17th Winter Moon, 907

"I still can't believe it. I was asked to make a sculpture for someone. It's honestly surreal."

Asterio looked up from the book he was reading and looked over at Angelo as he chiseled in a rectangular rock the size of a jar. Angelo looked between the rock and a picture laying next to it occasionally before chipping more of the rock away.

While it was expected for there to be a close bond between a prince and his bodyguard, it was seen as strange for one to commune in such idle chitchat. The standard devolved purely to business, though the Visconti family had a loose policy on formal etiquette, at least in private setting. In the public eye, Angelo stood guard of both the prince and his twin sister, keeping watch for shifty characters. In the comforts of the castle, such as the personal lounge area, they spoke no differently than friends. Of course, Angelo did most of the talking for both of them.

"That so?" Asterio muttered as he flipped a page.

"Honestly, he could've gone to any other sculptor in the city and he might've gotten something better than what I could pull off. He seemed adamant I could complete his request, though." Angelo spun the chisel in his hand. "Maybe he took pity on me since I was in a rut, but who knows? At least I have something to do so I don't drive myself crazy."

"Mhmm," Asterio hummed, skimming through his book.

"You ever get like that, Your Highness?"

"Every day when I am around my sisters," he answered, flipping a page.

"I have to say, it's odd I even found you up here. I thought you would be hanging out in the archives."

Asterio sighed. "Monica is busy reorganizing the archives with that Snivy knight who arrived."

Angelo snorted. "Wait, you mean to tell me someone actually found the time to clean up that mess?"

"Astounding, is it not? I could actually see the floor."

Angelo chuckled. "I feel sorry for that Snivy. I wonder how Monica roped her into it. Maybe she just took pity on the mess."

Asterio shook his head. "Well, I have not been able to spend much time with her since that knight arrived. She wanted to show me more of those obscure laws she keeps finding. I am not terribly interested, but it makes her happy."

Angelo smirked. "I think you mean it makes you happy."

Asterio looked away. "Hush."

Angelo shrugged. "Whatever. You could see if she's free right now."

"She went out to do some dress shopping. She wanted to go to the showing of La caduta dei grandi cavalieri tomorrow. She asked me for tickets, so I pulled some strings and got her some."

Angelo tapped his hammer against his chin. "La caduta dei…oh yeah, I know that play. It's a classic. You, uh, sure you want her going out so late by herself?"

"She will have the Snivy with her."

"I'm just saying, you know the night attracts some unsavory individuals."

Asterio rolled his eyes. "What braindead idiot would go around stirring up trouble here? Practically a death sentence with Grim looming the streets."

Angelo thought it over, then shrugged. "Eh, fair enough. You sure you don't want to go and keep an eye on Monica?"

He huffed and closed his book. "Do you not have a sculpture to finish?"

Angelo raised his hands. "Fine, fine, don't throw a hissy fit at me. I know how protective you and Evangelina get over Monica. If you asked me to, I would go undercover and keep an eye on her myself."

"It is fine," Asterio assured. "I do not want Monica thinking I am babying her. I know how rough it is dealing with my younger sisters, among other things, at least."

Angelo chuckled. "You're a real softie."

"I will kill you."

"Ah, there's the Asterio I know and respect." Angelo put his hammer and chisel down and leaned back on his hands, grinning at the shiny Frillish. "I could use a break. The training hall should be empty. Want to get some sparring in? It'll take your mind off Monica, right?"

Asterio sighed and set his book aside. "Well, I have not been able to effectively spar since my time in the Senbo Kingdom, so why not? I do, however, want to make sure Monica gets lunch first."

"Isn't she in the city right now?"

"You know how forgetful she gets. I will just make her a lunch and drop it off at the archives for when she gets back." He floated out of his chair and toward the door. "Go on ahead without me."

Angelo picked up his belongings. "Yeah, sure thing." Asterio exited the lounge. Now alone, Angelo smirked openly and shook his head. "Trying not to baby her? Yeah, sure."

With the day rolling into the noon, much of the activity within Fabrice's group situated within their adobe burrow outside the castle walls. It was what they collectively agreed to be a slow day, so they didn't bother leaving the camp. Not even the twins, now fully invested in their crazy scheme for their final exam. Fabrice felt a twinge of concern that they were getting too invested into the test, but decided not to squander their enjoyment. He feared that would come back to bite him, though.

Melissa and Klaus, meanwhile, concerned themselves working out the details to their own final exam. Klaus scribbled away on some parchment, muttering plans under his breath, while Melissa openly expressed her frustration in grunts, looking between her notes and the map she riddled with dotted lines.

She threw the paper down and leaned back against the hardened mud walls. "This is so aggravating!"

