The chair at the head of the table was still empty.

Chloe kept her eyes on the mug of tea in front of her. She ignored the aches in her joints, the crick in her neck and the incessant yammering of the ludicolo sitting across from her. A nonstop stream of completely meaningless bullshit falling from the overgrown palm tree's mouth like he was going to be kicked out of the council chamber in the next minute.

By all the splendor of the Alpha's creation did she wish that was the case. Instead, she would simply chew her tongue and bear it. Bear it, like she had for the last forty years. With every passing season, the allure of simply lifting him up and tossing him from the top of Crag became stronger and sweeter. And as he looped back to his original point to begin his meaningless string of nonsense once more, she'd finally had enough. "BOUNTY. SHUT. UP."

The ludicolo's word caught in his throat and he turned to Chloe, scowling. "I'm sorry, did you want to get a word into this discussion, or did you just feel you hadn't been enough of a cunt today and needed to get that out?"

The tangrowth at Chloe's side immediately raised his long arms and tried to pacify the two. "There's no need to get so angry. What's the problem, Chloe? Bounty was just explaining-"

"The problem, Harvest, is that he's come right back around to his original point," huffed Chloe. "And I was sick of hearing his stupid justifications for a ground level incinerator." She crossed her arms.

The tropius beside Bounty cut in. "Be reasonable now, Chloe, dear. The original incinerator was built on the ground level on your deciding vote. You told Bounty it would trump having to build the supports necessary to perch it three floors below ours. Why the change of heart?"

"Because, Providence," began Chloe, dragging the first word out, "Another incinerator on the ground floor contributes to smoke pollution and means that anything that has to be burnt up has to be collected and taken to ground."

"Like that hardly matters!" said Bounty, slamming a hand on the table. "Refuse is taken down just fine, what does it matter if the trip takes a little bit longer? You're simply unhappy that we need another incinerator in the first place! And that is also on your head, Chloe, for widening the scope on what can get you a provisional position in Crag!"

"That policy on allowing more provisionals has been good to us," said the bibarel on the other side of Chloe. "Lotsa work. Lotsa building." It was Archstone. Simple-minded, single-minded and inbred to the point of near infertility. The fact that the bibarel tribe still existed, nevermind still had a seat, disgusted her as much as it confused her.

Chloe scoffed and waved a dismissive paw at him. "Of course you don't mind it, your family handles contracting, selection and assignment. You support any initiative to build something, even if it's something stupid and impossible, like your insane plumbing system." She looked at Bounty.

"It was hardly impossible, it was simply involved!" shouted Bounty, firing up. "Archstone may be gifted, but the bibarel tribe has proven its worth to the Six Tribes of the Council for longer than your tribe has been a part of them. You would do well to remember that!"

A low thud rang out in the council chamber, and all five of the elders turned towards the noise. Thump pounded his foot thrice on the floor and then fell silent again. The silence stretched out, longer and longer, the elders still staring at the gigalith, waiting for him to do anything else. But after nearly an entire unbroken minute of staring and silence, Chloe finally said, "It seems that Thump is less than interested in the idea of another incinerator."

"That walking pile of rubble wouldn't be interested in a new pair of legs even if he was missing them all, not so long as it requires doing something instead of simply fucking watching," spat Bounty.

"I may not always agree with Thump, but he's stopped several completely pointless suggestions of yours, and I don't think you can handle that," snarled Chloe.

Whatever Bounty was about to say was cut off by a much louder, curt voice filling the air of the chamber. "Productive arguments as always, I see." A druddigon stomped over to the chair at the head of the table and seated himself. "Sounds like you're all ready to vote." A sigh fell from his mouth. "For the next two hours, no doubt."

"You're late, Octavian," said Chloe, turning a hard eye on him. "What kept you?"

"Trepidation." He looked at the meowstic and gave her a knowing grin. "I knew I'd be listening to this for a few hours. Had to enjoy the silence of my room for just a bit longer."

"The vote is for the construction of a second ground level incinerator. It is to be built as far away from the current one as possible, preferably in a two story, stone building," explained Bounty.

"Has the current incinerator hit maximum capacity? More to burn than we can handle?" asked Octavian.

"Not quite," said Chloe, cutting across Bounty. "He's neglecting to mention that the current incinerator is operating at three-quarters capacity. One of its firing chambers suffered a breach after a piece of the ceiling fell on it. Smashed straight through the ceramic. Before that, reports noted that it had been holding steady at roughly ninety percent capacity, rising and falling with the seasons by five percent or so, give or take."

