're gonna set something off!"

They plunged into relative darkness once more, but the distinct savory smell of the bag's contents remained. The Delphox grumbled to herself. "I'm quite good with controlling my fire, thank you. But why would that Gourgiest even keep this in with all the other flammable shit? That can't be a good idea."

"You should be asking why they're keeping it at all. This stuff is completely banned. You'd have a hard time smuggling even a couple ounces through Paradise's borders. That whole bag's more than enough for the knights to raid an entire district over."

Panne's silhouette brought her nose closer to the bag for whatever reason. "I'm no demolitions expert, either, but I'm more than familiar with mixtures that burn too well. Don't ask Val about that, either. Anyway, this smells a lot like some finely-ground blast seed concentrate mixed with a bit of phosphorus. I'm sure even just one of these could light this whole damn room up. The whole bag could ignite the whole block if it ever…" She trailed off.

"Damn. Those stolen parts will have to wait," Nibby said with a shake of his head. "In case it ain't obvious, this kind of thing...Well, I've got a badge that makes me obligated to take this straight to higher brass."

Just then, Panne suddenly whipped around and slammed her hands down on the box that Nibby was standing on, startling him into the air.

"God dammit, Nibby! Those are firebombs! The city was burning in that stupid fucking vision that the Runerigus showed me! Didn't think much of it then, but I guess sitting in front of a fucking cache of bombs tends puts things into perspective. Where's that walking pumpkin? I'm about to change fate by smashing their dome."

"Y-you saw fucking what in your vision?!" Nibby flared his plumage and darted into the doorway before she could storm out. "Panne, stop! Slow your fate-forsaken roll! Attacking that Gourgeist isn't going to solve anything!"

"Why not? Somebody's gotta make sure they don't run off with that shit while you get the guards."

"Because I doubt they're responsible for that…that thing. There's not a snowflake's chance in hell that they're the ones that smuggled it in. This has got to be a part of something bigger! If anyone's responsible, then-!" He hesitated, then swallowed down the truth like it was a ball of needles. "Rusty Mountain. It's gotta be them. It's all over the news that Persian's been summing up his mercs, but this is something five steps further. That merchant's planning on starting a war."

"A war?" Panne slowly repeated. Her ears flung back, mirrored by the wrinkled disdain on her face. She looked back to the bag in the corner and growled. "Fuck. This place is part of that guild, isn't it? After what happened to The Family, I wouldn't be surprised if that sleazy bastard tried to make the first move. I guess this is just confirming those suspicions."

"Exactly. And if we stumbled on one of these things, who knows how many more Persian's got hidden away in other places?"

She rolled her eyes. "And that idiot just let us walk in here? See, you're lucky that I came! This reeks exactly like a trap, and one I didn't willingly walk into it this time. Oh, but I won't let them get the drop on me this time."

Nibby huffed out his nose and landed on the edge of her staff. "No, no. I don't think anyone's getting the drop on us. Let's just leave and get the Order to deal with it. We didn't find our parts, so let's get out of here quietly and pretend we didn't see anything. We don't want a repeat of last time, so this is as involved as we're gonna get."

"Quietly. Fine. We'll try quietly first. But if it comes down to my way, it's going to get very, very loud."

The mild sources of light around the shop were still enough to burn at their eyes as they left the back room. Panne kept her posture straighter than he'd ever seen, her hands in seemingly very specific places on her staff. The Gourgeist around the corner looked flustered as all hell, occupying herself with tiny mundane tasks to drive away her nerves. She turned to them with a tiny smile.

"Find anything, sir?"

"Nope," answered Nibby, glaring daggers at the tailor. "Thanks for your time. We'll be checking the next shop over."

"You really should clean up in there," Panne spoke up. "It's dusty as hell. Nobody's gonna want to buy clothes made from old, dirty fabric."

"Right, I'll...I'll get on that soon."

In and out. Just like that, they were back out in the snow. Of course there wasn't a trap waiting for them. Nibby was always meant to check on the package and walk out. The trap was for the entire merchant's guild, not for them.

"Bastards," Panne muttered under her breath. Her knuckles tightened around the steel pole. "I'm gonna wring that Persian's neck next time I see him."

Nibby exhaled a breath that he'd been holding in since last night, only to suck in another one right after. "Panne. When we were at the temple, what did you see in the vision that Kyurem sent you? You said it was a burning city?"

She rolled her wrist. "Well, burning something-like-that. It was vague as hell, and I couldn't tell if it was my fire or not. It didn't really click until now. It still might not be those damn firebombs, but it's as good of a sign as any that those're bad news."

"What else did you see? Was that the end of it, or was there any more?"