Fabrice strummed quietly on his lute as he looked over to her. "Still having trouble with your final exam?"

"I just do not know what I want to steal. I do not want to do something boring and simple, but I need to keep it realistic."

Klaus looked up and deadpanned. "You do realize the twins plan on stealing a house, right?"

"That is even more insane!" Melissa exclaimed.

The twins stuck their tongues out. "Says you!"

Melissa groaned and covered her face. "I do not know the city all that well to make a conclusive decision. The riches of the nobility are one thing, but is there more I could do?"

Fabrice looked down at his lute. "Well, you can still do something simple. You just got to make sure it reflects well on your leadership skills. You could steal a hat off someone's head without them noticing, but that doesn't really prove your leadership skills beyond scouting and stealing. It has to be a well-coordinated heist that demonstrates the skills you learned, the ability to adapt, and the charisma and authority of a leader. Breaking into an antique shop would be a reasonable direction."

"He's not wrong," Klaus interjected. "That's actually what I plan on doing."

Melissa gasped. "You have already decided?"

Klaus nodded. "There's this antique clock being made for a wealthy client in the capital. It's big and obvious, the shop's in a dense location, and there's only two routes I can take to make off with it. If I can work with whoever I'm assigned to, I should have a flawless strategy in motion."

Melissa whined and slid to the ground. "Everyone has an idea but me. I might as well steal a hat…"

Fabrice shrugged. "It's not the end of the world. You could always try again when we host the exams next year."

"But I want to do this now. I may sound impatient, but I need the leadership experience." She sat up and sighed. "I am so desperate, I may ask Gold and Jewel for an idea."

The twins stopped their prattling and grinned at Melissa. "Oh~?"

"Regretting those words immediately."

The cats slid over and hooked their arms around her. "We could help you, dear princess—" Gold assured.

"For the measly cost of that fancy locket—" Jewel started.

Melissa bonked them on the heads and huffed. "Not on your lives."

"Ow…" they groaned, sliding back to their spot.

Klaus snickered. "You've become more aggressive."

"Jet is rubbing off on me, it appears." Melissa crossed her arms and looked up at the grass covering over their heads. "I have never been the most creative person growing up. I stuck mostly to logic based literature or my lessons. Exercising my imagination seems like a lost cause."

"Maybe that's what you need to improve on," Fabrice suggested.

Melissa blinked in confusion. "I am not following."

"Instead of worrying over the exam, you should improve your imagination. The thing about being a leader, aside from assuring the trust of those under you, you need to learn to adapt to the worst situations, even if they're out of your control."

"Still not following."

"Plans can go awry, sometimes because the people you're conspiring against have outsmarted you. However, if you outsmart them back by doing the unthinkable, you can generally get…interesting results, to say the least." Fabrice rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Something too crazy or wild that no one could've foreseen. And if you have the trust of your underlings, they will go along with the plan as best as they can. Throwing in an unexpected factor can make the difference between failure and success, even if the results are messy. You just need to prove you can handle the stress."

Melissa frowned. "Okay, I see your point, but how does one exercise their imagination?"

Klaus smirked. "Princess, you are in the kingdom known for celebrations and art. Take a wild guess."

"Hmm…" Melissa stared at the ground for a moment with a pensive expression, occasionally looking over her shoulder. She then stood up and started climbing out of the camp.

"Where are you off to?" Fabrice asked.

"I am going to take a walk and see if anything inspires me." She pushed the covering up and crawled out. "I will be back later!"

"Stay safe!" Klaus yelled.

"I will!" Melissa closed the covering behind her.

Fabrice played with the strings on his lute while Klaus went back to his own planning. Fabrice said, "Realistically, I could give her a suggestion that would score her the best results."

Klaus nodded. "True, though she needs this. She'll worry herself into a corner unless she finds the answer herself."

"As long as she doesn't take literal example from the capital's artwork. May Arceus grant us mercy is she tries to replicate the monumental tasks of the gods just to steal someone's hat."

"Or their house."

"Hey!" the twins yelled.

Klaus smirked to himself and focused back on his planning.

"Finding inspiration through art, huh?" Melissa mumbled as she strolled through the city, hands tucked behind her head. "Easier said than done. How much interpretation would I get out of a statue? I suppose stealing the head of a statue might count for something."

After some turns and numerous stops to ask for directions, Melissa found herself in front of the capital's well-renown art museum. She took a deep breath and went inside, taking in the variety of different pieces on display. Someone with a critical eye could evaluate the status of these works and why they were so renowned and beloved, but the best Melissa could offer was a simple compliment on how pretty the colors were or how lifelike the statues were.