"Hardly seems like a worthwhile investment. The disruption would be noticeable as well. Is there even a building on the ground floor that isn't being used that fits what's required?" asked the druddigon.

"A warehouse fits the bill perfectly," said Bounty. "It is stocked less so than any of the others on the ground floor. We could remove the goods, transfer them to other warehouses and then repurpose the building," explained Bounty.

"Why are we even deliberating on this? Isn't this handled by someone?"

"It was kicked from the Committee for Ground Infrastructure to the Third Council For Development, to the Second Council, to the First Council and then to us."

"Why did it get kicked four times all the way up to us?"

"Ties, all the way up."

Octavian closed his eyes and sighed. "Then it's not being built."

"What?" said Bounty, his focus flicking to the druddigon. "You can't be serious. That incinerator is-"

"Unnecessary," said Octavian. "If the councils below can't come to a consensus then it is clear that there is no pressing need. I'm killing this." He tapped his claws on the table. "And that's that."

"Octavian, you've killed four different issues and passed a fifth in the exact same manner, we haven't had a chance to vote on it," said Bounty, furious. "And now you're going to do it again? You're the Chief Defense Advisor, not the Council itself."

The doors to the chamber opened, revealing a serious looking nidorino wearing a set of satchels across his back. He hurried over to Octavian and mumbled something. The druddigon lowered his head and listened to the nidorino whisper in his ears before he flipped open one of the satchels and removed a letter from it. The nidorino gave him a respectful nod and then left as quickly as he came. Octavian placed the letter into a large pouch at his side and then turned his attention to the table once more. "Forgive me for that. Important correspondence."

"Who are you exchanging letters with?" asked Chloe, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"That is a matter of security, and therefore, need-to-know," explained Octavian patiently. "Which is a shame, you'd be much less suspicious if you understood how banal many of these letters are. Half of them hardly warrant responses but decorum dictates I reply regardless."

"Have you been trying to get a mutual defense obligation set up with Treasure Town?" asked Providence.

"Yes, but that has been slow going," replied Octavian.

"It is a wonderful prospect nevertheless. Good news for the security of Crag, surely." The tropius offered the entire table a warm smile.

"If that is all that has to be discussed today," began Octavian, waving the thoughts away like curious cutieflys, "Then I am invoking the power of Advisory Veto. No incinerator shall be built."

"Now wait here, Octavian!" said Chloe and Bounty in unison. The two stared across the table at each other, scowling, but refusing to continue.

"You first, Bounty," spat Chloe, staring daggers at him.

"I invoke a Nullification!" he shouted, banging a fist on the table. "This is a farce! You are overstepping your bounds!"

"He's simply trying to get us past our senseless bickering," offered Harvest. "Please, Octavian is right, if the councils below couldn't come to a decision…"

Chloe banged her own paws on the table thrice, sending her teacup toppling over onto the white tablecloth and staining it brown. She wouldn't be caught dead on the side of this insufferable ludicolo. "I refuse to support the Nullification. Thump?" The gigalith stomped the ground twice in agreement. "I figured as much. Providence?" The tropius inclined her head and muttered something indistinct, but nodded nevertheless. "Then no matter what Bounty and Harvest may vote, it is decided three against two. The issue is dead. Octavian's veto stands." She turned her head and looked over at a smeargle sitting nearby, watching attentively and scribbling down everything that was said. "Mark the decision, Scribe."

"Are we adjourned?" asked Octavian, looking bored.

"We haven't taken the vote from Archstone yet! What is this three to two nonsense?" spat Bounty, his tone bitter and eyes narrowed.

"Archstone, have you been by the tribe's ancestral house recently?" asked Chloe, turning to look at the bibarel. "It is in a sorry state and in dire need of updating."

The bibarel's tail slapped against the floor happily. "Let's go see! I bet you need-"

"There's a vote still happening!" shouted Bounty.

"Oh, I side with Chloe," said Archstone, sparing the ludicolo a single glance before looking back at the meowstic. "Can we go see?"

"Yes, let's," she said, rising.

"We are adjourned, then," said Octavian imperiously. "Scribe, mark the end of the session."

