"So Hilda's an only child, I'm the youngest in my family, and Mott's the middle child in his?"

Hilda nods and Montomgery says, "Yup."

Lenny looks contemplative. "I reckon that makes sense. Everyone knows only children tend to be a little more serious and stubborn, middle children act all innocent but are awfully shady, and the youngest children are sweet angels."

Hilda snorts and Mongtomery shoves Lenny, who giggles. "Shut up."

"You know I'm right!"

"What I know is that you're being a little shit," Montgomery retorts, and Lenny grins. "You're surprisingly devious, you know that?"

Lenny bats his eyelashes in feigned innocence. "Who, me?"

"Not you," Hilda denies, her voice a low rumble. "You are an angel. Mott is a bastard."

Montgomery folds his arms across his chest defensively. "Who even invited her along?"

"I invite myself," she proclaims, as if daring him to challenge her. "I want to watch over Little Lenny. You are too weak to protect him or to stop me."

Montgomery scoffs, but doesn't argue the subject further. He's actually having a pretty good day, and he doesn't want to ruin that by being flattened into a meat pancake by an angry rock. Their journey from the dingy bar and to the next town has been wonderfully uneventful. No storms, no bandits, and no bar fights—just sunshine and gentle breezes. It's a nice change of pace from the usual misery of his journey.

He even let Lenny derail them, once, to go look at some flowers. It ended up being really fruitful, and not because Lenny made a flower crown for Hilda—but because a nearby traveller had information about Zekrom. The beast has been sighted around the outskirts of Sapphire City, an illustrious metropolis bustling with the rich and famous. Finally, with a solid lead to grasp onto, they've set off toward Sapphire City.

It's a long journey. Sapphire City is a few days walk from the bar they slept in, so they'll be needing a place to sleep tonight. Both Lenny and Hilda seem perfectly content with sleeping outside, even though they don't have a tent, but the thought makes Montgomery cringe. Sleeping on the cold, hard ground in the open wilderness? Sounds like a great way to get pneumonia and die.

He convinced them they needed to find an inn for the night—easier said than done. Lenny can be a stubborn thing when he wants to be and Hilda is a contrarian shit, at least when it comes to him. But this is his quest, dammit, and he makes the rules. So, they picked up a map before they left the bar and studied it to find a place to rest. There's a town almost exactly between where they started and where they want to be: Moressley Town, a small settlement tucked away by a river in a large ravine. There, they'll be able to find some shelter for the night, get some supplies, and then set off again.

Well, that was the idea, at least. But the prospect of fulfilling his idea doesn't bode well when they reach the town and he doesn't even realize it. If this shanty collection of run-down huts is a town, then Montgomery is the head of the Alcott estate. What happened to this place? Mongtomery has been here once before, when Torquil's father took Torquil, Florian, and him on a summer retreat. He distinctly remembers the town being quaint but lively with the season tourism. What he's looking at now is a rusty, scrappy, miserable imitation of his memories.

He looks to Hilda and Lenny to share an expression of shock with them, but they don't look the slightest bit surprised. They don't even glance at him. They just gaze over the shambles with morose yet resigned expressions, as if they've seen this too many times before. But who's ever seen something like this?

A blitzle nearby turns to look at them. She's so skinny and bony that when she starts walking toward them, Montgomery worries that she's gonna try and eat them. Instead, she regards them with a kind, if not tired, smile and nods.

"Travellers, hm? We haven't had many in recent months," she remarks, her tone light. But Montgomery has spent his entire life reading the fake masks people present to him, and hers is the fakest he's ever seen. Her nonchalance barely hides the burden she seems to carry. "I'm afraid we won't have much for you here in Moressley Town, but we'd be happy to house you for as long as you need."

"That would be wonderful. Anything you can provide, we'd sure be grateful for," Lenny replies, sharing her smile. His veils a tinge of sympathy, sympathy someone might feel when they're watching someone go through the same Hell they have.