She will admit, though, some of the paintings were indeed eye-catching just by their colors. Though the meaning was lost on her, the superficial of the image wasn't. Some depicted the flight of the grounded Pokémon through supernatural means, such as wings sprouting from featherless limbs, with the background enveloped in a beautifully drawn sun radiating with warm colors that bled into the sky. Others seemed more down-to-earth, more akin to simple portraits that had a unique charm in their simplicity.

The ones that caught her attention depicted the gods, however. The ancestor of all Pokémon, Mew, appeared the most in some pictures. Scriptures of the ancient ancestor depicted him as a floating pink cat creature with a long tail, and that reflected in most of the paintings with some creative liberties in a few. It made sense given he was the ancient ancestor, so changing the appearance may better reflect that.

Melissa smiled to herself. Ooh, did I interpret a painting? Look at me, I am a connoisseur of the arts! She giggled, then continued looking through the art.

Some art seemed to tell a story of their own, such as the images found on old vases. One in particular had four painted sides depicting the journey of a young man coming across some strange creature that seemed to provide wealth until the man became a king. Someone with nothing to their name offered help by a creature interpreted to have untold power, or at least as far as Melissa could tell. She wasn't familiar with all the gods to know who was who.

One painting she passed depicted a creature who, to her amazement, was portrayed with a large noggin riding upon their steed. The background of the painting itself stuck out to her. One side covered in snow and ice, the other wrapped in darkness. The steed itself seemed obscure, almost featureless, like accounts of the steed in mythology are unknown.

Melissa kept walking and skimming through the paintings passively. I must admit, there are some fascinating pieces here. I doubt I would be able to paint something so captivating in my life. Of course, being a princess, a terrible drawing of my own may be displayed just to win my favor. She sighed and shook her head. Less of a confidence booster than just failing.

She stopped and crossed her arms, looking down at her feet. I do not want to be seen as helpless, either. How would it look in all my efforts if I could not overcome my weaknesses? As impressive as all this art is, it is not boosting my confidence. I always wondered what people took away from seeing art. It is nice, but is it really moving? How can a single image change your perspective?

She sighed and shook her head. Maybe I should ask Fabrice for advice. At this point, I will take anything. She turned around and started back the way she came in. She gave a passing glance to the other paintings she hadn't seen yet, but stopped on one. Hmm?

She doubled back and stared at it more intently. Of all the paintings to catch her attention, this one should've been on the low end of the list. It wasn't eye catching to her, filled with harsh dark colors bordering on shadows, like someone painted the cluttered space of a storeroom at midnight. There were shapes and a defined figure among the art, but it didn't seem to stand out.

The painting depicted a Pangoro barely illuminated in the dark space of the painting. Their clothes were just as dark and dreary as the background. It showed the panda performing a fighting technique of which Melissa couldn't begin to identify. At first glance, it just seemed like a painting of a martial artist.

What a strange piece to display. What is this one called? Melissa read the plaque under it. It was written in Echo Bell's dominant language, but Melissa had enough experience learning about the kingdom to partially understand it.

L'anima dell'ombra. Okay. I think the first part means "The soul". But what was this last word again? Ombra? Ombra, ombra…

"What does ombra mean?"

"The soul of the shadow."

"The soul of the—EEP!" Melissa spun around and raised her fists. "I am armed!" She blinked, then looked up at the muscular figure towering over her. She gasped. "Oh, Armant!"

The Machamp bent down and grinned. "Fancy seeing you here, shrimp."

Melissa sighed in relief and lowered her arms. "You spooked me."

"You're surprisingly skittish, shrimp. Got something to hide?"

She smiled awkwardly. "Oh no, nothing like that." She eased up and said, "I did not expect to see you here. I did not take you for an art enthusiast."

"Hey, when you've got nothing to do, you make the most of it. Thought I'd swing by and see all the fancy stuff." He stood up and crossed his arms. "I see you've taken a special interest in this particular piece."

"Oh? Oh, yeah." Melissa faced the painting again. "Sort of. I was just a little confused by it. Seems pretty plain compared to the other paintings. A bit ominous, I will admit."

Armant grinned. "Have you tried looking closer?"

"Closer?"

"Read that plaque again. Anything strange about the one who painted it?"

Melissa looked at the plague and squinted. She could quickly pick out anything that resembled a name, but found no such identification. "Nothing?"

"This piece was found in the Great Ruins around a hundred years ago, back when folks were a little braver. This was collected from the ruins by a member of the Echo Bell Kingdom and brought back for the king. It went unappreciated for some time, but most don't see what's actually hidden in the painting."

"What is actually hidden?"

"When it was discovered, enthusiasts went nuts trying to decipher its meaning. You'll notice the Pangoro takes up most of the left side. That right side still has a bit of unoccupied dark space, right?"