The council members rose at different times, with Chloe and Archstone rising first. The bibarel waddled happily over to the door, but Chloe hung back for just a moment to glare at Octavian. "His idea was stupid," she muttered to the dragon. "But you are overstepping your bounds, and the Council still holds the power to strip you back down to a glorified head of the guard."

Octavian smiled. "Crag has no guard. We have employed the Superpower Defense Corps for generations upon generations. You know that."

"That is exactly what I mean," said Chloe, her eyes narrowing. "Mind your sprawling wings, dragon." She turned and followed Archstone out.

"So is there a particular reason that we don't have anything assigned to us today?" asked Ran.

"Council that presides over me is reviewing after-action reports and the maps we updated. Takes a while, and you have to be available in case they need you. Since you're my Assistants, instead of being assigned to fill gaps on a different defense squad or scouting party, you stay here. In case they need to ask you questions or have you corroborate something I said in the report," explained Thea.

It was difficult to hear her - the tavern was noisy. The bustle of pokemon as they squeezed past the tightly packed tables and delivered food, savory and sweet alike, made the entire building feel like it was alive. The many patrons in attendance had kept Ran's eyes wandering, though she'd tried her best to keep her focus on the conversation.

It had been hard going. The interior was cozy, and Ran immediately felt welcomed upon entering the warm interior. The cheerful ambience was almost infectious, and she found smiles at the sights around her coming more easily than they normally would have. From somewhere unseen, music met her ears, though the din of the conversation, the clatter of utensils and dishes and cups and tankards made it impossible to find out where.

It was a jaunty tune, light on strings, but heavy on percussion and winds. She drummed her claws on the table in rhythm to the song. And then the singing started. It was only barely audible over the din, sadly, and no matter how hard she strained, she could not make out what was being sung.

She looked up at Thea, struck by a sudden thought, and said quietly, "How are we supposed to afford this?"

Thea waved a paw dismissively at her. "Not really a problem, I've got…" She reached down to her side and then her eyes widened. "Oh fuck." She looked at the door to the tavern. It was all the way over there. And she was all the way over here. "I left my payment at the Apartment."

Outrider pulled a pouch from his side onto the table and opened it, then dug around inside before producing several precious stones. "Will these suffice?"

The braixen's eyes went wide. "Put those away," she hissed. "The smallest one covers everything we'd been thinking of ordering and probably then some!" Outrider did as he was told, but kept the small stone, a glittering emerald, out and set it down on the table. "Where did you even get those?"

"Payment for a job well done. And lives well saved," he explained.

"Well don't go showing that around. You were overpaid like you wouldn't believe. That or you saved someone very important," she reasoned. "Who did you save?"

"A sableye," said Ran, "His name was Jasper."

"Excuse me?" came a cool voice beside them. The table turned and found another weavile looking at them, smiling. She was taller than Ran, and much, much cleaner. Her fur was a brilliant midnight in comparison, and the smile she offered them was completely devoid of the smirk that so often crossed the faces of their line. "Were you ready to place an order?"

"Mead," said Thea. "And a pecha tart."

"A loaf of bread and nanab berry pudding," said Valor.

Ran frowned. It was bizarre seeing a weavile taking orders in a tavern. Her eyes focused on the waitress's claws. They were… so short. "An assorted berry glaze and cream," she said.

"Wepear tea. And biscuits. Butter biscuits," said Outrider.

"That comes to…" began the weavile. She paused as Ran picked up the emerald and held it out towards her. She seemed to look at Ran properly now. Before, her eyes appeared to have simply glazed over her fellow, but now, her eyes jumped sharply from feature to feature on Ran's body and face, before settling on the emerald. "Your claws."

Ran looked down at them. "What about them?" she asked.

The waitress continued to stare. "They're so long." She looked back at Ran, though her eyes no longer showed interest. Instead, there was something bizarre there. Something like pity wearing a cloak of disgust. And the barest hint of respect. Fearful respect. "That'll be enough. More than, even. Thank you." She took the emerald from Ran, but continued to stare at the weavile. "What do you do?"

"Scouting and defense?" said Ran, shrinking away. "Why?"

"What did you do?" pressed the waitress, leaning in until her face was a few inches away. Her voice was a nearly inaudible whisper, and soaked in morbid curiosity. Thea cleared her throat pointedly, and the waitress crashed back into the tavern from wherever she was. "I'll be back soon. Keep the walls strong."