Before Montgomery can process how strange emotions that aren't 'unfiltered joy' look on Lenny, Lenny introduces himself. The blitzle jumps like she's been jolted out of a dream. "Oh, my apologies, I didn't even introduce myself. I'm Bela, the mayor of this town."

It takes Montgomery's brain a moment to connect her words to reality.

"You're the mayor?" He splutters, in the meantime.

Her eyes take on a certain sadness, as if she's experienced this reaction far too much to not expect it. "Yes, I know it's quite surprising. I'm a little young to be mayor, but after my mother died of starvation… well, I took over."

Montgomery is still reeling while Hilda and Lenny accept her explanation with solemn nods of understanding. How is a skinny, starving, dirty person a mayor? Mayors, even of the smallest towns, usually enjoy some form of luxury. Mongtomery could blame it on her lack of self-care, but it sounds like the previous mayor died of starvation, of all things. What mayor dies of starvation?

Looking around at the town, he supposes if there's any place a mayor would die of neglect, it would be here. The townsfolk don't look any better. Everyone is pale and filthy and hollow. The only food he sees is moldy and the only sounds he hears are soft, weak wails. Even the river runs more dirt than water. Montgomery remembers playing in that river; it was crystal clear. Even though he was young, it wasn't that long ago. Quickly, he does the math in his head. If he was about twelve on that vacation, and he's twenty now, then whatever happened to this place happened within eight years. Eight years might be a significant chunk of time, but it's not enough to completely devastate what was once a booming tourist attraction.

The only logical reasoning behind the downfall must be poor leadership. Right? Perhaps her mother was a poor excuse for a mayor and drove the town to the brink of collapse. If she was somehow able to starve herself, even as a mayor, she'd probably be capable of ruining a great town.

"What happened here?" Hilda rumbles, something like desolation casting itself over her jagged face. "Was it Zekrom?"

Mayor Bela shakes her head. "No, thankfully. I employed some mercenaries to protect the town in case Zekrom ever decides to show up here. They're very… expensive."

"Have they been any help?" Lenny wonders.

"Well, Zekrom hasn't attacked us so far," she answers, a weary yet hopeful smile tugging on her face. "I have to imagine they're doing something."

So, the town is being bled dry by expensive mercenaries. He can only wonder if the protection they provide is worth all this. Obviously, dying by Zekrom's hands would be very not good—but isn't this just piling on unnecessary suffering? Who's to say if Zekrom would even attack this place; no one can figure out that beast's schedule! It's just a zap zap here and a zap zap there, no rhyme or reason to it!

As if Bela can read his mind, she says, "I know things look bleak. And… they are. They are, but if it means I can protect my people and my home, I'm willing to give anything."

Anything and everything. This town is the definition of barren and desolate. Montgomery pulls out his map and glances over it. If there's nothing here, now are they supposed to stock up on supplies for the trip to Sapphire City? They need to find a nearby town that hasn't gone to hell if they're going to get the things they need, and they should try to do it before sundown. Peering up at the sky tells him there's a fat chance of that.

Before he can tell Lenny and Hilda that it's time to take their business elsewhere, the wailing inside the town grows louder. It's quickly followed by a snarling order to shut up. He looks up to see a beggar and a few mercenaries, the beggar obediently silencing themselves as the head mercenary demands payment.

"Ya want our boss to keep protectin' ya? Huh? Huh?!" The krokorok spits, stomping a foot viciously. "Then fork over what ya got, and don't try and hide anythin'!"

Mechanically and with dead eyes, the beggar hands over three measly, dirty coins. The krokorok sneers at the sparse offerings, but stuffs them in a satchel nonetheless. The beggar watches the coins disappear like they've lost their life's work.

Spitefully, the krokorok kicks up dirt in the beggar's face. Shouting to the rest of the square, he snaps, "The rest of you, fork it over! Now!"

Bela rambles a quick apology for her rudeness before hurrying over to the beggar to help them wipe the dust from their face. Meanwhile, the mercenaries stomp around the square, gnashing their teeth and thrusting their open satchels into everyone's faces, unrelenting until every last person is bled dry.