Melissa narrowed her eyes and peered closer at the painting. As Armant said, the right side of the painting contained more dark space, which may have added to the unnerving feeling she felt. It seemed incomplete somehow, like something should go there. She leaned as close as she can at the painting, trying to find something.

It was staring right back at her.

She gasped and nearly tripped over herself. It was almost impossible to see, even under the lighting of the museum. In complete darkness, it was completely invisible. In the light, still nearly impossible to see unless you focused hard enough.

Two orbs peering through the darkness, hiding within the warrior's shadow. They were basically a few shades brighter than the black space. The difference was negligible, yet nuanced. The perfect shade of black mixed with a brighter color to create the phantom of a creature lurking within the shadow. Red, perhaps?

"Whoa," she awed.

Armant nodded. "It's not a famous painting around here, but it's an appreciated work of art."

"What is that creature?" she asked.

Armant shrugged. "Who knows? Could be a god, or maybe a mythical Pokémon. Or maybe those aren't eyes. I don't know, art gets confusing when you bring up interpretations."

"Incredible." Now that she saw the eyes, she couldn't take her own off them. Something about it felt magnetizing, drawing her in. She may not get it, but she found newfound appreciation for the painting herself. Perhaps someone more experienced in mythology could tell her the meaning.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and looked up at Armant. He grinned. "Well, since we ran into each other, want to grab a bite to eat?"

Have you ever experienced a time where you were just enjoying your meal only for it to be ruined by some loudmouthed, strange, wannabe performer? Oddly specific, but the people of Echo Bell know best.

Some Pokémon partook in a hot breakfast in the chilly morning when the overbearing Frediano jumped onto the scene, landing on their table and subsequently their food. Frediano paid no mind to their enraged reactions as he scoured the streets with the utmost vigilance.

"Once again, the great Frediano continues his search for the elusive Foresters, no doubt in hiding for their next big ploy. What do they intend to steal this time around? Perhaps rob the local museums of their fine art, or drain the poor nobles of their riches like the parasitic leeches those lowdown thieves are? Nay, regardless of their actions, their fates are inevitable! The great Frediano shall not be deterred! You may run and hide, vile wicked spirits, but Frediano will find you! Your skill in the wicked arts is no match for my style and beauty! Tremble as I—"

"(Um, excuse me!)" the angry Flygon finally yelled. "(What do you think you're doing?!)"

"(You are standing in our breakfast!)" the equally irate Ivysaur yelled.

Frediano looked down at them, then sighed. "(Can you please keep it down? I am in the middle of my great monologue. You could do yourselves a favor and at least record my words. You see before you the greatest actor known to Pokémon kind!)"

"(Get lost or else!)" the Flygon growled, slamming his hands down on the table.

"(You dare yell at the great Frediano? Do you not know who I—)"

"(Constable!)" the Ivysaur cried out to a passing Claydol in a blue uniform. "(Remove this ingrate at once!)"

"(Ingrate?!)" Frediano gasped. "(Now listen here, I—)" He froze as he and the Claydol made eye contact. If one could see the face the Weavile made under his mask, it would be one of disbelief. "Oh no."

The Claydol's numerous eyes slanted into a glare. "(You again?! Didn't I catch you yesterday making a scene at the library?)"

Frediano raised his hands. "(Look, in all fairness, my presence is much more inviting than dusty old—)"

"(You're under arrest, you little imp!)" Claydol exclaimed, telekinetically removing chunks of ground from the road.

Frediano slowly lowered his hands. "…Point made." He turned and beelined down the road.

"(Get back here!)" Claydol flew after the fleeing Weavile. "(You cannot escape the law!)"

"Yes, I fear the spotlight loves me a bit too much!" Frediano yelled back as he weaved through confused bystanders. "Would my autograph be enough to dismiss my supposed transgressions?"

"(Ancient Power!)" The Claydol summoned a transparent afterimage of himself, shaped it into a sphere, and fired.

Frediano jumped over it and scaled across a building. "Really? Do you not know how much my autograph is worth?!" He hopped off awnings, lampposts and umbrellas connected to tables as the irate constable gained on him. Of all the times to be thankful for my Dark-Type.

"(I will use force if necessary!)" Claydol yelled.

"The Ancient Power was you not using force?!" Frediano sighed and backflipped through the air. "You leave me no choice, good sir! Time for my spectacular exit!"

"(Ancient—)"

Before the constable could fire off his next attack, Frediano torqued through the air and surrounded himself in a vortex of water. Crystal sparkles flowed through the water until visible rings of frost wrapped around the outside. He dove straight into the road.

"Behold, my most powerful move! Dramatic Exit!"