Soon, it came to pass, meaning all of ten minutes. The waitress doled the food out, but was gone as quick as she came. Ran was unsure if she was grateful for that or not.

Thea took a deep drink from her tankard and picked at the pecha berry atop the tart before her, then took a deep breath and said, "Getting back on topic... I doubt they'll need to ask you any questions. So, here we are. Before we get started on your day securing medical supplies." She looked over at Ran, sitting beside Outrider, across from her. "Not used to this?"

"We didn't have anything like this in Nomad!" said Valor excitedly, cutting in.

Ran snapped back to the table, away from somewhere far away from this tavern, from a place where long claws meant something and didn't bring to mind fog and confusion. She nodded. "Yes, the music is lovely," her tone decidedly absent.

Thea chuckled. "Wasn't what I was asking."

The weavile nodded, still lost in thought. She focused her attention on her glazed layers of assorted berries, sitting in a bowl of incredibly dense whipped cream. She'd eaten very little of it. It was so needlessly pretty; she felt bad digging in.

"You know, it's the job of the cooks to make that. They don't get their feelings hurt because you demolish it," mumbled Outrider, bending down to Ran's ear. "So dig in, you look like a little one on the edge of a crowd."

"Did you really only want tea and biscuits, Outrider?" asked Thea.

The lucario nodded. "Yes. I'm quite fond of wepear leaf tea, and they've mixed it with crushed liechi berries." He took a sip. "I'm not normally one for spice, but it's delightful." He picked up his last biscuit and bit into it. "They make a good biscuit here."

"Tried many?"

"I can remember several. Not the best. But close to it. Best one would probably be from somewhere up north. A cozy little inn I had to stop in while delivering something. Run by a piloswine." He raised his eyebrows, looking impressed. "And sporting an oven that was largely tended by him."

Ran furrowed her brow. Something was rubbing against her calf. She reached under the table without looking and saw Thea jump, then immediately busy herself with her tart. "How'd he manage that?" asked the braixen after taking an enormous bite of the tart.

"Thea, it's not going anywhere," said Outrider, looking incredulous. "And we're in no hurry. Take your time." The braixen waved for him to continue and took another swig from her tankard, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "As to how he managed it, I'm not sure. But he did. Albeit sometimes with… issues, we'll call them."

"Issues?" asked Ran.

"He had a lot of patches of burnt fur," said Outrider, looking down at her and smiling. He jumped in his seat and reached under the table, then looked over at Thea, who had taken another enormous bite of tart. "When we're done here, we should get a move on."

The comfey receptionist returned from a rear area of the clinic that Outrider, Ran, Thea and Valor stood in, but the cheerful smile upon her face when she'd floated off had been replaced by a frown. "I'm sorry, but their recent change of status means they can't request supplies until the review of their advancement is complete and all of the dispensaries receive the confirmation. Some of them may get word faster than others. I realize we're on your level, but we tend to get updated information about Approved Requisitioners later, not sooner," said the comfey.

Beside her, the claydol that was looking over sheets upon sheets of papers spun now and again, its eyes never leaving the documents as they searched for any sign of Outrider, Ran or Valor.

"Did you handle all of their paperwork?" asked the comfey, looking up at Thea.

The braixen nodded. "Yes. I submitted the request to move them to resident status myself and saw the approvals myself. I thought that would have been enough. Should I have them-"

"The paperwork that they're residents isn't enough, I'm sorry." She picked through the herbs she'd spun together sadly. "We can't use third-party records. They have to come down from on high."

"For what reason?" asked Outrider, his eyes widening. "If we have proof-"

"It can be forged. I'm not saying you forged the records, really. But records have been forged before. With alarming frequency, in fact," explained the receptionist.

"Is there nothing we can do?" asked Ran, her eyes pleading. "It's nothing life threatening, but Stone would be much more comfortable if we had a refresh of our supplies so we could treat her wounds."

"Stone's a Rune Scout, she can get supplies just fine. It's you three that need them. They're not always doled out for missions," mumbled Thea.

"What? Why not?" asked Outrider, looking alarmed. "Is the expectation that we'll simply not get injured? That somehow terrible luck or ambushes won't befall us?"

"More or less," said Thea, nodding. "They are rare. Ambushes and rotten luck are infrequent enough that-"

"We're out there risking our necks, and Crag finds her pockets aren't deep enough to spare her defenders a few extra rolls of cloth, needles and thread?"

