This story was co-developed by Titan127 and beta read by ShonnaRose and JhinoftheOpera.
[13-1] Faith Goes Both Ways
Master.
That was his only working hypothesis for a phrase common throughout Sinnoh's Unown writing. It was often paired with a similar term—servant—which, breaking some earlier suggestions, wasn't used to describe the relationship between humans and Pokémon. They considered Pokémon to be their equals. Who, then, were these ancient peoples the masters of?
Sitting in a similarly ancient, disused parking structure in the 64th district of Veilstone, an outlying suburb that awkwardly snaked out onto Route 215, Saber poured over his materials once again. It was deep into the night, or maybe morning, and he only had his flashlight to confirm that he still existed in physical space. His father's mantle fell around his shoulders, its heavy fabric beating back the cold.
Above him, he was aware, hung Gligar that weren't his own. This place had become a nest for the creatures, and occasionally he was showered by low screams as they leapt from their perches and soared out a high window into the night. Thinking about them, and debating letting his own Pokémon join them, was his way of distracting himself from what he'd found.
Saber should have rejoiced at the discovery. In one fell swoop, it cracked open massive sections of the samples he had found at ruins sites and received from Professor Carolina. Were he to guess, he was about forty percent complete a working, baseline translation, and his pace was only accelerating as concepts interconnected into one, magnificent network. However, referencing his mother's materials made his blood freeze, and he became one with the coming Sinnohan winter.
That phrase, 'master,' was used five times in the notebook's final whimper.
Who was the master by which she referred? A novice answer would have been that it referred to the relationship between her and her Pokémon or her and her husband—the former was simply poor Pokémon training, and the latter would be concerning news to him. But, in context of the passage, and knowing his mother as he did, he was certain that it was someone else.
It could be, screamed his desperate mind, the interloper. The intruder upon the Ruins of Alph, the galvanizing event that drew a bloody trail to the 29th of August. An endless line of faces flashed behind his eyes as he imagined the eyes behind the shrouded figure's metaphorical mask.
He slammed shut his book, sealing the stone door to his thoughts, when the echoes of footsteps ricocheted between the concrete. His flashlight went dark just as quickly, and he held his breaths within his chest. The steps hunted to his left, then, after he swore they had vanished, they suddenly thundered in his right ear. Saber nearly crushed the capsule he readied in his palm.
"It's me," the person said.
Saber reignited the beam, which gleamed first off the dark metal of Mr. Redwood's sidearm and then on the soft curves of his face. He placed the flashlight down at his side, barely outlining the rusted shapes standing in the space.
"Is it necessary that you lead with the handgun?" he asked.
Mr. Redwood holstered the offending weapon. "Pardon me for being jumpy when I'm committing treason against the state, sir. My Nuzleaf is sitting outside with a root network of Grass Knots. If anyone trips them on their way in, we'll know."
He hopped over a wound in the concrete to take an uneasy seat next to him. His entire outfit, vest pockets and belt full of items to break engagements, rustled as he moved.
"I scouted the port before I arrived, but it'll take time for me to secure you tickets and a route through the city between my commitments to the investigation," he said, without feeling.
"I apologize. I would normally elect to fly, but none of my Pokémon could survive cold flight for more than hour. It's frustrating to do this during winter months," replied Saber, offhandedly while writing tens words a second. He offered a dry curiosity to fill the quiet. "You and your Pokémon have quite the skillset. Did you learn that before you joined?"
"My father owns a pretty property outside Fortree in Hoenn, kind of far and not easy to deliver supplies to, so I grew up tracking and hunting wilds to feed the household. The IP came to the estate to interview my father for an investigation, and I guess they were impressed seeing me in action enough that they called our commander down from the Grand Axis to scout me himself. It probably helped my case that we're both Hoenn natives."
Using his flashlight, Saber recorded a close catalog of his features. His shaggy hair and limber curves seemed like they would blend into the wilderness, if not for the layers of padding he wore. He admitted that he wouldn't have pinned Mr. Redwood for an outdoorsman at first, but then again, most people would fail to pin "linguistic scholar" on someone standing 200 centimeters with shoulders as broad as his.