The vortex struck the ground and exploded into a mist of sparkling snow. Claydol stopped and covered his face as a thick wave struck him. He used Rapid Spin to divert the snow, then scanned the road. To his utter confusion, Frediano had completely disappeared.

"(Gah! Where'd that freak go? Get back here!)" Claydol continued down the street, passing the scared bystanders.

Near the snowfall, Frediano peeked his head out from behind a barrel, then sighed in relief. "Good grief, do people not appreciate talent these days? I give them the monologue of the century and they shoo me away like lower class trash. Unbelievable! These people should be begging me for a performance!" He turned around and marched into the alleyway.

"Has my home kingdom lost touch with the fine arts since the last time I was here? How can they not appreciate my stunning performance? These fools know nothing. Why, they practically begged me to perform on the stage before I left my former home! Nothing but prudes without an ounce of culture. I dare say—"

Frediano fell out of his rant as his leg kicked into something, causing him to lose his balance and fall right onto his face. The impact caused his mask to bounce off and clattered across the cobblestone path.

Frediano picked himself up and rubbed his face. "Although, I am grateful the spotlight wasn't shining on me during that performance." He felt around for his mask. "Where is that darn thing?"

"Looking for this, fancy boy?"

Frediano felt the mask being handed into his claws. He peeked through his hand and looked up at a Cacturne. Grim in his expression, with dark circles and a hazy atmosphere. He wore a black, leather-strapped coat with gray pants, along with a long scarf hanging around his neck. He had a toothpick hanging in his mouth, which seemed off to Frediano since he never saw Cacturne with teeth. Though, he certainly adored the added flair.

What he didn't like, however, was the intimidating shovel the man held over his shoulder. Frediano didn't often ascribe shovels to be intimidating, and yet this one seemed to add to the cactus' look. Aside from the dark wood base and the sharpened scoop, Frediano focused on the word popping out along the edge.

Moros.

Fate and doom. Frediano placed his mask back on and stood up. "Thank you for giving my mask back. Can I interest you in my autograph?"

The cactus wiggled his toothpick around, then huffed. "Busy."

"Too busy to obtain my autograph? No such thing!"

Cacturne's stoic expression remained rigid as he lifted his shovel and pointed it past Frediano. "Do you even know what you tripped on?"

Frediano looked over his shoulder. "No, can't say I do—" He gasped and stumbled back over his heels. The Cacturne caught him just as Frediano tripped over something else. He looked down and gawked at what was below his feet, then searched the entire alleyway. How had he not noticed? He was usually so aware of his surroundings!

Bodies. Bodies littered through the alleyway.

Luna peeked into the box containing her dress for the opera she planned to attend. She didn't want to think about how long it took her to decide on something. She wanted to grab the first thing she saw, but Monica's insistence on matching her green skin and finding the right fit overwhelmed her a lot. Luna was thankful her parents never made her attend fancy events before she became a knight.

It was a simple white dress with green accentuated the shoulders, waist, skirt, etc. In some way, Luna was thankful for Monica's badgering because the dress did look nice. In fact, it felt nice to do hang out with someone outside of a professional setting.

She sighed and closed the box. "This place is getting to me."

"How so?"

Luna bent her head back and looked up at Jane, who Luna decided to check on since she had been so busy upon their arrival. From the looks of things, the Rapidash was enjoying her time hanging out with the other steeds. Excellent meals, training grounds, and plenty of males for Jane to flirt with. Jane was in paradise while Luna was swamped with paperwork. Perfectly balanced.

As Jane ate her lunch, Luna looked back at the dress box. "I should be looking for Sir Gerard's information, yet here I am pondering this dress and just…everything."

Jane swallowed and kneeled down beside her. "It's called relaxing. New experience for you?"

"Oh hush." Luna sighed, then looked down. "Do you think I'm putting any unnecessary stress onto myself?"

"You mean besides taking on this momentous task of figuring out what happened to our princess, uncovering some old order associated with some unknown supposed king, and uncovering the secrets of our king?"

"Well, when you put it like that, my life sounds like a mess."

Jane shook her head. "Look, I'm glad you're going to that opera with Monica. No offense, girl, but you need a break. A serious break. You've worked so hard to prove how competent you are as a knight, and you never seem to drop the determination. You could use this time to chill."

Luna frowned. "It's just weird. Whenever people look at me back home, they think 'Wow, a female knight! So amazing!' or 'Why would they let a woman join the knights?'"

"Hmm, weird, I don't remember getting comments like that."

"Perhaps because steeds are seen differently. Just partners to transport their riders. Knights are the only thing people care about."

Jane shrugged. "True, I guess, but it keeps me from getting into the main conflict."