"Crag's going through another stockpiling phase by order of the Chief Security Advisor. It makes these things harder."

The comfey interjected, "If you can requisition supplies, Thea, then perhaps…"

Thea nodded. "I can just give them what they need. I checked my own this morning and needed a top up, so it'll do for now." She pulled the silver badge she kept in her tail free and showed it to the comfey.

The claydol beside the comfey made a low rumbling sound and cut across her. "Overshot your clearance. Move up three levels and ask," it said, its tone like crumbling gravel.

"I'm too high in rank to ask for supplies here?" asked Thea in disbelief. "That's insane, how could-"

"The stockpile order. It's the only explanation," supplied Outrider. "It must have impacted what can be requisitioned where and by who."

"That's exactly right," said the comfey. "Very astute of you. You'll have to go check further up in Crag." She paused and cast her gaze downwards. "I'm sorry. Keep the walls strong."

And so they went. Higher up into Crag. Higher, and higher. Again and again. They were shunted from clinic to dispensary to medical requisition station and back again. One floor took nearly an hour of their time as they bustled back and forth, trying to find where Thea's silver badge could get her.

As they strolled up to their seventh clinic that day, somewhere in the Artisan's quarters, Valor complained, "Why is this taking so long? We just need some stupid bandages and junk. Can't we just buy them?"

"No, unfortunately," mumbled Thea. "Not during a stockpile order."

"What prompted this stockpile order?" asked Outrider.

"Not sure. Might have been a raider attack that came too close. When groups attack points along the walls but don't commit forces to it, it's usually probing for weakness."

"Crag's walls are huge. And thick. What's going to get through?" asked Ran, looking confused.

"Anything with enough willpower, I guess." Thea pushed the door to the clinic open and strode over to the receptionist - another comfey. "Excuse me. Can I requisition medical supplies?"

The comfey looked up from a stack of sheets she was reading and nodded. "The counter to submit your request is through the door down that hall. Large sign over it, can't miss it."

As Thea drew closer to the counter, the audino standing behind it looked up from the box she was arranging and placing supplies into. She focused her attention on her work again, closed the box and sealed it, then signed a paper stuck to the top of it before placing it under the counter. And then finally, she looked at four that had approached her again and sighed. "Can I help you?"

Thea flashed her badge yet again. Ran had lost count. "I need to requisition-" began Thea.

The audino squinted at the badge and then shook her head. "You're an entry-level Scouting and Defense member."

"I am."

"Which means you're junior council?"

Thea nodded. "Yes. The CSA wanted more members ready to step in. Just in case something happened to the established council members."

"Yes. And because of that, getting supplies out to everyone is impossible, especially with a stockpile order in effect. I can't get you anything. Got word to refuse entry-level members and all mid-levels."

The braixen dropped her head into her hands and sighed. "Do I have nowhere else to go?"

There was a pause, during which the audino's face shifted from a thin frown to an amused look as insight flashed behind her eyes. "You could check the Grand Clinic."

"The highest clinic in Crag?" asked Thea, staring hard at the audino. "Is that a joke?"

"No. If anywhere can spare supplies it's the very best medical center in all of Crag. It's possible freezing entry-level and mid-level requisitions wasn't ordered in the Grand Clinic."

"Why would it be exempt?" asked Ran, stepping forward.

Thea furrowed her brow and then said slowly, "Because the only reason anyone in my status would show up there is because I needed something. Really needed something. It makes sense actually. It's also our last shot at this."

And so, once again, they ascended the many stairs of Crag. Mismatched staircases of varying quality, painted steps, carved stone and even finely made wooden ladders. As Ran ascended gleaming steps of marble to the highest level of the city, she privately wondered if perhaps Crag was warped into a sort of twisted love letter to the very concept of stairs itself.

The sunlight was strong up here, but it was pleasantly warm, and the gentle breeze that swirled around the four took the edge off well enough. Ran looked around and frowned. "Thea?" she asked.

"Hm? What's up?" replied the braixen.

"How does Crag get new levels added to it?"

"The bibarel tribe takes care of that. Break down what can be broken down - after so many years spent doing it, they've gotten quite good at making buildings that are easy to tear down - and just keep whatever can't be broken down in place and turn it into simple backbones or markers for where the replacement buildings go. Then you build the new highest level above it. Easy."