More proof that they should not be staying in this town, by any means. Montgomery has barely scraped together what little money he could find in order to buy them supplies; he's not about to lose it all in some shanty town to some filthy crook. Frowning with thought, he redirects his attention to the map.

Over the sobbing of an old woman, he says, "We ought to head east, there's a little village about an hour or so away…"

"This is awful," Lenny utters, as if he can't hear him. When Montgomery glances at him, Lenny seems to be staring a thousand yards away as he watches the old woman plead with the mercenaries for one scrap of food. "This has really gotten out of hand."

Montgomery looks back at the map. "Yeah, and that's why we're getting out of here. So do you think we should head east to the village, or south? I think there's a fortress down south…"

Hilda watches the scene Lenny does and rumbles, "This. This is sick."

He furrows his eyebrows. "Hey, are you guys listening to me? East or south?"

"We gotta do something," Lenny states, grabbing Hilda's arm. Arm? Leg? "We can't just leave!"

"Uh, yes we can," Montgomery retorts. Hilda and Lenny turn to gape at him. Well, Lenny gapes. Hilda glares, but that's pretty normal for her whenever she looks at him, so he's not too bothered. "Didn't you hear me? There's another village that's only an hour away. It might be dark by the time we get there, but not too late to find a place to stay."

Lenny stops gaping, and instead looks at him with a different kind of astonishment. "Mott, it ain't about ability to leave."

Montgomery is about to ask just what the hell it's about then when the krokorok saunters toward them.

"You three. Loot. Now," he commands, holding up his satchel. It's so full that the seams are starting to burst. "Or you'll answer to the boss."

Without looking up from his map, Montgomery drones, "We don't live here, we don't owe you anything, go find some other sad sap to harass."

"Don't live here, eh? But you're still passin' through, so you're benefiting from our boss's protection," the krokorok reminds, his hold on the satchel not faltering. "But I'm a generous guy, and since you don't benefit like the rest do, you don't gotta fork over everything. Just those bandanas would be a-okay."

Montomery's gaze snaps up from the map, and he grips the bandana around his neck. "No."

The krokorok growls, snatching the map out of his hands and throwing it to the dirt. "Now you're just bein' stubborn. You wanna die?!"

From behind him, a shadow is cast over himself and the krokorok. When he glances back, Hilda is looming over them with murder in her eyes.

The krokorok gulps. "I, I mean—I'm takin' you to see the boss!"

Montgomery's arm is snatched before he can protest, and another mercenary shoves Lenny forward. Not a single one of them dares to touch Hilda, especially after she glowers at one of them until they look ready to pee themselves. Still, she walks forward on her own, following them close behind.

"Uh, hey, Hilda?" Montgomery snaps over his shoulder as he's dragged away. "Why don't you, I don't know, stop them?!"

Her eyes are stony as she marches forward. "Want to meet this sick boss. Want to pound their face in."

Montgomery scarcely has a moment to insist they don't have time for this before he's hauled off.

As they're being pushed and shoved through the town, Montgomery's skin only crawls more. This place is disgusting. Fecal matter and other waste trickle through the streets, wafting a noxious stench that makes his gag reflexes work overtime. The humidity only adds to the revolting smell, somehow making the scent feel sticky. Montgomery shudders at the very thought.

The people aren't much better than the place. Their homes may be rusting and crumbling, but they're more dirt than flesh and they look on the verge of collapse. Every pair of eyes are vacant and dry and longing, like a desert that once new great rains. In towns like these, the square is usually bustling with noise and activity. The only noise here is the occasional sniffle and cough, and the only activity seems to be sitting around and waiting to die.

He turns to exchange a look of disgust with Lenny, only, Lenny doesn't seem inclined to share it. Instead, his eyes pool with some great, unnamable sadness.

"This is awful," Lenny whispers to himself as he watches a mercenary rip moldy bread from the mouth of a child. "Just awful."

"Why," Hilda demands, making the mercenaries jump. "Why do you take so much."