"Meanwhile, somewhere like the Senbo Kingdom, it's less novel and more 'Oh look, another knight'. And yet, I had so much going into my heritage and birthright that the idea of me taking up arms for the kingdom seemed…blasphemous. I'm a noble with a heritage of questionable allegiance, at least according to those who praise Arceus a bit too righteously."

"What are you saying?"

"Monica's strange, but it's the first time in a while someone treated me differently than what I expected. When Matthias saw my potential, he considered me his equal. When Monica and I met, she latched onto me like a friend would. I've never really had friends. Even my kinship with the knights feels professional."

Jane frowned. "Well, I'm hurt."

Luna smiled. "Well, I suppose Monica's the second friend I've made."

"That's better!"

"Still, going out to eat and shopping for clothes? It feels so…different to what I'm used to. I'm expected to take over House Freia, or even merge my house with another, like House Noir. Ugh, no way in hell I want anything to do with Amon."

Jane lay down and chuckled to herself. "Clearer heads often prevail in the end. Even if it's not your thing, going to that opera will do you some good. Sure, you might not understand a single thing they're saying since it's in Echo Bellian, but who cares? You can appreciate a good performance in another language. What are you seeing again?"

Luna shrugged. "I think it's a comedy. Never specified it with Monica, though."

"Well regardless, just enjoy yourself tomorrow. You'll feel much better. Plus, that food festival's coming up next week. You and Monica could go down during the festivities. Or heck, maybe you'll get lucky and run into Gerard there. Who would pass up a festival celebrating food?"

Luna smirked. "Fair, I guess." She leaned back on her hands and took a deep breath. She exhaled, then smiled up at the sky. "Still, it would be nice if I could just…be myself."

"What's stopping you now?"

"I don't think most of Virdis would appreciate a wiccan representing the knights. It's either keep up my public image or tarnish the good name of my family. Can't say I'm too worried about them, though. My mom would kick anyone's ass if they tried and harass her over it. Might not help the situation, but still."

Jane chuckled. "You come from a strange noble house."

"I guess so." Luna sighed. "You might be right. More than anything, I just need to clear my head. Who knows? Maybe all my paranoia is just from the stress." She chuckled. "I've got nothing to worry about."

Once the urge to vomit and the vertigo passed (for the most part), Frediano quietly watched the Cacturne as he went around to each of the bodies and checked their pulses, six in total. He confirmed three of them were just unconscious and propped them up against the wall. One, however, was confirmed deceased.

Though Frediano was more fixated on how he could portray a realistic death for his masterful performances, he concerned his attention onto the wounds, or near lack of. Aside from some cuts and burn marks, the bodies showed no visible signs of lethal damage, especially for the one deceased victim. It seemed unnatural, but he knew well how unnatural the capital was after hours. This was just his first time seeing his handiwork in person.

As the Cacturne walked over to the remaining two bodies, Frediano decided to kill the awkwardness. "So, uh, what are you doing?"

"My job," the Cacturne mumbled as he knelt down and checked for a pulse.

"You just go around to random alleyways and examine bodies?"

"Search for corpses, take them to the morgue. Simple stuff." He stood up and glared at the masked Weavile. "I'm a gravedigger."

"I never thought gravediggers went around collecting corpses."

"The royal family was getting sick and tired of the constant complaints. Dead bodies found in the streets, freaking people out. So, they hire people like me to collect corpses and dispose of them. If anyone's alive, I just contact the authorities and point them to these lugs. I've been working here for the last month."

"Are you the only one doing this?"

"Pretty much. Everyone they've hired before me either couldn't stomach the sight or got annoyed with the late hours. I don't sleep much, so I'm always on the clock."

"And the sight of the dead doesn't turn you away?"

"If you've met my family, you'd know this is literally what I've grown up around. It's less appalling and more a quiet comfort. I enjoy shoveling dirt in the atmosphere of the graveyard while someone like my little sister is more fascinated with funerals and the concept of death."

"I…see." Frediano pulled a quill and parchment out and started taking notes. "What a fantastic idea for a character. My next big role is upon me!"

The Cacturne rolled his eyes. "Uh huh. Well, Mr. Actor, think fast."

"Huh—AH!" Frediano dropped the writing implements and caught the body that was thrown over to him. "AAAAHHHH!"

"Relax, that one's unconscious. Just prop him up beside the others."

Frediano shivered and shuffled over to the other three unconscious crooks. "This is so beneath me…" He dropped the body down and sighed. "What even happened to these guys? I don't see any wounds that would lead to death."

The Cacturne checked the last body for a pulse. "Dead. As for that, I don't know. I'm a gravedigger, not a doctor. We just know who did it."

Frediano crossed his arms. "I assume you refer to that dastardly Grim Deadlock."