Valor furrowed his brow and frowned. "That doesn't sound easy at all. How do you make buildings easy to take apart? None of the houses in Nomad came apart easy," he asked.

"Well…" began Thea, "They were probably built that way. You didn't plan on building anything above them, right?" The chespin shook his head. "The buildings in Crag are almost all built with the understanding that more may be added above them. So the architects account for that."

"Can you just keep going up?"

"I'm not sure. I know huge pillars of Runestone are used to reinforce wooden supports, but I have no idea how far up they can stack."

"Has Crag grown since you were little?"

The braixen's eyes searched Valor's face for a moment, lost in thought. "Yes. It has. It was a few floors shorter. They added a new floor right after Vanguard died. It made any following announcements of a new level being built… a little sad."

"What happened to Vanguard?" asked Outrider. "He was your mentor, yes?"

"Yeah. He didn't come back from an expedition." Thea gestured to the clinic. "We should get moving." The look on her face made it clear to all three of her Assistants that the conversation was over.

The interior of the Grand Clinic was nicer than anything Ran had seen yet in Crag. Despite being an infirmary, the abundance of windows, gleaming stone floors and high ceilings made it feel more like a library than a place to receive medical care. The huge wooden desk before them all had several receptionists tending it, and to Ran's surprise, they all looked completely bored.

She stepped up to the counter with Thea and waved the nearest receptionist over, another comfey, though this one held a long loop of flowers and oak leaves. "Can I help you?" he asked, looking between the two of them, clearly uninterested.

Thea held up her silver badge. "I've been wandering around Crag all morning and into the early afternoon with my squad. I've been kicked from clinic to clinic, told each time they couldn't requisition medical supplies because their provisional status was only recently cleared and the paperwork hadn't caught up."

"I can't make the paper-"

"And so I started requisitioning medical supplies. And I got punted higher and higher with each clinic I walked into. Orders to deny requisitions to entry-level and mid-level members of the Scouting and Defense Councils, they said. And a very helpful receptionist suggested I come up here, to the Grand Clinic itself to ask for supplies. So where do I go to ask for supplies?"

The comfey looked mildly annoyed and cleared his throat. A metang floated up beside him. "She wants to requisition medical supplies."

There was a hollow metallic clang. "Strict orders to withhold supplies. Can offer treatment. Who is injured?" It said this at top speed.

"We don't need treatment we need fucking-" Thea stopped herself and rubbed her temples, trying to control her breathing. "We're trying to-"

Outrider cut her off. "We've been trying to secure medical supplies for the last five hours. If there was an emergency of any kind, whoever we were trying to help would have been dead after the first. We don't need treatment, we need supplies. We're part of the scouting and defense forces of Crag. Does that mean nothing? Is a stockpile order more important than keeping the bodies that secure this city whole and healthy?"

"Technically, the SDC keeps us secure. You're a first line and a proactive force," replied the comfey, his expression souring further. "But the facts still stand. We can offer you treat-"

Ran clenched the edge of the desk and looked up at the comfey, her expression pleading. "You can't spare anything? There's absolutely nothing at all you can spare? Nothing someone would miss? We're not asking for enough to cover a whole level of Crag, we're talking about enough supplies for five pokemon!"

The comfey opened his mouth to speak, but the metang interrupted him. "Cannot compromise rule of law. Stockpile order in effect."

"If you're stockpiling supplies, you have to have enough to spare!" pleaded Ran.

"Correct. Have enough for each of you five times over. Cannot spare. Rule of law stands." The metang gestured to the door behind them. "Accept treatment or leave."

Thea swept them from the room without another word. Outside in the dying sunlight of Crag's highest floor, she said, "Fucking idiots. All of them." She hung her head and sighed. "Go home. I'll get details on our mission. Blow off some steam or something, if you have to. I know today has been frustrating."

The three nodded, but as they began to walk away, she added, "Outrider." The lucario turned towards her and nodded. "Come with me. You're good with details."

Outrider shot Ran a meaningful look. "And venting steam, I imagine," he said, looking back at the braixen. Thea smirked.

Outrider pulled the door open, only to have it shut immediately once more. He turned and looked back at Thea, her chest heaving, wand pointed at the door, bits of hay still stuck in her fur. "Let me go."

"Why are you leaving?" she said, furious. "What did I say?" Sparks danced out of the tip of her wand.