The krokorok musters all his courage just to glance back at her and respond. "Ain't it obvious? Our boss is the strongest there is; no one can beat him! If somebody wants protection from a guy like that, they gotta be ready to pay big bucks to keep him. What would stop him from offering his protection to a higher paying town?"

"Basic empathy?" Lenny suggests. He's shoved for his efforts.

"Empathy ain't shit," the krokorok sneers. "Economics is where it's at."

Montgomery may hate the guy, but he's got a point. If their boss is as strong as they say, and the town wants his protection, of course he's gonna demand a high price. But if they keep bleeding the town dry, how are they gonna get paid? Eventually, the town will run out of things to give.

That's when it strikes him: that's the point. Protect a town, bleed it dry, and then move onto the next high-paying town. That way, they'll make bank on every town and then have an excuse to leave it for a higher bidder.

Economics.

They pass an old man cradling a sick child as Bela sits nearby and comforts them. When she sees the three of them being bullied down the street, her eyes widen like saucers. Hastily, she jumps to her feet and gallops over.

"What's going on?" She asks, her eyes darting between the mercenaries and them. "Is everything okay?"

"No!" Montgomery and the krokorok yell at the same time. They narrow their eyes at each other. But the krokorok eventually continues, "These three refused to pay up, so we're takin' them to the boss."

"They don't live here, there's no reason they should have to pay…"

"If they benefit from us, we need compensation for our troubles."

Bela gives the krokorok one last imploring look before deciding he can't be swayed. Then, she turns her attention to the three of them and offers an apologetic wince.

"I'll come with you," she promises, as if that solves anything, "And I'll try to smooth things over with their boss."

It doesn't take too long for them to end up at the mercenaries 'base' of sorts. He can tell it's where they camp out because it's the only halfway decent building in the whole town. Also, because a group of mercenaries are slinking around the door, jeering at a woman who seems to be beseeching them for something.

"Please, just one week," she pleads, her voice ragged and weary. "One week without having to pay our dues, and we can save up enough money to buy my son medicine. Please, he'll die without it!"

One of the mercenaries sneers. "How's it our fault that you're such an irresponsible parent? If you'd saved up more, you wouldn't be in this position!"

She opens her mouth to say something else, but Montgomery doesn't hear it. They're shoved through the doors before he can listen to the rest of the conversation play out. But through the thick doors, he is able to hear the muffled sounds of mocking laughter coming from the mercenaries.

Even if the outside of the building suggested some level of luxury (relative to the rest of the town, at least), the inside is kinda a mess. Nothing like the absolute garbage dump outside, but things are tossed around haphazardly and unfinished food litters the ground. It looks more like a sloppy teenager's hideout than a mercenary base.

Montgomery has to squint to study his surroundings better. It's a large room, spacious and tall, and was probably once a community center of sorts. The room is dim, with only half the candles lit, and those half are melted down to the stubs. Wax drips from the sconces into puddles on the floor, hardening and sticking to the floorboards. The windows are boarded up, the floor is unswept, and dust lingers in the air. Again, although it doesn't compare to the horrors outside, it's not exactly pleasant.

But when his eyes wander to the center of the room, he discovers the one good thing in this building: a pile of wealth.

Literally, it's just a pile, sitting in the middle of the room, like in all those cheesy plays where there's a really rich character and the playwright doesn't know how else to show how stinking rich they are. The wealth isn't all glittering gold and shining jewels, and it doesn't resemble a fraction of the wealth back at the Alcott estate. It's mostly goods and food, some copper coins strewn about, and a couple of more noticable assets like family heirlooms. Still, when sizing this pile up to the rest of the town, this collection is like a hoard of treasures. Mayor Bela looks equal parts longing and sick when she lays eyes on it.

At the top of the pile, sitting in a plush chair that rests crookedly in the mass of wealth, a krookodile sprawls himself out comfortably. He taps his claws languidly against the arm of the chair, in a slow, steady rhythm as they're brought forward. His half-lidded gaze regards them carelessly.