He nodded, then picked up the corpse. "I work a lot of late hours, so I have seen him in action from a distance. Death has lost all facets of fear for me, but that guy gives off quite the presence. I advise you stay as far away from trouble as possible."

Frediano crossed his arms and laughed. "Who am I to be afraid of some phantom? The great Frediano is beyond such concepts as well!"

The Cacturne sighed. "Don't expect me to shed a tear when I find your corpse sprawled out on the streets, too. Just stay out of trouble like the rest of these idiots."

"Haha! Your words are appreciate, but wholly unnecessary. Still, why would anyone risk their neck in this capital with such a threat looming about?"

A dark grin stretched onto the cactus' face. "Why else? He's the third most wanted man in Virdis. Catching him would earn someone serious coin. If you don't have a criminal history, or don't do anything remotely illegal, the worst he'll do is batter you and leave you crawling back home in shame. So, like I said, don't try anything stupid."

Frediano chuckled. "Well, it hardly matters. I'm not here for that phantom. I'm on the hunt for Foresters."

The Cacturne looked over his shoulder and raised his brow. "Foresters?"

"That's right. The runts, the elites, the leaders; any one of them would do nicely."

The Cacturne narrowed his eyes, then sighed. "Don't quit your day job, pal." He picked up the two corpses and carried them to the wagon parked outside the alleyway. "Someone like you wouldn't last a minute against the Foresters, much less their elites."

Frediano laughed. "Is that a challenge?"

"Not really—"

"Accepted! Witness as the great Frediano proves his status as the greatest bounty hunter of all time! Remember my name well, gravedigger! You will be the first to be notified of my accomplishments!"

"I really don't care—"

"I am off! Dramatic Exit!" Frediano surrounded himself in water and punched the ground, bursting into a cloud of snow.

The Cacturne blinked, then sighed and dropped the corpses into his wagon. "Weirdo." He grabbed the pull bars up front and drew the wagon away.

Melissa and Armant took a stroll through the city, munching on some pastries. Though ashamed the bakery they went to wasn't serving crème puffs, Melissa helped herself to a muffin. Armant ate a slice of cake while carrying his belongings in his upper arms.

"Mmm~!" Melissa hummed as she licked her lips. "So good~!"

"Trust me, that's nothing compared to the festival coming up," Armant promised, taking a small forkful of cake. "You'll die happy in a food coma by then."

"Oh, I will bet." Melissa looked up at him and smiled. "I have to admit, Armant. Despite how…intimidating your presence is, you are actually a super sweet guy."

Armant laughed. "Is that right? Well, I guess I don't like being scary. I know how intimidating us Machamp can be. Our ancestors were known for their monstrous strength. We'd often tussle with Bewear and other powerhouses to prove our dominance. I was no different when I was your age, seeking power and becoming the strongest. Nowadays, I like to appreciate the finer things in life and…just be a nice guy. Of course, the people I'm indebted to would tell you otherwise! Gahahahahahaha!"

Melissa laughed. "You must have a lot of debts to pay off."

"You have to work hard to control your own strength. Me, personally? It's a struggle. Sometimes you just want to give the poor bastard you're hunting a light toss across the room. Next thing you know, he's laying in someone's bathroom about four buildings away. And that was just from me lightly smacking him."

"So…tons of debts?"

"Oh yeah." Armant took another bite of his cake. "But I'm a man of my word. Even if until it takes until my eighties or nineties, I'll pay off all my debts before I die."

"How remarkably admirable."

"It's the least I can do. I'm hoping this next big score of mine will help out."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I might have gotten tangled up in this little bet to hunt some folks down. It's not important who, but the prize is promising. I could pay off a huge chunk of my debt with the money alone. That's actually another reason I want to find Deadlock. Though I would appreciate the challenge, the bounty on his head would set me for life. I could erase my debts, maybe even keep the leftover money."

"Huh." Melissa nibbled on her muffin for a moment, then said, "You really do not fear what comes ahead of you."

"How so?"

"You seem so confident in your decisions, even if you do not have an actual plan. You are just…hoping everything turns out right for you. You will find your target when you see it, not when you find it yourself. You want to fight Grim Deadlock, but you prioritize the festival over him. On top of that, you are just taking your time with these debts while potentially racking up more."

"Gahahahahaha!" Armant belted. "Call it a self-destructive lifestyle. No matter what, I'm doomed to fail!"

"And yet you are happy?"

"Nothing would make me happier than to fight the three strongest criminals in Virdis. Grim Deadlock, Jason Stormbreaker, and Alban Kyllyngworth. The Three Deadly Storms of Virdis."

Melissa looked up at him. "Why do you want to fight then so badly?"

"Maybe to feel something again."

"Huh?"

Armant shook his head. "Oh, nothing to worry over." He smiled down at her. "What about you? You were surprised to see me interested in art. What's your story?"