"It's also why I'm used to being awake at odd hours," he said, motioning to the darkness. "But why are you?"
"I've been occupied with my notes," said Saber.
"That's no excuse. You're making yourself vulnerable."
"Trust me when I say I'm in good health. I only need to sleep when I'm greatly injured."
"You're killing me here, sir. That's how Pokémon work." It was an interesting observation, but Mr. Redwood apparently didn't find that line of thought to be a worthwhile investment. "Have you made any more progress on that message?"
Saber didn't so much as touch the notebook by his side, leaving it firmly sealed on the cold floor. Master. If that really was the person behind it all, then decoding the message might just give him the answer he was looking for. He was grasping closer and closer to the truth, but there was no limit to how terrifying that possibility was.
Was it Dr. Cassius? Maybe his warning about meeting the same fate as his parents hadn't been just that—it had been a threat. A clear ultimatum not to fly closer to the sun, lest the flames be cast upon him. This information was a poison, and he was testing how long it would take to spread from his brain to his heart.
"It's nothing concerning," he said, then froze at the agent's narrowed eyes. He hated to be dishonest, and that left him floundering when lying was the safest option.
"Err… that sounds an awful lot like 'I found something'," replied Mr. Redwood.
His next option, he decided, was to be firm. He wanted to hold tight to his secrets so they couldn't lay their scars on anyone else. Saber stared straight through the agent and said, "Please, leave this to me. I'd much prefer it that way."
The shaggy-haired man raised three fingers, leaving his index finger and thumb closed, into the flashlight's beam, which grabbed Saber's eyes like a Hypno's swinging pendulum.
"I know exactly three things about you," said Mr. Redwood. He curled each finger in sequence as he explained. "You're the son of Cynthia and Lance Masuta. You're a graduate student in linguistics and language history. You're a Pokémon Trainer." He paused. "That's all."
Saber eyed his now-closed fist. "I assume you intend to make a point."
"My job here is dependent on information. Until you give me some, I don't know if I've made the correct decision." He bared the teeth of his words, though Saber still thought they lacked bite. He had proven his reputation as a tracker, but not as a hunter willing to ensnare his prey.
Saber shot to his feet and felt the cloak spill dust that it had collected during his immobile study. He paced through dilapidated concrete, unconcerned with Mr. Redwood's watching and waiting, and funneled his desires into his steps—boundless movement that was ultimately wasted. The Gligar shifted above and snapped their pincers at a new rival to their territory.
"I don't understand why you're hiding things from me. You're being a child," the agent said.
He turned his footsteps suddenly towards the man. Hands met weapons and feet met stone as Mr. Redwood rocketed to a stand, sensing the approach's intent. Saber let the gun's barrel marry his solar plexus.
"Please hold your tongue. Do you believe I like keeping secrets? Do you prefer to think I chose to act like this, when not even three months ago I was happily sharing every ounce of my research with my professors and begging with my mother about the doctoral dissertation I've always wanted to write?" His comparatively massive hand clamped around his forearm, merely a few misplaced muscle movements from turning two bones into four.
Though Mr. Redwood showed no visible fear, Saber could feel his ribs tremble with the subtle sways of his gun. "I don't believe you like it, nor do I believe—"
"The last person I trusted might have killed my mother and father!"
The roar escaped him without his consent. Mr. Redwood didn't disrespect him enough to be smug, and he was strangely sobered by the declaration, but he didn't back away.
"Is that not enough for you?" Saber felt his wrist grow tense.
After searching for a reply, Redwood wielded a tone so level it must have been rehearsed beforehand. "If you believed trust was the issue, then you wouldn't have accepted that woman's help in Celestic Valley. You're not being logical."
Saber swallowed his objection, only to play with it on his tongue as he found himself misstepping whatever thoughts had been swelling. The events of a few days ago rushed back to him, when he was on his knees in front of that ode to his father. He had been broken. He had been vulnerable. "It was a mistake. I won't allow it to happen again."