"I mean, yeah, but I walked into the fuckin' wall and bumped myself out of it. I don't even remember it all that well. But it was...hot inside of a glacier. I felt the flames. I know I did."

Nibby just shook his head, pushing back the mounting feeling of dread that made its home inside of his rib cage. "You shouldn't have interrupted it. Dammit. Let's just find someone on duty and get this over with."

...

Alexander fidgeted in place, tightening and relaxing his coils in an idle rhythm as he waited for the train to come to a stop. It felt awkward to shuffle so much in front of a stoic line of knights, but it was beyond his control at this point. He could at least take solace in the fact that Reinhardt was going through the same thing, brushing back his royal garb now and again in agitation.

When the train finally did come to a halt, a small armament of guards stepped up to oversee a number of safety regulations, as well as get this unofficial ceremony underway. There was no real reason to dedicate an entire train solely to the outfit of pokemon that were prematurely returning from their mission, nor was there reason as to why there needed to be so much security here in the first place. It was simply an unspoken word-the invisible hand that made tradition out of nothing. Well, the hand wasn't invisible. She would be getting off shortly, and that's what Alexander dreaded most.

The soldiers and knights that departed from the train were met with a brisk salute from everyone else already present. Many immediately traveled further down the line to start assessing the cars that were carrying their equipment, but a few started to form their ranks on the sidelines. Meanwhile, Alexander crossed Reinhardt's eyes, and the two of them shared a preemptive sigh of exasperation.

Finally, the rhythmic sound of clopping hooves exited from the metalwork of the train and clacked against the stone platform. The last one to leave was the commander-as was always the unspoken rule. Virizion immediately regarded the king with a tired scowl.

"Welcome back, Virizion," Reinhardt belted out with a nod. "I take it your journey went well. Did the campaign fare similarly?"

"I wouldn't say that a half-finished battle 'fared well', Reinhardt. That band of pirates will be back to full strength by summertime, and our merchants will feel it all too well." Virizion hobbled forward. The signs of her age were already abundantly clear in the involuntary shaking that her movements possessed, which only added on to the dulled colors of her fur or the patchiness of her coat. Nevertheless, looks could never be more deceiving.

Alexander frowned right back. "That will be a problem for another time, I'm afraid. Since you've arranged to return so early, I suppose you're already vaguely familiar with the current situation."

"I know enough to be disappointed," she croaked, turning back to Reinhardt. "I was only meant to be gone for a few months, and look at what's happened to this place. You've practically lost half the town already."

"That's a gross exaggeration," the Chesnaught shot back. "It's no worse than the riots we had last year. It's just the tensions of winter is all. The situation is already under control, and by the day we get a firmer grasp on it."

Virizion stuck her nose up. "That's all washed-out political talk. You know damn well that the harder you squeeze on rebellious surges like this, the more likely it is that it will slip between your fingers. That's the nature of these things. You must expunge the problem rather than just pushing it back and hoping that warm weather solves the issue. Pull from the roots, not the stem."

"It's not as simple as that," Alexander said. "We-"

"Oh, but it is, Alex," she cut him off. "It always is. You've just muddled up the process with papers and order. Shardurr's the one that's finally started making moves, is it? That's not surprising. Do you still have that contact of yours?"

He sighed. "Yes, I still have an informant. But there's much more involved here than just an unruly gang overstepping their bounds. I already have pieces in play. We must keep the situation as stable as possible until I know everything is in place!"

"And when will everything be in place? After you have revolutionaries knocking at your door? You'll have to brief me on the full situation as we go. Either way I don't have time to play the bureaucracy game-not when Paradise is like this. Captain!"

From the lines of knights emerged Kommo-o in a cacophony of steel plates that echoed throughout the station. The dragon took a kneel before his superior.

"The situation appears to have deteriorated considerably under your leadership, captain. I will personally look into dissecting the report of the night that The Family was dissolved and find where you went wrong. Now that I'm here, I will be retaking command of the Knighthood from you until further notice! Is this clear?"

The affirmative bark made by the entire rank and file boomed through the long building.

Reinhardt clapped his hands together. "Master Virizion. Your assistance in these trying times is especially valuable, but-"

"Just spit it out, Reinhardt. You know how I feel about dealing with formalities when we're not in public."

"...Just don't stir the hive too much, Virizion. This isn't like last time. I have a feeling that we might be preparing for the worst, and I'd rather not it get out of hand too early."

She grunted in affirmation, then gestured for Kommo-o to rise with a flick of her horns. "We'll have to see. I won't make any compromises if it's to protect the city, you know. The time to tiptoe around these lowlifes has long since passed. If they want a fight so bad, we should give it to them."