"Me?" Melissa frowned and looked down at her muffin. "Well, to tell you the truth, I have been in a rut recently. My friends recommended I go to the museum to find…inspiration."

Armant nodded. "Ah, I see. You're an artist."

"Yeah—wait, what? No!"

"Ah, so an author!"

"No!"

"A sculptor!"

"No!"

"I'm running out of occupations that would make sense."

"I…" Melissa sighed and shook her head. "It is nothing. I…I am trying to improve my leadership skills."

"Through art?"

"It sounded silly when it was suggested to me, but I am basically desperate. It makes sense in context, but I was looking at paintings to get inspiration for…something I need to do."

"Something to do with being a leader?"

"Yeah."

"Ah. You are into politics then?"

"Politics?" Melissa made the motion to protest, but stopped herself. "Uh…y-yeah, something like that, I guess."

Armant sighed. "Let me tell ya, art can have a transformative impact on people. Sometimes it expresses something words cannot. A feeling that would take too long to explain and devolve into ramblings when it can be captured by a single image."

Melissa frowned. "Can I get your advice?"

"Shoot."

"This…leadership problem of mine requires me to make an image for myself. What would be better in the long run? Something akin to a rumor, almost like it's a myth? Or leave an impression on society as a whole?"

Armant paused on her question, then stroked his chin. "Very interesting. I suppose you won't give me more specifics than that?" Melissa shook her head. "Well, I guess that depends on you."

Melissa sighed. "I was afraid that would be your answer."

"However," Armant continued, "I also wager it depends on what your message is. What does the no-name Buneary want with her image? Does she to be a myth ingrained into the memory, or does she want to be a mark on history? Both are valid paths to take, depending on what you seek, of course."

"A myth or history…" Melissa looked down.

"Personally speaking, why not do both?"

Melissa blinked in surprise. "Both?"

Armant grinned. "There's something…charming about being considered a myth, but also making an impact on history. You did exist, and you were seen by people in your time, but…was something so impactful actually real or just some tall tale that wormed its way into the history books? That's the power of an idea. Once they've latched onto history, they become eternal. They represent something incorruptible, something that speaks to the world. Something that…never really goes away."

Melissa raised her brow. "Do you speak from experience?"

Armant shrugged. "Who knows? I'm just saying whatever nonsense comes to mind."

"Awfully introspective nonsense, I say."

"Perhaps." Armant glanced off to the side, then stopped. "Say, if you still need inspiration, why not try something a bit more live?"

"Live?" Melissa doubled back and looked to where he was staring. She gazed up in awe at the grand building towering over her with large stone steps ascending to the dozens of entrance doors. "Whoa. What is—"

"The oldest opera house in the Echo Bell capital," Armant answered. "I heard they were doing a very special production tomorrow night. Maybe you'll find something interesting to take away from the performance."

"Wow. But wait, are these not usually super expensive? I heard the opera house here is populated mainly by nobles. No way you or I could get in."

Armant grinned. "Now, who said anything about purchasing a ticket?"

"Eh?" Melissa blinked twice, then gasped. "EH?!"

"Oh, it'll be fine. Not like the guards here would be able to do much to me."

"But, if we are caught trespassing, not only would the kingdom be after us, but also Grim Deadlock—"

Armant bent down and shushed her. "That's why we won't plan on getting caught. Relax, you've got the best bodyguard to watch over you. As for Grim, while it would suck that I might miss out on the festival, I am interested in meeting him. So, if we do encounter him due to our misdeed, I'll just distract him while you scurry off."

Melissa frowned. "I do not know…"

"Come on, it'll be fun."

"I will not even know what they are saying."

"Trust me, you don't need to understand an opera to enjoy it. Plus, I can just narrate for you. I speak the language here pretty fluently."

"Really?"

"I did say I try my best to attend the festival here, right?"

Melissa laughed awkwardly. "Fair, I guess." She looked back at the opera house. "Still, I promised a friend I would not be out so late by sunset."

Armant grinned. "Oh, what harm in sneaking off for a bit? Besides, I doubt Grim would have much reason to go after someone like you. You're too squishy to be a threat."

Melissa pouted. "Hey…"

"Gahahahahahaha!"

Melissa sighed, then smiled up at the opera house. "I suppose it would not hurt." I wonder if I can get Klaus to cover for me. He seems understanding enough.

"Great! We can meet up outside the opera house. I'll show you how we'll sneak in."

"Heh, cannot wait." Melissa nibbled on her muffin and continued following Armant. I did not have much opportunity to go out back home. Attending an opera might be fun, maybe even inspirational. I will perform a great heist like a grand epic! Ooh, that sounds nice, actually. Heehee!