"Who are these scumbags you've brought to me?" He wonders, tilting his chin up so he looks down at them over his nose. "They don't look like they're worth my time."

The krokorok pipes up. "Boss, these folks was tryin' to skimp out on payment!"

"Because they don't live here," Bela hastily adds.

"And also screw you," Montgomery snaps.

The krookodile's gaze sharpens, but only for an instant. Then, he yawns, clearly too lazy to bother with them.

Waving a fat finger at them idly, he says, "Just take their bandanas and tell them to get the hell out of my town."

The mercenaries advance, their grubby hands closing in around his bandana. Before a single grimy finger lays on it, Montgomery shoots a jet out water out at them and knocks them back. The struck mercenaries stagger back and sputter to catch their breath, and the others race in and grab him before he can brandish his scalshops.

"Screw you!" He shouts, trying to bodily jerk himself out of their grasp. His movements only serve to lock him further in place. "Go ahead, try it! See if I don't drown your asses and—"

His rant is cut short when the krokorok stuffs a cloth in his mouth to slow down any attack he might try. That doesn't mean he's not gonna fight back, and as they reach out to him again, he summons all the water he can.

Not fast enough. They snatch the bandana from around his neck and scurry back just as he launches a barrage at them.

The krookodile finally seems to wake up as water creeps toward his mountain of stuff. Gesturing wildly toward the door, he bellows, "Get them outta here!"

After a flurry of arms and legs and hands and floor and door, Montomery is thrust outside and thrown to the street. The city stench rears its ugly head once more, so sudden and violent that he nearly retches. He whips around to spit curses at the mercenaries or to just spit in general, but then Lenny is thrown after him and he's opening his arms to catch him before he realizes it.

They hit the ground together, hard. His ears ring from the impact and are filled with the far away laughter of the mercenaries. Bela races out after them, eyes full of worry, mouth racing a mile a minute. Montgomery can't hear a word she's saying. But by the time Hilda trudges out to inspect him, the spots in his vision clear and his hearing comes back.

"Mott? Mott, are you okay?" Lenny asks, voice fraught with concern. His bandana is gone, too. Digging into his pouch, he pulls out a berry. "Here, here, eat this, it'll make you feel better."

Montgomery accepts the berry and chews on it vengefully. Unconsciously, his hand drifts up to his neck. His bare neck.

He's lost his family name. His status. His dignity. Everything valuable about him, everything that makes him him, has been whisked away. Stolen. And now, they've taken the last thing he could claim as his own.

He may be a water type, but right now, he burns.

Beside him, Lenny is comforting someone—the woman who had begged the mercenaries for medicine, a maractus woman. She weeps into his shoulder and utters fragmented phrases like "my boy" and "just a little medicine" and "please, please, please."

They took his bandana.

He burns.

"I'm ending this," he seethes, standing. His fists clench and unclench; his jaw locks so tight it might shatter. "I'm getting our stuff back and I'm ending this."

Bela swallows, anxious. "How?"

"By taking down their boss," he states.

The others look at him like he's a madman. But the thing is, he's perfectly sane.

Now that he's gotten a glimpse of the boss, he knows what he's dealing with. The guy is nothing more than a fat, lazy piece of work. His only real power comes from ordering his subordinates around as well as the town's perception of him as some indestructible warrior. If Montgomery destroys his link to one of those things, the boss topples down from his pedestal.

Beating him in a public fight will ruin his fabricated image of unparalleled strength. Basic power play tactics. Montgomery has seen his father do the same to lesser nobles countless times, and it always ends with them slinking away and his father claiming a great victory. If he does the same, here and now, he'll defeat the boss and get his bandana back.

A dreadfully familiar, sneering voice behind him taunts, "Is that what you think you're gonna do?"

Montgomery's blood goes cold. Before he can whirl around and brace himself, he's clocked in the back of the head.

Lenny leaps to his aid, holding him close. Montgomery turns and scowls at the krokorok, who's busy twisting his wrist like he's gearing up for another punch. The krokorok's grin is malicious.

"Looks like I'll have to keep you folks outta the way, then."