"Stop rationalizing reasons to keep people out. I know just enough about you to say you don't want to do that."
"If you wish to support me, just have faith," muttered Saber.
"Faith goes both ways, Sebastian." He reached into Saber's cloak, the coldness at his fingertips tingling his skin through his dress shirt, and grabbed hold of the stem of the flower. It had been sitting in his shirt pocket beneath the mantle, and one of its petals had already been lost to the biting winter. Another was browning at the edges. "Others have already done their part."
Saber, wordless as a newborn, couldn't even meet his eye. Mr. Redwood took that as his answer and stormed back to the doorway. Only the polished jewels of his eyes reflected back the stray waves bouncing off rusted metal.
"I prefer to take my chances," said Saber.
"I know." Behind the innocuous phrase, there was a whisper of disenchantment.
The man vanished. He was undoubtedly securing the perimeter again, weaving his invisible defenses around their abandoned fortress.
Despite the promise of protection, Saber couldn't find himself comfortable inside the undulating currents of his consciousness. His continuous logical machine connected yet more characters and phrases of the language while spontaneously pounding on the thought of his next destination.
Snowpoint Temple was, with optimism, the final step of his grand journey. It was one of the last notes in his mother's record before the mural, the location of a dig site managed by Dr. Cassius himself, and one of the only remaining sources of surviving Unown inscription in the Sinnoh Region. He had only switched gears towards Celestic because of his suspicion about the doctor, but now there was no where left to go. He was confident that his translation would soon be complete.
After years of being buried—supposedly at the request of his father and his clan—the Unown language would finally be revealed to the world. Saber savored the flavor of that pride, that his dissertation was going to crack open a fissure in the linguistic community that his mother had refused to dig. But more than that, he pictured standing in a gilded courtroom, swearing under oath that everything he said was the truth and nothing but the truth, and seeing the face on the witness stand wide with fear.
He wasn't afraid to burn up, but he was scared to spread the fire. However, could he truly deliver that justice by himself?
He wouldn't have survived the endless chase by the International Police without Mr. Redwood, that much was true. He wouldn't have known about the theft of the Adamant Orb if he hadn't spoken to Dr. Carolina, that was true. He wouldn't even have been on this journey were it not for being convinced by Dr. Furutre to seek answers. True.
Saber held his mother's notes, his father's cloak, his sister's love, and a beautiful verdant flower. He had never been alone, and wish as he might, he never could be.
The Gligar scattered when he broke into a sprint to the base of the building, his steps on the concrete louder than gunshots. He vaulted over a waylaid, abandoned vehicle sprouting vines and threw himself out the second story, too impatient to take one more flight of stairs. The forest-haired man was kneeling on the ground beside his Nuzleaf against a horizon of darkened trees when he hit the grass.
"Mr. Redwood!" he shouted, afraid the man would fly away. His Dragonite's capsule was already in hand.
The agent turned to him. Silent. Judging. Waiting.
"I'll tell you," Saber said. "I'll tell you everything."
Hey, welcome back! I'll cut right to the chase and say you've probably noticed a big change with this story, which I enacted a few days ago at the time of publishing this chapter. What was originally the first twelve chapters has now been split into 53, divided up into what I'm referring to as "Volumes" and their component "Parts". This is all a fancy form of packaging; a "Volume" is just my original definition of a chapter, and each part is a smaller segment (perhaps a little more tailored to be read by itself than before) that I can publish in increments rather than all at once.
I mostly came up with this because some of my recent chapters have been getting longer and longer, and I've been going longer and longer without updates. I'll try to publish weekly if I can, assuming that I have enough parts ready, and I hope this new content model works a bit better for my readers. To be candid, I don't like this. I prefer longer chapters as a reader and the longer model was what fit my storytelling methods best, but after a certain point I got ready to concede a bit to at least see what the jury thinks.
All of this is to say, come back next week for 13-2: Rebellion is a Form of Therapy. See you someday!