"You want children."

"And you think that-"

"I think that you're too young to be concerned with something like that. You lead a team. Do you think a bunch of kits won't mind a headbutt to the stomach?" he asked evenly. He hung his head and sighed. "It's reckless, and I won't enable it. I can't. I was angry and distracted after a long day of pointless bureaucratic rejection. I didn't know what to think about…" He gestured between them. "This. I can see now it was purposeful. And I shouldn't have come here."

"I don't-"

"It's late. Go to sleep. We'll have plenty of time to talk tomorrow about the excesses of Crag. Endless systems of paperwork and overriding orders and perpetual blame shifting take more time - deserve more time - than what I can offer outside a messy bedroom with a braixen that's confused and hurt."

"You're just going to leave? That's it?" shouted Thea, taking a step forward. "Cut me off every time I open my mouth, pass your judgments and then just fuck off?"

"Yes. And you're going to go to bed." He paused and looked down at the ground. "I don't think any less of you. I hope the feeling's mutual. But I do understand you better. Old enough doesn't mean old enough."

"You sound just like Vanguard. He was always saying this," shouted Thea, angry tears burning in her eyes. "Always chastising me about shit like this. He always told me I was in too much of a hurry."

"Did you try to lay with him too?" asked Outrider.

"No!" she screamed. A plume of fire exploded from her wand but died before it reached Outrider. "He was like a father. Was my father! Raised me like I was his daughter! When I found out he was gone-" Her voice broke and she dropped her wand, then sobbed into her paws.

For the love of all divinity, thought Outrider. He strode over to Thea and held his arms out. She collapsed immediately into them. "You're trying to accomplish something. This inexpert courtship of yours. Your awkward advances and then making your intent clear in the throes of-" He trailed off. "You want a legacy."

"Vanguard didn't have one. I'm his surrogate," mumbled Thea, her voice raspy.

"Why me, then? You're young enough to be looking for someone less well-travelled."

"You reminded me of Vanguard. If I was going to leave a legacy, I wanted it to be his."

Outrider frowned. "You're a strange one, Thea."

"I just want to do right by him. Pay back what he gave me. He saved my life so many times, this was all I could think of. Find a way to make what he taught me carry on." She shook her head. "I thought taking assignments to retrain squads that had fucked up would fill that void. It didn't. So I thought maybe the void was more than just mental."

"And you dove right in, chasing this old soul."

She nodded.

"You'll have plenty of time for chasing some other soul when we're up to speed and established. Because then we'll be able to support you."

Thea looked up at Outrider. "Really?"

"We're your Assistants after all. Help us help you. I won't guarantee you won't fail to give Vanguard the legacy you wanted him to have, but it'll give you a better chance than scattering hay tonight and taking what comes tomorrow. Besides, you're his legacy right now. You can't throw that away either."

Thea pulled Outrider into an embrace. "Thank you."

Outrider rubbed the braixen's back in a reassuring way. This would certainly be a story to tell Ran.

The silence outside had lasted long enough. The camp was asleep, and the sad inhabitants of The Hole could finally speak freely. Relatively, anyway.

"You never do get used to the smell, do you?" asked a nidoran, sniffing the air and shivering.

Ranger nodded. "Nope. I'm sure you can guess why." He stared out at the dark pit they sat in, his mind racing. "But we'll be rid of this shit heap soon."

What little light made it down into the hole revealed the shapes of sleeping and ill prisoners alike. An aipom strode among them, checking for pulses and tending to the ill with what little water, spoiled fruit and fuzzy bread they had. Now and again, she would stop at one of the bodies for longer than usual and then call out, "Minus one."

"How many are there now, Ranger?" asked the nidoran.

The farfetch'd scowled. "One less. Doesn't help to look at absolute numbers for these things. Might make you lose your nerve."

"I'm scared." It was barely a whisper.

"We all are, kid. What we're plannin' ain't easy, safe or even all that likely to succeed." Ranger looked up at the mouth of the pit and flapped his wings instinctively. His clipped, aching wings. He wouldn't even get the soar afterwards. Assuming they survived. Assuming they even tried. He pushed the thought from his head. "Just keep working up that nerve."

"What if we fail?"

A long silence fell between them before Ranger finally said, "We would be dead either way. At least this way, we have a chance. Be ready, kid. We're taking it. Soon."